#young theseus Scamander

[freedomforthewin]

I feel like Theseus is the one who would have lined up his toys as a kid and played with them the way they were “supposed to be played”. Like, if Theseus played with blocks, I think he would have built buildings of some sort.

If Newt played with blocks, he probably would have built starfish or somethings lol. Or big enclosures for different toy creatures, and he’d pretend he’s visiting each of them.

[uefb]

New chapter of Older, or Two Brothers and a Train Station up now

Summary: In which the summer holidays between Theseus’ 4th and 5th year start off in a very rainy London; the subtle balance of his self-worth starts to show; Helios (Dad) kind of--(definitely)—-almost gets Newt run over by a large Muggle machine; and Theseus—-once again—-is forced to pick up the kind of parenting slack that very much contributes to him becoming a bit of an overbearing git by 1927, lmao. (TL;DR — Helios Scamander: the best and worst kind of father😅🤷🏼‍♀️)

^Theseus is not this calm yet at age 14, but the vibe at the end of the chapter is very much the same

Excerpt:

“Theseus, be a buffer on the other side, won’t you? He nearly walked in front of a tram this morning—didn’t you, Newt?—and then a herd of bicycles... And I’ll be damned if I can keep him out of puddles.”

As if to emphasise their father’s point, Newt began shaking out one leg until his galosh flipped off, spilling far more water than seemed possible onto the concrete around them.

“Sorry, Dad,” he murmured, and then yanked himself away from Helios, plopping himself on the ground to pull the rubber back over his button shoes [8].

“Can I do one last spell before we leave, then?” Theseus asked their father suddenly.

Helios glanced around and then shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“Hold still, Newt,” Theseus advised, and Newt stared at him—blinked—but then nodded.

Theseus knelt on the ground in front of him and clearly enunciated the incantation for a quick-drying charm, waving his wand in a delicate motion over Newt from head to toe, after which a tremendous blast of hot air enveloped the child before evaporating with a puff, leaving his clothes steaming and his hair very dry but remarkably frizzy, as if a cauldron had exploded in his face.

(Theseus thought Newt’s expression mirrored that of the first time he’d been old enough to understand a snowball fight, but still not old enough—it unfortunately turned out—to properly participate, for Theseus had hit him squarely in the face with a well-packed missile; after which Newt had wiped the ice off his cheeks, stared at him in surprise for a solid ten seconds as his brain caught up with the event, and then burst into pitiful tears, turning tail and running for their mother in the stables.)

Oh dear. But—

“Nicely done, Theseus!” Helios praised approvingly, nonetheless. “You can work on your spell release, of course, to prevent the mad scientist look you’ve given your normally dashing little brother—” [9]

(Newt was patting at his hair absently now.)

“—but your charms really have improved.”

Newt, meanwhile, had begun shaking out his hands, rocking slightly as he checked each bit of his magically-dry clothing, looking at Theseus somewhat less suspiciously than he had after the snowball incident at age four, but still markedly displeased...

“It’s still raining, Thesie,” he finally managed. “I’m going to get wet again. And it’s not fair you get to do magic and I don’t.”

“Mud, it’s the law. We’ve talked about this,” Helios intercepted, and Newt lifted his hands to rub hard at either side of his head as Helios patiently waited. “Try that again, lovey.”

Newt pulled at an overly-springy curl and—from behind Helios—Theseus caught his little brother’s eye long enough to mouth ‘Say thank you.’

Newt blinked, and then: “Thank y - thank you, Theseus.”

“And there’s a good lad!” Helios exclaimed. “Mum did say you received a good report from your healer today, and look at you, hm? Both of you showing off your best.”

And he turned a bit dramatically then, gesturing the three of them forward, though he trailed Newt extremely close as he followed him and Donny out into the Muggle station, and then through the masses into a downpour of rain.

[4theseus-s]

theseus: what happened to jacob?

newt: he died

theseus: he what?

newt: he died, but he's okay

theseus: ...can you please clarify

newt: clarification is for the weak

[manwrre]

okay, so two things have been happening simultaneously during the past week. firstly? my depression is at an all time high (BOOOOOO!! YOU SUCK!!! 👎👎👎👎👎). alternatively though, i got into fics with tom riddle and in my head, i cast him as callum turner. like, i know he’s already in the universe as theseus but i don’t care!!! i don’t care!!! i have never ever been happier

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

✨️Masterlist 1✨️

John Egan:

I'll come pick it up after / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / End /

Did you just kiss me?

Alright, bet!

Protect You

Back to black

Until you come back home / 2 /

Stop trying to feel everything

Inventor

Soft and prude

Small space

Run!

You want my jacket?

Kiss me before you leave

I hate / love you

Princess and the fool

I have a plan

You're like me, but better

New Girl

Never felt so...

Too Sweet

Chicken

Callum Turner:

Co- Stars / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 /

Qué serà serà

Finals season

Joe Rantz:

Training / 2 /

Theseus Scamander

Young, dumb in love

Curtis Biddick

Daylight

Your idiot?

You have to live

Gale Cleven

Told you she was real

Who did this to you?

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Therapist

Ronald Speirs

Disguise

John Brady

Misunderstanding

Austin Butler

Fame / 2 / 3 / 4 /

[lacollectionneuse1967]

remembering you

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: the year is 1916 and you live with your family near the western front in france. after a chance encounter with a wizard soldier during the war, you don't think you'll ever see him again, although you're sure you'll always remember him.

nine years later, you find that the man not only works with you at the ministry, but he also happens to be the annoying auror who keeps accidentally sending interdepartmental memos to your desk. you develop a friendly, albeit anonymous, banter through sending each other notes, but the question remains--does he know who you are? and, if he does, does he remember you?

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: office romance. smut with plot.

warnings: 18+ smut scene. unprotected penetration. oral sex (fem receiving). dirty talk. mdom/femsub. fyi he begs for it.

author's note: i am not an expert on the wizarding world nor am i an expert on wwi / world history! with respect, i do not claim to be. this is a work of fanfiction.

1916, Northern France

How strange it was, being at home when it no longer felt like home.

Your memories from childhood were precious and few, almost unreal. It was uncanny to be back with your father at that small, unchanging farmhouse on the far outskirts of Verdun. Your school waited until the last possible minute to send its students home, as they would have been sending many students home to die.

The perpetual afternoon, summery quiet of the countryside that you were so used to took on a disconcerting edge, an unspoken terror. This was the silence of a stalemate, of a breath being held. Not far from here lay the trenches and, beyond that, the Germans.

The flat, low-slung lines of Meuse were an additional shock to you. You'd spent the last five years of your life in the high, rocky mountains of the Pyrenees, at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

The river-run grasslands around you now had a vacant, exposed quality to them, the trees bare of birds, the squat buildings in town possessing the hollowed-out feel of an abandoned amusement park.

Even before the soldiers came you'd felt like a sitting duck.

Your sister's scream was the first noise to break the deadlock silence of the night.

You run from the windowsill without looking back. Smoke smell pricks your nostrils.

Your front door is swinging frenetically on its squealing hinges, left open, gapingly and awfully so. There are three uniformed men in boots, heavy gear, standing in your living room, looking around your small, low-ceilinged house with barely concealed reproach on their faces.

The wooden floors creak weakly underfoot. Through the doorframe you can make out some distant fires burning, you can't see them but you can smell them.

The sharp, whistling sound of war planes tears through the air.

"Parlez-vous anglais?" One of the men says in mangled French. He's redheaded, maybe in his early forties. There's black soot on his face which makes his irises look so light blue they're nearly white. "English. Anyone speak English?"

Your younger sister cowers at the booming cadence of his voice, she doesn't speak English. One of her bare feet takes a step back.

So they're English soldiers at least, but you don't recognize their uniforms. The redheaded one is brandishing a wand. But that can't be...

"[Your sister's name]," your father is too sick to rise from his chair, but he beckons to your sister, feebly, calling her away from the door in French. "Please, darling. It's okay, he's a soldier."

"There are no wizard soldiers," you step forward, placing yourself between the men and your family members. They look to you in plain surprise. Your English is unaccented. "The British and French Ministries of Magic abandoned us, forbade any wizard from involvement in-"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Your gaze shoots to the man who spoke.

He looks young. He has a long face and short-cut, curly brown hair. Handsome but not roguishly, not like a soldier ought to be. Handsome in an upright, gentlemanly way, the kind of face that exudes goodness and inspires trust. He almost seems out of place in his uniform, dressed for combat.

"What do you want?" you ask warily.

The third, sunken-eyed man gawks and lets out an incredulous sneer.

"Ungrateful little-"

"Quiet, it's fine," the brown-haired man says, silencing his comrade before turning to you. "We're here to evacuate all magical families in the area. We've received prophetic intel that invasion is imminent, the battle will begin moments from now and will span months. Hundreds of thousands will die. Pack your family's things."

Your brother lets out a noise of trepidation, turning to your father.

Your father--paler every day, made older by his illness, slumped over in his chair. He could not even make it out to the front garden, nevertheless survive an evacuation. His eyes are twinkling acutely, buried like gems in his wrinkled, ruined face.

"Come on!" Says the redheaded man in frustration. His blackened, ash-covered face is frightening to your siblings, as is his anger.

He pulls the man standing in the back towards him roughly by the shoulder to hiss in his ear.

"I'd understand if it was an estate that had been in their family for centuries, some of the pure-blood families that we…" For a moment his whispers are unintelligible, but you make out the last words well enough. "But this little farm?"

"Little farm?!" You step forward again, bristling. "This is our home. Can't you understand wanting the dignity of dying in your own home?"

The handsome one looks sharply to your father in his chair then. It is like he is seeing him clearly for the first time, you can see it click in his mind.

"Your father is a Muggle..." he says sympathetically.

"And he is sick. He won't survive apparition. Besides," you protest. "The Germans haven't broken the line since the Battle of the Marne."

The other two soldiers are stilled in shock, aghast at the fact of you, a young girl, arguing with them at all.

"Please," you entreat them. "There's been no movement. This is trench warfare, sir. They won't-"

"They will," the redheaded soldier's voice is grave, uncompromising. "Tonight, tomorrow. I don't know when, but the Germans intend to bleed the French white. They will break the line at Verdun. It is certain."

If what they said was true, if there was a prophecy....

Your hope sinks away from you, you feel your palms go limp and bloodless.

For a moment no one speaks. The silence of the night returns from wherever it fled to, creeps and settles around you.

When you find it again, your voice sounds heartless to your ears.

"Take my siblings," you say.

[Your brother's name] shouts in objection, your little sister cries out.

"No! Y/N, you can't-"

"Not another word!" You order. The words burn you to say. "You will go with these men, I won't hear anything about it."

The redheaded man grabs your sister by the forearm swiftly, and the sullen one extends a hand to your brother. They apparate away in a solitary whoosh. You feel the last remnants of your heart tear away and leave with them.

