#same with Newt only Newt picks his battles a bit more

[pathsofoak]

I have underestimated the potential of Brenda being the type to go all feral kitten in certain specific situations

[heliads]

Hello hey can you do some fluff with Thomas ? 🥰please

when they are talking in the safe heaven they was mutual pinning for them since the glade. She was all ways there for him and vice versa. They are a balancing personality. She was pessimistic and he was optimistic. But they have matching energy: one day he make a stupid joke and she says «  why I’m in love with you remind me «  but she didn’t mean to, and Thomas was surprised because they were in love it was obvious and didn’t stop teasing her for it.

Ps : Newt and Teresa are alive

i believe in newt and teresa being alive

masterlist

There is no such thing as winning over Y/N. That’s one of the very first lessons Thomas learned upon entering the Glade, along with the other crucial ones such as ‘don’t pick a fight with Gally,’ and ‘for goodness’ sake, Greenie, stop trying to go in the Maze.’ Still, he’s not inclined to give up yet. On any of those topics, actually. 

Thomas is not prone to surrender. He is a fighter, always has been. Or, he’d like to say that, if he had any idea what he ‘always has been’ in his life. There is Thomas now, Thomas when he first came up in the Box, and then a great expanse of nothingness before and after that. Blank emptiness is his past, unknowable odds his future. There is only Thomas in the present moment, so capable of changing his future that he doesn’t even know his past.

The nothingness makes it easier to remember the lessons. He has so few concrete memories in his head that the day-to-day events stand out in bright highlighter neon. Thomas can remember the sensation of a pen but never what brand he liked best nor what he might have written with it. Thomas does not know if he has ever worked in a garden growing up, but he knows what seeds can become and that he hates being a Track-Hoe, so he focuses on the last bit instead.

It makes him lie awake at night, spending hours staring up at a sky utterly foreign to him in the hopes of remembering any more of it. The constellation over his nose could have been his favorite, once upon a time, it could have been taught to him by a mother or father, but now it is just a broad handful of stars somewhere beyond his reach.

With so little to fill his head except fear and paranoia of the day before, Thomas is forced to conjure up something better worth his imagination, and more often than not, that happy thing becomes Y/N. Y/N is probably what Thomas will become sooner or later, once the initial rush of finding himself in the Glade wears off and he just grows sick of everything in sight.

Y/N has been here longer than most everyone here. The only rivals she has in terms of tenure would be Alby or the dead boys lying in a grave somewhere in the Deadheads. All that time stuck in these stone walls, and it taught her the importance of never getting your hopes up. Thomas met her the first time and thought that he might make it his goal to get her to smile.

He reached that after a few days, but that didn’t stop him from trying again and again. So what if Y/N is a realist who’s given up on dreaming of a way to get out of here, Thomas has enough heart for both of them and he’ll wield it just the same. Thomas sidles up to her at meals and tells terrible jokes until she has to sip at her water to hide a smile. He listens to her talk about everything that goes wrong in the Glade and intersperses recollections of what went well that day as well.

Slowly, surely, Thomas swears that she’s coming over to his side. He can win her friendship like a battle, a round of cards, anything he can make his own with enough dumb luck and a good few twists of fate. He’s come closer than anyone else, so that surely should count for something, right?

Thomas knows he’s getting there when the other kids start intervening. Minho takes it upon himself to tell Thomas that this whole thing is a lost cause. Been there, done that, Minho says one day while they’re out mapping a sector of the Glade, you’re going to have to give up eventually, and you know that. Y/N doesn’t want to suddenly become an optimist. It’s not going to happen.

I don’t want her to suddenly become an optimist, Thomas argues back, I just want her to like being around me even if I’m one.

Later that day, while they were taking one of their few much-needed breaks, Thomas had dared to ask Minho more in between desperate sips of water.

You knew her at the start, didn’t you? What was she like? He’d prompted.

Minho had sighed, stared at the water in his hands. She was like you. I never thought she’d give up on the hope that we’d get of here, and then she did.

Thomas had pushed for more details on just what had happened to change Y/N’s mind, but he hadn’t been able to get any additional facts out of Minho other than a recollection of several Gladers lost without any monumental change in their slow slog towards getting answers out of the Maze.

Mainly, though, what had done Y/N in was time. She’s spent three years here now, three years without any sign that they’ll ever leave. Fine, then, Thomas decides. If Y/N can’t see a world in which they ever get out of here, he’ll forge a new one just to make her eyes light up again.

He’s good on his word, too. When Thomas finds the way out, when their entire way of life goes awry and Gally tries to exert his control over the Glade, Thomas fights his way out with his friends. He shows Y/N the door out of the Maze, and he takes her through it.

Thomas doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the look on her face when they step out into the sunlight for the first time. The sun was still there in the Glade, obviously, but it isn’t the same when you can feel the shadows of the Maze walls on your back with every other breath. Out there in the real world, though, that was something else altogether.

It was good, even when they were fighting for their lives in the Scorch. They spent their days terrified of Crank activity, but when the sun sank beneath the horizon and they were finally able to rest in whatever meager shelter that crossed their path, Thomas looked at Y/N and he knew that her hope was back. It was enough to make him keep fighting for a better life. It was enough to make him feel infallible.

And they did it, didn’t they? They found their way out. Thomas is reminiscing about old, worse times from his hut in the Safe Haven, far away from harm. Cranks cannot reach them here, nor WICKED, nor anyone else. He is here with his friends and Y/N, and he could not want for anyone else.

The final fights were the worst of Thomas’ life. He lost allies, but he saved some, too. Thomas doesn’t know that he’ll ever experience a fear quite like the one ricocheting through his chest when Newt was bitten. For a few horrific minutes there, Thomas had thought that he might lose him, the one friend he’d had from the very start. 

Minho had made it back in time with the cure, though, and then Newt was blinking up at him with shocked eyes and asking what had happened. Thomas hadn’t been able to answer him, not for a while. He remembers standing there, clutching Y/N for support, knowing that without her there he might have collapsed to the ground by Newt’s side.

That was Y/N for him, Thomas supposes. Whenever he was low, she was high. They complemented each other perfectly. He held out hope when she couldn’t, and when he was in danger of losing himself, Y/N pulled him back from the brink. Survival does horrible things to us all, but sometimes it gives you salvation in the form of people. Y/N is his people. Y/N is all he has ever needed.

Y/N was the one Thomas was thinking about when he was fleeing Janson through a burning city. Y/N was the name on his mind when Thomas caught Teresa just before the roof caved in. When the explosion hit him too hard and Thomas passed out on the Berg carrying them away, her face was the last one that flashed through his head.

It is all okay, though. They have lived through the horrors, the desolation, the grief. All that is left for them now is a quiet sort of ending, an epilogue in which the heroes win and the villains are forgotten. Thomas rises with the sun and goes to bed with the moon, and slowly, carefully, he heals.

They do that together, too. Thomas hands over leadership duties of the new settlement to the others; he wants no part of that now, no forced maturity of any kind, and he runs away to the one person who will always want him now. It’s funny, looking back on the Glade, how Thomas had always operated with this slight fear that Y/N was just humoring him because they were both stuck in the same place. He knows now for a fact that was never the case.

She’s told him as much, both directly and through the little things. He picks a wildflower out of surprise that such a colorful thing could idly grow on the side of the road and she tucks it behind her ear for the rest of the day. He wakes with nightmares and she holds him until the dreams become just that, just dreams, just memories which can no longer touch him.

Thomas thinks for the first time that growing old sounds like something that he can finally ignore. In the Glade and Scorch, the thought of making it to infirmity was something of a dream, an impossibility he would never reach. Right now, though, Thomas wants all the time he can get his hands on. He’s desperate for it, greedy and drunk on every moment. He loves the little things. He is enchanted by the big events. All of it is his, and all of it is beautiful.

He finds Y/N in the mornings, the evenings, the afternoons. They walk until their feet ache and sleep until the sun has climbed far too high in the sky, laugh and cry and live. It is nothing like what he thought growing up would be like, but then again, he never thought he’d make it far enough to judge. Right now, he is happy.

Very happy. He turns to Y/N as they’re sitting by the edge of the water and tells some sort of stupid joke. He’s been prone to them recently, like some inner comedian has suddenly remembered it exists and dusted itself off for its fair share in his personality. Maybe the Thomas before the Maze liked being funny. He’s never had enough time to figure out who that was at all.

Thomas waits for Y/N to say what she usually says in response to his attempts at being funny:  laugh along, maybe, or swat him on the shoulder, or come up with an even better joke just to make fun of him.

Instead, she rolls her eyes fondly. “That was awful.”

“Great,” Thomas corrects, “I think you mean it was great.”

“I certainly do not,” she says, smiling, “Remind me again why I love you?”

It’s late in the evening, maybe she’s tired, maybe that’s why she slips up and says something like that. Neither of them have been willing in any way to put a name on what they have or what they feel, but it occurs to Thomas that he wants that label more than anything he’s ever wanted before.

Y/N’s face looks tight, as if the skin has been yanked up on her bones to expose the skeleton beneath. She starts talking about something else quickly, the words tumbling out in an attempt to hide what had been said before. It doesn’t matter, though, Thomas knows what he heard and he adores it.

“I love you too,” he says. He feels like shouting it.

Y/N stares at him. “What?”

“I love you,” he answers her. “I love you. And you totally knew that, by the way. You’ve known that all along, so you do not get to just pretend like that didn’t happen. I know what you said. Also, I want it remembered from here on out that you said ‘I love you first.’”

Y/N gives him a look, but she can’t stop her lips from twisting up into a grin, so even her fiercest glares can’t weather him in the slightest. “Why does the order of who said what first even matter?”

“Who knows?” Thomas says, shrugging as casually as he can, “Probably that you’re just, you know, obsessed with me or something. I wouldn’t blame you.”

This time Y/N does swat him, but she kisses him too, so Thomas supposes she could be forgiven. He already has. He’d do it in a heartbeat, even if she was stabbing him through the chest instead of toying with him. He loves her. He loves her, and he won’t do anything else but that.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

tmr taglist: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[shysneeze]

Do Me a Favour | Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Description: Fred and the reader’s relationship seen through a series of favours

Warnings: its kind of angsty, brief description of injury (umbridge’s detention related) briefly battle of hogwarts related, miscommunication i guess 

Tag-List : new form is here for anyone interested in being added 

~* Fifth Year *~

“Do me a favour?” 

It’s a question (Y/N) has been practicing internally for at least an hour, yet her voice still wobbles as she asks it aloud. Fred, lying back in the grass, soaking in the late summer sun, peeks open one eye to look up at her with a questioning brow. 

“Yeah?” 

“K-kiss me?” 

A second passes before he reacts, sitting bolt upright in an instant, choking slightly on the gasped breath taken in the process. Regret floods her chest with a mortified ache and she finds herself dropping her eyes to the ground and picking at tufts of grass nervously.

“What?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” She mumbles, “It’s stupid.” 

“Kiss you?” He repeats, “L-like on the lips?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked,” She argues embarrassedly, “I was just- I haven’t- it doesn’t matter.”

He blinks at her, confusion pulling his brows into a frown. Confused is probably the only word he can come up with to explain the whole thing, because quite frankly, it’s not everyday your childhood best friend asks you to kiss them. Then, much to (Y/N)’s further mortification, realisation flickers across his face.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” 

He asks it like he’s surprised, something that only goes to confuse (Y/N) herself. Yet she nods, too obviously embarrassed to even attempt to play it off as some elaborate joke or simply fib her way out of it. 

“Really?” Fred asks, “And you want me to be your first kiss?” 

“I just want it out the way,” She explains hastily, “Don’t go getting big headed about it… it’s just a favour.” 

He’s silent, the most silent she’s ever heard him before even, and it does nothing but add to her growing concern that in one fell swoop, she’s managed to ruin sixteen years of friendship. She’s on the verge of what is bound to be an incoherent string of apologies when he finally answers. 

“Okay.” 

Her breath catches with something between relief and sheer panic. 

“Really?” 

“What sort of friend would I be if I denied you such a simple favour?” 

‘Simple’ is perhaps an underestimation of what she’s asking, and she can see the nervous way he licks his lips despite the grin he throws on instantly to disguise it. She’s gotten this far though, too far to chicken out now with his warm hand cupping one of her cheeks as he leans closer. 

The sun has brought out millions of freckles across his pale cheeks, and for the first time she’s so close she could count them. Part of her, a side of her she’s never met before, thinks about tracing her finger across them, connecting them like constellations. Something in her chest twitches at the thought. 

“You ready?” 

“Don’t make it sound so clinical,” She mumbles. 

“Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.” 

She smiles, glad for the familiarity of his teasing. It has some of her nerves dissipating, her lungs expanding with a light, freeing breath before she nods.

He’s tentative for only a moment, their lips meeting in the lightest of kisses until she’s instinctively pulling him closer, fingers curled around a handful of his gryffindor tie. He lets out a surprised sound from deep in his throat, though he doesn’t pull back. 

In fact, if he knew kissing his best friend might feel this good, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions before doing so in the first place. At the feeling of her grip slipping from his tie, he feels his heart dropping disappointedly, chasing her lips subconsciously as she pulls back. 

He watches her contemplative expression, a good distraction from the racing of his heart in his chest and the unexplainable urge to kiss her again. She gives him a wide-eyed look, eyes darting in every direction as she navigates whatever millions of questions are running around her head. 

Then, she clears her throat, nodding as she begins to get to her feet and leaving him dazed on the grass with reddening cheeks. 

“Thanks,” She says, “I owe you one.” 

~ *Sixth Year* ~ 

“(Y/N),” Fred exclaims happily, portrait door swinging shut behind him as (Y/N) looks up from her book to meet him with a frown, “Just who I was looking for,” 

“That’s never good,” She says, slowly closing her book, “When am I busting you out of detention this time?”

“You wound me,” He retorts before dropping onto the couch beside her with, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead with a dramatic flair, “Me? Detention?” 

His head lands haphazardly on her lap and she looks down at him with an amused look, shaking her head in teasing disbelief. His lips twitch into a grin, one that (Y/N) knows is just the beginning of what she doubts will be a simple request. 

“Do me a favour?”

For a split second, she freezes, a slight shiver crawling up her back at the question, which little under a year ago saw them kissing by the lake. He holds her eyes in a knowing gaze that causes her to nod cautiously.

“Okay…”

“Come to the ball with me?” 

Her brows lift into a surprised expression.

“What?” 

“The Yule Ball,” He explains, sitting up now to face her properly, “I need a date.”

She gives him a long, questioning, look, searching for some tell-tale signs of a Fred Weasley joke in the makings. Sceptically, she narrows her eyes. 

“Why?”

“You owe me one.” 

She bristles imperceptibly, gulping at the knowing look that swims in eyes and twitches the corners of his lips into a small smirk. 

“That and I left it all a bit last minute, you see,” 

She can’t quite decide whether it’s hurt or relief that tugs at her chest at the revelation, that he’s only asking as a last resort. It’s a much more simple version of the scenario she’s been building in her head since he first asked his question, one with far less feelings to get more attached to.

“What if I’ve already said yes to someone else?” 

“Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been turning people down for weeks now,” He raises a brow, “What’s that about? Holding onto hope of being asked by someone special?” 

The teasing tone he’s going for comes out strained in a way (Y/N) has never heard from him before and she frowns for a second at it before rolling her eyes. 

“No, I’m not,” She answers, “I just didn’t feel like going with them.” 

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a date?” He says, “And neither do I… how convenient.” 

She lets out a short scoff, shaking her head in disbelief at the pleading puppy-dog look he’s managed to perfect in just a few seconds. She exhales a loud reluctant sigh that has the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.

“Is that a yes?” 

“Hmm,” She nods, “I guess,” 

“How romantic.” 

“Ah well, as a wise boy once said, beggars can’t be choosers.” She manages a smirk of her own, “Perhaps next time you’ll find yourself a date sooner than a week before the dance.” 

Something in Fred’s face drops for only a split second, and not even their years of friendship helps her read it. It’s only a moment before he’s disguising it again with a lopsided grin and a playful shove.

“Shut up,”

~* Seventh Year *~

Fred’s finger tips are warm as they trace the red-raw words scratched into the back of (Y/N)’s hand, lookin from it up to her eyes with a look she knows means a lecture. She sniffles slightly, twisting away from him to plan her counter argument. 

“Before you say anything,” She starts, “Your hand is just as bad so don’t start on my detentions.” 

“I wasn’t going... “ He sighs, “Well, I was, but you’re right. I’m just trying to figure out how to get the pink hag back for it.”

“Don’t do anything stupid... I’m fine.”

Fred let’s put a disagreeing grumble.

“Fred,” She says warningly. 

“I know,” He breathes out reluctantly, “I just worry when it’s you.”

She turns back to face him, hoping to catch whatever expression has followed such a revelation, but she’s too late, finding him instead twisting away from her to search through his bedside table drawer. He returns with a small jar of healing balm, what she’d come to his dorm for in the first place, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself.

“What happened this time?” 

“I missed curfew again,” (Y/N) mumbles, hissing in a breath when the balm touches the open wound, “I was at the library trying to teach myself the bloody defence course since she won’t- ouch.” 

“Done,” He assures with a soft smile, “Wuss.” 

“It’s not that when you’re the injured one,” She teases, though she’s not feeling quite up to it, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our last year.” 

“I know.”

She’s not sure what’s causing the tears that have welled in her eyes though, certainly not from the sting of the healing balm or even the general pain from the scar itself. Yet she can’t help the tears that have begun to fall from her lashes and slip down her cheeks.

“Hey-” Fred looks up, brown eyes wide in surprise, “What’s going on?” 

“Sorry,” (Y/N) hiccups, wiping her eyes hastily, “I don’t know why i’m crying.”

“Take your time,” Fred says, rubbing soothingly at her back, “It’s okay,”

“It’s all just a bit much isn’t it.” She manages after a moment, “Newts are hard enough but now w-we’ve got this absolute psychopath of a defence teacher who doesn’t actually teach, we’re training to fight deatheaters and- it’s just a bit much.”

“I know what you mean,” He admits solemnly, “It’s pretty messed up.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, “Everyones going through the same thing-” 

“Don’t do that.” He frowns, “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset about it, (Y/N).”

“I know but-” 

She hears him click his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, and she can picture him rolling his eyes though she doesn’t have time to see for herself, not with his arm around her shoulder as he curls her into his chest. 

She freezes, as if this is something bizarre, as if they’ve not shared hugs a million times growing up. This is protective though, like in his arms, for even just a moment, he’s protecting her from everything wrong in the world. 

“Fred?” She sniffles against his chest, “Do me a favour?”

“Anything, (Y/N).”

“Just- just hold me for a bit.”

His breath catches, heat blossoming in his chest as he pulls her closer, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. 

“Of course.”

~* Post-Hogwarts*~

“Do me a favour?”

(Y/N), seconds from falling asleep, fit perfectly between Fred and the back of the sofa, peers up at him with bleary eyes and soft smile.

“Of course.” She exhales tiredly.

“Be with me.” 

She freezes, replaying it over and over in her head, not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. At her silence, he lets out a sharp noise that sends a jolt of panic into her body, waking her up well and truly. She lets out a choked sound as his arms unravel from her waist and a chill hits her as he begins to pull back. 

“What?” 

“It’s late-” He begins to backtrack.”I’ve got to open up shop tomorro-”

“What did you just say, Fred?” 

He gives her a look that's almost pained. 

“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleads, “Let’s just forget about it-” 

“You… You like me?” 

He lets out a sound close to a pained laugh that lodges itself in his throat as he twists awkwardly away from her. A deep crimson colour has begun to creep up his neck and he pulls nervously at his shirt collar in a meek attempt to combat it. 

“I’ve not been very subtle, (Y/N).” 

“Clearly you have!” (Y/N) bursts, only shrinking with the realisation that, just down the hall, George is sleeping in his room. “Since when?” 

“Since you kissed me,” He exclaims exasperatedly, “Favour bloody one.” 

She stands, suddenly hit by the need to pace, to move around as she deals with all the questions that race through her head. Gulping, Fred watches her move, suddenly afraid that he’s made this favour their last. 

Then, she comes to a stop. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“An idiot,” (Y/N) repeats, “You made me feel like the last resort for the yule ball, but you’re telling me that was serious?” 

“Hey,” He frowns, “It was serious right until you started giving me this look like I was insane and I had to cover my arse somehow-” 

“Shut up,” 

She drops herself onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in her hands and holding his face there, inches from her own. He watches, frozen in awe, as her eyes dance across his face. She’s tracing his freckles again, close enough to be  mesmerised all over again. 

“Since we’re pretty terrible with signals,” She exhales, “When I kiss you now… it’s not just a favour.” 

“Thank Merlin for that.” 

~* The Battle of Hogwarts*~ 

Hogwarts has never felt so different. 

Standing here now, it’s hard for (Y/N) to imagine these are the same hallways they once walked down, that she and Fred used to sneak through in the dark for midnight snacks and linger outside of before teachers arrived.

Tucked into an alcove of the corridor, Fred and (Y/N) watch the havoc unfolding, keenly aware of what lies ahead, the war that’s been looming over them all year. He holds her hand in his own, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can manage as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.

“It’s going to be okay, right?” 

“Of course, Love,” He smiles, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek, “We’ll be fine.” 

She nods, melting into his warm touch. But nothing eases the weight that has settled on her chest, the anxious feeling that is telling her everything is about to go wrong. She searches his eyes for something familiar to cling onto. 

“I don’t like us not sticking together,” Fred admits quietly, “We should be where we can keep an eye on each other.” 

“I promised Madam Pomfrey I’d help with the injured,” (Y/N) admits sadly, “And you should be with George.” 

“I know,” He breathes, “I just don’t like it,” 

She smiles sadly in agreement. 

“Me either,” She admits, “but I’ll be fine… I’ve always had better defence marks than you anyway,” 

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Fred laughs, bringing back a sense of normality, even if just for a moment. The hand on her cheeks pinches her playfully and his brown eyes roll with a teasing glint to them. 

“Look at you, joking in a crisis,” He teases, “I’m so proud,” 

“I’ve known you long enough to have picked up some sort of ill-timed sense of humour,” 

He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” 

“I love you too,” 

He leans in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, a practiced art that has a well-known warmth flooding (Y/N)’s chest. Yet, as he pulls back, he leaves something bitter sweet behind, the ache of a goodbye kiss. 

“I should go,” He admits, “Before we end up caught up in the crowds, right?”

“Yeah,” 

“I’ll see you once it’s all over,” He grins, “When we’ve won,” 

It takes a moment for (Y/N) to convince herself to let go of his hand and feels suddenly cold once it’s gone. He’s turning away with one last wave when she calls him back, heart hammering in her chest. 

“Do me a favour?” 

He pauses before breaking into a small smile. 

“Always, Love.” 

“Don’t die.”

“I promise.”

[theoriginalmysteryincorporated]

3. Sun and Moon

@kurophuna for sasharcy week. Sasha and Marcy look at the same sky at different times of day

--

Evening came as the townsfolk of Wartwood finished rebuilding from the latest attack of robotic frogs. Geez, what was her life now where that sounded normal? Sasha’s critical eye fell across the burned homes, the broken bits of statue, and the roofs that were being re-thatched for the third time that week.

She was probably going to die in this moth-eaten, bog-smelling, robot-infested town. But at least they’d give a good fight before they went. She hadn’t lived a very good life, she’d started to realize, but at least she could have a good death, fighting for good people–frogs, toads, newts, whatever other creatures lived in this world. Good people that her friends had cared about a lot longer than her, but that she could feel proud standing beside.

And every day that she didn’t die out there was a day they spent getting closer to rescuing Marcy.

Sasha had accepted death as inevitable a long time ago. The battle of Toad Tower had inflicted deep scars that she would  definitely  need more therapy about. She’d made the decision to take the fall for her friend, and it was maybe the only thing she’d ever really done that had been good for Anne. That decision and all its consequences had to be Sasha’s choice, because Anne could never be trusted to make a difficult decision in her life, and she would’ve definitely gotten herself and her whole frog family killed hanging onto her.

Sasha would reexamine the implications of it all when she had the time to actually think about her feelings again. Or maybe she'd die before she had to. Life could be relentlessly cruel that way.