When the last man, the handsome one, steps towards you, you shake your head and retreat, backing up against the wall.

"I'm not going, sir."

You speak firmly, but the man scoffs anyway.

The front door is still erratically swinging on its hinges like a weather vane. Your father's neck has drooped forward, his chin buried in his chest. He falls in and out of sleep like this lately. He grows worse every day.

The lone soldier purses his lips, his eyes gleam testily. You think he might grab you then, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

"I'm a war nurse, you know?" Your hands are trembling suddenly. No one to pretend to be brave for now that your siblings are gone. Your courage takes on a raw, desperate quality. "Or I want to be. I know enough to help."

"Miss," the man speaks sincerely. Unlike his comrades, he really looks at you when he talks, looks you dead in the eyes. It should be unnerving, but it isn't. You can't name what it does to you.

"I vow to take full responsibility for your father's health and safety. Home or not, he won't be better off here. I will personally care for and protect him, I promise you."

You swallow and nod. He's about to grab your hand when you speak again.

"And them?" You say. "The Muggle soldiers? Who protects them? You can take my father, but I will stay."

He makes a noise of gentle surprise.

"Miss, we're here to minimize the global wizarding community's losses. No magical blood needs to be spi-"

"I don't care about all that," your voice is sharper than you intended. It appears to have cut him to the core. 'Magical blood,' he'd said. But you've never been ashamed of being a half-blood. You've never been ashamed of being your father's daughter.

He frowns in contemplation, more to himself than at you.

"You want to stay so badly. Why?"

"I told you, I'm a nurse."

"You're a child."

"I'm sixteen," you bite back.

"Like I said," his rebuttal is delivered with a sly smile. You amuse him, though you're not sure why. "A child. Not even old enough for Muggle conscription."

"I'm no Muggle."

"No, you're... You're something else."

You bite your lip. Your words are braver than your feelings now.

"If what you say is true, the Muggles--the Allied soldiers--will need medical attention. A woman in town has been training me as a nurse. I've been to the front, I can help. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

His eyes don't leave your face, some silent assessment taking place within him. You're already thinking of what else you can say to him, how else to convince him.

"Okay," he says, unflinchingly. "You can stay." He'll turn a blind eye.

Your shoulders slump in relief.

He walks towards your father, who is still sagged over in a worrisome-looking unconsciousness, too deep to be sleep.

'No,' you think. 'Don't go yet.'

Mindlessly, senselessly, you feel a blooming alarm. Some death rattle, some dying burst of life.

"Wait!" You call out to him, stepping away from the wall.

The man turns. "The handsome one," you'd called him in your head, fancifully, maybe even teasingly. Nothing about it seems funny now. It never had to mean anything to you, people being handsome or beautiful. It didn't have to be about you. But this, it feels serious, personal.

You don't know what overcomes you, how you could act so boldly. He'll probably think you deranged, hysterical.

But you can't imagine he'll deny you.

You've seen enough soldiers these last two years of war to know what they want from women and girls, what they all inescapably hunger for.

"Kiss me," you say, and then add, "Please. Please kiss me."

He halts completely. When his brows knit together your heart shutters closed, meekly.

"Why?"

"I..." It's hard to admit, even now, the world burning around you. "I've never been kissed. I want to be kissed, just once, before I die. In case I do..."

You're losing your breath as you speak, your stamina sputters out.

You know how he must see you--naive, insane, maybe even pathetic. You can bear the rejection, but, suddenly, can't bear to face him anymore.

You don't hear his footsteps. His touch is so gentle you barely feel it, are still turning away when you notice his fingertips resting on your wrist.

When you look up at his face it's so unexpectedly close that you gasp. His eyes are blue, a deep and true blue. You were a fool to think him anything like the other soldiers you'd encountered. No, his expression was achingly kind and perceptive. Devastatingly handsome.

He smells like engine smoke and soap and spearmint. He smells like a man. It's intoxicating. It makes you shudder.

You close your eyes tight and hold your breath. There is the smell of fire and the echoes of distant warfare around you, but your entire body drones that out, pauses and prepares for this moment, readies itself to be kissed.

The man rests a hand on the side of your face, that alone is as intimate as any kiss, the warmth of his palm. He hesitates.

His lips on your forehead are not what you expect, but your body thrills anyway when you feel them press there.

But you are sixteen and you want a real kiss.

You don't even care who from. You want just this one selfish, childish thing in a warring world where no one is afforded childhood.

You stare at him in unhappy perplexity when he pulls back.

You might cry, you realize, and the swelling tears in your vision, they stun you.

"Live," he says, softly. Insistently. "You'll live to be kissed."

He turns to leave, but stops midway. Your siblings gone, soon your father too. The Germans invading. Your whole life taken in one fell swoop, one night. The last trace of your girlhood will be the sight of this soldier's back as he walks out the door of your childhood home. This, you know.

The man looks back at your face and asks you a question no soldier has ever bothered to ask you, not when they burst into your home, not even when you were cleaning their wounds and saving their lives at the front.

"What is your name?" he says.

"What's yours?"

"Theseus Scamander," he doesn't miss a beat. He's an open book. "Do you not want to tell me your name?"

"It won't matter soon enough..."

"Do you so badly not want to live?"

"No, I do. I am just no longer afraid of death."

The look in his eyes is so tender and considerate, it's almost painful.

"I don't need a name to remember you," he's smiling again, it's so strange and out of place and, you admit, heartening. "Good luck. Goodbye."

Theseus Scamander leaves with your father in tow, closing the violently fluctuating door, at last, on his way out.

----

1925, London, Nine Years Later

'It can't be,' you think to yourself. 'Improbable.'

It's just too soon. You've hardly sat down at your new desk when you receive the interdepartmental memo. It unfolds from its airplane shape mid-air and sways delicately, falling in a rocking motion until it's flat on your desk.

A memo already?

You have just been moved to the Department of Magical Games and Sports from the Department of Mysteries. The man who sat there before you was moved to a bigger, better office, had been some hunching, Quidditch-loving Old Boy who wore long socks and smelled of moth-eaten cotton. Allegedly his name was Mr. Byrne.

A real success story in his department, or, rather, your host department, as you'd been appointed Interdepartmental Liaison for the Department of Mysteries. A new position. In fact, the only "above ground" position in your department, which was, expectedly, shrouded in mystery and sunken deep within the depths of the British Ministry of Magic.

In truth, you were also here on a mission. There had been rumors of conspiracy, political mutiny. Grindelwald supporters who had infiltrated the British Ministry of Magic. And the top suspect was the Head of the Department you'd been moved to. You'd been instructed to investigate, discern the truth of the rumors.

This would usually be a job for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but they had also been compromised. Or so you'd been told...

Your new position meant that you were to be kept in the dark more often than not, but it also meant having a desk above ground and being around other people. Luxuries.

No more time travel experiments, thought experiments, or, thankfully, demented blood purity experiments that always made your half-blood boil. You could live without all of that.

Still, none of that explained you receiving an interdepartmental memo before you'd even settled in.

You lift it from your desk in annoyance.

You do a double-take at the words, blinking hard at them.

"Holy hell," the memo reads. "When I told you I wanted to investigate some cursed Gobstones I didn't mean I wanted you to send them to my office, fuck's sake. Next after-work pint is on you, my friend."

You scoff.

It must have been misaddressed. The unfortunate writer must not know about Mr. Byrne's relocation.

It's beneath you, and childish, but you can't help but write back.

It's the sort of enchanted parchment that you can just write your responding message on. The ink disappears into the scrap of paper and appears wherever your mystery correspondent may be.

For your own amusement, you try to picture their reaction the best that you can.

"First of all, 'Holy hell'? 'Fuck's sake'? How dare you," you write. "Second of all, I'm not your friend and I most certainly will not be paying for an 'after-hours' pint. If I'm not clocked in, I'll have nothing to do with the Ministry."

It takes him so long to write back you nearly forget about it, have already gotten to unpacking all your silver nibs and ink pots and lining them up in the drawer like little soldiers, just how you like.

"Who is this?" Comes the message.

It's so dry, the response, so worried and perfunctory, that you nearly laugh out loud.

But something about the formality and genuine concern in your mystery messenger's script compels you to reply with mercy.

"Relax. Mr. Byrne's desk has been moved. If you want to write him, he has the big office on level seven with the view of the Atrium now. Lucky bastard. I'm at his old desk. Was just kidding about being offended. You can say 'fuck' and 'hell' all you want to me."

His reply comes quickly this time.

"Oh, good. Fucking hell, I was scared for a moment there."

You smile in bemusement. Who knew anyone at the Ministry could have a sense of humor? You'd thought you were the only one. You can't help but write back eagerly.

"Damn, I should have lied and said I was the Minister for Magic."

"Have mercy. I think I honest to God would have cried."

"So, no after-work pint for me then?"

"Forgive me, where are my manners? Today. The White Horse. Not sure who you are, but pint is on me, sir."

"*Miss!!" You correct. "And I was only joking. I really meant what I said before about not wanting anything to do with the Ministry unless I'm at work and being paid for my time."

"How very patriotic."

There's nothing in his writing to indicate sarcasm, but it practically drips off the page. This person is cheeky, you realize. Sarcastic. And a little annoying.

You like it.

The Department of Magical Games and Sports is a sleepy, uneventful affair compared to the work you'd been engaged in for the Department of Mysteries when you were "below ground." You look around at your colleagues, your dreary officemates. They were relatively sedentary outside of Quidditch season. Sleepy, slow-moving creatures.

As interdepartmental liaison for the Department of Mysteries, a fabricated position, really, you were already bored out of your mind.

Maybe that's why you write back with unfounded enthusiasm.

"Mystery boy: Tell me something about you. Tell me something true."

----

London hadn't been kind to you.

It seemed you had a hard time of everything: finding a flat with your sister as two unmarried, unchaperoned women, making friends outside of work, making sure to look the right way when crossing the street to avoid getting hit by a bus ('They drive on the left side, Y/N. Get it together'). All these things had proved to be excessively difficult. Especially the not-getting-hit-by-a-bus part.

During the war, while you served as an underaged combat nurse on the frontlines, your father died, but your siblings lived.

They told you the soldier from that night, the one who denied you your first kiss, had kept his word. He'd done the best he could to care for your father and, more importantly, he'd stayed with him until the very end.

Your brother was still in France, working with magical aquatic beasts around les Calanques de Cassis, but your sister was here with you. She worked in some Muggle field you didn't quite understand.

Her, your brother, and, now, the mystery man you'd been writing to every day were the only real people in your life. The only people who really talked to and knew you.

Day by day you'd grown closer to the mystery man. What had started out as vaguely funny, sometimes hostile banter had developed into something more. You'd both genuinely warmed to each other.

"Morning, sunshine!"

You were so accustomed to reading his greeting with your morning coffee that you reached for it automatically, as soon as you arrived, hand sweeping wide over the expanse of your desk to pick it up.

"Hope you caught some bad guys today. Or at least got to enforce a law or two. Bye-bye, idiot." You sign at the end of most days. Or some other joking farewell.

It's a constant correspondence between the two of you, scrawled-in between assignments and research. On your desk there is your inbox, your outbox, the stack of parchment (whatever you happen to be working on), and, just to the side of that, the discreet piece of paper you use to correspond with the mystery man.

However, you do try to mitigate the sharing of identifying information. Even when he learns you're an "Unspeakable," or someone working for the Department of Mysteries, it does little to deter him.

"Keep your department's secrets," he writes. "I just want yours."

He volunteers information about himself, his initials ("TS") and even his department (Magical Law Enforcement), in the hopes that you'll reciprocate.

You do, but you offer unimportant, silly facts about yourself. Nothing that will help him identify you, though he's insistent that he'd know you anyway if you ran into each other.

"I'm an Auror. I fought in the war," he reveals one day. "Your turn now."

"Fine: I never learned how to swim. So if you want to kill me you should probably drown me."

"I'm considering it. I'll bring a bottle of water when I finally see you. Why won't you tell me something more about yourself?!"

"What do you want to know? Can't a girl working for the Department of Mysteries be mysterious once in a while?"

"It gets old."

"You're a liar. You love me."

"True on both counts. But one of these days I'm just going to show up at your desk. I know where it is, you know... Mu-ha-ha."

You write back dismissively. "Why show up? So I can berate you in person?"

Your heart pounds stupidly as you watch the message sink away. You don't want to encourage him.

It's been one whole month of your daily exchanging of magical notes.

You know his biggest stressors at work, you know what he finds irritating, what he finds funny. Know his hopes and dreams.

You hate to admit it, but you'd be completely adrift without it, without him. Even when you're back at your flat with your sister you find your hands moving to write whenever something weird or funny happens, just to tell him, instinctually. You find yourself missing him.

It makes you shudder, the thought.

You don't want anything more... You're both comfortable and satisfied with how things are now. It's really only him who jokes about meeting up sometimes. But you? You're afraid meeting him in person would ruin that.

Maybe it's easier to have a close relationship with him across the merciful distance of anonymity.

"Night night." He writes at the end of the day. He seems to get to work earlier than you and leave later, but he's learned to say goodbye right at 6:00pm, when you usually leave.

For some reason, the words don't disappear from the page, even when you write back beneath them. His boyish script stays put.

"'Night night?'" you write back. "Ouch. I'm not a grandmother, I do intend to go out for dinner after work. Why the bedtime message?"

His words fade in and your heart swells.

"I wrote it so you can put it in your pocket and save it for tonight. I get to say goodbye to you, and good morning, but not goodnight. Just trying to cover all my bases."

You smile and tear off the message, putting it in your pocket. On the remaining paper, you cast a spell for the same, lingering text that he'd gifted you.

"Okay. You can save and reuse this message: Goodnight then, T. Sleep well, I'll talk to you tomorrow, and tomorrow. And the day after that, too."

----

You're prone to daydreaming, you'll admit to that.

"You live in a world of your own!" your favorite professor at Beauxbatons would say fondly.

"Ditzy girl, that one!" your least favorite professor would scowl within earshot of you.

But it's so easy to slip away, especially when you have something, someone, to dream about.

You watch your feet sweep across the dark green tiled floors of the Atrium, but hardly pay attention to anything else as you make your way to the elevators.

You're chuckling to yourself, remembering something your mystery correspondent wrote yesterday. It was some outrageous story, so ridiculous you wouldn't have believed it if it came from anyone but him, who was honest to a fault.

It was about a disastrous trip he took with his younger brother and involved camping on a storm-logged beach, an angry Graphorn, and frantically singing some maritime folk song they'd been misinformed would calm the beast.

You're still smiling at the floor when you step into the elevator, or, more correctly, step directly into a tall man in a three-piece suit. You crash into him with a crushing momentum.

"Oof!" you redden immediately, try to catch your breath and sputter out an apology at the same time. "I'm so sorry, forgive me!"

But the man is engaged in a conversation with two other men in the elevator, laughing.

He doesn't look over to you, he just stills you with an attractive casualness, steadies your frame with a firm hand on your shoulder. You know you hit him hard, his nonchalance is for your benefit.

"S'alright. Sorry, miss," he says with a half-glance, before turning back to his conversation.

A half-glance is all you need.

The profile of his face in the elevator light. His exact height and the feeling of being next to him. His voice, for Christ's sake!

You go stiff, your face wan.

It was him. Unmistakably. The English soldier from that night at your father's house in France. From the last time you saw your father, the last time you felt like a girl...

You couldn't speak if you wanted to. You feel something like seasickness come over you, you don't dare open your mouth.

"Theseus Scamander," his colleague is joking. "I mean it when I say well done! We should've known our young war hero would make the best Auror in the department!"

"Really, really spectacular job, son!" The other man claps a hand over Theseus's back in agreement. They're both older, sort of brash men, they don't seem to sense Theseus's discomfort at being complimented.

Theseus is grinning bashfully.

"Just doing my job," he delivers with charm, shrugging.

"Nonsense! Tonight, we celebrate. I'm not taking no for an answer. I've actually felt somewhat of a mentor to you, when you first started out-"

"We ought to invite Mr. Byrne out with us!" The third man exclaims with revelatory fervor. "How has the old chap been? Do you still go down to the pub with him, Theseus?"

It is the second, overlapping wave of nausea that really does you in, digs in its claws and drags downwards. You feel your feet physically sink into the floor. You can't bring yourself to move at all, you drone out the rest of what they're saying. It's white noise, the buzz of flies.

Mr. Byrne.

War hero.

Auror.

Initials T.S.

God, how stupid could you be? No, that's not fair.

The chances of seeing him again were slim. The chances of the two of you working together were even slimmer. The chances of him, the soldier from that night, Theseus Scamander, being your mystery correspondent these last weeks.... It should've been impossible.

When the elevator doors ding open at level seven, you step past the men quickly, rudely, afraid they'll turn to say something to you. Even a belated greeting or perfunctory farewell you couldn't bear.

You don't know why you feel so shaken.

'It's not a big deal,' you tell yourself consolingly once at your desk. 'You were sixteen. So what if you asked him to kiss you?'

But deep within your core, in a space beyond words or reason, you know that it was more than that. You weren't embarrassed about a stupid non-kiss. No, you haven't been able to shake that night, to shake him.

You'd connected. Or, rather, he'd seen you. Something about his gaze and his words had cut through the fat of life, of circumstance, and he'd seen you for who you really are.

And he'd promised to remember you.

It's gutting, harrowing almost. Realizing he'd been writing to you all this time, unaware. Some sick joke from the universe with no punchline--because you decided then and there to stop writing to him, immediately.

Theseus realizes long before the end of the day.

After you crumple his unanswered "good morning" memo and push it to the far corner of your desk, another flies in.

"URGENT: Is it just me or is Mr. Byrne particularly dapper today? The magenta top hat I can forgive, even the monocle is pardonable, but the polkadot bowtie? Inexcusable. Unbecoming of the Ministry. Need your thoughts immediately."

You had seen Mr. Byrne's polkadot bowtie today. You still found the magenta top hat more scandalizing. You wanted to laugh, but felt too much like crying to give way to the urge.

Then:

"I'm dying. Dark wizard lead in Suffolk but I can't be bothered. Tell me some funny story about you telling the professors off in school. I'm relying on tales of your genius to boost my morale. The fate of the Aurors Office depends on you alone. T."

It's three hours before the next memo comes flapping around the corner like some wounded bird.

"Have I done something wrong?" Shortly after, "More importantly--Are you alright?"

You don't know why you can't leave them be, why you keep reading them with no intention of responding.

"Scaring me here, mystery girl. Write back and I'll stop harassing you, write anything at all. Even a little drawing or scribble will suffice."

"You're not liaising very well, Liaison... Sorry, that was a joke. Ha-ha. I know the Department of Mysteries isn't expected to answer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement but I'd always hoped you'd still answer to me..."

You throw yourself into your work with rigor.

Even your Department of Magical Games and Sports officemates comment on it, commendably. They don't realize you're just trying to occupy your brain, distract yourself from the sizable pile of memos lying formidably on your desk until you can go home.

The last one comes late in the day: "Really--Are you alright?"

Your heart aches weakly.

But no, you know how persistent and how persistently optimistic the mystery man ('Theseus,' you correct yourself) could be. If you wrote back he'd want an explanation, which he'd inevitably refute, and, besides, you weren't ready to tell him the truth or to face him again.

Your head is a jumbled mess of half-formed truths and complicated emotions.

It's a few minutes before 6:00pm, but you click off your desk lamp anxiously and begin to organize your things.

The nature of your position for the Department of Mysteries required you to lock your work up before you left. It involves two spells and four charmed latches and bolts, and it takes some time. You sit back in your chair with a sigh, waiting for the process to finish. The soft, mechanical whirring and clicking noises are a comfort to you.

The frosted glass door to the office swings open thunderously, with the unnecessary force of someone unfamiliar with the delicate door.

You sit up straight in your chair, startled. A few of the workers behind you even look over in alarm, heads shooting up from their desks.

No. Fucking. Way.

Theseus's chest is heaving softly. He's looking right at you, purposefully.

He actually showed up to your desk like he always joked about doing. You want to feel angry, indignant that he'd betray your trust, but all you feel is a numbing shock.

The sight of his face alone would've been a shock. Blue eyes. High cheekbones. Wavy, dark hair. Handsome as the day he left you.

He seems genuinely rendered speechless. The open part of his lips suggests that he had come with some speech prepared for you when he first burst in, although now he is, evidently, lost.

His eyes keep flitting up and down your form, lingering especially on your lips. It makes you flush. Yes, he gets a good look at your face, and at the small pile of his opened memos shoved to the far corner of your desk.

Whatever he expected to find, expected you to look like, this clearly wasn't it.

"Mr. Scamander!"

Your officemate Ana's voice from behind you makes you jolt again.

She walks over and places a hand on your shoulder tenderly. She seems to be completely unaware of any tension between the two of you, speaking to Theseus with ease.

"I'm sorry to steal Y/N from you, but I have to talk to her about an interdepartmental issue before she leaves. Can't wait!"

You wince at the mention of your name, but you're standing, bag clutched like a shield, and Ana is already whisking you past Theseus and through the frosted glass double doors.

"Y/N..." you hear Theseus echo, dreamily, as you pass, just before the doors close in his face and sever you from him completely.

-----

The next day you see him at a far distance.