Despite her acceptance of the morbid inevitability of death, Sasha didn’t falter in her resolve. This wasn't just about her anymore. While she still lived and breathed, and while there were people to protect, she’d pick up her sword again, and again, and again. She was Sasha Waybright, and she would never give up.

She’d told that to the town of Wartwood, too, as they’d looked night after night upon the devastation of their village and livelihood. While there were rebels who stood together, they would never give up the fight to retake their homes.

“There aren’t enough rebels to win the revolution,”  Toadie had told her miserably as the crowd reluctantly went to patch up their stores and see what scorched crops they could rescue. After a week of relentless bombardment, food was getting scarce, and shelter was harder to come by. The ruins of one house were used to prop up the ruins of another. Sasha could see exhaustion and fear in the eyes of many of the people she’d promised to protect.

“Maybe not,”  she’d replied staunchly.  “But there are definitely enough rebels to start one.”

The line was quipped from some historical speech Marcy had read to her once with such enthusiasm that she’d never forgotten it. It seemed to do the trick. Under the moonlight, the farmers had more energy than she’d ever seen, and she felt calm and certain as she helped an older frog lift a beam to prop his collapsing doorway. They only had to hold out until Anne came back. And until then, she could hold down the fort. With every failure of Andrias, a little more hope burgeoned within her.

She just quietly hoped at night that he wasn’t taking any of it out on Marcy.

–

Darcy rarely walked in the sun. The wire didn’t extend far enough on most balconies, and the light hurt their eyes after so many generations underground.

Despite custom, they did stand outside today, as the king often hid on a balcony, knowing that Darcy rarely made it out that way. He was a spineless fool. But, he had delivered them the box, and a delightful new host, so that could be forgiven, for now.

“Has the rebellion in Wartwood been put down yet?”  they asked, knowing the answer already. There was a sharp pain in their head as Marcy’s voice screamed and kicked to be let out. She always found a way to play a more active role in the conversations surrounding Wartwood, Sasha, and Anne.

“It’s a work in progress. There are other fights that require more attention right now.”

“Sasha Waybright,”  the creature said, enjoying the way the name made Marcy’s heart shudder and temples burn, “is in Wartwood. And our research suggests that if Anne Boonchuy has abilities connected to the box, then so will Sasha.”

“Then perhaps you should have considered that before you let her go,” the king replied. Darcy almost smiled at the sharpness on his tongue. It must have been a bad loss. The only thing keeping them from enjoying his misery was the pang of pride that surged through them, their new body still willfully ignoring all other feelings but Marcy’s.

“If you were capable of leading this kingdom, that would never have become an issue, Andrias. Do you need your father to speak to you again?”

He straightened up, his figure blotting out the sun. “I can manage this myself. Sasha Waybright’s rebellion will fail, and I will deliver her to you myself.”

He strode inside, tail swaying belligerently. Darcy stood out in the sun a bit longer, enjoying the warmth on their skin while they conversed with Marcy. She was distraught by the turn of events, as of course they’d promised not to do Sasha any harm. There was an incessant, particular banging against their temple, sometimes punctuated by screams, sometimes by sobs, and Darcy had to confess to feeling almost guilt-stricken by the pathetic, pointless begging and bargaining Marcy had resorted to lately. In their particular situation, it was impossible to lie to Marcy, however, and honestly, Darcy found that preferable. Their thoughts all flowed freely between one another, so Marcy could always trust that they would do exactly as they said. But Marcy was beginning to treat this less as a positive, and more of a threat nowadays, as Darcy's thoughts turned to war against her friends. Darcy sternly reminded her that deception was nothing more than blissful ignorance, and it was better to face reality with them. After some time kicking her into submission and quiet, Darcy turned off the heat, speaking plainly.

Sasha is ours. When we find her, we will kill her. It is the only way to protect our legacy.

The jumbled thoughts pouring from her consciousness were palpitating with fear and righteous anger that almost made Darcy’s eyes water. That was one of the more unnerving human sensations they’d been forced to endure as Marcy adjusted to her new hosts.

We promised Sasha safety for as long as she stayed out of our way. Inciting a rebellion is clearly counterproductive to this agreement. But out of respect for you, we can snuff her out quickly. She will be remembered as one of the most effective obstructions to progress the new world has ever known. Perhaps you can guess another with whom she can share that title.

It didn’t much matter to Darcy that Marcy didn’t laugh like they were. They hadn’t selected Marcy for her sense of humor. She had been selected for her intelligence. What they had imagined would be additional bonus content, however, had turned out to be a giant dud. She had information on her friends, but the recollection of them rendered her almost useless. They would have to do something about that, as Marcy had still not grown numb to the sounds of their names passing their lips, or passing through their thoughts. It had been weeks, and it needed to be stopped. Marcy wriggled and screamed in their little compartment, and at times, that could be amusing. But war was approaching, and it was becoming a distraction.

Marcy banged again at the walls when Darcy told the king that they would need a system reboot, and Darcy felt the distinct sensation of water pricking their eyes beneath the helmet. It was impossible to keep any secrets from Marcy in their head, even when it would have been better for her not to know that a memory purge was coming. Ah, well. Honesty was always best.

They let Marcy go out with a bang–cupcakes–and then, hopefully, no more frilly feelings would arise regarding Anne Boonchuy and Sasha Waybright ever again.

[subjecta5newtella]

you know that trope where person a is having a really hard time and person b spends time with them to calm them down at night and they are about to leave so person a can get some sleep but person a grabs their hand and asks them to stay. you know that trope. but it’s nalby in the glade

this was supposed to be like. 200 words. the all-consuming love for pre-thomas glade dynamics hit me and now it's 2.3k. god help me.

Alby tries to tell himself it’s just habit that brings him to the Map Room at the same time every day, not some kind of ritual or anything. Surely it’s normal to hate a break in routine, to feel just a little off-balance when something requires his attention and he doesn’t arrive in time to walk to dinner with the Runners.

All the Runners. Definitely not one particular Runner. The second-in-command shouldn’t be playing favorites.

He’s been late the last couple days, tasked with shuttling the new Greenie around when Nick needs to attend to other things, but the kid has attached himself to a group of the Builders to the point where Alby feels like he can leave him for a while (and thank god for that, honestly, because he’s one of the ones that talks all the time when he’s nervous).

He watches the Runners file out of the Map Room one by one, but Minho comes out last and locks the door and there’s still one missing.

“Where’s—“ Alby starts, but Minho cuts him off before he can even get the question out.

“Finished his map early and headed off. He’s been weird all day.”

“Why?”

Minho shrugs. “Fuck if I know, dude. You know how hard it is to get answers out of that guy when he doesn't want to talk? Might work for you, though.”

There are a hell of a lot of implications there, a lot of observations he’s made that Alby hadn’t noticed him making, but Minho isn’t in charge of the Runners for no reason. Talking to him is easier once you remember that, as much as he sometimes makes it hard.

“I’ll try,” Alby says, and sets off to find Newt.

Newt’s not in the first place he looks, which is probably good because that particular spot behind the Homestead is where Alby had found the wreckage of him one time in the early days, a time bad enough that they just don’t speak of it. He’s not in the gardens either, and as Alby treks back across the Glade to head towards the trees, he curses Newt’s tendency to vanish when he’s upset. It could be worse; he’s not picking fights or breaking shit or any of the other, more destructive coping mechanisms Alby’s seen from some of the Gladers, but since the anxiety doesn’t go away until he finds Newt, he wishes Newt was a little less opposed to being found.

Alby finally finds him just past the area where most of the Gladers sleep, half in the woods but not quite. He’s brought his sleeping bag with him as well, as though he expects to stay there until morning, as though he thinks his wouldn’t be one of the most visible absences possible for the rest of the evening. He’s staring up at the trees, flat on his back and face still a little red, and when Alby comes to sit next to him he turns his head and pushes himself up into a sitting position, but doesn’t say anything.

Newt’s an odd creature sometimes. Alby knows him better than anyone else, but there are still times when he’s not sure if the best thing to do is get him to talk or leave him alone. Maybe this time the right thing to do is not to talk, but with every second the quiet feels more and more like a weight pressing down, and Alby breaks.

“What’s going on?”

Newt won’t look at him for a moment, just at his own hands, but then he seems to come to some kind of decision and makes eye contact. “I don’t think there’s a way out of here,” he says, and then everything spills out of him like bile or blood. “I think Minho thinks the same thing, he just doesn’t want to admit it. And that feels bad all the time but it feels worse when there’s a new Greenie, because it’s bad enough that there’s another kid stuck here with us, but then we’re supposed to give them hope. They find out about the Runners and they get told we’re looking for a way out, and they start to think it’s actually possible.”

And that…. well. Alby doesn’t begin to know what to say to that. “Are you sure it’s not?”

“I mean, no, I can’t say with absolute certainty or anything, but... it just repeats. I think we’ve found everything we’re gonna find.”

Alby doesn’t really do optimism—he’s not as much of a pessimist as Newt is sometimes, more of a realist if anything—but he can’t let that linger, can’t even look directly at it for too long.

“So you don’t know for sure. Which means it might all be fine, and maybe tomorrow one of you will figure out something new, and we’ll all get out of here.”

“It’s not that bloody simple,” Newt snaps, and Alby bites back a retort, because he’s fucking trying, okay?

Instead he just says, “I know. Just... trying to help.”

Newt sighs. “Yeah, sorry. That wasn’t fair. Been a bad day, that’s all. Bad couple days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t the one who put us here. Unless I’m missing something, in which case you might want to admit to it now while I’m too tired to kill you.” And sure, it’s almost all a joke, but Alby can’t help but feel like it’s a little bit true. For all that Newt is kind, for as much as he cares about every single person in the Glade, or maybe because of all those things, he has a hatred for the Creators like nothing else Alby’s ever seen from him.

Still, he’s pretty sure he’s safe from that kind of threat, or at least as safe as someone with no recollection of their past can be, so he says, “Not as far as I know.”

Newt’s quiet for a minute, and then he says, “What if it was one of us?”

“Why would we put ourselves here if it was?”

Newt shrugs. “I guess.”

He falls silent after that, and this time Alby lets him stay that way, at least for a while. Eventually, though, he checks his watch and realizes they can’t wait any longer if they want to eat, and starving isn’t exactly going to do Newt’s mood any good.

“Alright, you need to eat before dinner’s over. And shower, and then you can continue staring at nothing if you really want.”

“That genius for planning is why you’re second-in-command, huh?” Newt says with an asymmetrical smile, and Alby says, “Sure,” because sometimes Nick’s justifications for it don’t make a lot of sense to him either.

He gets to his feet and turns to pull Newt up with him, and they head for dinner. Frypan gives them a look for being late, and Minho spares a glance, eyes flicking from Newt to Alby before he nods just a little, but no one says anything about the way they arrive after everyone and as a matched set. They’ve all just got enough of their own problems, maybe. A lot of eyes still on the Greenie, too.

After dinner and showers and Alby spending the whole walk back fighting the urge to tuck the chunk of hair that’s fallen out of Newt’s mess of a bun back into place, they end up in the same spot, mostly hidden from where the rest of the Gladers are setting up for the night.

This time, Alby chooses the second option. He waits to see if Newt will talk, and when he doesn’t, he leaves the silence alone. It’s not a comfortable emptiness, not when everything Newt had said earlier still lingers, but pushing any further seems like it might hurt more than mend.

That’s one possible answer, at least. Another is that he’s scared to lean too hard on whatever it is between them for fear that it might break. A third is that he’s afraid of all the things that Newt might say. So he waits, and he hopes that his presence is any kind of reassurance.

Eventually, though, night starts to set in and he can’t justify keeping Newt awake any longer. He goes to stand up, but Newt’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist and good god, Alby sometimes forgets how fast he can move.

“Don’t leave.” Newt says, and Alby shakes his head.

“You should get some rest. Don’t want you running the Maze tired tomorrow.”

Newt says, “You being here doesn’t prevent me from resting,” which is true, sure, but not something Alby had been ready to assume. You don’t set up for the night in the middle of the woods if you want company, at least not in his own experience of things, but if Newt wants him to stay, what other choice can he make?

“Can I at least go get my own sleeping bag?”

Newt’s fingers uncurl in response, and Alby gently tugs his wrist away, going to collect his things. On the way back he runs into Nick, making the rounds before bed, which is a thing Alby usually accompanies him on except that he’s been a little distracted.

Nick’s gaze drops to the sleeping bag and pillow in Alby’s arms, and Alby mentally curses the sense of order that had led him to sleep in the same place since the beginning, meaning that now any kind of rearrangement looks unusual.

“Is everything okay?” Nick asks, brow furrowed.

Alby doesn’t lie to Nick. He doesn’t lie in general, really, but especially not to Nick because the Glade doesn’t function if communication between them breaks down. But this... he’s not ready to tell Nick what Newt suspects. It’s still only a suspicion, one that could easily be proved wrong, and he’s not ready to damage morale that badly without proof.

So he lies, or at least omits part of the truth. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Newt’s just in a mood, and I’m keeping an eye on him to make sure he’s not gonna be out of it in the Maze tomorrow.” There’s no point in trying to say it like he’d do this for any other Runner, not with the way he and Newt have been bound since the early days by something still unvoiced, but he can still pretend at least a little.

Nick knows there’s no truth to that last part at least, but Alby knows how much time he spends picking his battles, so he’s not surprised when Nick just nods. “Sounds good. Don’t want him getting injured.”

“Yeah. Sorry for ditching nighttime rounds.”

“It’s fine. You might have to take the Greenie tomorrow if the supply meeting goes over, so we’ll call it even.”

It’s an empty threat, given that Alby’s most useful skills as a leader lie in allotment and record-keeping, but he takes the way out Nick’s offering him. “Fine.”

Nick nods. “Alright, go ahead. Deal with whatever you’re dealing with.”

“Thanks,” Alby says, and heads back to the space in the trees.

Newt looks up when he approaches, propping himself up on his elbows. He mostly just looks tired now, which is an improvement at least, even if it doesn’t do wonders for Alby’s confidence in sending him out into the Maze in the morning. “Forgot you’re supposed to have a job to do. Wouldn’t have stolen you from Nick if I remembered.”

Alby spreads out his sleeping bag, laying down on top of it. It’s too warm in the Glade to sleep inside it, which kind of feels like an oversight on someone’s part. “I ran into him on the way back, it’s fine. He’s threatening to make me take over with the Greenie if the meeting tomorrow runs long, but it’s probably an empty threat. Hopefully.”

Newt worms his way close enough to bump Alby with a shoulder. “Be nice to the new kid, Albert.”

“I’m trying, he just talks so much.”

“Can’t be worse than Kuo.”

Alby snorts. “You haven’t met him.”

“I met him the first full day he was here!”

“For three minutes! And it’s not like he even asks a ton of questions, I can either answer those or deflect fine, but he’ll just say things and I have no idea how I’m supposed to react to them.”

“I’m sure he’s just scared.”

“Yeah, I know. I think he’s gonna get absorbed into the Builders soon enough anyway, he’s already halfway there.”

“That helps.”

“Yeah. I keep hoping that Nick will get that I’m shit at this, but I guess sometimes there aren’t other options.”

Newt shrugs. “You’re good at plenty of other things, and you haven’t killed a Greenie yet.”

“I don’t think I like ‘yet’ in that sentence.”

“I’m confident in your ability to not kill a Greenie. Better?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alby readjusts his pillow, doing his best not to acknowledge the root under his head because proximity takes priority over comfort right now. “Sorry. Didn’t come back just to complain.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Took my mind off everything a little.”

“Are you gonna be okay tomorrow?” Alby asks, knowing as he does that it’s probably only going to make Newt mad, but he can’t just not ask.

Sure enough, there’s a bite to it when Newt says, “I’ll be fine,” that hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Don’t get pissed off at me for caring about you. It’s just dangerous out there, and—“

“Yeah, I have figured that out, actually. I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t, don’t start acting like I did.”

“No, you just—“ Newt stops himself and sighs, looking away. “I’m sorry. I’m… yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Alby reaches out and interweaves his fingers with Newt’s, half-expecting him to pull away and ready to let go if he does. He doesn’t.

When he wakes before dawn with Newt’s face pressed into his shoulder, Alby thinks he could almost be happy staying in the Glade like this, but only almost. One of them has to believe they’ll get out of here, and if that means he has to play at optimism for a while, it’s one more role he’ll do his best to handle.

[my-unmanageable-mischief]

In This Together

For the Anon who requested : Could you write a fic where Draco and his twin (Y/N) have to go back to Hogwarts after the war and now they are the ones being bullied after bullying others for all those years? maybe a lot of angst? 

Angst and a bit of sibling fluff for you! 

 Draco Malfoy x Sister!Reader

You stopped walking as you approached the blank expanse of wall between platforms 9 and 10, your brother was walking ahead of you, and stopped when he no longer felt your presence. You were just standing there, eyes big, a large frown on your face. Draco responded with a frown of his own.

“What’s that matter?” He asked, and you looked away from the wall to gaze up at him. 

“I don’t want to go.” You stated, clinging to your owl’s cage for dear life. Your brother let go of the trolley he was pushing with both of your trunks and beckoned you towards him. You came to him, eyes downcasted. 

“Look at me,” He spoke softly, placing a hand under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking into his eyes. His face was soft, a look he reserved for only you in moments you were alone. He moved his hand and brushed some of your hair from your face. “It’ll be alright, Y/N.” He promised you, but you couldn’t believe him when you knew even he didn’t believe his words. 

“It’s not going to be how it used to be, everyone.. Everyone knows..” Knew what? You weren’t sure specifically. Knew your family was rotten, knew your father was a death eater up until the moment it no longer served him. He was a coward, and the Malfoy name was tainted with blood. 

“Nothing ever stays the same for long,” He reminded you. “We are Malfoys, we will hold our heads high, and we will triumph. If not today, tomorrow.” He assured and you felt slightly better. That was until someone banged into you, sending you into your brother's chest. Draco grabbed you and looked over your head. A group of 6th year Gyffindor girls past you, sending you withering looks as they smirked and giggled to themselves. 

“Alright traitors?” They asked, all lifting their sleeves and pretending to touch their wands to invisible dark marks. 

“What ever will you do without a master to serve?” They asked, and you winced. Draco glared, putting an arm around your shoulder and turning you away from them, grabbing the trolley again and stalking away, guiding you with him. 

“Ignore them, they’re idiots.” He whispered.

“They’re right,” You muttered mostly to yourself. Draco looked at you and sighed before nodding towards the wall.

“Go first,” You nodded back and held your cage close to your chest as you jogged towards the wall, passing through it like it was air. A moment later and Draco was by your side again. He steered you towards the train, giving your trunks to a worker to load before ushering you onto the train. You walked down the corridor, met by an array of stares, and glares, and whispers. Draco found an empty compartment and pulled you into it, shutting out the rest of the world. 

“This is going to be hell,” You whispered, eyes welling slightly with tears, but you wouldn’t let them fall. He was right, you were a Malfoy and you had to hold your head high, even now. 

“It will be alright. Once were settled in, kids will find something else to occupy themselves with, I assure you.” You sighed, leaning against the window and looking out at all the people milling about and smiling. Nothing ever stays the same for long, you repeated your brother’s words to you as comfort. Even the bad. Nothing ever stays the same for long. 

However, this time, it did. The entire school was out to get you and your brother, at least that’s how it felt. The first week of class a group of Hufflepuffs of all people had cornered your brother, hexing him. He was in the hospital wing for two days, you by his side every moment. And it didn’t get better from there. Wherever you went you were met with glares and snide remarks. 

Between preparing for your NEWT exams, enduring bullying like you’d never experienced before, and battling your brother’s rotten attitude; you were spiralling. So far only Draco had been physically assaulted, but you were constantly on edge, paranoid, watching your own back was hard and you were beginning to think your brother had given up. He wasn’t eating, and judging from the bags under his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping as well. 

You were alone in a 5th floor corridor, sitting on the floor and writing an essay. The common room was becoming too much for you, too many people, too many stares. But you couldn’t go to the library either, without people bothering you with rhetorics on your family and mean words about how pathetic you all were. So you sat, alone, in the hallway. 

Suddenly there were footsteps, and you looked up, seeing the same group of Gryffindors who had shoved you on the first day of school, and they were coming your way. Grinning ear to ear as they came to stop in front of you. 

“Yes?” You asked, trying to hold your head high like your brother always reminded you to, but you had to admit, you were scared and terribly outnumbered. 

“Hello little traitor,” The lead girl greeted you, “Kicked from your own common room? Even the Slytherins are embarrassed by you.” She sneered. You frowned, shaking your head. You didn’t need to explain yourself to this lot.

“No,” You replied simply, “Now kindly leave, I’m busy.”

“Awe, she’s busy.” She came towards you, ripping the parchment from your hands, you stood up, reaching for your wand. 

“Give it back.” 

“No,” She laughed, mocking you. She ripped the parchment into a million little pieces and tossed it into your face, “Stupid cow.” You winced, wand held loosely in your hand. “What are you gonna do about it? Gonna use an unforgivable curse on me?” She asked, and you turned away, picking up your bag to try and walk away but another one of the girls grabbed your strap, pulling you towards her.

“Hey!” You yelled, stumbling and tripping, you fell to your knees and looked up at the group with wide eyes. 

“Awe she’s scared!” 

“Petrificus Totalus” One of them pointed their wand at you and your entire body locked up, causing you to fall and land on your face. They flipped you over and grinned down at you. “You and your shitty family should have gone into hiding.” She informed you, and you couldn’t help but mentally agree. 

“Furnunculus.” Another girl spoke and suddenly you were covered in violently painful boils and pimples, you would have cried out in pain if you weren’t immobilized. 

“Now she looks as rotten as she is on the inside,” One of the girls spoke and they all laughed. Pain shot through your face as one of them kicked you in the nose, you felt the hot blood streaming down your face, but still couldn’t move. There was another set of footsteps from somewhere far away and the girls went running. You laid there, unable to move. The footsteps grew closer, and suddenly broke into a run, and your brother’s face appeared above you, eyes wild and wide. 

“Y/N, Y/N!” He cried, afraid to touch you. He pulled his wand out and spoke the counter curse to unfreeze you. You shot up into a seated position, tears streaming down your face. The boils and broken nose were another story, Draco couldn’t fix those, “I’ve been looking all over for you,” He stated, reaching out to touch your face, causing you to wince in pain, “What happened? We need to get you to the hospital wing.” 

“They ganged up on me, I was writing an essay,” You sobbed and Draco gently wrapped you into a hug, rubbing his hand over your hair, smoothing it down.

“Shh, it’s alright,” But it wasn’t, nothing was alright. “Come along,” He spoke softly, standing up and helping you up as well. He took your bag and slung it over his shoulder, offering you his arm for support. Together you slowly walked to the hospital wing. 

“My goodness!” Madam Pomfrey cried when you came in, “Sit! Sit here!” She motioned towards a bed and Draco helped you towards it. You were thankful she didn’t ask what happened, she probably already knew. “Don’t move, let me get my potions.” Draco nodded and sat beside you on the bed, holding your hand. Pomfrey came back with several bottles and handed you one. 

“This should take care of the boils.” You drank it quickly, gagging on the putrid taste of the thick liquid. You handed the bottle back, Draco never taking his eyes off you. “This is for the pain,” She handed you another bottle, and you drank it. This one tasted slightly better. She took the bottle back and handed you one more, “And a peppering up potion, you look.. Exhausted, my dear.” You thanked her and took it, drinking it quickly. She took her wand out, and reset your nose, causing you to cry out slightly in pain, making your brother wince in sympathy. She handed you a wet rag and you cleaned the blood up. 

“Thanks,” You muttered and she nodded. 

“Of course, darling, you will have to stay the night, maybe two, just until all the boils are gone.” You nodded and Draco thanked her as well. When she left, she pulled the curtains around your bed shut leaving you both alone. You laid down on the small hospital bed, your brother joining, laying beside you. You sat in uncomfortable silence for some time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke and you turned to look at him confused. 

“For what? You didn’t hex me.” 