You feel less shaken about things after having screamed to your little sister about it all last night. But she'd said something stupid about some "string of fate" that irritated you so much that you'd ultimately resorted to screaming into your pillow.

Regardless, you feel more secure. Less unsettled.

Still, the sight of Theseus's open expression in the Atrium, looking back at you in recognition across the crowds of businessmen and women just as the doors to the elevator you're in close--it's a bit haunting.

You gulp once in the safety of the elevator.

He saw you.

His eyes had drifted up and down your form, unreadably, before settling on your face. You didn't have time to react, and he was too far away besides.

Later, later than usual, a small memo floats onto your desk.

You don't hesitate, reaching for it, but the words aren't what you expect. No "good morning," not even anything referencing what had happened yesterday.

The words are so unexpected that his handwriting is the only indication that it's from him.

"You were so beautiful in that skirt this morning. So fucking beautiful. You look so enchanting in blue."

You flush deeply. So, that was what his look this morning had meant.

The relief comes delayed, second to your shyness at his flattery.

"Oh, thank God," you think.

He'd seen you, twice now, and hadn't recognized you.

He didn't remember. Or maybe he just didn't recognize you, it'd been nine years after all and you were no longer a scrawny, scrappy sixteen-year-old. But it was more likely that he just didn't remember.

You decide his not referencing your awkward encounter yesterday either is another mercy, so you go along pretending nothing happened.

"Are you flirting with me, sir?"

It's a comfort to be writing to him again.

"No," he writes back. Then, "Yes."

You laugh aloud at his candor.

"Y/N, I apologize for my outburst yesterday. I shouldn't have sprung on you like that, unannounced. Uninvited. I wish I could say I was afraid something had happened to you, but really I was just afraid you had stopped writing me for good. But then I just stood there like an absolute idiot, you probably had no idea who I was."

You huff at that.

"I knew who you were. I'm no Auror but 'Department of Magical Law Enforcement,' 'war hero,' and 'initials T.S.' aren't exactly subtle hints."

"Hey! I mentioned the war but never called myself 'hero.' I have a strong sense of propriety and I pride myself on it."

"How British..." you write back mockingly, unthinkingly.

"Are you not?"

Fuck. Well, you've already met.

"I live here now, and have for years, but I'm French."

The ink feels seared into the paper, how black your scrawl is, how you can't take it back. You don't know what you want from him. You wish he'd go away. You wish he'd never stop writing.

You wish he'd remember you on his own.

"Hmm..." he writes back.

Your heart is pounding. When he writes again your anxiety dissolves but your heart continues its steady, heavy drum.

"You're beautiful."

Your head is a scattered, overstimulated mess. You can't think straight.

He's still writing. The words fade in one by one.

"Why didn't you tell me you were beautiful? God, I didn't expect it, it took any coherent thought or word right out of me yesterday when you looked up at me with those eyes. And this morning, that skirt. Y/N, you should've warned me."

You laugh at the words on the paper, but your body's reaction to the thought of him writing them, thinking them, thinking of you, is anything but funny.

It feels overly warm in the office suddenly, and you are agitated. You stand and pace around your desk, fanning yourself with your hands.

Your fingers are shaking around the quill when you bend over your desktop to write back.

"Don't be dramatic, you'll live."

You worry you sound cruel so you add.

"And thank you. I don't think anyone has called me beautiful in a very long time."

He writes back: "Any time. And I highly doubt that. Y/N, I'm sure you've been beautiful your whole life. I can tell just by looking at you."

You don't know what possesses you when you write the next words:

"Can I come see you?"

There's a few, atypical beats before he writes back. It's excruciating.

"What, you mean at lunch?"

You look down at the small, oval face of your wristwatch.

Lunch is too far away. The bundle of nerves and anticipation you feel about Theseus, that swarming anxiety, is too unbearable to wait for lunch. You need to get him out of your system now, get him over with, and then you can move on and focus on your work.

"I mean now. In your office." You write back.

'Am I being presumptuous?' The thought makes you furrow your brow and bite your fingernail in worry. But then you remind yourself, 'Beautiful. He called you beautiful.'

It takes so long for him to reply that you almost write again to tell him never mind. But then his words come, like the sweet relief of rain:

"Yes, please. Level two, the very back left office."

You leave at once, smoothing down your skirt and brushing your hair back out of your face.

The anxiety ebbs and peaks at random. On the elevator ride you feel like you're dying. You recollect your confidence while walking to the wooden door of the Aurors Office only to feel another stab of panic as you make your way down the curved hall.

You feel so frazzled and worked up, too distracted to work or even ponder work. But you don't understand why until you push open Theseus's door, not bothering to knock. Until you're alone in the room with him, just the two of you behind closed doors.

He stands quickly upon your entrance, like a soldier.

For a moment the two of you just stare.

'Oh, God,' you realize with mounting dread. 'I am attracted to him. I am like this because I'm attracted to him.'

It feels terrible, awful, that sapping loss of power, that weakness in the knees. You haven't had a crush in your adult life, it's a trampling blow, the realization.

Theseus looks just as handsome as he always has, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles, the sharp curve of his jaw.

He laughs and it breaks the spell of silence.

"Hello, you," his tone is fond but he still hasn't walked over to you, which is confusing and makes you shuffle aimlessly in place.

"Hi," you say, stupidly.

"Hi is all I get?" he jokes. "You know you've become something like my best friend in the office this last month. Actually, you probably know me better than my entire department."

You laugh bleakly, and you hope it dissipates the electrified energy between the two of you. That live-wire tension.

"I could say the same about you, actually."

He makes a strange, indecipherable expression then. It's both wry and lamenting.

"I don't want anything to change that, Y/N."

You frown.

"Why would anything change that?"

He doesn't answer you, changing the subject and turning his attention to the cup of quills on his desk, fiddling with the feathers.

"I... I didn't expect to react the way I did to seeing you for the first time yesterday. I've never reacted that way to anyone, anyone. When you told me you wanted to come see me here today, I panicked. I almost said no."

That hurts your feelings. "Why?"

He looks up from his desk. Your face burns at the sincerity of his expression.

"Because I knew it'd be harder for me to control myself if we were alone together. Harder to be a good friend and... behave."

He says the last word carefully. If he is calculated, delicate, you are anything but.

"I don't want you to behave," you whisper.

You step up to him, boldly. The tension is unbearable now.

"Y/N," he says warningly, disapprovingly. But the look in his eyes is agony.

"Kiss me," you say. The words come to you from far away, a train at the end of the tunnel, you pull them from that night in Verdun, from nine years ago. You need him just the same as you did then.

Theseus smiles reluctantly. The sideways tilt to his mouth is so captivating, it makes you want it more. God, he's attractive. Even more so now that you know him, are his friend.

"I can't," he says, pitifully.

But the look on his face, the way he's standing steadfastly behind his desk like having it between you will protect him, the way his eyes are flitting from yours down to your lips and back up again and again, that isn't saying no.

"Okay, have it your way. But I won't ask you again," you warn.

You want to admit that this isn't the first time he's denied you. He promised you'd live to be kissed, you've come back to haunt him for it now.

You would not ask him a third time.

Theseus groans loudly and puts his head in his hands. When you laugh he looks up at you disparagingly.

"You think that's funny, do you?"

You do. You find it cute. Maybe you don't realize the extent of his distress.

You reach forward to pinch his cheek, jokingly. He bats your hand away with an unwilling smile.

Then you're falling into him, losing your balance. He grasps both your hands in his to keep you from toppling over, the both of you laughing.

"Get off!" you shout gleefully.

"You get off," he retorts jokingly.

Pushing and pulling and touching, it's something like play-fighting the way you're both falling into and catching each other.

At last, he wrangles you onto his desk, so you're sitting there at the edge.

Your head is spinning. He grabs both your wrists, holding them together in a single, large hand.

"Hands to yourself, Y/N," is his gentle reprimand.

But you know, know from the soft pant of his breathing, the undone look on his face, lips half parted, that you've already won.

He doesn't cave into your will so much as collapse altogether, soundlessly, undetectably.

You don't blink, big, innocuous look in your eyes, staring up at him. Even when you're raised up, sitting on his desk while he stands, he's so tall that you have to look up at him.

"Please," Theseus says, and it's so attractive, his broken whisper. "I'm begging you, Y/N."

He drops down to his knees, one leg at a time with the heavy, hypnotized motions of a man defeated.

You gasp softly when his warm palms grip your kneecaps, rubbing gingerly over the sheer material of your tights, reverently.

A man on his knees, his curly head between your thighs. Your stomach plummets, burning low in desire.

You want him bad. Mind-numbingly bad, your whole body tingling underneath and keening to his touch. But it's too addictively sweet, him begging for it like this. You want to draw it out.

"Hm," you sigh, not responding, but you let your legs fall open under the guidance of his hands.

He moans at the sight. When he speaks again his voice is weak and ruined. Rough and pleading.

"Please, I'll do anything. Let me touch you. You're killing me, please."

It's almost a whine.

You can see that the fabric of his pants is stretched taut across his crotch--he's already hard.

His chest is rising and falling softly. There's a needy, trancelike glint in his eyes. He wants it bad, it's plain on his face. It's different from impatience, it's anguish.

"Kiss me," you say again. It's a demand this time. He gives in without a fight, rising up and capturing your open mouth in his.

It's a deep, languishing kiss. He kisses you like he wants to taste you, like he can't get enough of it. He grips your head by the jaw to kiss you better, deeper. When his tongue presses into your mouth you moan into his.

His hand sweeps blindly across his desk, clearing it with a crash. You jump at the sound but he grabs your face again, turning it back to his roughly.

"No," he murmurs. "C'mere."

And he's kissing you again, humming in approval when you tentatively push back against his tongue with your own.

With effort, you pull back to look at him. His pupils are blown out with desire, the collar of his dress shirt pulled open, revealing a collarbone.

"Theseus," you say, your whole body tingling with warmth. You say his name just to say it.

You're too shy to tell him that this is your first kiss, that you'd waited all this time.

It's startling, how quickly the tables turned. How deftly he took control of the situation once he had your permission to.

His hands pull down your skirt, worshipfully, that blue skirt he loves so much. He sets it aside, you're just in your sheer black tights now.

You understand why he cleared his desk now. You fall back with a moan when he flattens his massive hand across your crotch, spreads his fingers. It covers the entire expanse between your legs easily. It feels so lewd for him to touch you there now, but then he drags his hand up, sliding it over your stomach, the middle of your chest, up your neck.

"You'll let me touch you like this?" he asks.

You nod, quickly.

"Only me?" he inquires, sounding pleased. Maybe amused.

"Yes," you say, nodding again with urgency. "Only you. Nobody else."

"Fuck," he curses. He pulls open your blouse then, and disposes of that as well. You half sit up to help him with your bra. Whereas his movements are devout, seeming to worship every part of you, yours are frantic, crazed.

It's not just that you're in his office, at work, but it's that you want him badly. So very badly. It feels like the only thing that can make it better.

Once you have your bra off he pushes you back on the desk again. Places open-mouth kisses your neck, drags his teeth over the skin there then moves down. You gasp when he puts his mouth on your breast, circling your nipple with his tongue. He pinches your other nipple with his hand, rolling it gently between his rough fingertips.

"Hngh," you can't help but moan, writhe, throw your head back against the wood.

You almost want to cry out in disbelief when his head leaves your chest, sinking lower. He's on his knees again, pulling down your tights. You don't understand.

"Theseus, what-" you start, but you are silenced, the breath stolen from your chest, at the sensation of his mouth on your clit.

The moan that leaves your mouth this time is recklessly loud, carelessly so.

Theseus doesn't seem to mind.

"You taste so fucking good," he pulls back to say, his voice is ragged.

You're shy. The idea of him tasting and licking you, putting his mouth there makes you shy. But the pleasure that rocks through your entire body is too strong to deny. You'd never ask him to stop. You weren't capable of it.

Your hands go to his head, fingers wind through his hair automatically.

"Fuck," you say, involuntarily.

He's sucking your clit so well, you hardly notice when he brings up a hand, finger tracing the line of your wet slit, prodding in and out of your tight hole just barely, just to the knuckle. Kitten-fucking you with it.

He stops sucking to lick you up and down with his tongue, again and again in quick, steady rhythm, flicking the firm tip of it against your clit until you have to bite the back of your hand to keep from crying out. When he sinks his two fingers into your pussy fully, stuffing them in forcefully despite the restrictive tightness, still licking, that's all it takes for your orgasm to overtake you in pulses of unbelievable, unknown pleasure.

He removes his fingers and rises. His plush lips are slick with your arousal. He has a dreamy, dazed look in his eyes. The ravaged, destroyed look on your face seems to do something awful to him.

"Let me fuck you," Theseus says. It makes your stomach flip.

He doesn't ask, didn't say 'do you want to,' or 'can we.' He wants to take it from you.

"Yes," you mutter, spreading your legs again without thinking, head still laid back on his desk. Your orgasm made your limbs feel loose, compliant. Anything he wants. Anything at all.

Even the clinking sound of him undoing his belt buckle makes you swoon with yearning, makes your mouth water. He doesn't bother to take off his pants, just pulls his dick out, still staring into your eyes.

'God. Mercy,' you think. Even in his hand it looks huge. It's pretty.

He smiles crookedly at the widening of your eyes.

"You like my cock, baby?"

"Yes," you whisper. "Please. I want it."

He leans over you to kiss your forehead. You don't have the chance to reminisce, for it to remind you of anything, because then he is pushing into your wet warmth. He slides in so snugly, so smoothly, fits like a glove despite the stretch. The feeling of being so overfull is lewd and perfect.

He presses a hand to your lower stomach. He can feel himself inside of you there.

You gasp at the applied pressure.

He keeps his hand pressed there as he angles his hips back and then begins to fuck you. He wants to feel it underhand, how he's moving inside of you.

"Fuuuuucckkkk," you're incoherent, you know. But you can't help but swear, your whole body is vibrating with ecstasy as he drives his dick in and out of you.

"You're beautiful," he groans, throwing his head back. His entire world narrows down to this, fucking you, pumping his dick into your tightness and feeling you flutter and flex around him.

"Wait, Theseus I-" your second orgasm takes you by surprise. Your back arches off the desk, it hits you like a train, it's like an out-of-body experience.

"Fuck," He grips the back of your thighs to the point of pain. But you hardly notice that, you only feel his dick grow achingly hard. He pulls out at the last moment, coming into his hand. It spills out and between his fingertips anyway.

He makes a face of sore regret at the mess. You knew how badly he wanted to come inside of you, you could feel it, but you are grateful he didn't.

You have the strangest urge to get up and lick his fingers, but realistically you're too wrecked to move.

It takes a solid two minutes before either of you return to breathing normally and regain your bearings.

'What did we just do?' you think as you put your clothes back on.

You glance over to Theseus, he's fixing his tie in the small mirror next to the closed door of his office.

It was like you were a woman possessed. You can hardly believe your actions. But, strangely, you don't feel guilty or regretful. And your feelings for Theseus are stronger than ever. Consummated. You feel safe with him. Overjoyed, really.

He catches you looking at him in the mirror and turns. The look on his face is one of total contentment.

He comes over to you, runs his fingers through your hair gently. There's nothing but adoration in his eyes as he beholds you.

"I don't know how I'm expected to just sit back down and continue to do work on my desk now, after that. I'm gonna go insane, just knowing you're only a few levels away."

You laugh. It's an airy, light-hearted sound.

"I like you so much," he admits, brazenly, before you can even respond to him.

Your head is still a muddled mess, but this here is easy to admit. He could probably see it on your face anyway. Read you like a book.

"I like you too," you say. "I miss you already. Keep writing to me."

"I promise."

-----

part two here

author's note: what will happen when the truth of their past comes to light?? part two incoming!!! please leave feedback :)

comment/ask to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @msauthor

[jakes3resin]

gosh!! magic au!! theseus! chaos of having at the base and it’s like two bucky. gale would definitely be shocked!

That au really hit me like a fever dream, my dear anon. I was thinking about the Twin Cleven AU and the Blond Bucky bit I added when I remembered I tacked on a tiny Theseus Easter egg. 30 minutes later I had Magic AU in my drafts with no memory of writing it.

But I've sketched out some thoughts for you and for those who are interested (please keep in mind the last time I watched Fantastic Beasts was a few years ago so I don't remember much):

Bucky's a Scamander by his father (Theseus and Newt's uncle) but goes by his mother's maiden name as he was taken in by her brother and his wife.

Both his parents were magic, but they died near the end of the First World War. Bucky stayed with the Scamanders for a little while before eventually going to America before he turned 4. Theseus was very close with him, and they were occasionally mistaken as father and son due to the age difference (Theseus was a war hero during the First World War if I remember correctly?) (Also that could be an AU now that I think about it but not rn)

He has a bit of a British accent, comes out more when he's using magic. Or when he's around his cousins. First time Buck hears it, he just about faints.

Went to Hogwarts solely because his parents went there, and he wanted to feel close to them. Not sure what House but leaning Hufflepuff. He seems like he'd be happy there.

Enjoyed the school somewhat, but he dealt with some bullying due to his American upbringing as well as some of the students still remembered Newt and bullied him for that connection.

His favorite animal is still the unicorn. It's just not extinct like he said to Buck. What can I say? Every Scamander is good with magical animals.

Had an accidental falling out with the Scamander family who wanted him to move permanently to England and stay with them during his schooling, but he prefered spending his summers in America and winter holidays in the castle.

Came home before he turned 18 (I guess started Hogwarts young for his grade? Idk.) And decided to blend in to Muggle/No-Maj society by going to college and later joining the Air Force.

After Bucky's revelation to the RAF pilots, one of them writes home saying he met Theseus Scamander's cousin! This gets passed through Wizarding society until it lands in the ears of Theseus who didn't have a clue his cousin was in England, let alone serving in a Muggle unit. And after hearing about the death toll, he gets scared.

Theseus resolves to pop down there and check in on his cousin. And unknowingly reeks havoc upon Thorpes Abbotts.

Looks like this:

(This is in a nebulous point before Curtis' death because he deserves to be alive my baby boy)

Literally everyone that sees him is flabbergasted because 1) Major Egan is handsome but he never dresses like That and 2) Major Egan is supposed to be flying back from a mission right now. Word travels through base, and it's alight with rumors.

Theseus gets dragged to Kidd's office because literally everyone is freaking out, and he's quite confused why everyone keeps calling him Bucky. He tries to explain that he's Theseus and that he's here to see his cousin John, but every time he speaks the people around him all jump (its cause his accent spooks them. That accent should not be coming from someone who looks so much like Bucky in their mind. Boy are they in for a rude awakening.)

Bucky flies back in, and after interrogation, he doesn't even get a chance to change clothes before he's being dragged to Kidd's office. Buck and a few of the boys follow utterly confused. If Bucky's in trouble, Buck's not just gonna stand by.

Theseus happily greets Bucky when he walks into the office, and the pair have an okay reunion before Theseus states that he's here to check on his younger cousin, heavily implying that he's here to transfer Bucky to a British outfit as he's a British citizen and their family connections want to keep him safe (really a Wizard one but among Muggles he's better at speaking around the issue)

Thus an argument breaks out. Bucky's accent also comes out, and nearly everyone around him loses their minds.

Buck really, really does not want to talk about what that accent does to him. It's confusing and concerning. (Clegan are together, but when your partner busts out the London Accent, well that's a gamechanger)

Anyways idk where it goes after that, but now everyone has to deal with the fallout that Bucky is British and has a nearly identical cousin who pops in to check on him.

[gh0stlyb34r]

Welcome to my blog !

About me ! ; the basics

name ; saint , logan , johnny

big age ; 19 ('05)

little age ; 2 - 5

pronouns ; he / they / star / it (+more!)

gender / sexuality ect. ; gay , trans , ace , poly(?)

links at end of post!!

pronouns page | strawpage

About me ! ; my interests

games ; call of duty , overwatch , valorant , hogwarts legacy , jedi fallen order , jedi survivor , red dead redemption 2 , roblox (royale high , dress to impress + more!) , fnaf , poppy playtime , indigo park , forza horizon , resident evil 4 , good pizza great pizza , animal crossing new horizons , mario kart 8 , mario kart wii , just dance , the last of us , detroit become human , spiderman , little nightmares , buckshot roulette

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About me ! ; My faves

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[prettybillycore]

FOR TOMMY | Letter #7 Tread lightly, Newt

Pairing(s): Thomas Shelby x Original Character

Universe: Peaky Blinders / Fantastic Beasts

Summary: Veela and Seer- a powerful combination of traits for one person to have. Edith Lillian Scamander falls in love with a young Thomas Shelby while working in a nurse’s ward during WWI. Will her feelings be requited, or will she be doomed to pine over the man of her dreams for eternity hopelessly?

Rating: Teen

Warnings: none

Read on AO3 or Scroll down to read it right here on Tumblr below the cut!

You know that I would not write you if the situation was not dire. I know that you and Edith have your differences, but I also know you care about her safety and well-being. I have just received a concerning letter in the mail from her. She has officially ended her engagement with Lucretius. We both saw this coming, but I thought she would have come to one of us for help. Instead, she states in her letter that she will not be telling us where she is going. She stated that she will contact me when she feels safe to do so. Something doesn’t feel right about this. I am very worried for her, Theseus. Where could she possibly go that she would be safe from the wrath of a Malfoy? Other than with one of us of course. I doubt she would have gone to you instead of me, but I hope she’s safe in your living room drinking that tea she always likes. If she is not with you, I fear the worst. Would you be able to do something at the ministry to help locate her? I cannot bear to lose her, Theseus. I am going to start looking for her myself; I will check with everyone she was friendly with in school if I have to. If you hear anything of her whereabouts, tell me immediately. Do not approach her by yourself; she’s always been quite reactive toward you and she’s probably scared beyond belief right now.