“I haven’t been taking care of you, I haven’t been watching after you,” His eyes were slightly red, was he crying? “I should have been. I was so caught up in my own misery, I forgot you, you were going through the same thing.” Your eyes welled with tears and you leaned into him.

“Don’t be sorry.” You whispered, and he wrapped you in a hug, pulling you close to him. You cuddled up into his side, the pain potion helping, you no longer hurt when you were simply touched. 

“I am sorry, I am your brother. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe and I failed you.” He sniffled next to you, as you cried into his chest. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” You sobbed out, voice cracking and his arms tightened around you. 

“We will graduate soon, and we will never have to see these people again.” 

“I don’t want to go home either,” You admitted, “I can’t stay here! Forever, just my surname will leave me plagued. We won’t get jobs, we won’t make friends, nothing.”

“So we will leave.” He assured you, “We will get through these next few months, together, and then we will leave. Somewhere where nobody knows who we are.” You pulled back far enough to look at him, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” He swore, placing a hand over his heart, “Anywhere you want to go, we will go. We will be okay. Nothing ever stays the same for long,” He reminded you and you began crying again. He pulled you back into an embrace, allowing you to bury your face in his chest as you both cried it out. Together, you and your brother against the world.

[slytherinsnekxvii]

this isn't my best work, but it's still pretty good for something i wrote when i was 15 after having a half a year of writer's block. anyways, ahem, presenting the fic in which severus says fuck it after the lake incident and just doesn't go back to hogwarts but potentially gets dragged into the war anyway despite living in the muggle world for like,, three years, part 1 (aka the only chapter i wrote bc my writer's block came back oops):

It starts simply, like most things do. It starts with a few words, tossed out without care and full of childish conviction. It escalates to brawls in the corridors and duels in the dungeons--if you could even call them that when it was four-on-one and most encounters left him reeling. It continues until he's twitchy and hypervigilant and awkward, always on the lookout for an attack, ready to bite before anyone could bite him.

It ends much the same. The events leading up to this are a production fit for the theatre, if the crowd is anything to by, but the ending itself is quite simple. Gasping for air near the shore of the Black Lake and battling a headache that hurts almost as much as the sharp press of his heart at the thought of what he'd done to Lily, he simply gives up. He picks himself up, tells himself this is the end of it and goes about collecting his belongings.

His wand comes to his hand easily enough with a mumbled Accio. His bag does, as well. Its contents, on the other hand, have to be collected by hand. His textbooks and ink are strewn beneath the tree, mostly, but the loose parchment and his quill are lost to the wind. He snatches up what he can find before someone gets it into their head to come further humiliate him and turns to head back into into the castle. Only to be smacked in the face by a bound sheaf of parchment and a quill. It's suspicious, and he's tempted to burn it then and there. It's his, but they were definitely scattered about the grounds two seconds ago. He doesn't burn it. He hesitates, puts it in his bag and returns to the castle, intent on making his way to Gryffindor Tower.

The apology doesn't go well. Lily isn't interested, refuses to hear it. He returns to the Slytherin dorms, drops into his bed and thanks Merlin that they'll be going home soon. Cokeworth is God-awful, but at least there's only one man trying to kill him there and only one woman for him to disappoint.

So, he waits it out. Spends his final classes looking over his shoulder and staring blankly at his parchment every time he remembers that they tried to kill him and they humiliated him and they got away with both. He shrinks into himself, avoiding the corridors at all costs, skipping meals to avoid being in the Great Hall and spends as much time as possible in the Library and the dusty old Potions Lab on the Fourth Floor that no one knows about, losing himself in research so he doesn't have to interact with his Housemates. He sits alone at the Leaving Feast, refuses to touch his plate until Evan Rosier falls into the seat next to him and bothers him into eating. The Headmaster dismisses them, says that they'll see each other come September and lets them filter out onto the train.

He ends up sharing a compartment with Mulciber, Avery and Rosier even though he's barely spoken to any of them since the incident. Evan needles him about everything and nothing the whole way to King's Cross, and when they get there, Evan claps him on shoulder and that's goodbye.

He gathers up his things, goes to meet his mother so they can Apparate home and not waste what little money they have on transport. Eileen's cheeks are sunken, her arms rail thin, her dress loose-fitting. He'd still rather see her than anyone even loosely affiliated with Hogwarts. She nods at him, he nods back. They go home.

He spends his summer making himself useful. He does odd jobs for the neighbours, is grudgingly polite to his father, takes care of his mother. By the time term rolls around, people are talking about that Snape boy. Strange, and quiet, too, but he works well, doesn't he? September first dawns bright and early, and Severus doesn't go back to Hogwarts.

He studies at home instead, nose buried in his mum's old books. He plants the few ingredients he has hidden away in his trunk at the back of the house and uses what grows to brew medicines and weedkillers and anything he can think of after experimenting a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith down the street both swear up and down he's working magic on their little garden and their old bones.

He feeds cats, delivers packages for the grocer, takes tables and nightstands home to cast Reparo on. Someone tells the pub owner about him, and the next thing he knows, he's frying chips and learning how to mix drinks even though the most complicated thing anyone ever orders is a pint of the beer that they have on tap.

It's not a bad existence. Eventually, slowly, his mother starts coming back to herself. She takes over the brewing when he isn't around. Annotates his annotations and even makes a trip to Diagon Alley for more ingredients to add to their garden when Severus forgets to write Narcissa to ask her to send a few more.

Severus is old enough now to drag his father home from the pub behind him when he's done working. One evening, they come home and Tobias nearly trips over the end table that Severus is meant to be fixing for Mr. Williams three houses up. Severus works his wand out of his boot and goes to cast a spell, but Tobias grumbles and bats his hand away. Drunk as he is, he still digs out his toolbox and gets to work. The job turns out almost decent.

By December, Severus is at the pub, feeding cats on his break and making deliveries when he has the time. Eileen is brewing and Tobias is doing carpenter's work fixing and building wardrobes, cupboards, cabinets and everything else. It keeps him busy enough that some days he doesn't see a drink at all. It's not much, but there's a little food on the table at the end of each day, and Severus thinks that he's probably better off than he would have been at Hogwarts.

Sometime around Christmas, his mother talks him into getting a Muggle education and writing his NEWTs. He writes the O-Levels for his Muggle exams in January. They're a breeze, given how well-read he is. He sees Petunia at the store shortly after, and she sneers vaguely in his direction. He hears her condescending voice in the back of his head and decides to sit the A-Levels in May out of spite.

His birthday comes and goes, the NEWTs come right after and he aces each and every one of the written exams. The practicals are spread out across the following weeks, and he's leaving the Ministry after his last exam to find that the date coincides with that of a field trip for the Sixth Years at Hogwarts.

He watches them a little, tearing his gaze away after he catches sight of a tanned arm draped over a shoulder touched by a red braid. The students mill near the doors for a while and so, Severus looks around for escape routes, eyes skipping hurriedly from door to door until they rest on a Ravenclaw who'd also taken the January NEWTs. All kinds of people had been there, adults who hadn't passed when they were younger and needed to retake the exams to get jobs, teenagers who had family fortunes waiting for them whose parents wanted them to at least look like they were competent, and overachievers--like Severus assumed the Ravenclaw was--who wanted to know where they stood before the actual exam. He jerks his chin toward another door, this one proclaiming to lead to the "Apparition Division". Severus nods once at him and makes his way toward it.

There's a one-day course for Apparition, apparently. The woman at the receptionist desk doesn't even bother looking at him, just points him in the direction of the Training Room with her nail file. He stays for nearly the rest of the day, until they're finally done. He gets his license and is quietly pleased to see that the building is nearly devoid of life when he leaves. He goes home.

May and June come around and bring with them the A-Levels. He finds them only marginally more challenging than his O-Levels and returns to his routine. It's a nice routine, which takes him all the way through to July of the next year when Lily starts coming in with Black and Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin. The first time it happens, he leaves the counter so fast that the patron he'd just given a glass of water to is convinced he teleported. He's already taken his regular break to go feed Mrs. Jones' cats, so he steps into the kitchen and tells Jimmy he's taking a smoke break. Jimmy snorts and reminds him that he doesn't smoke.

He fidgets, trying to think up a way to avoid going back out, when the ruckus they're making makes Jimmy look through the little window and see the lot of them crowded around a little table. He gets a peculiar look on face for a bit, before he asks Severus if they have something to do with why he doesn't go to his fancy school anymore. He doesn't need an answer, just tells him to keep an eye on the food and steps out to man the counter. Severus stays late, frying chips and washing dishes until the early hours of the morning when Jimmy pats him on the back and kicks him out.

It keeps up until September comes around, and by then, Severus has taken so many smoke breaks that he's actually started smoking. He keeps smoking long after they're gone.

He goes back to his routine until it's broken again by a letter that comes by owl. It's a short letter, coming from a Potions Master whose apprentice had been overseeing the exams. It claims that his work was the best either of them had seen in years and after asking around, they'd found that he was unbound to any Master and was highly recommended by the Malfoys. It ends with an offer. Severus would think himself foolish not to accept, so, he does. After that, two days a week are dedicated to Flooing to Master Diogene's laboratory to fulfil the requirements of his apprenticeship. It finds its own little nook in his routine and so he continues until June of 1980.

He's preparing to go to the pub when there's a knock at the door. It's not so uncommon anymore, so he thinks nothing of it, only that he hopes it doesn't take too long. His shift starts in half an hour. He pushes his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, where they perpetually are these days, and decides he'll roll them up properly later. He opens the door.

"Good afternoon," a very pregnant Lily says, and standing next to her is the Ravenclaw from the Ministry, back straight, arms clasped behind his back, his entire being alert.

"Good afternoon," he replies, awkward. After a long moment of silence, he asks, "Can I help you?"

"Depends on whether or not you let us in," she says.

Wordlessly, he steps aside, sliding the three pairs of shoes nearer to the wall in order to let them pass. "Do you want tea?"

"No," she says, at the exact same time her Auror friend says, "Thank you."

He gestures them into the little kitchen, where they sit at the little table where he and his mother and his father take their meals. He tugs his wand out of his boot, flicks it so that the cauldron bubbling away on the stove scoots aside but doesn't spill. The burner beneath lights on its own. He puts the kettle, already full, on to boil. "So," he begins, absentmindedly rolling up his sleeves. "Is there something you need from me?"

Lily smiles, strained. "Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"Sure," he says, quietly. "You made it very clear that you would prefer if we weren't, though."

Her expression twists. "And with good reason," she grits.

He says nothing. The kettle whistles. He searches for the boxes of tea, sets about mixing two cups of mint. He puts them both on a tray with milk and sugar, as well as the small container of honey kept for special occasions. He puts it on the table.

"I'm sorry."

She doesn't say anything, just watches him with bright, green eyes aflame with old anger. She picks up one of the teacups and starts doctoring it to her liking. Her Auror friend follows suit. It really is obvious, Severus thinks, watching the man scan the room from top to bottom, corner to corner. He sighs. "Why are you here, Lily?"

She glares at her tea. The Auror shifts uncomfortably. Severus sighs again. "You know, when people visit old friends, they usually don't bring Aurors with them."

"Trainee, actually. This is my last year." He grins sheepishly. "That obvious?"

Severus nods.

He leans over the table, stretches out a hand. His right, Severus notices. He leans over and shakes with his left.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the Auror trainee introduces himself.

"Severus Snape, but you already knew that."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

Lily continues to glare at her tea. Shacklebolt fidgets. Severus stares, adjusts the heat on the burner below the cauldron. Silence prevails. The door creaks open, just then, and Eileen comes in, stirring rod in hand. "You'll be late if--oh," she says, noticing their guests. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," the other three respond with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Well, if it isn't Lily Evans. It's been quite a while, hasn't it? You look well," Eileen says, nudging her son out of the way so she can poke at the mixture in the cauldron.

"You as well," Lily mumbles. "And it's, ah, it's Potter now, actually. Lily Evans Potter."

"Ah, I see. My mistake. Congratulations are in order, then, Mrs. Potter."

"Congratulations," Severus echoes.

"And you're a Shacklebolt, yes?" Eileen continues, her hands methodically sprinkling ground lavender into the cauldron. "Elodie's son, I should think. You resemble her quite a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," the trainee replies. "Grandmother says I'm nearly a carbon copy."

Eileen hums, lowers the heat under the cauldron. She takes out the stirring rod, examining the clinging lavender paste before wiping it off and placing it on the counter. "I suppose I'll leave you it, though Doris just passed, and she said that Jimmy has a full house, so, do try to hurry. It's already nearly four."

"Yes, Mam."

She leaves, and once more, silence settles over the small kitchen. Severus looks at the clock on the wall, sees that it does, indeed, say that it's minutes to four. Eleven minutes, to be exact, and it's a ten minute walk to the pub. He starts gathering the tea things, has just taken Shacklebolt's empty teacup when Lily clears her throat.

"Are you a Death Eater?" she asks.

"No," Severus tells her, and takes her teacup. Ten minutes to four.

"Prove it," she says, glaring.

Severus sets down the tray and leans across the table, arms outstretched, palms up, forearms exposed. The skin on either arm is pale, smooth and utterly unmarked, save and except for the scars one is bound to get when their preferred work involves knives and hot cauldrons.

"You keep regular contact with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, as well as Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, all of whom are suspected Death Eaters. Why?"

Severus' eyes narrow. "Lucius is sponsoring my Potions Mastery. Narcissa, for whatever reason, enjoys my conversation. Regulus and Evan both seem to think that I'll drop dead if I don't speak to them at least once a week and I haven't been able to disabuse them of the notion--though, not for lack of trying."

"So, you aren't planning to become a Death Eater?" Seven minutes to four.

"I'm not," Severus says, biting down on something rising in his chest. He returns the tea things to their proper places, washes the cups and sets them to dry. When he looks at them again, Lily's glare has softened into an unwavering stare.

"Are you certain?" she asks, and Severus grits his teeth.

"Oh, no, not at all. I only left the Wizarding World to live in a Muggle neighbourhood with my Muggle father, work for a Muggle and feed old ladies' cats and fix their husbands' cabinets because I thought it would make it easier for me when I decided I wanted to murder them all. Obviously," he snaps, throat closing around the words as soon they've been forced out of his mouth. His jaw clamps shut. Three minutes to four.

"You're being an a—" she starts, but then she bites her tongue. "Why... why did you leave?"

He stands silent for a moment. "Reasons I don't believe we have time to discuss. It appears that I'm late for work, I'm afraid." The clock reads three fifty-nine. By the time, he reaches the front door, it will be four o' clock. He starts walking.

"But–" Lily begins, standing.

He gestures them onto the porch while he shoves his feet into his boots. "Terribly sorry to leave in a hurry like this, but duty calls. Things to do, people to see. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Potter. Auror Trainee Shacklebolt." Four o' clock.

"Really–"

"Until next time, Mr. Snape," Shacklebolt interjects, and with a stiff nod, he and Lily make their way towards the Apparition Point they'd used and Severus is walking down the street. He exhales, slowly, carefully at the quiet, telltale crack of Disapparition off in the distance. He picks up the pace and hopes that'll be the end of it. He knows it won't, though. Until next time, Shacklebolt said.

It isn't the end, of course. It never is. There's a knock at the door just before he's ready to leave the next afternoon, and he contemplates just not answering the door and staying at home for the foreseeable future. There's enough food to last at least a week, and he could always just tell Mrs. Havisham that he wasn't feeling well. The news would make it around the town and back within the day. The knock sounds again. He sighs and gets up to go answer it. "Can I help you?"

"Only if you want to. May I come in?" Shacklebolt asks.

Against his better judgement, Severus lets him in.

[parkersbliss]

congrats on 1k love🥺 u deserve it :) 🌻 could u do a blurb on tom holland x reader with his brothers and harrison and what they get up to in quarantine? u could write about anything, but it’ll be super cute🥰 love uuu

omg I love you so much 💖💗💕💘 thank you for getting my addicted to the maze runner, I’m going to watch the scorch trials later 😌

🌻- blurb request

Quarantine antics | T. Holland

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

Activity one: movie watching

Quarantine provided the perfect opportunity to re-watch old movie favorites. Of course, the boys made the mistake of letting you pick which series you were going to rewatch. The moment Harry suggested they let you pick Tom groaned as he already knew what was going to come out of your mouth.

"The maze runner!"

As if you hadn't seen it a hundred times already.

"This is just an excuse for you to drool over Newt," Harrison comments while turning on the TV to search for the movie.

"And? His accent is the only good thing in life," You reply, sticking your tongue out.

All four boys turn to look at you, "We all have the same one!"

You giggle, biting your lip, "oh right."

Tom sighs, defeatedly, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you tight against him as he rests his chin on your shoulder, "I'm starting to think you love him more than me."

"That's not true," You protest, "There's also Minho and Thomas."

Tom scoffs, loosening his grip on you a bit as you laugh.

"'m kidding," You said, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

"Sure," he mumbles, hugging you as the opening starts to play.

Activity two: cooking

Cooking was something everyone in the house had tried to take up. Had anyone succeded? No, not really. Although, Harrison liked to think he was the best cook. Most nights ended with takeout or begging Sam to bring you guys food. You had all tried face-timing the chef of the family in an attempt to learn something. If anything, Sam quit on you guys, saying something along the lines of being, "proper idiots and not having the energy to put up with the family disappointments."

It had started out fine...

"Hi, Sam!" You waved excitedly at the camera. Tom stood behind you dressed in an apron and chef's hat.

"Hey, you two! Where's the rest of the gang?"

"Harrison and Tuwaine are currently engaged in a battle of Fifa," Tom explained, shouts coming from the living room. "And Harry is editing our script."

"Ah," Sam said, "are we ready to begin?"

You nod eagerly, "Where do we start chef?"

Sam started by listing the ingredients necessary as you and Tom ran around the kitchen trying to pick them up.

"And avocado oil!" he listed.

"Avocado oil?" Tom whispers.

"It should be up here," you pointed, opening up the cabinet and jumping to try and get it from its high vantage point. Tom comes up behind you, slapping your ass as you yelp. He smirks, trying to reach the oil, just barely out of his reach. He jumps, successfully grabbing it and almost tripping. He triumphantly sets it down on the counter, "Okay, what's next?"

So far everything had gone smoothly, the pasta was boiling on the stove and Tom was currently working with Sam on the sauce.

"Now gently pour in the vodka," Sam instructed, gently pouring his in, the pan catching fire as he effortlessly shakes the pan, grilling the veggies.

"I can do that," Tom murmurs too himself. He pours in the vodka, focusing to make sure it's the exact amount and not one drop is--

"Shit!" He shouts, the pan catching fire as he almost pours in the whole bottle.

"Tom!" You scream once you see the pan alight in flames.

"I can fix this!" He said, blowing on the fire and fanning it. The smoke alarm goes off and the rest of the boys rush into the kitchen.

"Fucking hell, Tom!" Harry cursed.

Harrison points at him laughing, "Did you really think he could cook?"

Tuwaine rolls his eyes, slapping Harrison upside the head, "Mate the pan is on fire!"

"'s really hot!" Tom pants.

You grab a glass of water, splashing it over the now burnt vegetables. Steam flies up in the air as the fire is quenched. Everyone stands in the kitchen, sweating from the heat and panic, Harrison still laughing his ass off.

"How'd we do, Sam?" You ask.

"Horrible," He said, ending the call.

"Takeout?" Tuwaine suggested.

"Takeout."

Activity three: competitive napping

This was something everyone in the house was passionate about. Competitive napping. It was simply seeing who could nap the longest, so far Tuwaine held the record of sleeping from 10 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon. You laid in bed, Tom's shirt draped over your frame as you waited for your boyfriend. Tom walks into the room, shooing Harry away and leaving the door open the tiniest bit. You made grabby hands from your spot on the bed, whining as Tom chuckles at you.

"Yes, baby?" He asks.

"Naptime," You whined, making a pouty face.

"I'm coming," He said, stripping his shirt and casting it aside. He keeps his sweatpants on, taking his phone out of his pocket and laying it on the bedside table. Tom throws the cover off the bed, crawling under them before pulling them over his chest. You move closer to him, head resting on his bare chest as his fingers play with the ends of your hair, twisting them in his fingers. You sigh in content as Tom kissed your hairline softly, lips lingering there.

"I love you," You yawned, snuggling deeper in his chest.

"I love you too," Tom whispers, eyelids drooping as sleep catches up with.

The next day you and Tom were crowned as the official napping champions, sleeping for 10 hours straight in each other's arms.

—

Join my sleepover here!

[theprodigypenguin]

Percy and Oliver were each others only roommates for seven years because they had no gryffindor boys in their year (the war so kids died or were never born) and like they absolutely had something going on put Percy fell for Penny and they still had this weird thing and then Percy and Audrey happened and then the divorce and Percy and Oliver were still friends and then became even closer and still ha this thing which just like turned into them being married even if they didn’t realize it at first

First of all it took me forever to confirm that Oliver and Percy were the same age. It seems like they are, I remember that in GoF Oliver had been put on the National Quidditch League Reserve while Percy had JUST started working for Barty Crouch. Okay yes, they’re the same age NOW, please forgive my following Perciver rant! Because I have some THOUGHTS!

So I never even considered they might be the ONLY boys in their room, but I love it so much wow! But here’s my canon of their relationship: Oliver is gay, Percy is bisexual, but Oliver was more comfortable with his sexuality. Percy went through a lot of anxiety about his sexuality, mixed with his stress at trying to be perfect. I mean why else would he take 12 OWLs? He’s trying to be everything for his family, for his mum, prove that he’s as good as Bill and Charlie, but he doesn’t take any time for himself. He focuses so much on being perfect that he doesn’t realize it’s practically killing him.

Oliver is way more laid back and chill, he’s very calm, and Percy would probably take a lot of comfort from Oliver being there. I definitely see them NOT getting along at first, because Percy is all neat and put together, he probably folds his socks, meanwhile Oliver is the kind of guy to sleep on top of the blankets and throw his clothes and books all over the floor. Percy would want to strangle him most days, but after mmmmaybe halfway through their second year? Percy starts to get used to Oliver, even looks forward to seeing him at school.

Percy tutors Oliver in some subjects, probably helps him pass his OWLs and NEWTs even, and Oliver teaches Percy to let loose a bit. I think Percy would immediately stiff up and go back to his usual self around his family/siblings, because he thinks he NEEDS to. He thinks he’s required to be the adult, he thinks he needs to be another parents. Probably because of Molly always going “why can’t you be more like percy” or “percy i’m glad you’re so easy, not like your trouble making brothers” or something like that.

Around Oliver he can be genuinely himself, and I can see Oliver offering to give him flying lessons (though Percy suuuuuucks at flying and that is funny to me).

Anyway, Oliver has always known how he felt about Percy, but Percy never really came to terms with it (though he definitely felt the same way, he couldn’t fully accept it). He’s definitely attracted to Oliver in every way, but he also likes girls, and it’s confusing to him because he’s never been educated about bisexuality, so he thinks there might be something wrong with him.

I think Oliver was his first kiss, but I also thing Percy completely rejected the fact he enjoyed it. I think when Ginny wasn’t herself (when she was possessed by Tom Riddle), he cried like a baby and was stressed beyond belief, to the point of not sleeping, so Oliver would lie in bed with him and let him vent. Even though Percy would never confide in anyone else, not even Charlie or Bill, he could always talk to Oliver.

Then they kissed, probablyyyyy at the end of their fourth year, and that’s when things get awkward between them. Percy doesn’t respond to any of Oliver’s letters over the summer, he starts seeing Penelope Clearwater, Oliver is heartbroken but “it was just a kiss anyway, it didn’t mean anything”. He says he’s happy for Percy, and Percy is angry because part of him unconsciously was hoping Oliver would fight him on it, say he should break up with Penelope and date him instead (Percy secretly wants Oliver to fight for him, yknow?).

Remember that’s the year Percy starts getting a “big head”, but I headcanon it’s because that’s the year he really starts being at odds with Oliver, and starts struggling so much with his sexuality as well as his studies, the stress to be everything. When he graduates he doesn’t think he’ll see Oliver again and it crushes him, so he buries himself in his work to the point of being near impossible for his family to deal with. He’s not pompous, he’s just hiding his grief and confusion by trying to succeed and gain the approval of the family he loves so FUCKING much.