Tread lightly,

Newt

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ fandoms & characters I write for. ੈ✩‧₊˚

the fandoms I'm currently taking requests for are marked red. my favorite characters to write for will also be marked red.

if a piece of media you want to see me write for isn't on this list, ask me about it and I'll see if I'm familiar with it or intrigued by it enough to watch/read it. this list will be edited in case I become interested in writing for another fandom.

banner credits : @dollywons <3

╰┈➤ movies ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- the twilight saga - aro volturi, caius volturi, marcus volturi, demetri volturi, felix volturi, sulpicia volturi, athenodora volturi, leah clearwater, paul lahote, jasper hale, rosalie hale, alice cullen, carlisle cullen, benjamin (of the egyptian coven)

- the hunger games - finnick odair, johanna mason, gale hawthorne, cressida, cato, madge undersee (platonic)

- the ballad of songbirds and snakes - coriolanus snow, lucy gray baird, sejanus plinth, tigris snow, livia cardew, reaper ash,

- james bond franchise (daniel craig) - james bond, vesper lynd, le chiffre, gareth mallory (m), maximilian denbigh (c), lyutsifer safin

- harry potter - godric gryffindor, salazar slytherin, rowena ravenclaw, helga hufflepuff, newt scamander, theseus scamander, tom marvolo riddle, abraxas malfoy, barty crouch jr, regulus black, severus snape, evan rosier, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, lily evans, marlene mcckinnon, pandora lovegood, xenophilius lovegood, bill weasley, charlie weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, ron weasley, draco malfoy, theodore nott, blaise zabini, hermione granger, harry potter, oliver wood, cedric diggory

╰┈➤ tv shows ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- game of thrones - robb stark, sansa stark, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, jaime lannister, margaery tyrell, cersei lannister, ramsay bolton, tywin lannister, tyrion lannister, joffrey baratheon, theon greyjoy, viserys targaryen, oberyn martell, bronn of the blackwater, edmure tully, ygritte

- house of the dragon - otto hightower, alicent hightower, gwayne hightower, daemon targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen, aegon 'the elder' targaryen, aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, mysaria, alys rivers, addam of hull, ser criston cole

- from - ellis stevens, sara myers, nathan myers, kenny liu, fatima hassan, randall kirkland, jade herrera, tabitha matthews, jim matthews, boyd stevens, julie matthews (platonic), victor kavanaugh (platonic), kristi miller, marielle sinclair

- elementary - sherlock holmes, joan watson, marcus bell, mycroft holmes, jamie moriarty, odin reichenbach, gareth lestrade

- criminal minds - aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, kate callahan, emily prentiss, elle greenaway, spencer reid, derek morgan, luke alvez, penelope garcia, tara lewis, jason gideon, david rossi, will lamontagne

- bones - zack addy, seeley booth, temperance brennan, angela montenegro, jack hodgins, camille saroyan, lance sweets, daisy wick, arastoo vaziri, jessica warren, finn abernathy, vincent nigel-murray, wendell bray

- castle - kate beckett, richard castle, javier esposito, kevin ryan, lanie parish, tom demming, hayley shipton, alexis castle (platonic)

- gotham - jim gordon, barbara kean, victor zsasz, oswald cobblepot, edward nygma, sofia falcone, jerome valeska, jeremiah valeska, tabitha galavan

- brooklyn 99 - rosa diaz, gina linetti

- shadow & bone - genya safin, kaz brekker, nikolai lantsov, jesper fahey, zoya nazyalensky, nina zenik, inej ghafa, matthias helvar

╰┈➤ books ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- a song of ice and fire series (mostly fire & blood) - arianne martell, young griff "aegon", aegon ' the conqueror' targaryen, rhaenys 'the conqueror' targaryen, visenya 'the conqueror' targaryen, maegor targaryen, rhaena targaryen, aemon targaryen, baelon targaryen, aegon 'the younger' targaryen, viserys ii targaryen, aemon 'the dragonknight' targaryen, daemon blackfyre, shiera seastar, daemon blackfyre

- the secret history - julian morrow, richard papen, henry winter, camilla macaulay, charles macaulay, edmund 'bunny' corcoran

- the folk of the air - jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, locke, nicasia, valerian, dain greenbriar, the ghost, the roach, the bomb, liriope

- house of hollow - iris hollow, vivi hollow, grey hollow, tyler yang

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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joe keery | joseph quinn | timothée chalamet | andrew garfield | tom hiddleston | tom holland | ryan gosling | henry cavill | hayden christensen | callum turner

blaise zabini | theodore nott | cedric diggory | dean thomas | draco malfoy | fred weasley | george weasley | harry potter | ron weasley

james potter | siruis black | regulus black | remus lupin

theseus scamander

anakin skywalker | obi wan kenobi | poe dameron | luke skywalker | han solo | din djarin

andrew!peter parker | loki laufeyson | 1610!miles morales | pietro maximoff | tony stark | steve rogers | james buchanan barnes | tom!peter parker

peeta mellark | finnick odair | coriolanus snow

bruce wayne | jason todd | dick grayson

pete “maverick” mitchell | bradley “rooster” bradshaw

steve harrington | eddie munson | jonathan byers | lucas sinclair

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jake peralta

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keep in mind I would consider writing for other characters so if you have a specific request feel free to send it to my inbox <3

[uefb]

Chapter 3 of Older, or Two Brothers and a Train Station is up now ^_^

Note: this fic is so far before canon I’m really stretching on these damn gifs, forgive me 😆 but 5yo Newt cuddles with a puppy in this chapter and 14yo Theseus gets one of his first examples of using one’s wiles for personal gain, so they seemed… vaguely appropriate? /sweat emoji

Excerpt (Opening Scene):

Theseus sat on the couch across from the fireplace, reading in the light of the oil lamp, the single electric bulb his father had installed in a fit of fascination the summer before, and the golden sphere of illumination his mother conjured for him to read by as she hurried through the room. For the better part of an hour now, Rowan and Helios had been cloistered in their bedroom, apparently engaged in some kind of very serious adult conference about the contents of the IUM’s letter. In that time, Theseus had gotten up once to yell outside for Newt—to be certain he hadn’t managed to get himself killed in his brief hours of unsupervised activity—but, beyond that, he was just trying his best to focus on the herbology chapters he was meant to be reading in preparation for the Fourth Year’s upcoming unit on bubotubers.

He looked up, though, at the sound of sudden fumbling at the door—the distinctive thump thump of small boots being kicked off on the porch—and then Newt’s head appeared, peering in, between the screen door and the frame. Theseus waved and patted the cushion beside him in invitation as Newt shucked off his coat in the doorway (or, more accurately, wriggled out of it, for his fingers were apparently too clumsy with youth and winter-cold to manage the buttons). Newt rubbed hard at his runny nose when done and observed Theseus’ repeated patting of the couch, but he still hesitated, and then very unsubtly glanced toward a short dark shape just behind him, outside the door.

“You can let whatever animal that is in, little brother,” he immediately reassured, with a quiet laugh. “Just come on - sit with me. I’m doing herbology homework, so I could read to you. Hm?”

Newt hovered only a moment more before throwing open the screen door and scooping up a floppy-eared puppy, which looked very much like it had just been well-fed and was consequently very ready for bed. Newt scuttered across the room and handed the little dog up to Theseus, before clambering onto the couch beside him to curl about the tiny thing. The puppy immediately began licking his cheeks and rolling onto its back, showing its little pink belly like puppies are wont to do when they want affection. Theseus selected a section of the assigned chapter to read aloud; and Newt listened as he stared at the flickering flames in the hearth across from them, fingers moving soothingly down the puppy’s nose until—within a half hour—both dog and boy were deeply asleep.

(Theseus certainly couldn’t fault Newt for choosing sleep over homework—management of bubotubers was hardly invigorating...)

When their parents finally returned downstairs a half hour after that, though, it was very obvious Rowan had been crying, and Helios had the kind of look on his face Theseus had seen a few times at Dueling Club: something between annoyed, rueful, and defeated. It didn’t quite look right on him, for—around his children, at least—Helios spent the majority of his time bemusedly smiling. Rowan was not particularly a “crier” either so, between the two of them, Theseus’ back stiffened of its own accord and he shifted slightly beneath the weight of the textbook.

His mother crouched in front of him and closed the book—thoughtfully marking his page with a pin from her loose hair—and she set it all aside on the floor before placing gentle hands on his knees—

“We need to talk, sweetheart,” she said quietly, and Theseus tried to catch his father’s eye for context, but he seemed farther off in his own head than usual, for he was observing Newt with an expression Rowan liked to teasingly call his ‘discerning Ravenclaw face’.

“Mum—”

Theseus turned his attention back to her but reached out a hand to pet the sleeping puppy within his brother’s arms.

“What was that letter about? From the Ministry?”

“Well, we need to talk, ducky,” she repeated, and she turned over a palm, offering it for him to take. “Come here and let me make you hot chocolate. A holiday treat.”

“But Newt—”

“Is not your problem right now,” she interrupted firmly, though not without kindness (even if he still felt his cheeks flush hot at the admonishment). “We are the parents, Theseus, and your father is putting Newt to bed.”

So Theseus stood reluctantly, moving gingerly to prevent upsetting his brother or the puppy, and he let his mum wrap her hand about his and tug him toward the kitchen.

Over his shoulder, Helios was gently scooping a slightly stirring Newt into his arms, puppy tucked tight beneath his chin. He turned and took the stairs smoothly—humming what Theseus was almost certain was one of Uncle Hesiod’s “quidditch” (drinking) songs as he disappeared from view—and Theseus sat down with his mother, again, at the kitchen table.

He watched the minute movements of her face in the flickering lamplight as she summoned ingredients for drinking chocolate.

He forced a reassuring smile when she turned back around with the steaming milk.

He folded his hands on the table and waited.

[i-choose-the-danger]

Creature Comforts

Finally able to post today! Fitting that I get it typed up on Eddie Redmayne's birthday too. 🥰I had this idea in my head after writing my last fic and referring to it in the dialogue, and it kept nagging at me and growing bigger and bigger. It just made sense to turn it into a fic of its own. So this fic is about something that was referenced in this fic, if you want to read that first. Only one big note here - what I've written is based off my own personal headcanon for these characters. We don't really know much about Newt's and Theseus's childhoods. We're still unsure about Theseus's *actual* birthday, but I feel that in 1904 (when I have the fic taking place), Theseus would be finishing his 6th year at Hogwarts and Newt would be seven years old. And for Newt, the way he is and his childhood are personally important to me, so I ask that you be kind and respect that. Everyone has their own headcanons and these are mine. Thank you. <3 I really do love these boys and I hope we get to see more of them together in the next film. Fic below the cut. :)

It was a warm June day in the English countryside. All was quiet in the Scamander home, mostly due to the fact that a very young Newt was home alone with his mother and that his older brother Theseus wouldn't be returning from Hogwarts for the summer until later in the evening. Newt had been spending the day helping his mother with chores around the house.