And when he has his fight with Arthur and walks out, that’s it, that’s the final nail in the coffin. He stops thinking, really. Stops caring. Just goes through the motions and tries to survive, even though he doesn’t know why he’s working at the Ministry anymore. He doesn’t remember what his ambitions are anymore. He doesn’t remember why he’s supposed to care so much. He broke up with Penelope years ago, so what is he even DOING anymore?

At the Battle of Hogwarts, he runs into Oliver again after YEARS of not speaking, and Oliver is older now and super handsome and Percy is flustered but he can’t pay attention because he’s fighting Death Eaters. Then Fred is killed and Percy is beyond devastated. He turns entirely hollow, and when the war is over he just sits outside where it’s quiet and he stares out at the wreckage and ruins of the battle.

Oliver sits down with him and they’re alone, and they talk, and they talk about Fred, and Percy cries, and for a moment they both think there’s something, maybe, but then Percy gets swept back into the crowd of his family, and there’s no more time to think about maybes, because there’s so much to do.

Percy stays in the Ministry under Kingsley, because he wants to make things right, but he doesn’t enjoy it. He hates the work, it’s stagnant and boring and eating at him day by day. He meets Audrey after a few years (after everyone else has gotten married and had kids). They get along, they like being around each other, Molly makes a quip about Percy not being married yet, so Percy proposes to Audrey and they get married (because that’s what’s expected of him, right?).

The bit of life he feels when he gets married doesn’t last. Oliver isn’t invited to the wedding of course, though George asks Percy if he should send and invitation. Percy says no, and he feels guilty and uncomfortable. Doesn’t know why.

Molly is born first. Lucy is born shortly after. Percy is so focused on his girls that he starts to neglect his wife. He does it unconsciously, avoiding her and not meeting Audrey’s eye. He makes an offhand note about wanting to be a stay at home dad when Lucy is a few months old, and Audrey goes off. It’s a huge fight, and Audrey storms out. They divorce a few months later, and after that, for a while, Percy is a single dad working full time at the Ministry to take care of his tiny daughters.

He runs into Oliver by chance. I think it would be cute if they met at the Quidditch store in Diagon Alley. Percy is getting something for Ginny’s birthday, Oliver is picking something up for himself (he’s single and still playing Quidditch professionally, he’s very accomplished and successful). They hit it off like old friends who’d never stopped talking, they start hanging out more, Oliver takes to the girls immediately and the girls absolutely ADORE Oliver (Lucy especially has a special bond with him).

They don’t start dating till a few months later, and after that they date for several years. Oliver moves in with Percy and the girls, and they get married when Lucy is five. Percy FINALLY quits his job at the Ministry, Oliver retires from Quidditch and takes over Ludo Bagman’s job at the Ministry. Percy goes to therapy once a week and Oliver is insanely supportive and loving. It takes Molly a bit of time to accept that Percy is marrying a man, but Oliver is so charming, and Percy has never, ever, in his entire life, been so happy QwQ

Percy Weasley marries Oliver Wood who encourages him to quit a toxic job and become a stay at home dad while Oliver takes over as breadwinner because Percy has been through so fucking much and Oliver just wants the chance to take care of him and he does. He does take care of him. And their two precious daughters as well.

I love they.

[auror-lovie]

I Loved You, Mr. Scamander; Chapter 2

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

Chapter 2 is O U T!

GOSH THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I DID JUST TO MAKE THIS CHAPTER. 

Besides the point, I had a lot of fun doing the research. (Where was this version of me in high school-)

I hope you guys enjoy it! This chapter is a bit longer than I anticipated. It was a mix of research, personal experiences, and listening to the same song for hours-

You can find the playlist and the taglist form link in my bio! (Or you can just comment, send an ask, or PM- whichever feels comfortable)

━━━━━•✦.✧. Summary .✧.✦•━

After Hogwarts, (Y/N) and Victoria become the MOM’s Investigation Department’s secret weapon. While celebrating the completion of a recent case, she meets someone new. Who knew that this someone is related to her first love?

━━━━━•✦.✧. Add-Ons .✧.✦•━

A little back story of what happened during their last year at Hogwarts

Theseus~! ( Gosh, I hope I didn’t write him too out of character. Then again, in this chapter, he’s fresh out of WWI )

Victoria and (Y/N)’s friendship is solely based on the friendship I have with my fellow RavenPuff best friend. ( If she ever finds this fic, though I doubt it, I love you~! )

Fluff! (Hopefully)

Theseus and Reader being oblivious to these coincidences.

CLICHE ROMANCE STUFF. I’M A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, OKAY???

Hilarity ensues

Blood, but it’s a short scene

Slight angst at the end

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

Before Newt left, he promised to owl them. He was set on working for the Ministry to work with magical creatures in some way. Though his letters always came at odd hours- stupid time zones.

The day after Newt's expulsion, (Y/N) and Victoria had cut ties with Leta. They couldn’t trust her after what had happened. Despite all that, (Y/N) wished Leta the best in life.

For once the roles reversed, Victoria wanted to hex the hell out of Leta, but (Y/N) talked her out of it. Told her that it wasn’t worth it. Instead of spending all that energy on hating someone, it was better to wish them the best and let them go.

Sixth year had come to an end. On the day everyone was set to go back home for the summer holiday, Headmaster Dippet had summoned Victoria to his office.

“Headmaster Dippet,” She said as she stepped into his office. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take this, Miss Howard.” He replied, his hand gesturing to a small, yet elegant metal box that sat near her side of the desk.

Puzzled, Victoria walked closer. She hesitantly grabbed the box and opened it. On the small cushion, laid a navy blue pin, with the words HEAD GIRL in bronze.

“T-This is an honor, sir.” She stumbled, picking it up. It was funny how valuable a small badge would be. How much weight and responsibility it held while being almost as light as a feather.

“I want you to wear it on the first day back.” He gave a small smile.

“I understand, Professor. I can’t thank you enough-“

“Hush child. Come next year, you’ll curse me out for giving you the responsibilities.”

In their final year at Hogwarts, they made it their best year yet. They went to all the Quidditch games and Hogsmeade trips. They studied their hardest and gave it their all. When they graduated, they both got “Exceeds Expectations” and “Outstanding” in all the subjects needed to apply for the Auror Training Program. These subjects were Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms.

~*~*~

Auror training required strenuous work to complete, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was mandatory to undergo a rigorous series of character and aptitude tests. These tests showcased how well they reacted under pressure. They trained extensively in advanced magical combat, other elements of practical defense, and methods of criminal investigation.

Other training courses were Concealment and Disguise, Stealth and Tracking, Battle Instinct, Best-Laid Plans, Duelling in the Dark, Field Training, History of the Dark Arts, Method in the Mad-Eye, Resilience Training, and The Auror Advantage; while poisons and antidotes were also essential studies. Their training lasted for three years and was difficult work.

(Y/N) excelled in courses like Battle Instinct and Dueling in the Dark. Victoria showed her prowess in courses like Stealth and Tracking and Best-Laid Plans. Their personalities complimented each other. Apart, they had their successes, but together? They were a force not to be reckoned with. You’ve heard of power couples, but they were a powerful dynamic duo.

The Ministry of Magic in the Investigation Department is where they started. They were the department’s secret weapon. The only people who knew of them were those also in the Investigation Department. If they left the department due to any reason, they would be obliviated of their memory of (Y/N) and Victoria.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Another report was finalized and another dark wizard in Azkaban. In celebration, Victoria had convinced (Y/N) to go out to a pub with her. Coincidentally, the muggle world was celebrating a victory of their own.

At the pub, (Y/N) and Victoria was sitting at the bar, both on their second glass of Sidecar cocktail. Their work clothes were more wrinkled than usual as they relaxed on the stools.

The place was hot (despite it being winter), loud, and reeked of perfume and alcohol. People were celebrating the victory of “The War to End All Wars”. Men in uniforms were all around. Some were at home with loved ones. Others were kissing random strangers at the pub or hanging around with their mates. Then there were a couple of groups raising a glass to their fallen comrades.

“I’m headed to the restroom. You coming?” Victoria asked after finishing her glass.

(Y/N) swished her drink in her glass. “I’m good. I’ll wait here for you.”

Victoria nodded, “Alright, dear. Remember no boys, and if one won’t leave you alone- hex him or punch him.”

(Y/N) gave her a look.

Victoria laughed. “Be alert.” She said before leaving.

She nodded, “I will, Vi. I always am.” (Y/N) let out a sigh as she watched Victoria walk towards the restroom.

Her train of thought started with work but soon drifted to Newt. Over the years, she and Newt continued to stay in touch. Since she graduated, Newt had served on the Eastern Front- not in the war, no. He was there to wrangle some Ukrainian Ironbellys. That year, Augustus Worme commissioned him to write a book about magical creatures.

“Of course he took the job. It’s the perfect job for him…” She mumbled before taking another sip.

If there was anything (Y/N) wanted to do right now, it would be to go home. Being at a pub wasn’t her thing- neither was it Victoria’s, but she let it slide this time. ‘To whatever God or higher celestial being up there, please keep Newt safe.’ She thought, staring at the remaining liquid.

“Hey, what’s a pretty little lady like you doing in a place like this all by herself?” A male voice cooed as he sat on the barstool to her left.

Snapping out of her thoughts, (Y/N) turned to face a man in uniform. He had short blonde hair (but if it were any longer, it would break regulation) and light brown eyes. Attractive? Yes. Her type? Definitely not.

“I’m not here by myself,” (Y/N) eyed the single chevron patch sewn on the upper half of his uniform’s sleeve. “-Private.” She said before meeting his gaze. “I’m here with a friend.”

“Private Keaton Williams.” He said as he took one of her hands in his, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles.

‘Merlin’s beard. Where’s Victoria?’ She thought as she saw the satisfaction on his face. (Y/N) slowly retracted her hand, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you, Private- er, Williams. But I should be looking for my friend.” She said, getting ready to stand.

He held onto her wrist, preventing her from leaving. “Come on. We both know it’s a lie. You’re not really here with anyone.” Keaton teased.

She tried to think of a way to turn him down. She couldn’t hex him- he was a muggle. There were rules about using magic in the presence of muggles! And she couldn’t punch him. How could she punch a man who had fought for the country she called home?

“She’s with me.” said another male’s voice. This time, it came from behind her.

Keaton looked past (Y/N) to see another man in uniform. “Oh wow. I’m another bloke in a uniform. What makes you so special?” He mocked.

“I don’t condone men flaunting their uniform as a way to catch a woman’s heart.” The one behind her replied. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him. Play along.” He whispered in her ear. (Y/N) nodded, before taking back her wrist.

“I know how to get what I want 's all,” Keaton boasted, then turned his attention back to (Y/N). “Let’s go, love. Let this soldier show you a good time.”

(Y/N) turned to get a look at her savior. Oh great. Yet she stared for a second longer- he looked so familiar.

Shaking her head from her thoughts, she leaned into his chest. “I’m sorry, Private Williams. You had no chance from the start. This soldier had already caught my attention.”

The man looked shocked for a split second before playing along with her little skit. “Ah yes. I’m glad I was able to return home to the love of my life all in one piece.” He said before wrapping an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder.

She blushed. ‘Love of his life? No- stop it. It’s a ruse.’

Keaton looked at the other, eyeing his rank. “What’s a Sergeant got that I don’t?”

The man shifted, a crimson ribbon pinned to the pocket flap of his left breast pocket revealing itself. “I have the right mind to back off when a woman says no.”

Keaton looked again, seeing the ribbon, and gasped. The Victoria Cross Award. “Y-You’re him. T-That Theseus guy… The War Hero.”

Theseus. The name of her saviour was revealed!

Theseus rolled his eyes. “It’s Sergeant to you. Now scram before I report you to your commanding officer.”

“Y-Yes Sergeant,” Keaton said before walking away from the pair.

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as she relaxed her shoulders. “Thank you… Theseus, was it?”

Theseus hummed in agreement, removing his arm from her shoulder. “It’s no problem…” He trailed off, running his hand through his hair.

She turned in her chair to face him. His hair now slightly messed up due to his recent action. His uniform suited him- good and squared away. But his face. It was so damn familiar. It was as if she’d seen those blue eyes somewhere before.

“Uh… Like what you see?” Theseus joked.

(Y/N) blushed. “I-I didn’t mean to stare…” A small pause before sticking her hand out, “I’m (Y/N).”

Theseus gently took her hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “Theseus. Charmed to meet you.”

‘Did… Did he just…?’ (Y/N) giggled, taking her hand back and interlocking her fingers together. “So what’s a wizard like you serving in the military?”

He sighed, sitting on the seat that was once Victoria’s, “The military part was a cover-up to get me on the front lines. Even if the muggles were at war, that didn’t mean dark wizards would stop their heinous crimes. I was working double time. A field agent for the Ministry and a Sergeant for the British Armed Forces.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Thank you for your service… For our world and theirs.” She smiled at him.

The silence was deafening between them, but it wasn’t awkward in any way. It was more comforting.

(Y/N) brought herself to look at his eyes again, her pupils dilating. His eyes made her heart swell with love- the type of love she reserved only for Newt. Though, she couldn’t help but spill a little bit of that to Theseus. Love at first sight?

Theseus returned the smile. How could someone, let alone a stranger he met, be this beautiful? His mind drifted to a small montage of made-up scenarios. He could see a growing relationship with her- a family even. Would his mother approve? Would Newt approve? She’d make a great addition to the Scamander family.

“Sorry I took too long. Ready to- Merlin, (Y/N)! I leave for five minutes!” Victoria’s voice yelled from behind Theseus.

“Sorry about that.” (Y/N) mumbled.

He turned in his seat to face Victoria. “I-I’m sure you’d like an explanation, but first, hello.” He stuttered.

(Y/N) emerged from behind him, walking over to her friend. “Vi! This is Theseus. Theseus this is my best friend, Victoria.”

‘He looks so familiar. I’ve seen his face somewhere before.’ Victoria thought.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

On Theseus and (Y/N)’s first date, they went to a coffee shop.

“So you’re part of the law enforcement? Are you sure you retired from your military work?” She joked.

Theseus chuckled softly before sipping on his tea- he was never a coffee person. “First, yes. I’m retired. And yes, I work within law enforcement. I’m what you call “well respected”. And what about you, love?”

She blushed. “I work in the field then do some paperwork. That’s all. Nothing that special.”

“Hm…” He thought for a moment before an idea popped into his head. “Ever thought about working for the Ministry? They could use a couple of recruits in the Auror Department. I’m sure Victoria would join as well. Training is only about three years and with your skills, I’m sure you two would be a great Aurors.”

(Y/N) smiled before sipping on her cup of coffee. ‘Only if you knew…’

~*~*~

For their next date, they went out for a walk in the park. It was cold out, so they wore their long coats and their house scarves.

“No way! You were a Hufflepuff? I thought you were a Gryffindor!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he neared their meeting spot.

Theseus smiled, “Well, hello to you too.” He then stood in front of her, ruffling her hair. “Well then, Little Miss Ravenclaw, aren’t you full of surprises?” He teased.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “What house did you think I was in…?”

He gestured to his Hufflepuff scarf.

“If the Sorting Hat sorted me again, I’m pretty sure I’d be in Hufflepuff. If Victoria got sorted again… She’d definitely be a Slytherin.”

“Then again, you’re the feistiest Ravenclaw I’ve ever met.” Theseus teased, poking her cheek softly.

(Y/N) swatted his hand away from her face, “W-Well you’re the cockiest Hufflepuff I’ve ever met.

~*~*~

The third time they went out, they went to a fancy restaurant.

“Theseus… Where are we going?” She asked as they walked hand in hand.

“Somewhere special. I’ve been dying to take you out here for months.”

“Oh?” She asked. “What did I do to deserve this?”

He smiled as they turned the corner. “Ah, here we are!”

(Y/N) looked at the building and gasped. “Theseus… The Ritz?! This must've cost you a fortune!”

He kissed her cheek, “Anything for you.”

~*~*~

Then came their fourth date. Theseus had decided on that night, he’d make their relationship official. He would’ve done it sooner, but he’d only met her a year ago. He wanted time to get to know her and make sure it wasn’t an impulse decision. To his surprise, she agreed. So after a year-long wait, he took his chance. Nothing to lose… right?

After dinner, they decided to take a walk in the park. A last-minute plan she was not dressed for.

“You know, despite its kleptomania for shiny things, I always wanted a Niffler. They’re such interesting creatures.” She admitted.

Theseus chuckled- a sound that was now music to (Y/N)’s ears. “You sound like my brother. He’s into all that care of magical creatures stuff. Me? Not so much.”

She hummed, “I’d like to meet your brother sometime…”

“I’ll set up a date for all us to have tea when he comes back from his travels.”

“C-Can’t wait!” She stuttered as she rubbed her upper arms for warmth.

He noticed this and nonchalantly removed his coat. He draped it over her shoulders, “Sorry. It’s my fault you’re cold.”

She held the lapels of his coat, “But now you’ll get cold!”

“It looks better on you than it did me.” He gave her a playful wink.

(Y/N) gasped as she remembered a moment like that. All those years ago at Hogwarts- with Newt. Though she dismissed the thoughts of her first love. Newt wasn’t there with her. Theseus was. Newt hadn’t taken her out on those wonderful dates. Theseus had. Newt didn’t love her. Theseus did- or so she hoped.

Theseus had stopped them in front of a water fountain. The sound of trickling water and the echoes of the city filled the silence. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Were his hands always this sweaty? He took a deep breath and exhaled. It was now or never.

“Theseus, darling, A-Are you alright?” She asked, one of her hands cupping his cheek.

He hummed and leaned into her touch. Despite the cold, her hand was radiating so much warmth. He looked at her lovingly, “Yes, dear. Everything is fine.”

“(Y/N)… During my Hogwarts years, I never gave dating a second thought. And after I graduated, I immediately started working for the Ministry. Then I got sent to war. Merlin- I never want to step foot in a muggle war ever again.” He paused to make sure she was paying attention.

Her hand returned to the warmth of his coat. She nodded, giving him the okay to continue.

“And when I returned home, I was so set on returning to my duties at the Ministry. Then I met you. You wonderful, beautiful, intelligent woman. I couldn’t believe that I caught your attention. I know I’m rambling and your feet must be in pain for standing for so long, so let me ask you this.” He paused for a second. “Will you allow me to date you properly? To make this- us, official?”

(Y/N) smiled. “Theseus… I never thought you’d ask. I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

Full of joy, Theseus wrapped his arms around her and spun around. Their laughs mixed, composing a duet that harmonized with each other perfectly.

When he set her down, she sighed in content. “Oh, Theseus…”

He cupped her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. “Yes-”

He cut her response short, closing the gap between their lips.

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

The New Year’s season came to pass and it was the start of the 1920s. Victoria and (Y/N) transferred to the Aurors Department. Effective immediately. They loved the Investigation Department and everyone there. Must've been something serious if their transfer was immediate.

Little did they know, Theseus was the Head of the Auror department.

On the way to the meeting room, (Y/N) was ranting about the sudden change. Victoria was saying her thoughts about the matter but listened to her friend’s distress. They walked past an office and Victoria caught the nameplate on the door that read “Theseus Scamander”

Scamander? Oh-

Before Victoria could ask questions, they had gotten to the meeting room. There were other Aurors in the department. Everyone there knew each other, so Victoria and (Y/N) were the “newbies”.

Victoria turned to (Y/N), “Hey… You know that boyfriend of yours, did you by any chance get his last name?” She whispered.

(Y/N) shrugged, “No. I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Well, let me tell you-”

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Torquil Travers, entered the room from the back entrance. “Fellow Aurors! As you all know, Grindelwald is gathering up recruits for his “For the Greater Good” revolution. All of you are here today to form up a special task force in bringing him and his organization down. Leading you in this endeavor is the new Head of Auror Office and retired War Hero, Theseus Scamander.”

A round of applause erupted, welcoming the new Head of Auror Office.

Turning towards Travers, Victoria clapped along. “I’m sure it’s not your Theseus-”

“Oh shit.” (Y/N) cursed as she saw her beloved walk through the doors.

Theseus nodded as he walked towards his new task force.

Travers patted his back, “You’ll need to choose an assistant and a communications liaison, but take your time.”

Theseus scanned the room. He knew all of the people, some he trusted, and some he didn’t. Then he saw a pair he knew all too well- but he only saw them outside of work- (Y/N) and Victoria.

(Y/N) gave a shy smile, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Victoria smirked, “You’re screwed.”

As the applause died down, Theseus announced, “I’ve already chosen the people for the positions. For my assistant, I’ll be having Miss (Y/N) (L/N).”

She blushed as she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Though slightly confused, the other Aurors in the room applauded.

Victoria leaned down again, “Try not to make too much noise in his office, eh?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to gasp, but nothing came out. “I would never!”

“And my Communications Liaison will be Miss Victoria Howard.”

(Y/N) nudged her friend, “You’re stuck with us now.”

Victoria laughed nervously, waving at everyone. “Brilliant…”

~*~*~

The three of them were in Theseus’ office. (Y/N) was pacing back and forth as Theseus was sitting at his desk and Victoria leaning against the bookshelf.

“Why me? Why another Scamander?” She groaned in agony. “How did I not know!” She muttered.

“Love, what’s the problem?” Theseus asked, slightly worried.

“You wouldn’t by any chance have a brother would you?” Victoria asked, looking at him.

“Yeah.” He replied, his attention still towards (Y/N), who was still pacing back and forth.

“About this tall?” She said, extending her arm to its highest point.

“Around there.”

“Loves magical creatures?” She asked, now crossing her arms over her chest.

“More than life itself.”

“Got expelled from Hogwarts in his sixth year?”

“Yes. Wait, how did you-”

“I figured.” She gave a curt nod before looking at her distressed friend. “Honey, you need to calm down.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and faced Victoria. Her eyes were on the verge of tears.

Victoria's expression softened as she shoved aside the blunt responses she had prepared in her mind. “Hey… Come here…” She cooed as she walked over to her with arms wide open.

(Y/N) quickly ran into Victoria’s embrace, letting the tears fall. She mumbled something into her shoulder.

“What was that, dear?” She asked softly.

(Y/N) pulled away, “I said, what am I going to tell Newt? I’ve told him that I recently got a boyfriend. How is he going to react when it’s his brother?”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “What’s it to him? He’s your best friend.” She said, emphasizing the fact that Newt was just her friend. “If it’s his brother or not, who you date is not his business.”

Theseus stood from his seat and walked over to the pair. “If it makes you feel better, we can invite him over for tea and tell him.”

(Y/N) moves from Victoria’s arms and walks over to Theseus. “I… I think I’d like that.”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

Despite Theseus and (Y/N)’s relationship, they never let it get in the way of their work. (Y/N) had the same workload and deadlines as the others in the task force.

Victoria was still expected to represent the Ministry’s Auror department, write news releases, and coordinate the distribution of information along with her fieldwork.

Theseus randomly assigned partners in every stakeout or raid- mostly because he’d feel like he’d protect the hell out of (Y/N) if she was paired up with him all the time. (Y/N) was capable, and he knew that.

Though there are sometimes where one of them got hurt and the other can’t help but care for them.

(Y/N) had made Theseus take off his blazer and rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Blood dripped from the wound caused by one of Grindelwald’s recruits. She sat on a short stool with a bucket of warm water off to the side, just within arms reach.

Theseus slouched in the chair, flinching at the slightest touches (Y/N) made with the towel. She had wiped off all the dried blood surrounding the wound. Then she started dabbing the towel ever so gently on top of it. The towel was damp and warm, but it didn’t make the pain any softer.

He grimaced as he inhaled sharply, jerking his arm away from her.

“I need to clean your wound, love” (Y/N) said, reaching over to where he moved his arm.

“But (Y/N) it hurts!” He whined.

“You’re being childish.” She replied.

“W-Well you’re not the one on the receiving end!”

“Honey, you were a soldier. I’m sure you’ve dealt with more serious wounds than this…”

“That’s because I didn’t have someone as cute as you cleaning me up.”

“Flattery won’t get your wound cleaned up.”

“Can’t you just use a spell?”

“Unlike most wizards, I like to do some things without the use of magic.”

He huffed childishly, not looking at her.

“If you didn’t move, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

Theseus grumbled, still moving his arm away.

“Theseus Scamander, hold still or so help me I will hex you!”

“I thought we didn’t allow magic in the bedroom~” He teased.

“Theseus! We’re at work!”

•✦.✧.🔎.✧.✦•

After months of asking and asking, Theseus had finally convinced Newt to come and visit him- to finally meet his girlfriend. (Y/N) had already decided on the tea so they were waiting for Newt to arrive.

As they waited, Theseus was looking over some reports as (Y/N) was leaning on his bookshelf, doing some light reading.

He sighed, setting the papers in his hand back down on his desk. Glancing over to (Y/N), he smiled, ‘She’s beautiful even when she’s reading…’

Theseus looked at her ensemble. A white long-sleeved button-up, a grey vest with a matching blazer, and dress pants. He looked at his suit- the same color scheme. Were they always matching?

He looked at her again and noticed that this time, she wore a tie with her suit, but not just any tie. A yellow and black tie- His Hufflepuff tie. Theseus smiled, “Hey (L/N), nice tie.”

(Y/N) nodded, turning the page of her book. “Yeah? I put it on this morning.” She said nonchalantly.

Theseus stood and made his way over. When he stood in front of her, he took the book from her hands and set it to the side. “Where’d you get it?”

She looked up at him. Was he always this tall? “Hogwarts. From when I went there. Duh.”

“Really? Because I remember you telling me that you were a Ravenclaw,” He said untucking the tie from under her vest. “This is clearly a Hufflepuff tie.” He held up the end of the tie in her line of view.

(Y/N) gasped. “I swear, it was an honest mistake!”

“Hmm…” He trailed off. “I kind of like seeing you in my ties. It’s cute.” He said, leaning in close.

“Thes… We’re at work… A-And your brother could walk in any minute-”

His fingers slid up the material, finally wrapping around the knot. “Yeah… But I haven’t kissed you since we left my flat…” He whispered, tugging softly as if to bring her closer.

She could feel herself leaning in close. Her lip mere millimeters away-

“Here we are! Head of Aurors Office!” Victoria said, opening the door to Theseus’ office. She and Newt walked in.

(Y/N) quickly pushed Theseus away, shoving the tie back under her vest.

“Newt!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving herself off the bookshelf.

“Brother!” Theseus said happily as he walked over to Newt.

There, Newt stood in a nice suit, a mustard yellow vest, and a blue overcoat. In his hand was a suitcase. The enchanted suitcase that (Y/N) had read so much about in his letters.

“Wait, when you told me in your letter that you had a boyfriend, you never told me it was my brother,” Newt said, slightly hurt.

“We meant to tell you!” Theseus said defensively.

“When? When I catch you almost snogging each other?” Newt retorted, glaring at his brother

“No! It would be over tea! Which we would be having right now…” She pouted.

“I think… I think I’d like a rain check on that…” He said as he started to back away.

“Newt! Don’t do this!” Victoria pleaded.

He finally turned around and walked to the door. When he got there, he stopped in Victoria’s line of view. Newt didn’t face her. He looked straight ahead, grip tightening on the handle of his case. “You knew and didn’t tell me?” Newt asked bitterly.

Victoria placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to say something and for once, she didn’t have a blunt response or snarky remark. “It wasn’t my position to say…”

Newt scoffed. “It would’ve been nice to know beforehand,” He said before shoving her hand off and walking away from Theseus’ office. Away from his brother. Away from his friend. Away from her. Newt hadn’t seen then in so long and now that he had the chance… He just left…?

(Y/N) quickly ran after him, “Newt, wait!”

Victoria leaned against the door frame, banging the back of her head against the wood. “It’s always a Scamander…”

Theseus looked at Victoria. “Did… Did they have something?”

Victoria sighed, stopping from her current action to look at Theseus. “It’s not my position to say…”

~*~*~

In the hallway, (Y/N) finally caught up to Newt. She held onto the material of his sleeve.

“Back there,” She panted. “What was that about?”

“You… You’re dating my brother?” He asked. Stupid question, but he needed to hear it again to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” (Y/N) said, but her tone made it sound rude.

“Didn’t think he’d be your type…” Newt mumbled.

“And you know what my type is?” She replied, slightly offended.

“I…” Newt paused. ‘I was hoping that it’d be me.’ He thought.

(Y/N) sighed, finally letting go of his sleeve. “Look, you’re my best friend and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ll admit that it was my fault, but I don’t want to lose you just because I’m dating your brother. I-”

“What?” Newt interrupted. “One Scamander isn’t enough? You need both of us in your life, do you? Why do you need me? You already have Theseus wrapped around your fingers.” He snapped.

“What is up with you, Newton?” She groaned in frustration. “You know what? Now is not the time. I’ll give you all the time and space you need. When you’re ready to talk about this, I’m only an owl away.” She turned to leave, but not before saying something that made Newt realize how he felt about his best friend.

“Just know that before Theseus,” She paused. “It was always you.”

[aethelar]

For @notquitenewt and for Pride, in response to JK’s recent tweets.

Graves would like to say he went out in a blaze of glory. Fighting to the end, embodying everything he stood for - he faced Grindelwald and came out standing, didn’t he, snarling and angry and more determined than ever to find the injustice that made a man like that able to exist and stamp it the fuck out. People wouldn’t turn to Grindelwald unless something was wrong. Evil doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Things need to change, and Graves limped and dragged and clawed his way back to MACUSA with his eyes wide open said finally, now that the rest of you fucks have seen where your intolerance leads, give me what I’ve been asking for for the past twenty years and let me change it.

He didn’t do it alone. A magizoologist who thought in a way people didn’t understand. A legilimens who heard minds in a way people were scared of. A no-maj baker who didn’t have magic but didn’t let that stop him. A junior auror who stood by what was right and got fired for it, and still didn’t learn to shut up and fall in line like she was expected to. He wasn’t alone.

But still. Graves didn’t go out in a blaze of glory. He limped and dragged and clawed his way, and then he came to a train station and lowered himself to sit on the floor with his back against one of the smooth white pillars that held up the roof, and he tipped his head forward in exhaustion and gave up.

He sees Newt before he hears him. A pair of shoes appearing beside him, yellow-black-yellow socks because Newt was always loyal at heart. His feet make no sound, or maybe they do and the station muffles it, and he arranges himself in a cross-legged untidyness next to Graves, and waits.

“I’m sorry,” Graves says, eventually, after the silence has settled into something comfortable. “I tried.”

“Why are you sorry?” Newt asks. “It’s not your fault.”

He grimaces. It’s not about blame. “I’m sorry the world’s so shit then,” he says. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t enough to fix it.”

“The world’s not all shit. Have you ever heard a phoenix sing?”

No. He hasn’t. Nor has he heard a fwooper sing, though he’s seen Newt’s flittering around his case enough times. Their song drives people mad. They’re illegal in America, still, but apparently in England you could own them as pets so long as you kept them under permanent silencing charms so they couldn’t sing.

Newt’s wasn’t under a silencing charm. It wasn’t on the fwooper not to sing, Newt said. It was made to sing. It wasn’t on the fwooper not to sing, it was on the people to not be driven mad. Then he’d grinned and handed Graves a pair of earmuffs, pink and fluffy because the fwooper was pink and fluffy and it amused him to make them match. It’s not the same as hearing a phoenix sing, but it’s a happy memory all the same, light hearted and simple and such an easy way to make the world better if only people would listen.

People don’t listen. Graves’ smile falls. “A few good things don’t make up for all the bad.”

“A few bad things can’t tarnish all the good,” Newt counters, and Graves shoots a sour look at the ground in front of him.

“It feels like the bad’s in everthing,” he says. “The foundation’s wrong. Our society was built on prejudice - the muggles believe in gods that make the world, if there was a god that made ours she’d be a racist prick. She’d think everyone was born in neat little box, divided up into magic and non magic and male and female and good and bad as though that’s all there is, as though people can’t grow, or change, or fucking be. That’s all people want. They’re not asking for much, they just want to be allowed to exist.” His voice has been rising, but here it goes hollow. This is why he’s tired. “How is it too much to ask to be allowed to exist,” he says, though it isn’t a question. “I don’t want to be part of a world made by a god like that.”

There’s quiet. Graves traces the marks in the white stone floor with his fingers, the dips where it’s worn down like thousands of feet have stampeded through the wall he’s sat against and rushed with excited joy to a meet the world. The shit world. He aches, suddenly, for the way they must feel when they learn the truth. No one should have to be betrayed like that.

“Grindelwald is defeated,” Newt says. His voice sounds odd, not quite like Newt. “After he’s gone, there’s a new dark lord. He’s defeated too, then he comes back, then he’s defeated again.”

“Why bother? If it follows the pattern there’ll just be another one.”

“If it follows the pattern the other one will be defeated too,” Newt-not-Newt answers, as though it were a simple fact, as though, given enough time, good would always win. “People thought the heroes did it,” he continues. “But they didn’t. Grindelwald had an army, and an army faced him. The one after him - people fought him with jokes, and radio shows, and learning that everything they’d been taught growing up was wrong and that they had to be better than the world expected them to be. Everyone thought it came down to the last battle, the last spell the hero cast, but it didn’t. It was everything leading up to that. All the ways that people looked at what he represented and said no, said he was wrong, said they weren’t going to let him dictate the world they lived in.”

He sounds certain. Like he lived through it. He doesn’t sound like Newt. When Graves tilts his head to the side and looks up at him, he’s both surprised and not surprised to see someone else there, messy-haired and short and somehow not as young as he looks.

He turns to Graves, frowning, serious and calm with the faintest hints of an anger Graves recognises simmering underneath. “Maybe there is a god,” he says. "Maybe she created the world and made parts of it wrong, but I don’t think she matters. It’s our world. She can say where it starts but she can’t tell us where it goes, and there’s no such thing as a neat little box to put someone in. People choose who they are.”

“How are we meant to choose,” Graves asks, “If the world won’t fucking listen?”

“I listen. Newt listens. There are a lot of people I could have chosen to appear to you as, and they listen. One person at a time we’ll keep listening until we outnumber the world. You are who you are, and that won’t change if people are too stupid to see it.”

Graves bites his lip, looking away. There’s a train in the station now, one that wasn’t there before. He’s been angry at the world for so long, for the way it knocks people down, the way he can fight and bare his teeth and scream at it to do better and it doesn’t, and now he’s tired and he feels like every new piece of hatred and bigotry is leeching everything out of life that he wanted to fight for in the first place, but.

But.

He has Newt, doesn’t he. And Queenie. Tina. Jacob. The world might be shit. The individuals aren’t. If he takes the train, if he’s exhausted and he can’t go on, they’ll keep going for him. They aren’t the only ones.

Graves doesn’t believe in gods. New York is his city. The wizarding world is his world. Fuck anyone who tries to take that away from him.

He turns to the master of death, scowl sitting on his face like it belongs there. “I’m not going to take the train,” he says. “I’m not done. Send me back.”

The master of death hums, but there’s a faint smile in the corner of his mouth. “You were pretty badly hurt,” he points out. “You had to be to end up here, and I’m only here to talk. I can’t stop you bleeding.”

Graves sets his jaw and raises his chin combatitively. “Hurt is not dead.” Besides, he wasn’t there by himself, and the others knew enough healing spells to put him back together. The others. The ones who would keep going if he couldn’t, the ones who will pick him up and support him when he falters. It settles, warm, right. He’s not alone. He doesn’t have to fight by himself. One by one until they outnumber the world, he’s not fucking alone.

Around him, the station wavers. The white starts breaking up and fragmenting; white light is made of all the colours, and it glitters over him like a rainbow. The master of death smiles, grin showing teeth, and maybe they’re from different times and maybe Graves will never meet him again but here, again, he’s not alone.

He wakes up. He didn’t go out in a blaze of glory. Newt leans over him, pale-faced and wide-eyed, spells pouring from his lips in a steady stream and hands bloody as he keeps him together, and Graves didn’t go out in a blaze of glory because whichever capricious god rules the world she’s not enough to stop him and he didn’t go out.

“I’m up,” he says, levering himself to a sitting position. “I’m good. I’m going to punch a bigot in the face.”

Newt chokes out a wet laugh. “Jacob’s already there,” he says. “I think Tina skipped punching and threw a car.” He doesn’t stop casting his spells or pressing against the wound in his side, and Graves pauses to consider. Bigots need punching. So long as someone’s doing it, then he can take a bit of a breather until he’s healed enough to join in.

He’ll need something big though. If Tina’s throwing cars, he can’t let himself be one-upped. On the other hand, there’s something just so satisfying about punching bigots in the face, it’s a tough choice.

Wait. No it’s not. There’s no little boxes and there’s no either or.

He’s going to do both.

[remedialpotions]

Tomorrow

ffn | ao3

He remembers their first kiss, that chaotic clash of lips and noses and bodies and adrenaline flooding through him. And the second, of course, a softer and sweeter one, in the quiet of an empty Gryffindor common room. In the very beginning, he couldn’t help but quantify it, seeking tangible evidence of what he wanted desperately to believe: that she wanted him, continued to want him, chose him to be hers. Other firsts, too, are burned permanently into his brain: her hands sneaking into his trousers; her knickers on the orange carpeting of his bedroom; her back arching with unbridled delight. But at some point in those weeks after the war, he lost track, and  now when he looks back, it’s all blurred together into a rush of happiness that most of the time seems too good to be true.

At times he worries that it is, that somehow she’ll slip through his fingers and he’ll wake up one morning to find that he never really had her at all - or worse, that the world will find a way to wrench this away from them. It always feels like he’s on borrowed time.

So they’ve snuck away from Sunday lunch at the Burrow to hide in the apple orchard. Even though it’s one of those cool, foggy days for which England is famous, he’s content to lend her his jumper and let goosebumps rise along his skin, because it means he’s with her, and that’s all that matters. 

All is calm between them. They’ve found their favorite little spot at the edge of the orchard, lounging against the trunk of a tree. Hermione’s head rests on his shoulder, her denim-clad legs slung casually over his lap. Her hand slips into his, and as he interlocks their fingers together, he notices ink stains on her fingertips. 

A pang of melancholy shoots through him.

“Have you been revising already?” he asks, causing her head to lift up from his shoulder.

“I supposed I should get started on things,” she replies, only a little bit defensive, “I took a whole year off, I can only imagine how behind I am-“

“Mhmm,” Ron interrupts with a barely-suppressed grin. “You’re so behind that McGonagall’s made you Head Girl. That’s definitely it.”

Her eyes narrow at him. “I just think I ought to be prepared. Now that it’s NEWT year, there’s so much more reading, and I’ve had to start on the schedules for prefect duties too. There’s just a lot to do.”

“And what about ‘spew’?” This only deepens her scowl, but he delights in it. “You starting that up again?”

“You mean S-P-E-W?” she says, tone haughty, before heaving a sigh. “I’m not sure, honestly. My two most active members won’t be there with me.”

“Your most active members?” chuckles Ron. “We only joined under duress.”

She scoffs. “You were hardly under duress-“

“We were!” he exclaims. “You came marching in with your badges, told us we were joining and demanded two Sickles from us. Didn’t have much of a choice, did we?” He laughs again at the recollection. “You even gave us jobs - I was treasurer, wasn’t I?”

“According to the governing documentation, yes, you were,” she confirms with a nod. “Harry was secretary, but he was awful at it. He never took minutes at any of the meetings.”

She joins him in laughter, then, and leans into him, and for a second everything is perfect.

“Like I said,” Ron grins, dropping her hand to wind his arm around her shoulders. Idly, his fingers trace random shapes into the fabric of the jumper. “We were under duress.”

Hermione purses her lips as she looks up at him. “So you’ve changed your tune again, then, from a couple months ago?”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes are shining now, alight with mirth. “I seem to recall a certain someone being very concerned about the welfare of the Hogwarts elves.”

The memory crashes over him like it’s done countless times since it happened: the Room of Requirement, the castle shaking around them, and the never-ending queue of students escaping to the Hog’s Head.

“I just wanted them safe, that’s all,” he says simply. “It’s not like I was standing round trying to think of ways to impress you.“ He sets a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly. “Though, it looks like it worked.”

Ron smiles at her, but his amusement fades when she doesn’t return it, instead puzzling up at him. “That’s not why I kissed you.” As his stomach twists, she adds, “not really, anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with S-P-E-W.”

His fingers stop moving across her shoulder. It had seemed so simple, months ago, when his mind was spinning to process the turn of events: he’d finally done the right thing. Finally proven himself worthy. Had put the last missing piece into place, right in the nick of time, just as everything else was falling apart.

“It is that I looked so dashing about to charge into battle, then? Was that it?”

His attempt at humor falls flat. She’s still contemplative, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere in the middle distance. As Ron watches, her teeth scrape over her lower lip.

“I thought we were going to die.”

The words hang there between them as something tightens painfully in Ron’s chest. Everything about this thing with Hermione has been so marvelously unexpected, right down to the fact that it’s happening at all, but he still didn’t think he would hear that. 

He’s not sure what he even thought she would say. Something perhaps about how she can’t live without him, or maybe something remarkably Hermione-ish about how he had finally ticked all the boxes of her boyfriend criteria and was now deemed suitable. Just not imminent demise. 

Not as the main reason, anyway.

“So did you,” she says gently when he remains quiet. “You said ‘it’s now or never’.”

“I know.” Thoughts swirl through his anxious mind, slowly formulating themselves into something worth speaking. “I just thought it was about more than ‘we’re about to die, so I may as well’.”

She recoils, clearly stung, and pulls her legs roughly off his lap; his arm drops off of her shoulder. “That’s not what I was thinking at all, actually-“

“Well, then - what if it never happened?” he presses on, even as he can see, as though he’s watching himself from above, that he’s on the verge of ruining the best thing he’s ever had. “What if that battle never happened, or I hadn’t said what I did? Would…” The words stick momentarily in his throat. “Would we even be here right now?”

“If that battle hadn’t happened, we’d probably still be starving in the woods somewhere with Harry,” she says, fingers toying with the lush grass between them. “But I don’t really know, because it did happen, and it changed everything.”

“Yeah, it did,” he agrees. “But is it - are you saying that everything changed but you want to… go back to how it was?”

“No,” she says, with such force that he recoils. “No, of course not-” She shakes her head, baffled. “Ron, we’ve - we’ve been having sex, we’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other-”

He holds his hands up, at a loss. “People get caught up in things-”

She goggles at him. “I have no idea how you can think for even a second-”

“Because you just said you thought we were going to die-“

“So did you-“

“But then we didn’t.” The words fall heavy between them. “Now we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, and I’m…” 

He hesitates, because baring his soul isn’t something he’s ever been remotely comfortable doing, but then he figures that there’s no harm in honesty. If he’s going to lose her, he at least wants to know that nothing’s been left unsaid.

“I’m scared.” He can feel her eyes on her, though he can’t bear to look. “I’m scared that now it’s not ‘I’m going to kiss him because we’ll be dead within the hour’, it’s this thing that you’ve done that has consequences now-“

“Consequences?!”

“Yeah, consequences. You kissed me ‘cause didn’t think you’d ever have to deal with it afterward, and I…” He exhales heavily through his nose. He can feel himself shaking. “And I’m scared you got more than you bargained for.”

There’s not a sound to be heard, save the occasional chirping of birds and the trickling of the nearby stream. Beside him, Hermione shifts onto her knees and sits back on her heels. Her hands land on his thigh, warm and grounding despite the damp chill in the air. 

“Ron.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “When you said ‘it’s now or never’... what did you mean by that?”

He forces himself to meet her gaze and finds only concern there, only affection. 

Maybe it’s not completely bungled after all.

“I just didn’t want to die having never kissed you.” Of their own accord, his hands slip around hers. “My life can be complete without a lot of things, but it wouldn’t have been complete without that.”

Hermione swallows, head bobbing in a shaky nod. And yet, beneath the nerves, there’s a glimmer of happiness. 

“I felt the same way - feel the same way. I still do. When you said what you said, about the elves, and Dobby...” The corners of her lips twitch into a faint semblance of a smile. “It didn’t really have anything to do with them specifically. It just reminded me of how wonderful you are, and - and why I love you. I just couldn’t see the point in waiting anymore.”

He picks up her hand, kisses the back of her knuckles. “I love you too.”

Using her hand to tug her close, he leans in to kiss her, but just as their lips meet, she starts laughing against his mouth.

“Do you really think that I just start kissing people for the sake of it whenever I’m in mortal danger?” Even as she’s teasing him, the smile she gives him is downright adoring. He’s not sure what made him question this for even a second, because the proof is right there in front of him. “Is that really what you thought happened?”

“No, of course not,” he laughs along with her. “I just reckoned…” He pauses as the right words slowly come to him. “I guess I just never thought we’d actually have this.”

Her smile fades. “Ever?”

He shrugs. “Somewhere along the way, I just stopped letting myself picture any kind of future, especially a good one, and this - I just reckoned this would be another thing that went wrong. And I wouldn’t get to have everything I want with you.” 

Hermione looks at him, eyes dark and intense, and then swings a knee over him to straddle his lap. With hands half-covered in maroon wool, she cups his face and presses her lips firmly to his. He sinks into it, tension seeping out of him at her touch: it really is going to be okay. It’s the first time he’s actually let himself believe it, even with the war firmly behind them. It finally feels safe to let that hope rise above all of the uncertainty and the anxiety that’s had a hold on him for so long. The future doesn’t just consist of stolen minutes and hours and days anymore. It’s weeks and months and years, and she’s in every single one of them.

“I think you’ve actually gone a bit mad,” says Hermione fondly as her hands slide down to the sides of his neck.

“Yeah, well.” Ron tugs lightly on the sides of her jumper. “Whose fault is that?”

“Just for the record,” she goes on, taking that lofty tone that should drive him mad but that he actually loves, “I kissed you because I want all of that-”

“I know, I know.” He steals a quick kiss, smiling when she leans in for more. “Reckon I already did, it’s just hard to believe sometimes.”

“For me, too,” she admits. Her fingertips graze along his shoulders, down to the scarred skin of his forearms, and she tilts her head in alarm at him. “Ron!”

“What?”

“You’re freezing!”

Another shrug. “A bit, maybe-”

“And here I am hogging your jumper, we really ought to go inside-”

“But I don’t really care,” he tells her plainly. “I just wanted to spend as much time with you as I could.”

“We’ve got time.” Her voice is soft, reassuring, soothing the last edges of his self-doubt. “We’ve got plenty of it now.”

He considers this. They’re eighteen years old, and life stretches out ahead of them with no end in sight. Perhaps he doesn’t actually have to grasp desperately at every second anymore.

“Right.” He pats the sides of her legs. “Get up, then. It’s about to be time for lunch, anyway.”

She clambers off of him, and they rise to their feet, brushing stray blades of grass from their jeans as they walk toward the house. He does feel a bit less frantic now. Hogwarts still looms in the future, but there’s still so much more to come. 

As they traipse through the garden, Hermione’s hand worms into his, her other one wrapping around his upper arm. He looks down to see her beaming at him.

“I was just thinking,” she says, “that just because I’ll be away, it doesn’t mean you can’t still be involved in S-P-E-W. Maybe you can even head up the London chapter-“

Ron holds up a hand to stop her. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

[dylinski]

Magnetism

Warnings: SMUT! bondage (but barely), language, violence, kind of dom tommy (but y/n is a brat so it doesnt last long), angst (obviously)

Relationships: Thomas/Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Author: @dylinski​

A/N: Here’s my fic for day 4 of tomuary!!!! if i get them finished, i plan on posting two more but we’ll see how that goes. lol hope ya’ll enjoy and let me know what you think please. i’m really unsure about writing smut and idk if this is any good, so if i shouldn’t write anymore it would be nice to know. lol

There’s something about running for your life and fighting against all odds to survive that make a person reevaluate their life, but with Y/N, that’s not the case. Being in the scorch with a bunch of boys wasn’t much different from the glade, so what was there to consider? She knew who her friends and her enemies were and that’s all she needed to know in order to survive in this world. If Thomas had just listened to her when she said not to trust Teresa, more of them would be alive, but him not believing anything Y/N says is to be expected. Since the moment he came up and out of the box, something repellant between them switched on. The only proper way to describe it is when you try to force two poles of a magnet together with the same polar direction.