"Here you are, little Ruffles," Newt announced, walking towards the small hippogriff enclosure in his family's backyard as slowly as possible. He was carrying a bowl almost as big as himself and trying not to spill any water from it. "It's very warm out here and Mummy says you have to... to stay, um... hydrated." He set the bowl down on the ground and bowed before the young hippogriff, quietly waiting. He was nervous, but tried not to tense his muscles. A few seconds later, Ruffles mirrored Newt and bowed its head. Newt sighed in relief and slowly raised a hand, resting his palm on the creature's head and brushing his little fingers back through its feathers as it bent down to drink.

"Wonderful," Newt's mother observed from behind him.

"She let me pet her!" Newt beamed. He had been trying since the hippogriff's birth to gain its trust. His mother had been teaching him about hippogriffs and how important it is to establish such a bond with creatures in one's care.

Newt was only seven years old, too young to yet attend Hogwarts, but interested in all of the creatures his mother cared for and he constantly asked her to teach him anything she could. Newt wasn't like most children his age. He was very quiet and kept to himself. The only time he would open up was when watching his mother care for the hippogriffs she bred or when she was tending her garden. He would often follow her and try to help with anything she would allow.

"She trusts you now. I'm proud of you, sweetheart." Newt's mother carded her fingers through her son's messy auburn curls, lightly patting the top of his head. "I need you to take this basket and feed these to the gnomes over the wall, hmm? Can you do that for me?"

"I can do that, Mummy." Newt picked up a wicker basket full of things his mother had pulled up from her garden and toddled off to the other side of the backyard in a hurry.

"That's my sweet boy," she sighed.

Newt had always enjoyed feeding the gnomes, but never understood what he was feeding them. His mother said that the things she pulled from her garden were called horklumps. They looked like an odd species of mushroom. She said that they weren't important and their only purpose was keeping the gnomes from digging holes throughout the backyard. Newt threw most of them over the wall to a few gnomes who had dug holes behind one of the oak trees, but he stared down at the few horklumps left in the basket. He shuffled one of his feet, digging his heel into the dirt. Mummy doesn't need these. It should be okay if I take a few to my room and look at them, he thought. Newt took the basket of remaining horklumps into the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Mum! I'm home!" Theseus called out as he pulled his trunk through the fence gate into the backyard, a broom in his other hand and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

"You're early, dear! I thought you said the quidditch team was going to get together after you got back to the station."

"That was the plan, but McCoy did poorly on his O.W.L.s and his parents wouldn't let him come out. We didn't feel right being without him."

"Oh, that's too bad. Maybe he should study with you next year for your N.E.W.T.s."

"Speaking of Newts, I thought he would be out here with you. Where is he?"

"I asked him to take all of the horklumps I pulled up and toss them to the gnomes over the wall."

"What on earth for?" Theseus wondered.

"Waste not. If you have the patience and the time, you can learn to coexist with almost any creature." Mrs. Scamander tucked a loose curl of hair behind her ear and continued to till her small garden. "Besides, it keeps those little monsters from digging up my roses. They know they'll get food from me if they stay away."

"He must've gone inside to clean up. Can I leave this with you while I find him?" Theseus lifted the satchel from his shoulder and handled it gently as he held it out towards his mother.

"Is that what we discussed the other day?" Theseus's mother brushed her hands against her apron to remove the dirt from them before holding them out. "Give it here. I'll keep it safe for you."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Newt had spent the past hour or so sketching and writing in his notebooks. He was seated on the floor in the center of his bedroom, his legs crossed and his socked feet flexing. Charcoal was smudged on his hands and wrists. A handful of horklumps sat in a pile in front of the child on the floor by one of his knees. They looked like large pink mushrooms, but they were covered in hard black hairs and had root-like tentacles. Newt's mother had told him they were nothing more than weeds in her garden, but he was fascinated with how they grew and his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

"You're not a 'shroom," he mumbled to himself. Newt stuck out his tongue and bit down on it lightly as he concentrated on sketching in his notebook. He looked at the tentacles poking out from the bottom of a horklump stalk. "These are little legs like ones on grin-, on grindee... Grindylows." He picked up one of the horklumps he had begun to dissect and held it close to his face. He grazed a finger over the coarse hair of its stalk. "Ow. It feels like brushes." The hard bristles were shedding from the small creature as he touched it. Newt was so focused on jotting down notes in his book that he didn't hear his door open.

"There you are. Didn't you hear me ca-" Theseus looked around the room. There were dissected horklump pieces strewn across the floor with Newt's notebooks. Garden dirt, charcoal, and the horklumps' spiny bristles were on some of Theseus's belongings, including his bed. "What is this mess?!"

"You're home early!" Newt yelped.

"Everything is covered in dirt and hair!" Theseus could feel himself getting more aggravated no matter where he looked.

"I was studying them." Newt blinked hard and looked up at Theseus. "I was going to clean it, soon as I finished!" Newt panicked and scrambled to bring himself into a kneeling position as he closed his sketchbook and threw his charcoal and quill into a small box of art supplies that he kept under his bed.

"And how exactly did you plan on cleaning all of this? Even the most complex scouring charm couldn't get this caked-in dirt out of my sheets!" Theseus tried swatting the dirt off of one of his blankets, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry! I'll clean it all up right now." Newt pressed his palms to his ears, trying to concentrate on where to start cleaning before Theseus could raise his voice again.

"Oh no, wait. Newt..." Theseus's tone was calm. He realized that his knee-jerk reaction was a bit too harsh towards his younger brother and he felt awful for reacting the way he did. "Newt, stop. Come here." Theseus crouched down to the floor and shifted his weight so that he was kneeling to match his brother's height. "It's alright. I'm not angry."

"I don't believe you. Your face is angry. And you were loud," Newt muttered, looking up at his brother through the unruly curls that had fallen in front of his eyes as he cast his head down. He blinked and stared back down at his socks. One of his thumbs clawed absentmindedly at his pants pocket. "I didn't mean to make a mess."

"I know. I'm sorry that I yelled." Theseus held his arms out towards Newt and sighed. "Please, come here," he added, stretching out his fingers. The corners of his mouth turned up as Newt cautiously stepped towards him. Once Newt was within reach, Theseus wrapped him in a tight hug. Newt didn't reciprocate the gesture, but simply stood still with his arms at his sides and let Theseus continue to hold him. "I'm sorry for yelling. I promise that I'm not angry." Theseus heard a small sniffle come from his little brother and his heart sank. He pulled back from the hug and flashed the cheesiest smile he could muster. "My face isn't angry either, see?"

"Not now. It doesn't have the big wrinkles anymore," Newt pointed out, tracing a finger across his brother's forehead.

"Wrinkles?! Hmmph!" Theseus rolled his eyes and let Newt go, crossing his arms. "I know how I can make up for upsetting you. How about I introduce you to a new creature? One I know you've never met before."

"A new one?" Newt's eyes lit up like stars. He pursed his lips and bounced with nervous energy. "You mean it?"

"Mmhmm. It's fun, and it's cuddly, and it's not dangerous, and it loves to make people smile."

"Why haven't I seen it before?" The child was very intrigued, yet cautious.

"Um, er, Mum might have just thought you weren't ready to meet one, but I think it's okay for me to show one to you now."

"Where is it? What is it called? Where did you find it?" Newt kept leaning from side to side, trying to see where his brother might be hiding such a wonderful surprise.

"Oh it's right here." Theseus chuckled to himself as Newt looked around. "It's called... a tickle monster." Theseus bent forward to wrap his arms around his little brother again, but Newt was too quick and jumped back, leaving Theseus to faceplant into the floor with a loud thud. "OOF!"

"Uh-oh!" Newt sprinted out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him, a panicked giggle escaping his lips as he padded down the hallway looking for a place to hide.

"You little... come back here!" Theseus pushed himself to stand and brushed some dust off the knees of his pants. "You can't escape the tickle monster. I know all of your little hiding spots!"

Theseus searched room by room, checking all of the places Newt would hide himself when he needed to be alone or when he was upset. He glanced over at the linen closet in the laundry room and smiled knowingly. Its door was open just the slightest bit. Newt would often tuck himself away in there when playing hide-and-seek with their mother. He'd never close the door all the way because he was still quite uncomfortable in the dark.

"Now where could that little brother of mine be?" Theseus wondered aloud. He pulled open a desk drawer. "Hmm, no. Not here." He shook out a blanket that had been laid over the back of a chair. "Nope." He lifted the cushion from the same chair. "Not under here either. I guess you're too smart for me." Theseus crept by a small cabinet and turned toward the linen closet. With a gentle hand, he grabbed the door, waited, and then flung it wide open. "AHA! Now I've got...you?" His expression fell. The bottom of the closet was empty. "Newt?" Theseus stepped into the closet and bent over to check behind a pile of bed sheets, not hearing the slight squeak of the cabinet door just behind him. Before he could straighten back up, the closet door swung and smacked against his bum, knocking him off balance and face-first into the stack of sheets. He could hear tiny footsteps dashing away. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled, his face still smooshed in the sheets.

Theseus doubled back to their bedroom just in case Newt had retreated back to where he felt safest. As he reached the doorway, he heard the staircase creak followed by a small gasp. He continued into the bedroom without turning to look back, knowing that Newt was heading downstairs. Theseus very rarely managed to get his brother to come out of his shell and be playful, so he was in no rush to end this game of hide-and-seek so soon.

"Need to hide. Need to hide," Newt repeated to himself frantically, eyes darting around as he tried to think of a spot that would be safe. He linked his thumbs into the pockets of his pants and pulled on them a few times to calm himself. The feeling of butterflies in his stomach was making him shift his weight back and forth from one leg to the other.

"I'm going to find you, little brother," Theseus called out in a sing-song voice as he started to descend the staircase.

"Oh no!" Newt quietly gasped to himself. He would never make it to the kitchen in time to run out the back door without Theseus seeing him and catching him. Luckily, Newt was thin and agile enough that he was able to quickly duck and dart under the dining table. He peeked out underneath the tablecloth to see Theseus's shoes only a few inches away from his hiding spot. Newt's hands flew to cover his mouth to suppress the sudden nervous urge he had to giggle.