Fighting their way out of the maze, through the scorch, and now in this abandoned town lets a person see a lot of death and Y/N was tired of it. If that meant trying to convince Thomas that running around and attacking WCKD at random to find Minho, risking other’s lives, was a bad idea then she was willing to take all the blame. They were so close to paradise and they had saved so many souls already. At least Vince agreed, having one person on her side is nice.

There was another meeting, discussing all the usual topics, but Thomas seemed more pissed off than usual, which is saying something as of late. He’s been nothing but a pissy bitch since the search for his raven-haired friend had turned sour and unwilling. The meeting was held in a moderate-sized room, big enough to hold the handful of people permitted. Thomas was leaning on both hands over a table with Newt at his hip, what a surprise. They were combing over a map with Vince and Jorge, arguing about a last city or something. Y/N was sitting in the corner, rolling her eyes at practically every other word, a sad image of men and boys arguing over nonsense around the circular table. 

Newt would look up every once in a while and give her a sympathetic smile to let her know she wasn’t forgotten in the exchange of emotions and words. She liked Newt, he had always been kind to her when most of the other boys treated her like she was fragile and delicate in the maze. He never doubted her or underestimated her abilities despite what was between her legs, well, until that little shit popped up and out of the ground. Motherfucking Thomas, the angel, the savior, the one who will lead us to paradise. Yeah right, more like the one who will lead everyone to their preventable deaths.

“Look! He was there, okay? I know it. Minho was there!” The vein in Thomas’ neck was protruding and defined from the strain he was putting on his words. He was desperate. “We grabbed the wrong container!”

“Thomas, there was a 50/50 chance and we made a choice of which one to grab. Not to mention the odds of him being in either train car, to begin with, were small.” Vince was calm and collected, he always managed to keep a cool head.

“Yeah, but he was there! If I had just..” Thomas was quieter now, but no less desperate.

“You didn’t pick the wrong one, Mate. We saved at least 100 people from WCKD today. I wouldn’t call that a failure. We didn’t find Minho, but I have faith we will. He’s still out there, I know it.” Newt looked up at Y/N when he finished, and she couldn’t help to give a forced smile. Leave it to him to be the voice of reason, but also the one to egg on the bumbling buffoon everyone seems to eagerly place their faith in.

“Newt, I get that, but he was there, he was right there! If we hadn’t been so pressed for time I could have-”

Y/N jumped up, utterly pissed at this point and tired of hearing these idiots run round and round in the same circles. “You could have what, Thomas? You could have picked the ‘right’ container? Hmm? Why don’t you go tell that to Sonya? Or Aris? I’m sure they’d love to hear that you saving their lives, along with everyone else in that box, wasn’t your goal and you’d gladly trade them for the single life of Minho.”

Everyone in the room fell silent and it was filled with the light of the moon shining through the missing part of the ceiling. The flames from the lanterns danced on everyone’s shocked faces. Y/N was never one to prance around the daisies when it came to stating the obvious. Thomas looked almost ashamed and it was honestly annoying. She was tired of his pitiful ’I didn’t ask for this’ routine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Despite the guilt that raged in his stomach, he used it to fuel his anger towards Y/N, which was to be expected. He took most of his negative emotions out on her, his own personal punching bag, but he could never land any punches because she honestly couldn’t care less. She rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips, shooting knives at him and his nostrils flared under her eyes. An unknowing battle of spiteful gazes between them.

“Well, as entertaining as it is to watch you two practically have hate-sex with each other, we need to discuss our options.” Jorge obviously chose his words to jolt the two out of their staring contest and it worked. They both made faces like they had tasted something sour, scrunching their noses at the idea of actually wanting each other. Well, I mean, it’s not the first time Y/N had thought of it, but just because he had the body that could rival a god doesn’t mean she was ignorant of his pea-sized brain.

“There’s nothing to discuss. We’re not risking anyone’s lives to go to the last city, if it’s even real.” Y/N couldn’t help but sights the relief of Vince seeing reason.

“I’ve heard things over the years, that it was a last resort for WCKD, their place of operations. I’ve never managed to make it that far north, but it’s one of the safe heavens that were put into place when things went to shit.” Y/N huffed in annoyance, thanks, Jorge. Great job at giving the little shit ideas.

“Look, we could make it there with a small team in a week and then be back with Minho in no time.”

“No, Thomas. I’m not risking any more lives to save one person. This is a suicide mission. If it’s anything Jorge says it is, the city will be a fortress. Not to mention the road to get there, riddled with the infected. We don’t have the people or the resources to take on a fight like that.” Vince was tired of arguing with him, so he was standing his ground and that would be the end of it. Thomas may have been the leader in the glade and the scorch, but here he was allowed the privilege to have a say by Vince.

“I don’t need an army, just two or three-”

“Thomas, no!” Vince was done with these petty arguments and put his foot down. “The ship is almost done. We’ll be ready to sail in less than a week. There are casualties in war, and in this world, the life of one doesn’t out way the lives of the many. We’re not going and that’s final.”

Thomas grunted and threw his arms up in rebellion, stomping off to brood somewhere by himself. 

Y/N couldn’t help the small smile of satisfaction that crept onto her face from seeing him so pissed off. She strode over to where Newt was standing and crossed her arms, leaning her back against the table to face him.

“He’s hurting you know? He blames himself. He blames himself for everything honestly.” The smile melted away just as easily as it appeared. There goes Newt, always defending his puppy.

“He should! I told him not to trust Teresa!” Newt let a small shudder roll over his body at her name and Y/N couldn’t help but feel empathy and guilt for mentioning it.

“We all trusted her, except for you, of course. You never let us forget it, but we had no reason not to. She helped us, she helped Thomas. Maybe you were just jeal-”

“For the love of God, Newt, if you say I was jealous, I’ll break your other leg.” He chuckled at the threat, knowing it was empty and mostly a joke. It made her smile a bit, seeing him smile and laugh. He was always like a brother to her and she missed seeing him so happy. A lot of them haven’t been able to feel that way for a while now. Not since Thomas showed up and shucked it all up, anyway. 

“He understands why you hate him.” Y/N was caught off guard, lost in her own head when Newt broke through.

“I don’t hate him, I just…” There wasn’t really a word for it. It was like Thomas was made specifically to boil the blood in her veins and ignite a fire in her stomach that was begging to rage. He knew exactly how to get under her skin and press her buttons, and most of the time he wasn’t even trying.

“You two are a lot alike actually.” Newt let out a chuckle and ignored the hard stare directed at him. “You’re both stubborn as bulls, reckless too. Jumping into things without thinking clearly. You’re guided by emotion rather than logic, but there’s nothing wrong with that.” He turned his head to face his friend and curled up the corner of his lip. “Go get some sleep, we’ve all had a long day.” Newt patted her shoulder and limped off, leaving her alone in the room that now felt huge.

Y/N wasn’t really that tired, so she decided to go around to her favorite spot by the water that she found when they first arrived. The way the moonlight danced on the water in the darkness created the illusion of twinkling lights and reminded her of looking up into the sky in the glade. She hopped down from the ledge onto the sand and trotted through the thick and moist beach towards the large rock that always managed to be warm despite the sun. When it finally came into view, she halted in her tracks.

Of course, Thomas would fucking be there, laying on her rock in her secret spot. A low grumble resonates in her chest as she clenched her fist and stomped towards him. He heard and sat up hazily, having been lost in the limbo of sleep and consciousness.

“What? Who’s...oh. It’s you.” He laid back down, resting his head on his arms that were raised over his head.

“That’s my spot.” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth and clenched fists, trying not to punch him.

He lifted his head slightly and opened one eye, looking Y/N over and then let his head fall back down. “I don’t see your name on it.”

Y/N’s jaw went slack as she let out a small whine of protest, which seemed to put a shit-eating grin on Thomas’ face. Despite being pissed as hell, she couldn’t deny that his smile, with the crescent eyes and the way the moon illuminated his face, was...beautiful. No. No no no no. She’s mad and he’s an annoying little shit that gets everybody hurt or killed. Okay, good. She couldn’t stand the thought of actually being attracted to him.

“You know, Newt says-” Thomas was cut off by her.

“Newt says a lot of things.” Despite being so close to him, Y/N still couldn’t help but feel the rise of annoyance as she rolled her eyes.

Thomas sat up on his elbows and looked over at Y/N. The way he looked at her, and the light of the night with the waves crashing, for some reason it made her feel vulnerable. She moved her arms that were crossed on her chest down to wrap around her stomach. Thomas tilted his head in the most quizzical of ways like he was trying to decipher her. She was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, but so terribly wanted to. 

Tired of being gawked at, Y/N took the few steps between them and leaned against the large boulder, her back mostly facing Thomas. She looked up to the sky that was mostly black and empty and let out a sad sigh. She missed the stars, but since they left the maze they seemed to have all died out.

“I know, I miss them too.” Y/N shot a look over her shoulder at Thomas who was looking up. She couldn’t help but linger her gaze on him, he looked so...broken. He must have felt her stare because the muscles in his arms flexed under his weight as he shifted uncomfortably. His jaw clenched, but he still kept looking up, searching for something they both knew he’d never find.

“Why do you want to save Minho so bad?” He broke his lock on the sky and looked at her like it was the stupidest of questions, which it was. “I mean, I know why, but he’s probably dead. We haven’t heard anything about him in months and-”

“He’s alive.” Thomas laid himself back down flat against the rock. “I know it, I can feel it in my gut.” He spoke like it was the truth, something factual rather than the simple feeling that it really was.

“Yeah, but what if he’s not? Are you willing to risk our lives, your life, for someone who may not even be alive?”

He sat up fully and his eyes were dark and full of emotions she couldn’t quite decode. His posture changed to confidence and purpose. “Minho would do it for me.” He looked out to the ocean and crossed his legs, letting his elbows rest on them, placing his cheeks between his hands.

Y/N couldn’t argue with him there. She had known Minho longer than Thomas, and if there was one thing he’d never do, it would be leaving a friend behind. Thomas scooted over and patted the hard surface next to him. She examined the spot and looked up to him, questioningly. He gave her a small smile and she climbed up next to him. There was silence between them, not having much to say, as they shared the space and took in the sea and its illusion of stars.

“I’m going,” Thomas spoke softly as he continued to stare out at the water. They could hear the waves lapping against the stone as his words echoed. Y/N wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Was he going now? Going to sleep? He looked up and his lips turned down, eyes full of sadness and it hit her. He was going to the last city, alone.

“What!? You can't go! Did you not hear Vince? It’s a suicide mission!” Y/N surprised both of them at her exasperation to get Thomas to stay. I mean, sure she didn’t like the guy, but it’s not like she wanted him dead.

He looked at her and pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t care. I have to at least try.” The look in his eyes was pitiful and unrelenting. The decision was made, and once he made his mind up on something, there was no use arguing with him.

“If you want to die, that’s fine, I won’t be a part of it.” Y/N hopped down from the rock and started to walk away hurriedly. “But I’m telling Vince.” 

Thomas’ eyes grew wide and he jumped from the rock and chased after her. “No! You can't say anything!” He grabbed her arm and she reactively spun around, landing a solid punch in his gut. Thomas grabbed his stomach and took a step back, grunting in pain. She rolled her eyes and turned to continue walking when Thomas ran up behind her and tackled her to the ground.

“What the fuck, Thomas!?” She struggled but managed to spin around, her back to the sand and Thomas hovering over top her, caging her in with his arms as they held her wrists down over her head.

“I can't let you tell anyone before I leave!” His hot breaths were huffing into her face, a contrast to the cold breeze that had chilled the air.

Y/N looked up at him in frustration and confusion, but mostly at herself. Her eyes flitted down to his lips for the slightest of seconds, but she had to throw those thoughts from her mind. Sorry, Thomas. She slammed her head up into the boy’s nose and he let out a shout as he flew back, grabbing his face and releasing his grip on her arms. She wiggled out from under him and stood up to keep going, but a hand wrapped around her ankle and she face-planted into the hard earth and let out a groan, rubbing the sore spot on her head.

Thomas climbed up on top of her, straddling her waist from behind. He held her wrists to her side this time, avoiding the possibility of her bucking her head back and hitting him in the face again. She writhed underneath him and fought as best she could, but he was stronger than her. It didn’t help that he had the advantage either.

“Are you jacked!? Let me go you little shuckface!” She let out screeches and shouts as she struggled, but it was no use. She gave up and relaxed under him. “Well, you can't hold me down forever! What’s your plan here slinthead?”

Thomas didn’t reply, obviously trying to make this shit up as he went along. He pinned her arms behind her back and stood up, making a grunting noise as he pulled her up with him. “Oh, now he’s the quiet brooding type. Couldn’t get you to shut up for the life of me in the glade, but now you got nothing to say?”

“Shut up.” He grunted through his teeth as he pushed Y/N forward a bit, jerking her around as they walked. He still had her arm pinned behind her back and it was getting kind of painful now.

“Where are you taking me? Are you gonna kill me? Didn’t think you’d have the balls. Well, actually with all the people you’ve killed over the last year, it probably won’t be that hard.” Thomas threw Y/N up against the wall of one of the buildings as they passed through the camp and her head bounced off, now throbbing in two places. She slammed her eyes shut and grabbed the back of her skull as Thomas slammed his hands into the wall on either side of her face. His body was pressing into hers and she could feel every muscle tense as he gritted his teeth and flared his nostrils.

Their faces were inches apart as he growled at her. “I’m getting fucking tired of you reminding me how many mistakes I’ve made!” She has seen him angry like this before, and it was intense, but to have it directed at her, if she was less of a stubborn mule, she probably would have klunked her pants. Thomas was like a raging sea when he was truly angry, everything in his path swallowed up and demolished. He had so much anger, so much hate towards WCKD and himself that when he reached a tipping point it would all spill out like an erupting volcano, and Y/N just happened to be in his path.

“You walk around, talking shit about me to everyone and I can’t take it anymore! You think I don’t carry those people with me, that I don’t know the lives I’ve cost!? I didn’t want any of this! I never asked for it. I didn’t want to be the leader! That’s Minho’s job, but for some God-forsaken reason, everyone but you thinks I’m some savior. I just want to save my friends! I just want to get as far from WCKD and this fucking place as I can! The last thing I need is you reminding me how royally I’ve screwed up every five seconds!” He pulled her off the wall, she was mostly shell shocked from his burst of fury. He gripped her bicep tight enough to leave a bruise as he guided her further through the camp. “But first, I’m getting Minho.”

They traveled the rest of the way in silence which was preferred by Thomas since he was trying not to wake up anyone anyways. They made it to the small building that Thomas had claimed as his own and he shut the door behind them. He pushed Y/N down forcefully on his excuse for a bed and she sat there, still and silent. Thomas paced and ran his fingers through his hair as his mind raced a million miles a minute.

Y/N gulped and wasn’t entirely sure what to say to keep him from exploding again. It wasn’t that she feared he would hurt her, she knew he wouldn’t, but she feared to see him like this. Seeing him like a rabid dog biting at the ankles of anyone who caught his eye. Thomas grabbed a shirt from the floor and ripped off a piece and grabbed her arm, pulling her up the bed.

“Are you serious? You’re tying me up?” Thomas glared at her and then proceeded to tie her wrist to the post of the bed. “Kinky.” Her words were meant to antagonize him, and it worked as he visibly clenched his jaw in vexation. He got up and started to walk around the room when Y/N cleared her throat and waved her hand at Thomas. “Well you’re not very bright, are you?” He looked at her with bewilderment and she rolled her eyes. “My other hand. What’s to stop me from untying your sad excuse for a knot?” Thomas growled under his breath, mostly at himself for not thinking about that possibility. He ripped off another strip of cloth and tied her other wrist to the opposite bedpost.

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was helping him, but she was starting to find this entertaining. Seeing him sputter around in an attempt to get himself killed and digging himself into a deeper hole. Y/N watched him with enjoyment as she crossed her ankles and relaxed against the headboard. He was scurrying around the room like a squirrel, trying to find things and stuffing them into a bag.

“So you’re just gonna leave me tied up when you leave until someone finds me, huh?” Thomas looked over his shoulder and huffed as he continued to rummage through his belongings. “Don’t forget your jacket, might get a little chilly.” He stood up from where he was squatting and threw his bag down hard on the ground and curled in his lips with impatience.

“Keep talking and I’ll gag you!” 

“Ooo, promise?” Thomas shot daggers as he glinted his eyes and growled. Y/N just smiled and wiggled her head in triumph. “If you wanted to get me into bed, all you had to do was ask.” Thomas rolled his eyes and turned to keep packing. She was getting bored of the silence and made an attempt to rile him up again.

 “Some of the boys in the glade used to talk, you know?” Thomas ignored her as she rambled on. “Apparently you weren’t very quiet when you used to, you know?” Thomas turned to her with curiosity. Since her hands were, tied she couldn’t make the motion, so she thrust her hips up twice, but he got the idea. His eyes went wide and he froze in place. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his discomfort. “I overheard Jeff telling Zart about how they accidentally saw you in the woods rubbing one out and when you came you said my na-”

“SHUT UP!” Thomas grabbed what was left of the shirt from the end of the bed and shoved it into Y/N’s mouth. She just laughed through the fabric, her enjoyment muted. His cheeks were so pink that they looked like they were hot to the touch and it was almost adorable how flustered and embarrassed he looked. He was sitting on the side of the bed, his back mostly facing Y/N and his head hanging low in shame.

Finally, his cheeks turned from pink to red and he looked to her as he stood. “Well, what do you expect with you prancing around the glade in those short shorts and spaghetti-strap shirts!?” Y/N’s face went from amused to resentful. She tried defending herself through the cloth but all that came out was stifled noise. Thomas threw his arms up and huffed in annoyance, then grabbed the shirt from her mouth.

“I said, you fucking misogynist, that it was fucking hot out while I was working, unlike you who avoided his duties like the plague! Besides, how is it fair for you to fucking say shit like that about me when you paraded yourself around in those pants that clung to your ass while you were shirtless? Do you think I liked staring at your abs as sweat rolled down them?” Both of them were stunned into silence, Y/N realizing what she said and Thomas just amazed that she even thought about him like that. 

They both stared at each other, Y/N turning flushed and Thomas trying to hold back his smile. “Shut up!” She pushed her leg out to the side as she kicked him as hard as she could in the leg. He shouted at the impact and bent over to grab the spot that now throbbed.

“You’re such a violent little shit!” He hollered at her, referring to their brawl earlier.

“Yeah? Imagine me in bed.” Her words were sultry and aimed at being intimidating, but Thomas just smiled the most devilish grin. 

“I already have.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and blushed as she turned her head against her shoulder in the opposite direction of Thomas in protest. After a moment she looked back since he was so quiet and he was still standing there, looking at her with hunger and gnawing on his bottom lip. She narrowed her eyes and couldn’t help but look down and noticed the bulge in his pants. Her eyes went wide and she gasped as she went to kick him again. He yelped and swatted her foot away. “What the fuck, Thomas?”

“What!? You’re the one who said to imagine you in bed!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re such a whore!” Thomas had a smile of amusement at being called a whore like it was a funny joke. Y/N just huffed and turned her eyes up in annoyance. 

“C’mon, you haven’t thought about me?” Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, keeping distance between them in case she wanted to kick or headbutt him again.

“God no!” Her words were firm and strong, but she was betrayed by her face. His lips went dry at the lie and she licked them unknowingly as her eyes darted to his. She blushed and looked away quickly to avoid any further incrimination, but Thomas grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. His face was so close to hers now, them only needing to whisper to communicate.

“Tell me, what did you imagine? Do you think about my thick cock while you had your fingers inside yourself?” She shuddered at his words and her mouth was like a desert, begging for water. Her lips were parted and she couldn’t gain control of her tongue as she searched his eyes, full of need and hidden desire. He licked her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and a chill coursed through her. He pulled away and her face followed, but was she restrained by the ties on her wrists. She let out a small whine at the loss of his mouth. Thomas bit his lip and chuckled. “If that’s how your lips taste, I bet the rest of you tastes just as amazing.” His hand rested on her bare calf and trailed its way up her leg until it reached her thigh where the hem of her shorts began.

Her hot, panting breaths were mixed with his, their lips nearly touching. She wanted desperately to close the minuscule distance between them, but couldn’t make her body move, frozen under his touch. Thomas went in, but just before their lips connected he tilted his head and collided his mouth with her neck. She let out a gasp at the sudden feeling of his warm lips against her chilled flesh. He kissed and sucked at the spot just below her jaw as she leaned back, giving him more access. He worked his way down to the pulse in her neck and bit down, then licked over it to alleviate the red marks. The mix of pain and pleasure, hot and cold, had her rubbing her thighs together in search of friction. Y/N let out a small moan into Thomas’s ear and his hand made its way further up her leg. He continued to lick and nip at her neck, leaving marks and right before his hand reached her core he pulled away.

Y/N let out a whine of protest at the loss of his warmth as he stood up and started to walk away. She was finally able to find her voice, but just barely. She croaked out in a pant, “You can’t just do that.”

“Can’t I?” A smile crossed his lips and the asshole had the nerve to wink. She pouted and huffed in retaliation and Thomas was now standing at the end of the bed, his legs touching the mattress, directly vertical to her. “I’m not going to just give you what you want. You have to work for it, Princess.” Y/N’s eyes went wide, seeing him like this, so domineering. The last thing she ever expected was for him to be authoritative in bed, let alone letting herself be subdued by him.

Thomas was such an arrogant little shit, he got into crevices that she didn’t even know she had. Working his way through her walls and made her squirm. She tugged at the cloth around her wrists, digging into her flesh and creating a pleasurable sting, wishing she could jump on him. She’s not entirely sure if her desire is to jump his bones or beat his ass though. He laughs and leans over her feet, placing his hands on the mattress. “Come on, baby girl, beg.” He took his time saying the last word, allowing the ‘g’ to bounce off his tongue.

“I don’t fucking beg!” Y/N spit at Thomas and the wet hit his chin. He grinned and stood up as he wiped it from his face with his finger, then placed it in his mouth. He sucked on it and let it out with a pop. Even if her tongue wouldn’t beg, her eyes sure did. “Fucking Christ…” she mumbled under her breath, but he still heard and chuckled.

Thomas places his hands on her ankles and slowly slid them up the length of her legs, maintaining eye contact. He placed his knees on the bed and was straddling the lower part of her body. When his fingers reached the waist of her pants, he curled his fingers into the band and looked her in the eyes. His digits against her flesh were thrilling and like fire coursing to her core. He searched her eyes for protest, but Y/N bit her lip and gave him the slightest nod. He smirked and looked down as he dragged the clothing off her hips. The tug pulled her down slightly, now resting on her tailbone instead of her ass. He pulled her shorts all the way off with her shoes and let them drop to the floor.

Y/N crossed her legs, feeling vulnerable, but Thomas leaned in and forced them apart by her knees. She dragged her legs up, placing her feet flat on the bed as Thomas’ fingers trailed up her thighs, leaving a trail of fire. He leaned down, his heat breaths against the inside of her legs. He kissed and licked at the warm skin and left bruising marks as he sucked into it. His mouth made its way up painfully slow to her sex when he blew cold air across it. A shiver radiated up her spine and left her feeling dizzy at the mix of everything.

Thomas kept licking and sucking everywhere around her core, the place where she so desperately wanted him to be. Her hips bucked up uncontrollably whenever he got agonizingly close, but he would always move away. “Thomas..” His name was breathy and needy, a plea for him to stop being such a tease. He moaned at the sound of his name on her lips and it reverberated through her skin as he continued to kiss and she felt it in her core. The stimulation causing her to whine. 

“Tell me what you want, Princess.” His words vibrated against her flesh as he refused to release his lips. 

Y/N let out a couple hearty breaths when she finally panted out, “Fuck me with your tongue, you prick!”

Thomas dove into her core without hesitation and the sound that came from her was somewhere between a screech and a gasp. His tongue lapped up around her entrance, licking up all the wetness he caused. He hummed at the taste and it sent shivers through her body and down to her toes. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He licked a stripe up to her clit and clamped his lips around the nub as he sucked hard. The pressure around it was inciting, but then he started to flick his tongue across the bundle of nerves. The two sensations mixing together sent a warm thrill down to her bones as her back arched up slightly. 

The noises coming from Y/N were a mix of moans and gasps as his tongue worked on her fervently. He let go of her clit and replaced it with the pad of his finger, rubbing circles into it. He traced the ring of her entrance with the tip of his tongue until her hips bucked up and he penetrated, just like she had said she wanted him to. He thrust his tongue in and out, drinking up the dampness she was producing for him. “So wet. Taste’s so good.” The words vibrated through her core and a deep long moan was released. 

“Fi..fingers.” She struggled to get the word out, but Thomas knew what she needed. He placed his mouth around her nub again, sucking and flicking while his finger traced the place his tongue had been. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and watched as she writhed under his torment. She looked down at him and whined, so he gave in and pushed a finger inside her. He slowly pumped it in and out as she let out soundless gasps. He wiggled his finger, stretching her out and slid a second one in. He pumped as he sucked at her clit and her moans were constant now. Her body, unable to keep still, was beyond her control and fully reacting to everything that Thomas was doing.

He scissored his digits, widening her for his cock. “Are you gonna come on my fingers, baby?”

“Mhmmm” That was all Y/N could manage with all the sensations she was feeling. That fire building in her stomach was overflowing and begging to spill out. She was such a wreck that she felt like she was being torn apart. Thomas curled his fingers and pumped them vigorously as he kept his mouth to her bundle of nerves and hit that spot that triggered everything. His digits brushed across it once, twice, three times, and then the coil broke.

Thomas watched as Y/N let out a silent scream and threw her head back. He smiled at his victory and hummed around her clit, causing her body to spasm through her orgasm. He licked around his fingers, taking in all she had to offer. Pulling his fingers from her, she went limp on the bed, panting with her eyes shut and her wrists red from tugging at the ties around them. He licked his digits, eating up everything he could and couldn’t help but be smug at how well he unraveled her. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet babygirl. If I made you come that good on my fingers, I can’t wait to see you on my cock.” 

Thomas started to rub the all too obvious tenting in his pants and Y/N opened her eyes, panting, and looked at him in awe. He pulled off his shirt and, dear God those abs and his chest. He wasn’t chiseled or defined, but you could still see the muscles easily. There was a patch of hair between his pecs that spread down and across to his nipples that were hard pebbles. Y/N licked her lips as she thought about running her tongue across them. Her eyes found the thick brush of hair just below his belly button that led down to the band of his pants that hung low on his hips, showing off the ‘v’ that disappeared into his waistband. 

Y/N gulped as she rubbed her thighs together, becoming aroused again just by the sight of the man. He reached a hand down his pants and started rubbing, as she poked his legs with her foot. “Take. Them. Off.” Thomas smiled and did as he was told. His pants fell around his ankles as he stepped out, kicking off his boots. He pumped his cock, the flesh around his swollen head begging to be tasted.

He crawled onto the bed, his heavy dick hanging between his legs as he hovered over Y/N. She was licking her lips so much they were bound to become chapped. He laid his body on top of her, his cock resting against her pelvis. He reached a hand under her top, pulling the hem up to reveal her breast. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over the sensitive and raised peak, making her close her eyes. She let out a hot breath and Thomas took advantage of her open mouth. He plunged his tongue between her lips and swirled it around, filling her with her own taste.

Their lips smacked against each other, creating a dance of tongues filled with moans and whines. Thomas released her mouth and trailed suckling kisses across her jaw and down her neck until he reached her nipple. He took it into his mouth and thrust his hips forward, rubbing his shaft against Y/N’s all too sensitive clit. She shuddered and met his hips as she bucked up against him. He let out a deep groan at the friction he’d been craving so frustratingly and lightly bit down on the flesh next to her nipple in response.

“Untie. Me. Now.” Y/N huffed, trying to keep herself coherent enough to speak.

“Not yet.” Thomas purred into her ear and licked a long stripe from her jaw up to behind her ear that left chills on her skin as the cold air hit the wetness. She grunted in revolt at not being untied but was distracted as Thomas thrust his hips up again and she let out a hitched breath. He zoned in his focus on her nipple, sucking and nibbling until Y/N was writhing beneath him.

Thomas started to kiss her passionately in a chaos of lips, teeth, tongues, and saliva as he lifted his hand not preoccupied with her nipple to untie the fabric around her left wrist. She pulled her arm away at the freedom and immediately wove her fingers through his hair. He gave her other nipple equal attention when he switched hands to release her other wrist. It went for his ass without hesitation. She drew her leg up over his thigh as her fingers dig into the flesh on his behind. He moaned into her mouth at the feeling of her touch, not realizing how sorely he needed it.

His hips bucked up against her core rhythmically now as they deepened their kiss in a flutter of groping and tugging of flesh. “Fuck me.” Y/N spoke into his mouth and Thomas growled in response. He leaned up, pulled her shirt over her head and lined his cock up with her cunt. His head and shaft were already slick with her wetness from gliding across her core. He pressed the tip against the entrance and slowly pushed the head in. Y/N let out a moan as she felt him move deeper inside her, inch by agonizing inch. Halfway, he easily slid in until he bottomed out.

He kept still, taking in her heat around him and allowing her to adjust to his size. She whined when he was still for too long and the look in her eyes was all the answer he needed. He hiked her leg over his hip for a better angle and slowly pulled out until she was almost empty. He slowly pushed back in until their pelvis’ met again. He repeated this excruciating movement until she couldn’t take it anymore. She gripped the back of his head, intertwining her fingers in his hair and pulled his face to her. She kissed him hard and pulled on his lip with her teeth letting it bounce back with a plop. He let out a rumble in his chest and thrust into her hard. A small yelp escaped her chest and she dug her other hand into his shoulder. “Fuck.”

Thomas pulled out slow again, but rammed into her hard. He did this a few more times until he couldn’t take it anymore himself. He started to quicken his pace and Y/N’s head fell back as she clung to him. Her moans and grunts unrelenting, littered with profanities and his name, egging him on. “Oh fuck.” She forced out her words with each breath as he pushed into her like there was no room for them with him inside.

“Fuck, baby girl. You feel so fucking good.” Thomas let his head fall into the crevice of her neck as he pulled her other leg over his hip, the heels of her feet digging into the bottom of his ass. He mercilessly thrust into her, over and over, moving the bed along with them and they were both practically screaming now. “Christ, princess you’re so tight.”

Y/N couldn’t answer, her mind too wired and out of control, just like her body. She let out noises she couldn’t decipher and felt that heat in her abdomen start to boil like a hot white flame. They were both covered in sheens of sweat, and she watched as a bead dripped down Thomas’ temple. The vein in his neck was defined and strained, pulsing visibly. “I’m so fucking close.”

Thomas reached down between them and started to vigorously rub circles on her clit, he shifted his pelvis and with his next thrust hit her g-spot perfectly. “Holy..” She gasped out as the build-up reached its peak, the split moment of feeling lighter than air, her stomach jumping. “FUCK.” Her dams burst and she let out a long and gruff breath, exhaling hard as she came around his thick cock, her eyes and head rolling back.

Thomas could feel her clenching around him and the hot pressure sent him over the edge as he came inside her, letting hot spurts coat her walls. He took his fingers from her clit and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock as he milked out every last bit of his orgasm into Y/N. He collapsed down onto her, their bodies a mess of sweat, saliva, and come. They both panted and sighed as they let their bodies catch up to the moment, exhausted from what just happened.

Thomas got up and grabbed a cloth, dousing it in water, then cleaning up the mixture of come from Y/N. He cleaned off his limp cock and let it drop to hang between his thighs. He laid back down in the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her as she curled up next to him. He reached over and played with the ends of her hair, examining her face. “I’m still leaving, you know.”

Y/N laid flat on her back and sighed. “I know.” She turned back into his side and looked up from his chest. “Let’s go get Minho, together.”

Taglist: @xoprincessmel​ @bitch-banshee​ @parker-potter​ @writingsbychlo​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ @fan-child​ @moongoddesskiana​

[theazkabandreamer]

Four Months Later

I was asked by @misschashmish7 to write a story featuring Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny, but I’ve just realised that I haven’t posted this on Tumblr. It’s an old piece that I’d written back in 2017.

_____

The first of September finally came around and Kings Cross Station was full of the usual rush of Students going off to Hogwarts School and Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That was how Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley found themselves as the crowd jostled them as they fought their way over to the barrier where Platform Nine and Three Quarters was where Ron and Ginny's Mother was waiting for them.

"Quick!" Said Mrs. Weasley urgently as she beckoned them over to the barrier.

"Harry and Ginny first." She instructed.

Ginny wheeled her trolley around to face the barrier and Harry took hold of it as well. Ginny gave Harry a peck on the cheek and Ron turned away pointedly leading Hermione to elbow him in the ribs.

Harry and Ginny both ran at the barrier with the trolley and passed through on to the other side where the scarlet Steam Engine named The Hogwarts Express was billowing smoke.

Ron and Hermione came through next. Ron brushed a strand of hair out of Hermione's eyes. Ginny caught Harry's eye and pretended to vomit. Harry fought to keep a straight face as Mrs. Weasley came through just as Ron and Hermione were about to kiss, causing them to jump.

"C'mon." Harry said to Ginny. "Let's find you a compartment."

Harry and Ginny wheeled the trolley down the Platform, avoiding the stares and whispers that Harry was getting. One small First Year saw Harry go past him and dropped his trunk painfully on his foot.

Harry glanced around the Platform. Many Students seemed pleased that they were going back. A small number of Second Years seemed nervous but Harry didn't blame them. Not after the year they had.

A number of Students shouted cries of greetings to their friends and Owls hooted and Cats meowed.

It reminded him of the first time that he set foot on the Platform and a wave of nostalgia threatened to engulf him. A number of students seemed to have spotted him and were staring at him from within the train compartments and were whispering to their neighbours about him.

Ginny noticed and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

"Still famous!" She grinned at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes at her, a grin on his own face.

"I'm glad I'm not getting on the Train with you," He said with a laugh. "It would be a nightmare!"

"Yeah. You would probably block the carriages with all the people wanting to see you." Ginny snorted.

They moved down towards the end of the Platform where Harry was still receiving stares and whispers. At the end of the Train, they spotted a dreamy looking girl with dirty blonde hair.

"There's Luna" Ginny cried. "Hi, Luna!"

Luna Lovegood turned around at the sound of her name. She was wearing her radish earrings and Butterbeer Cork necklace. She beamed at the sight of them.

"Hello Ginny, hello Harry. I heard you two coming along." She said. "I heard a number of people whispering about you, Harry. They say it's a shame that you're not returning to Hogwarts, this year."

"Yeah, well I've decided to move on." Harry shrugged.

Harry had decided not to return to Hogwarts to take his NEWTs instead he chose to take up Kingsley Shacklebolt's offer to train as an Auror. It had been four months since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry felt that it was time to move on from the Castle. It wouldn't be the same for him anyway.

"How was your summer?" He asked Luna, having to desire to discuss The Battle of Hogwarts or any other depressing subject.

"Oh, it was brilliant, thanks!" Luna beamed. Her face lit up. "Daddy took us to the Alps in search of the Bimppling Bumple Bees."

"What in the name of Merlin's most baggiest pair of Y fronts are they supposed to be?" Came Ron's voice as he and Hermione followed Harry and Ginny.

Hermione shot Ron a dirty look as Luna replied.

"Oh, they're really lucky." She said. "They're Half Fairy, Half Bee and their honey is supposed to bring you good luck and great intelligence. It's rumoured that Rowena Ravenclaw had a large vat of it hidden somewhere at Hogwarts."

"That sounds lovely." Hermione said a bit too cheerfully.

"Sounds mental to me." Ron muttered.

Hermione tutted and gave Ron another dirty look as Luna focused her eyes on him.

"You might think it sounds mental," She said coolly. "But there is evidence that The House Elves in the Kitchens have access to it and supply it to the Ravenclaw table."

"Barking!" Ron exclaimed. "That explains why some of you are off your rockers. I mean," He backtracked after he realised what he said. "Not you, obviously but some Ravenclaws, some Ravenclaws are off their rockers and you're not off your rocker or anything like that…"

"I'll save you a seat, Ginny." Luna said pointedly, cutting off Ron's stuttering. "What about you, Hermione?"

"Oh, don't worry about saving me a seat, Luna." Hermione said earnestly. "I've got to go down to the Prefect Carriages to meet the Prefects. I'm Head Girl, you know." She finished proudly.

"And you deserve it, you do." Ron beamed as he kissed her on the cheek.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came hurrying along the platform and greeted Luna.

"How's Xenophilius doing?" She asked after Luna told her about her Summer.

"Oh, Daddy's doing great," Luna said and then she launched into telling Mrs. Weasley all about her holiday.

Ginny caught Harry's eye.

"Want to help me put my Trunk on the Train?" She asked.

"Course I will." Harry replied with a grin.

Together, Harry and Ginny lifted up Ginny's Trunk and dragged it into an empty compartment.

"You're getting stronger." Ginny grinned as Harry wiped his fringe out of his eyes.

"And I swear that Trunk's getting heavier." Harry panted. "What did you put in there? Boulders?"

"Bludgers," Ginny said simply, "Training ones. I want the Gryffindor Quidditch Team to be in top shape, this year. Plus, there's the Broomstick Servicing Kit that you got me for my Birthday and I've also got training Quaffles and training Snitches. Not to mention all my books and stuff."

"I'm sure my Trunk was never this heavy." Harry said with a chuckle.

"Well, if you think my Trunk's heavy, you should see Hermione's." Ginny said. "Poor ickle Ronniekins going to get quite a shock when he finds that it's full of books and he's not strong enough to pick it up."

Harry laughed, ignoring the slight pang in his chest.

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny had quickly resumed their relationship and Ginny had been a constant source of comfort ever since.

He would not have been able to cope if it were not for her comforting him after his nightmares, talking and laughing with him and being there for him when he was feeling down.

Harry was going to find this parting to be particularly hard. Much more harder than their nine month separation when Harry was off hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes.

"I'm going to miss you," He said, pulling Ginny into a hug. Ginny patted his back and they stayed there a while.

"It's only going to be a few months instead of nine." Ginny said softly. "I'll be back home before you know it."

"It felt like a lifetime, before," Harry admitted "But three months will be just as bad. You're the only one that keeps me sane these days and with you gone…"

"You'll be busy with Auror training," Ginny reminded him. "So I'll doubt you'll have time to miss me. Now let's get back to the Platform before Mum thinks I'm smuggling you to Hogwarts."

Sure enough, when they arrived back on the Platform, Mrs. Weasley was looking to see where they had gone. Ron gave Harry and Ginny a questioning look.

"Oh, there you are, Ginny!" She sighed in relief. "I thought you were planning on smuggling Harry to Hogwarts."

Ginny grimaced at Harry as if to say 'I told you so'. Harry turned away to hide his laughter.

"I thought I sensed a Wrackspurt or two in that compartment." Said Luna. "I'll go and get rid of them."

She boarded the Train dreamily and she looked to Harry as if she were floating away.

"She's always good value, Luna is." Ron chortled as Hermione was trying to lift her Trunk and shooting him a dirty look.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley barked as she noticed Hermione struggling. "Stop laughing and help your Girlfriend with her Trunk!"

"Alright! I'm doing it!" Ron moaned as he lifted the Trunk with the help of Hermione.

"Someone's got a Bimppling Bumple Bee in their bonnet." He muttered as they boarded the Train with the Trunk.

The whistle blew and the last remaining stragglers got on board quickly as Mrs Weasley gave Ginny a hug.

"Be good." She said. "You too, Hermione" She added as Hermione came out followed by Ron to say goodbye. She let go of Ginny to hug Hermione.

Harry turned to Ginny and the next thing he knew, she was kissing him.

Harry put a hand through her hair and was kissing her back. For one moment, nothing or no one else mattered. Just the girl he loved kissing him as if there were no tomorrow. He felt that no one could stop him. Except…

"OI!" Came Ron's voice from the distance. "Do you mind not snogging each other on the Platform?"

Harry and Ginny broke apart quickly as if they had an electric shock and Ginny shot Ron a filthy look.

"Do you mind not interrupting me when I'm saying goodbye to my Boyfriend?" She asked coolly.

"But you're snogging on a Platform in front of everyone!" Ron spluttered, shrinking away from Ginny's glare. "It's indecent and…"

"Ron, for goodness sake! Let them say goodbye to each other." Hermione said exasperatingly.

"But they can't go round snogging…" Ron began before Hermione cut him off with a kiss. Ron wrapped his arms around her and was soon kissing her back. He lifted her up from the ground and twirled around.

"Filthy hypocrite!" Ginny said, but she was smiling. She pulled Harry into a hug. Harry inhaled her familiar flowery scent and thought with another pang, that it would be at least three months that he would inhale that comforting scent again.

"Take care." She said. "And stay away from any Veela."

Harry laughed. "Does Phlegm count?" He asked.

Ginny giggled. "No. I trust you with Fleur."

"You're warming to her." Harry said softly, pulling out of the hug and ignoring the half of him that was screaming to hug her again.

"I admit, she's growing on me." Ginny shrugged.

Harry laughed again. "I'll see you at the first Quidditch Match of the Season.

Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione had finished kissing and were saying their goodbyes to each other.

"I'll miss you." Hermione said in a thick voice.

"I know, love." Ron said soothingly. "But you're going to get your NEWTs and then you're going to go out and do some good in the world."

Hermione gave him a watery smile.

"It's going to be so strange, going to Hogwarts without you two by my side." She said.

"I don't know, Hermione," Harry said. "With me gone, Hogwarts will finally be able to have a quiet year."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny laughed and Mrs. Weasley tutted but she was smiling.

"Oh Harry, dear." She tittered. "You're getting as bad as George and Ginny!"

"Oh, come here, you two!" Hermione exclaimed, engulfing both Harry and Ron into a hug. Harry and Ron both patted her back.

"Love you, Hermione." Said Ron in a muffled voice.

"Yeah." Said Harry. "You're amazing, you are. We'd both be dead without you."

Hermione let go of them and looked at Harry, eyes searching his face.

"Do take care won't you, Harry?" She asked him imploringly.

"Of course I will." Harry said. "You know me, Hermione. I like a quiet life."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny laughed again as the final whistle blew. Mrs. Weasley chivvied Hermione and Ginny on board. Hermione said that she would write to Ron as soon as she got to Hogwarts and then hurried down towards the Prefects Carriage. Ginny leaned out of the window and gave Harry one last kiss.

"Don't get lonely," She said to him as along the Platform, heads turned to Harry and Ron.

"They're staring at you again, mate." Ron grinned at Harry who merely shrugged. He was used to it by now.

"I think that they're staring at you, Ron." Ginny said, eyes sweeping the Platform.

"Me?" Ron exclaimed. "Nah. Can't be. It's Harry that they're staring at!"

But on closer inspection, it seemed that many of the onlookers were indeed staring at Ron. A few of them were staring at Harry but most of them were staring at Ron.

"They were staring at Hermione as well, dear." Said Mrs. Weasley. "It's always when you three get together, see."

"Yeah mate," Grinned Harry, clapping Ron on the back. "You're extremely famous!"

A smile slowly crept up on Ron's face.

"Yeah. I am aren't I? It's because I'm friends with you, isn't it?"

"It's because you helped me defeat Voldemort." Harry said seriously "I'm not the only hero on this Platform."

"Well said, Harry dear." Beamed Mrs. Weasley as Ron looked happier.

The Train started to move and Harry waved at Ginny who was still leaning out of the window, ignoring the pang in his chest as his Girlfriend glided away. It gathered speed and Ginny blew Harry a kiss as it went round the corner and out of sight.

"You know, I think I can get used to this being famous thing." Ron said thoughtfully.

Harry chuckled, mind still replaying Ginny blowing him a kiss.

"I can give you some pointers, if you want." He said.

Ron looked even happier then before and Harry felt the same. Despite it feeling strange that he was standing on the Platform instead of being in the Train, he felt a great rush of hope for the future.

[writemoment]

A Pick Me Up Pt.2

Writer: Ellie-Mae (Pen Name)

Part: 2/3

Previous Parts: 1

Summary:  {Request @incorrect-artist} “I was wondering if you could do (maybe a series) about the reader moving to a new town and almost getting mugged but newt saves her and becomes her bodyguard but falls for her or something like that.”

Pairing: TMR Newt x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Rated: light PTSD (over the attempted mugging), figuring out life and light fluff.

Word Count: 4,079

A/N: I’m so sorry that it has taken so long! I’ve had a lot of chaos in my life and it made writing really difficult for me. Thank you for stopping by to read this! xx

( Reader ) P.O.V.

An array of blues, blacks and purples blossomed in soft petals over my knuckles. The ice I had put on it last night didn’t do much in subduing the swell of my inflamed skin. It was cracked and caked in dried blood that had scabbed over during the night. My wince is obvious as I try to move my predominant hand.

There’s a knock on the door and I know it’s Newt come to get me. He had texted me that he was on his way. I call to him that it’s unlocked as I stand in the kitchen, bottle of peroxide in hand. There’s the sound of the door closing behind him and he walks over to me just as I pour the clear liquid over my skin.

My teeth grit, air being sucked through the spaces in between as I endure the sting of the antiseptic. White, frothy bubbles hiss as it kisses away the dirt and softens the buildup of red that had layered over the cuts.

“Do you need help?” I hear him ask as I fumble with the roll of gauze, struggling to untangle it from it’s sphere.

Huffing with a smile, I give in, “Please.” My eyes catch a glimpse of his fleeting smile before landing on his own matching blue, black scab decorating his high cheekbone. “Though, I should be asking the same with you.”

His digits grasp me softly and he gently wraps the gauze securely over my offended flesh. I try to quell the hisses of pain that threaten to spill from my lips, though I’m not doing very well since Newt’s eyes are clouded with quiet apologies. “I’m okay. Just a little sore, that is.”

“Can I at least put a band-aid on you? It’d make me feel better.” He regards me carefully, watching me in his debate. “No princess or colorful ones, I swear!” This makes the corner of his mouth tilt up and I know I’ve won.

I’m cautious of his handiwork as I rummage through the first aid kit and pull out antibiotic cream alongside a plain bandage. He raises a brow at me but ultimately doesn’t say anything. I suppose he’s choosing his battles wisely.

The dollop of thick ointment feels heavy as I swipe it over his cut, smearing it gently as I go. He, unlike me, doesn’t even flinch at the contact. Even so, I try to glide my fingers just on the surface of his skin. He’s so close to me, I can feel the puff of his breath of my cupids bow. His eyes watch me, the caramel flecks shining in the rays peaking through the window.

The whole ordeal becomes too overwhelming too soon. I quickly place the wanna-be-skin-toned bandage over his cheek and back away to admire my work. “Perfect.” I mumble to myself.

Newt chuckles, shaking his head to hide it. “Are you ready to go?” My hands fist at my pants in an attempt to dry the clamminess that has started to overtake my palms. I nod once. I grab my things before following him out to his vehicle. 

The world seems less menacing in the daylight and Newt appears more boyish than he did last night. Earth mixed with the cool breeze fills my nostrils. It almost makes me forget the throbbing that’s radiating up to my wrist.

Last night feels like such a long time ago. My dreams were infected with the weight of what happened and my awakenings ached with fresh reminders. The entire event was on a diced-up replay behind my lids. It was hard to get much sleep despite the utter exhaustion that hung like a heavy fur coat over my being.

Seeing Newt and having him here beside me brings a settling peacefulness. Perhaps it’s the innocent freckles that are sprinkled over his nose or the warmth that pools in his brown eyes but I feel safe with him. There’s a trust that’s draped over my image of him and I suppose that’s why I find myself being most friendly despite not being well acquainted.

Music plays low in his speakers as we drive. The melodic sound gets swept away and carried out into the waiting world through the rolled down windows. The wind lashes my unruly locks around my face and I smile at the comfort of familiarity. With so much change happening in my life, it’s good to sometimes relish in the everyday things.

I catch Newt glancing at me. His golden brown hair is tousled and his face is rid of the harsh lines of worry he had been wearing on our last encounter. In this setting, he almost looks beautiful. In all the boyish charm and sharp handsome, he somehow struck me as a kind of anomaly. It intrigued me.

“What are you thinking about?” He finally asks. There’s a tone in his voice that makes me believe that he’s genuinely curious. He’s not trying to break the silence or cut through any awkward tension, he simply wants to know.

I’m not nearly brave enough to try and explain my thoughts about him. I wrestle with a way to reword my thinking into simple terms that won’t seem peculiar. “I’m thinking about how nice this is. Just driving. Feeling the sun on my face. It’s relaxing.” It’s also true.

“I’m glad.” That’s all he says. I might feel a bit disappointed if I didn’t notice his posture change and the way his thumbs drum against the steering wheel in time with the song.

Having company on the way back into the city took away that sharp edge of nerves that sliced at the insides of my stomach. Even when my car came into view, I felt reassured that someone was there to help me. I was grateful that that someone was Newt.

It took him no time to jump my car and get it started. It squealed in delight and roared to life, breathing in the energy radiating through it with a gravelly purr. We didn’t linger for too long and I found myself slumping at the relief of it. I can’t be positive but I’m sure Newt was being considerate of my feelings, now stained, of this area of the city.

Newt invited me over to his place to hang out, which I accepted with the knowledge that Brenda was going to be there. I followed his vehicle as it weaved through traffic on the cracked, worn down road. My hand ached as it firmly held the steering wheel, my fingers felt stiff and tight.

The farther we got from the city, the more my body sagged from the tension leaving it. I hummed along to whatever popular bop was playing on a random station and let the passing wind carry my worries away. At least for a bit.

His apartment was also located in Glade, maybe a ten minute drive from my place. Brenda had mentioned last night that he was roommates with another one of her friends. I figured it was probably as good of a time as ever to make more connections in this area.

I wasn’t particularly nervous. But there was a constant thread being pulled at in my mind; be yourself but make a good impression- make a good impression. I tried to heed it’s advice while trying to remain calm. Even if everything went to rubbish, I would have Brenda to fall back on. And Newt.

The flat was similar to mine, though in a bit of a better condition. Newt fell into step beside me as we walked over. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

His shoulders bunch up in a non-committal gesture but he doesn’t elaborate. There’s murmurs and laughter emitting from behind the door. It, despite my best efforts, makes my heart rate spike just a bit faster. 

Okay, maybe I am just a bit nervous.

Newt gives me a sideways glance before pushing his way through into the living room. There’s a jumble of greetings from the small group scattered through the place. Brenda hops up from the couch to pull me further inside with an arm linked through mine.

“I’m so glad you’re here! I want you to meet everyone!” Her smile is contagious and I let her drag me into the kitchen. “Thomas! This is my friend Y/n!” Brenda introduces us.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n. Brenda has told me about you! Welcome to Glade.” Another person walks into the small kitchen and I’m introduced to him as well. Minho is his name.

“Did you guys see the shiner that Newt’s sporting?” Minho inquires with amusement in his voice. Though he’s being playful, - and probably doesn’t know about what happened- it feels like a bucket of ice water was dumped over me.

Brenda looks at me worriedly but my eyes are already scanning for Newt. I find him talking to a girl in the living room. Even with the band-aid, the mark demands attention and it’s getting just so. There’s a pang of, what I can only assume is, guilt as I watch him converse.

His eyes catch mine and his brows furrow. Looking away, I try to shake my emotions off. Minho and Thomas are engaging in a lighthearted argument as Brenda steers me away. Before we get too far, Thomas sends me an apologetic look.

“Thomas is Newt’s roommate,” Brenda explains as we step outside the back door. “He knows about last night. Minho and Teresa don’t know what happened- Minho didn’t mean anything by what he said.”

“I know. I’m not... offended. I just still feel a bit off, that’s all.” It finally dawns on me as to why Newt asked if I were okay earlier. Truthfully, I’m not entirely sure what I am right now. “I just want to go back in there and try to enjoy myself.”

Brenda looks weary but doesn’t try to change my mind. “You have me by your side. And don’t worry about Minho- He’s always getting himself into trouble without knowing it.” I force a half smile at her.

Just before we step back into the company of others, the girl - Teresa - marches out the door to meet us. We’re quickly introduced before we start a light conversation between the three of us.

My mind is barely registering anything that’s being said and I pray that my responses don’t indicate how scatter-brained I currently am. I can see the kitchen from this angle and spot the three guys talking inside. The hair on the back of my neck rises as it feels Newt trying to catch my gaze. I avoid him as best as I can but not before seeing his lips pull into a thin, tight line.

I don’t know exactly why I choose this behavior. Somewhere, deep inside, I suppose I don’t want his reassurance or questioning expression. I don’t want Newt, or Brenda for that matter, to become a crutch. Yet, I feel so small in this moment and my mind spins me dizzy.

All the relief that I had previously felt while sitting next to Newt in the car has disappeared. My comfort has been swept away with the wind and I no longer feel the ease that had been smoothing over my face earlier.

There’s a fog settled over me and I know it’s doing me no good to persevere at this rate. “I’m not feeling too good. I think I should head on home. It was a pleasure meeting you, Teresa.” I intervene into whatever context I wasn’t apart of.

Teresa nods in understanding, bidding me a safe drive home. “Do you want me to go with you?” Brenda asks, following me just out of range for anyone else to hear. But I shake my head before reassuring her with a promise to text her later.

I throw my goodbye into the general direction of the boys in hopes to make a swift exit. It doesn’t work. “You’re leaving so soon?” Minho asks with a blue solo cup angled at me.

Again, my lips spew my excuses and apologies. Newt eyes me, almost as if conducting a silent conversation; What’s wrong?

Nothing, my eyes seem to exasperatedly sigh at him. Though the lie must be as obvious as it tastes. I don’t understand why- I don’t owe any explanation to Newt or anyone else.

He quirks a brow at me, the harsh lines returning to his once boyish features. You can’t expect me to believe that. His arms cross over his chest.

My eyes harden- No. That’s what I expect you to accept from me. Believe what you want. My mood instantly sours and I hate the feelings that have overtaken.

Newt’s arms fall to his sides and his eyes soften. I can’t bear the way he’s looking at me any longer. Thomas and Minho express their ‘get better’s’ weaved in with their eyes. I tuck a tight-lipped smile into the envelope sealing my first impressions and steer my way out of there.

I half expect Newt to follow me out, but I plop into the comfort of my car with no shadow attached. The silence is deafening and I welcome it, even focus on it. I know this is just a reprieve to the chaos my thoughts will bring later on.

Huffing loudly, I start my car and drive my way back home. 

****

Sweat coats in a thin layer on my flesh. The bed sheets are rumpled and tugged from their corners. I thrash at the dreams that convulse my body, panicked groans escaping my parted lips.

My body jerks up in a demented angle, startling at the shattering plunge into consciousness. Cold sweat beads atop my skin, weeping down my curves and dividing between the ravine of crevices. It leaves a sickly film behind and my clothes cling to it. There’s the pounding of blood in my ears and I can not register anything other than my shallow breaths.

In the soft glow of the room, the bright green of the digital clock draws my attention to the time; 5AM. I gulp down air but it feels rough against my sandpaper tongue- smothering me. Rolling from the mattress, I steer myself into the kitchen. Even when I eventually manage to get cold water to slip down my throat, it feels thick and has the consistency of sludge in my mouth. It coats my esophagus in a slimy slick.

My dream has vanished. A mixture of memory with magnified horrors of make-believe. I can’t even really recall the details of the phenomenon, just the terror that gripped me with it’s icy claws.

I slip my phone from where it’s plugged in and slide open a message tab to Brenda: Are you awake?

Fifteen minutes pass with no response. She must still be asleep. And how could I blame her? It’s an ungodly hour to be awake for any reason. Yet, I know that I won’t be able to lay back down to get anymore shut eye.

There’s this need that’s scratching me from the inside. It feels like glass brushing up against my inner walls. It’s a need to talk, to be listened to more than just heard. To be understood,-  but mostly - to understand. 

It’s been almost a week since the party at Newt’s and Thomas’s. Almost a week since I turned away Newt’s attempt to help. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. And it’s nagged at me.

Sure, I’ve gone to work and gone out to hang with Brenda- but it was always tugging at me in the bouts of silence that leaked between all of that. It wasn’t anything I could explain further than the fact that he was there that night. Newt holds that experience with me and it feels as if he would be able to partially understand the toll it has taken on me.

I slide over to his name in my phone. Before I can talk myself out of it, I type out my message and hit send. Hey, Newt. Are you awake?

There’s an electricity thrumming through my veins as I lean against the cool surface of my kitchen sink. The dark diminishes as the sun rises, claiming it’s vibrancy from the monochrome night. 

The buzz is muffled by my palm. I check my lit-up screen to see Newt’s name beside a new message. Are you alright?

Am I alright? I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t in any danger. Texts can so often be misconstrued and I that’s the last thing I need right now. Yeah... I can’t sleep. I was wondering if you wanted to talk?

I almost expected him to brush me off, to tuck his phone back into it’s resting nook and not give me another thought. I wouldn’t have blamed him after my childish behavior at the party the other day. 

Everyday brings a new lesson for me to learn. True. But that doesn’t mean that I still don’t get crushed underneath the pressures of my life. I know I could have handled all of this better but I’m still learning. I swear I’m trying.

My disappointment has slipped into my throat, lodged in a great heap that has me swallowing thickly. The hand cradling my phone falls limp at my side just as the device begins to bellow it’s tone.

I jump and drop the ringing cell that’s crying loudly through the once quiet room. My hands skitter across the linoleum floor and I thumb the green answer button as I scoop it to my ear. “Hello?”

It’s Newt.

And just like before, he’s a beacon of peace and comfort in the rapids of my chaos. As a loose a greeting in the early morning light, I find my heart flutters for an entirely different reason than before.

****

Two hours.

Newt listened and spoke and related and laughed with me. He was patient and he was caring. The more I learned about him the less I felt alone. We weren’t the same and our destinies weren’t connected through some phenomenon. We were just two people who were able to find a friend in one another. A confidant.

We didn’t have crazy similar backgrounds or stories, but we had both learned life lessons. We have both become empathetic as our own paths were etched. I think that’s what I appreciated the most about Newt. He didn’t know how to pick me up, he just wanted to.

It wasn’t until Brenda knocked on my door that we were whisked back into the present. Newt had to get ready for work. “Okay- Thanks for being here for me, Newt. I appreciate it.” Brenda waltzes past me as I’m holding the front door open and I can smell that she’s packed breakfast.

“It was my pleasure. I enjoy getting to know you better.” I try to repress my smile with the knowledge that Brenda has a hawk-like gaze trained on me. “Listen, Y/n- Would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow? My treat.” He tacked the last line sloppily on the end, as if I needed to be convinced.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that a lot.” 

A shiver kisses my skin as I hear the smile in his voice. “Good that. I’ll talk to you soon.” I suck my lip between my teeth while hanging up. Brenda has an eyebrow arched at me so high that it almost gets lost in her hairline.

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Oh nothing....” She claims but starts humming the kissing song underneath her breath. I throw an oven mitt at her as I feel my face flush crimson. “C’mon! You’re totally smitten with him. It’s obvious.”

“Am not,” I counter but the words feel forced. After a pause, I ask, “Is it seriously that obvious?” Brenda nods sympathetically and I groan. The embarrassment makes me feel like a kid again.

It’s been so long since I had last had a crush. I don’t know what to do or how to act. There is no rule book for me to review or any way that I can go about this ‘the right way’. That alone keeps me on my toes.

“Don’t stress, Y/n. He likes you, too.”

I think she’s trying to help but it has the opposite effect. If he likes me now with barely any knowledge of me, it will make it worse if those feelings dissipate with time. What will I do then if the real me is rejected? I’m not sure. I hate being unsure.

But I don’t voice these concerns. Instead, I smile at her. “Thank you. You’re the best.” Because she is and she deserves to know. Brenda grins brightly as she hands me breakfast. “So... Would you be up to helping me pick an outfit out for my dinner with Newt?”

She looks over the moon as she replies, “Yes. Yes, I would.”

****

The next evening came in a blur of nervous jitters and excited chatter. I didn’t know what to expect when it came to something like this. Especially with Newt. Brenda and I talked a bit about how I had acted at the party. Though I had reasons to feel out of control, we both agreed I should have handled the situation better. She emphasized on open communication.

“What if my thoughts don’t make sense,” I had asked, “And it leaves me feeling foolish?”

She seemed thoughtful as she replied, “You felt foolish after keeping them in, too. At least when you voice your worries, there is someone to redirect your feelings.”

So that’s what I’m going to be working on a lot more. Being on my own has taught me that being an ‘adult’ isn’t about knowing everything and being this super confident being. It’s about learning and picking yourself up with your head held high. We’re all struggling in some way and that’s just life.

I sat on the couch thinking about this while waiting for Newt. My mascara dipped eyelashes fluttered against rosy cheeks, eyes directed in a downcast as I continue to get lost in thought. 

It isn’t until the bright flash of headlights cut across my window that I swim my way out of the reverie I was in. There’s the distinct sound of a car door shutting and I quickly do a once-over to straighten myself before answering the knocking.

Newt looks sheepish but sharply handsome as he leans against the frame in a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and dark jeans hugging his hips. He’s breathtaking. “Wow.” That one word has me viewing my own casual-sleek attire with nervousness. But he doesn’t even let me be critical, “You look amazing.”

My lips curl into a blooming smile, “I suppose you don’t look too bad yourself.” Teasing him is my best form of flattery and my chest grows tight at the amused smirk he bestows upon me.

Locking the door behind me, we swiftly enter the car with excited quiet settled between us. There’s a chemistry that sparks in the atmosphere and it makes me acutely aware of how close he is. It makes me wonder if he notices or feels it, too.

Our eyes keep locking with each other and we both laugh nervously. I’ve never felt this way around someone. These conflicting emotions of calm and jittery are making me feel light headed in the best way. Pondering what Brenda and I spoke about, I decide to tell Newt how I’m feeling.

“I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure how to act.” Newt glances over to me before returning his eyes to the road. “What I mean is- I’m excited and nervous. I hope that my emotions are conveying correctly.”

His lips pull up, “You’re doing a fine job.  And if it helps, I’m excited and nervous, too.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he smiles at me. It’s everything I didn’t realize I needed to hear. Newt refocuses on the road and my emotions start to focus in on one. Excitement.

As we pull up to the restaurant, one word pops into my head; Safe. With Newt I feel excited and safe. He makes quick work of parking the car before jumping out to open my door. And as I slide my hand into his, I know that there isn’t anywhere else I would rather be.

****

Part Three {Ending}

Masterlist Here

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long! I was having a tough time sorting out my thoughts and emotions so I kind of let them leak through into the story...sorry? Haha. Thank you for hanging in there with me! I know this isn’t the most exciting story but I hope you like it. - Ellie-Mae xx

[perhapsitmaybedragons]

God's a Right Bastard, but Then So Am I

Oh look, chapter 2 already! Odd for me.

If you prefer to read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029/chapters/65005873

or keep reading below:

Newt sat back at the table, not noticing that his tea had grown cold. He couldn't figure out where to begin with his question, so he had swallowed it down since Crowley's party, but found that it kept repeating on him, trying to come up. Finally, he pushed the tea away and jumped up from his seat. “I thought we burned that book.” He hadn't meant it to be accusing, not really. But it still came out that way.

Anathema looked only slightly guilty. “We did.” He waited for her to continue, but she just turned back to chopping up the vegetables for dinner.

“Well?” he prodded.

She put the knife down and turned back toward him. “We did burn it. And...” now she looked truly guilty. “And I went back to where we burned it and there was one scrap left in the fire. You know Agnes had to have predicted that, right?” she didn't wait for an argument. “So I picked it up, and it's what lead me to the box for Crowley. I don't know what's in it. You know how Agnes could be about people opening things from her that weren't intended for them.”

That was certainly true. He felt placated, but only for a moment. “Why didn't you just tell me?”

“I thought you'd be upset. I told you I was done being a Professional Descendant and then I couldn't resist looking to see if any of the new book hadn't burned up.”

Newt just shrugged. “I mean, I don't mind. I wouldn't have made fun of you or anything,” he picked his cup of tea off the table and took a long swig before almost spitting it out. “Blech. Cold tea,” he dropped the cup in the sink. “What did the part that led you to the box for Crowley say? Anything else we should be worried about?”

Anathema rocked a little on the spot, biting her lip. “Nothing else about us, I promise. It just led me to the box. How long should it be taking us to reach London?”

The sudden shift in topic threw Newt off momentarily. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you and I go to London by ourselves it can sometimes take hours if the traffic's bad enough, right?” He nodded. “Did you notice when we drove there yesterday it took ten minutes?”

“I thought the pleasant company just made the time feel like it went faster,” Newt was trying to be charming. And if Anathema weren't so worried, it might have worked.

“It didn't just feel like it,” she shook her head so vigorously that some of her hair started to spill out of her bun, “It actually took ten minutes. I checked.”

“Maybe Aziraphale worked a miracle to get us there faster?” It wasn't a new idea for him. He'd noticed each time they'd gone how impossibly easy the trips had gone and how they had arrived at their destination much sooner than they should have. But he'd been worrying that maybe his inability with computers had somehow shifted so that it infected clocks as well, so he hadn't wanted to be the one to bring it up.

“It's happened before. But only when I end up there because Adam wants me there.”

“So,” Newt said as comprehension dawned on him, “You think he still has his powers? I thought he got rid of them since he made his dad his real dad and the other guy,” he pointed down “he told to get lost?”

“He did, and it's like his powers went away for a little while, but then they came back almost immediately. And if Adam still has his powers...”

“Then is he still the AntiChrist?”

Crowley usually didn't bother with it, but he could sneak and skulk with the best of them. The first assignment – it hadn't been spelled out that it was a first, but Crowley knew, whether by experience or instinct, that it was just one of many – was to sneak his way into Hell.

Now, glamours don't usually work on demons. But they only expect humans or angels to bother with such tricks. The best way to hide is often to be front and center. A minor miracle and Crowley looked like just any ordinary demon – no glasses, no snake eyes, no red hair and the hardest part, no sauntering walk. Instead he slouched himself over as though the very weight of the air were oppressive to him. Not a hard feat in a place that smelled so foul.

As promised, God had beamed the knowledge of where to go directly into his mind, though She still refused to answer why she couldn't do this Herself or even tell him what exactly was going on.

He weaved in and out of the aimless crowds until he reached a hidden area under a stairwell. He knew this room well – he used to give most of his presentations in here. Crowley had received a commendation for that as well, the invention of the Work Meeting That Could Have Been an Email – not that he'd ever managed to get the other demons to learn how to use email.

He was a little irked to find that it now looked like a broom closet. All the more insulting since demons weren't known to clean. He closed the door behind him and started searching, grumbling the word 'ineffable' as he went, cursing that he didn't even know what he was looking for. He slipped on a wet floor sign (that for some reason was lying on the floor completely soaked) and landed on his butt. “Damn it,” he muttered, glancing around to make certain no one had heard.

No one was reacting as though they had, but he saw a shadow fall across the bottom of the door way. He scooted back against the wall and tried to cover himself as best as he could with miscellaneous brooms, mops and buckets. He managed to block himself in so that he could still peer out, but someone would have to know to be looking for him to find him.

“You're late,” This was Micheal, who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the room. Crowley was trying to quickly think up an excuse, but she didn't seem to be talking to him.

“I'm a demon,” Hastur grumbled, closing the door behind him as he joined her. “Isn't timeliness close to godliness or something?”

“That's cleanliness, though it seems your lot isn't doing a good job on that part, either. So I guess that's good for a demon.”

“Right, right,” Hastur waved the insult away, “Beelzebub said they're too busy for this.”

“Gabriel said he was too busy,” Michael responded. “Though I think maybe he just didn't want to come here,” she made a face. “How is it that the room for holding your cleaning supplies is somehow even worse than the other rooms? What are you even doing with this room if you aren't going to use it?”

“I dunno. Maybe a new torture idea,” he quickly opened the door to glance around, then shut it again. “No one's listening. What else has to be done?”

“The new riders are selected,” she smirked. “It took quite a bit of work, but we figured it out. Won't even have to get the old ones out, aside from well...You know.”

He nodded darkly. “And how do you get the kid to go along with it? Why does he still have his powers anyway? Shouldn't your side have removed it from him?”

“Why would we be the ones to deal in demonic power? No, that was your side's screw up, not heaven's,” she lifted her head proudly. “As agents of God we can't be the ones to have messed this up. Had to have been your side.”

Hastur's hand burned for a moment, but Michael miracled a glass of holy water into her own hand. “If you want to play around with mutually assured destruction, I promise we will still come out on top.”

He extinguished his hand. “But hang on,” he said, “If it's mutually assured wouldn't that mean both sides get taken out?”

Crowley had to fight back the urge to say “Good for you, Hastur, a cogent thought!”

Michael crossed her arms. “Anyway, back to The Great Plan,”

“Ineffable,” Crowley muttered softly from his hiding place. Luckily neither of them seemed to hear him.

“So, he still has his powers and he's still on for the part. Why can't we just kill him and get another one?”

“Because then we have to start over. At least eleven more years of waiting,” her hand twitched, “Gabriel may not come out and say it, but we all know that the Great Plan was corrupted, mostly by your man Crowley.”

“Seems your guy Aziraphale had a hand in it.”

“Humanity needs to come to an end. There time was supposed to have been over by now. This will not only sort out the battle between Heaven and Hell, it will finally put this planet to rest and we can move on with things. Not sure why She's so fond of the place.”

“Now we're on the same page. Burn it all down, I say,” his hand was on fire again.

“Not yet. If we rush it again we may end up running into more trouble. The riders are selected, but I will need demon assistance with their corruption.”

“I'll get someone on it. Give me the names.”

Crowley found himself leaning forward. That would at least be a nice start for some thwarting, them just handing the identities away like that. But he wasn't that lucky.

“No. Not here. Not yet. Soon.”

“Don't see why we have to wait,” he sniffed.

“We're working backwards here. This is one of the last pieces – we plan each part out carefully, then work back so there are no loose ends. I trust at our next meeting you'll be on time?” she disappeared without a goodbye.

“Yeah, right. Be on time for a meeting with heavenly forces,” Hastur muttered to himself as he left the room.

Crowley waited for what felt like hours. He hadn't worn his watch as even that had been a custom piece that might have gotten him recognized. Hadn't thought to swap it for a replacement because he usually brought a phone, and he'd left his phone off and in his car parked several streets away (and glamoured, disgustingly enough, as a Ford Fiesta). He finally chanced moving again, sneaking out as stealthily as he snuck in.

Fortune seemed to be back on his side as he clambered back into his car without incident. He turned on the radio expectantly, but no voice of God filled his car.

“Well? I did your bloody errand, what's the next task?” he waited. No answer. “Oh son of a...” he beat his hands against the steering wheel. “You do know what happened back there, right Almighty? That's your job, to see everything? You could at least say 'so glad no one caught you and dumped you in holy water'.”

No answer came. He drove home, frustrated and disgusted with the whole situation and with a burning desire to call Aziraphale and complain to him. But no, if he told Aziraphale the angel would want to help. And might even be a little jealous that Head Office had gone to Crowley and bypassed Aziraphale completely.

Better to keep this one close to his chest, at least for now.

Adam was having trouble sleeping. Not entirely unusual for an active eleven year old, but this had started with a feeling of worry down at the pit of his stomach. He'd first misdiagnosed himself with hunger. Half an hour and two bowls of ice cream later, he still had the worry but now he also had a stomachache.

Dog curled up at the foot of his bed, but he wasn't sleeping either. Dogs, even hellhounds, can sense their master's upset. He whined and scooted into Adam, nudging his nose against Adam's hand. “I thought it went away, Dog. Or that I'd figured out how to control it. But it's not over and I don't want my friends to get scared again. I don't want to lose control again.”

Dog whimpered and Adam smiled as reassuringly as he could.

“It'll be all right. I'll go see Anathema tomorrow. She'll know what to do.”