"Brother mine, where could you have gone?" Theseus walked around the dining table and stood still for a moment, noticing a chair slightly out of place. He bent down just enough to be able to see exactly where Newt was hiding. He could have ended this chase right then, but couldn't help dragging the game out just a few minutes longer. "Well, he's too young to apparate, so he couldn't have vanished into thin air. I wonder if he went outside." Theseus headed into the kitchen and hid himself against the door frame to wait.

"Whew," Newt whispered. He carefully crawled over the bottom rungs of the chair in front of him and out from under the table. He had no idea that his brother was watching from the kitchen... or that he was now sneaking up behind him.

"Gotcha!" Theseus crowed, wrapping his arms around Newt's waist and scooping him into the air. Newt was already squirming and giggling before Theseus had even done anything. "And where do you think you're going, hmm? All this wriggly giggly nonsense won't save you from the tickle monster."

"No no no no no! You lied to me! That's... that's not a real creature! It doesn't count!" Newt continued to squirm in his brother's arms in hopes of slipping through and running for cover.

"Oh I can assure you that the tickle monster is very real. If it wasn't, could it do this?" Theseus's arms were long enough that he was able to hold Newt in a hug from behind and have his hands reach Newt's ribs on the opposite sides. The very second his fingers scrunched into Newt's sides, the child squealed and let out the wildest string of giggles Theseus had ever heard in his entire life.

"Thee-hee-hee-hee-heeseus!" No matter how hard Newt tried to free himself, his brother's arms were too strong. "You and your dumb hugger arms! Let me gohohohohoho!"

"You dirty up the whole bedroom, knock me down in the closet, and now you insult my hugging? That's it." Theseus walked into the den towards the couch, never pausing his attack as Newt continued to squeal and thrash about in protest in his arms. Theseus even blew a few raspberries against the side of Newt's neck, causing the child to squeak and squirm through more laughter. He dropped Newt onto the cushions and sat beside him, allowing them both a minute to catch their breath. Almost immediately, Newt scrambled to roll off the couch to safety. "Oh, no you don't!" Theseus spidered his fingers up Newt's ribcage and under his arms, which Newt immediately clamped down at his sides as he laughed harder. Theseus tried to pull his hands out, but Newt had them pinned in a vice-like grip under his arms. "If you're going to trap the tickle monster here, then it'll just have to claw its way free," Theseus sighed. The elder brother curled his fingers into claw shapes and scratched at the hollows under his captive's arms.

Newt shrieked.

"What in the name of Merlin..." Mrs. Scamander called from the kitchen.

"Mummy! He-he-he-he-he-help!" Newt curled himself into a ball and continued to squeal and laugh as Theseus poked and scribbled his fingers over every vulnerable spot he could find.

"I could hear the commotion from all the way outside. I thought someone was dying," their mother joked.

"I a-ha-ha-ha-ha-ham!" her youngest son shouted through his laughter. At this point, he had completely lost control of his limbs and flailed about on the couch trying to fend off his brother's assault. "He-he-he-he-he's trying to kill meeee!" Another high-pitched squeal left Newt's lips before his laughter started to go silent.

"So dramatic!" Theseus huffed. He gave Newt's ribs a few more quick pokes before helping him sit up and pulling him back against his chest. Newt collapsed into him and let his limbs go limp. "See? Very much alive."

"Barely so," Newt choked out through residual giggles. His chest was still heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He grabbed the hem of his shirt in his fists, rubbing them over his ribs to sooth away the tingly feeling that still lingered. "You're a rubbish big brother," Newt added sternly, even though it was with a smile as he curled back into a ball on his side.

"Ouch!" Theseus put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I did bring home something for you though. I thought you would be old enough to have a pet to take care of so you'd stop destroying our room like the little tornado you are," he added, lightly mussing Newt's hair to emphasize his cyclonic nature.

"If you really did, then where is it?" Newt asked, still resting against Theseus's chest.

"I've got her right here. I kept her safe while you two were playing." Mrs. Scamander put her hands into the large pocket in the front of her apron and cradled something small as she pulled them back out. "She's a puffskein."

Newt's eyes widened like little hazel saucers and he instantly sat upright. His mother was holding what looked like a small ball of blue fur barely bigger than a quidditch snitch.

"She's beauuuutiful. May I hold her?" Newt whispered. He loosely held nervous fists up near his chin and waited for permission.

"If you're very careful. She's just a baby. Cup your hands like this." Mrs. Scamander held out her hands next to Newt's, still cradling the puffskein, and gently urged it to waddle over into his waiting hands. It took a few steps and settled into his palms with a soft coo. He instinctively cupped one hand behind the small creature to keep it from falling. "Just like that. She needs to feel safe."

"Oooooh." Newt held the puffskein against his chest and repeatedly brushed the fingers of his free hand over her fur. "She's so soft."

"She reminded me of that fuzzy blue blanket you hold all the time, so I thought you'd like her." Theseus reached out and scratched the puffskein's head with his index finger.

"She's perfect. Thank you." Newt continued happily petting the puffskein, never looking away from her. He found the continuous touch of her fur brushing the pads of his fingers to be very soothing. "What's her name?"

"She doesn't have one yet. I thought you should name her since she's yours now," Theseus replied.

"Hmm..." Newt held his new pet out and looked her over. "She looks like a big blue eye. I'll call her Iris." The puffskein cooed.

"I think she likes it. If you stay still, she likes to perch herself here," Theseus told him. He took Iris into his hands and set her down on one of Newt's shoulders. "Just be careful. She has a long little tongue and if you're not watching, she'll take your bogeys right out of your nose," he whispered, pinching Newt's nose between two of his knuckles.

"Theseus! That's disgusting!" his mother scolded. Newt instantly covered his nose with one of his hands, horrified at the thought.

"It's true though! It's the first place they look if they can't find food," Theseus added.

Iris started to purr, cuddled against Newt's cheek. As the intensity of her purr increased, she started to vibrate and her fur buzzed against his neck. Newt scrunched his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut as he squeaked out a surprise laugh.

"It looks like you have a new little tickle monster," Theseus joked.

"Noooo! I should send a tickle monster after you," Newt replied, still scrunching his neck. He cupped a hand around Iris and guided her to walk down his chest far enough for him to take her in both hands and hold her in his lap.

"Please. Tickle monsters don't bother me," Theseus replied in a huff.

"I guess your brother never told you about when he first met the tickle monster, hmm?" Mrs. Scamander stood at the end of the couch with her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk.

"Wait, what?" Theseus all of a sudden felt very anxious.

"Uh-oh..." Newt protectively cuddled his new pet and scooted away from his brother on the couch.

"Oh yes. When Theseus was your age, sometimes he would be so rambunctious that the only thing that could tire him out was a visit from the tickle monster." Mrs. Scamander was now standing behind Theseus as Newt giggled to himself watching them with wide eyes.

"Mum, what are you... Mum, NO!" Theseus curled in on himself and tried to shield his sides as his mother proceeded to tickle him to pieces.

Newt had never heard Theseus laugh so hard or seen him lose composure so quickly. He had also never felt more at ease simply sitting there with a new pet to care for and study. At that moment, Newt could think of nothing else he would make him happier.

[keepmeinmind-01]

wip wednesday 12/08—“once then we’ll be free”

thank you so much to @creative-girl @wizisbored @post-and-out for your comments 💕🫶🏽

here are my nine lines for this WIP:

The paperwork involved was overwhelming, far more complex and obscure than any two young wixen could reasonably understand.

But Theseus was four months into being of age, and so it was his signature at the bottom of every form, every agreement.

He withdrew from Hogwarts and his NEWTs, a decision requiring him to sit nearly ten hours worth of exams to prove he’d be trusted around Muggles with a year of advanced magic and no certifications. They sold the two of their father’s clocks they’d managed to take from the house, before it had been closed off to them, and Theseus again went to apply for a permit to install a Floo fireplace in their cheap tenement.

Originally, he had been given permission to use it to Floo into Hogsmeade, to sit in on a few classes and finish his final year, given his near-perfect marks so far. Only once they’d spent all the money—going hungry for several nights—did Headmaster Black change his mind.

Not for a Scamander, it was decided—and so the fireplace sat dusty and empty.

Theseus complained about it for hours on end. Newt was impressed; his brother hadn’t yet said a word about feeling unhappy, or exhausted, or desperate for a hot meal. But he still had the energy to spend—and Newt had discretely timed it—four hours and twenty-two minutes complaining about an administrative rejection.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Young, dumb in love

Theseus Scamander X Wizard!Reader

Summary: Theseus and Y/n had always been in love with the other. Now that an extraordinary event occurs, it will bring them closer

Warning: Pregnancy/ Mention of birth/ inaccuracies (powers, medical)/ use of Y/n/ not really following the movie timeline

Word count: 1.5k

Y/n and Theseus met because of Newt. All 3 of them were in Hufflepuff and Y/n didn’t have any friends. Newt sat next to her one day and they became friends, then, she met Newt’s older brother, Theseus. She was instantly attracted to him, and it was the same for him, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Years went by and they were both 20. After a one-night stand, Y/n started to feel nauseous, she feared that the protection they wore, didn’t do its job. So, when the test came back positive, it was time to break the news to Theseus.

‘’You might want to sit down’’ Y/n warned the man. ‘’What are you going to tell me? You’re not pregnant, are you?’’ he joked. Y/n’s heart sank, she became pale. ‘’Well, yes, I am Theseus, I did 4 tests, they all came back positive’’ she nervously said. Theseus immediately felt bad from what he just said. He was happy, he was going to be a dad, having a family of his own as always been his dream. ‘’Oh my! Y/n that’s an amazing news! I can’t wait to tell Newt!’’ He smiles. Y/n breath out in relief, her eyes fill with tears, happy tears. ‘’So, you’re happy?’’ she asked. ‘’Yes, it’s wonderful!’’ he exclaimed, hugging her.

‘’Thank you for inviting me over, it’s been a while since I’ve saw you. How are you, Y/n?’’ Newt says, sitting at the table. Y/n and Theseus didn’t have a game plan, they didn’t think about a way to announce it. ‘’I’m great, Newt, by the way, you’re going to be an uncle.’’ She blurted out. Newt dropped his fork as he looked at them. ‘’What?’’ he mumbled. ‘’I’m pregnant, Newt. And Theseus is the father’’ she smiled. ‘’Really?’’ he smiled. Theseus nodded and took Y/n’s hand. ‘’That’s amazing! Congratulations! I’m going to be an uncle!’’ he exclaimed, he looked really happy. ‘’That’s why the Qilin was so excited, he saw the baby’s soul’’ he murmurs. ‘’This early?’’ Y/n asked, putting a hand on her stomach. Newt nodded and smiled. Theseus smiled to his brother as they continued to talk about life.

Her stomach was starting to show, she was so happy. She was looking at herself in the mirror, smiling. ‘’Theseus! Come here!’’ she yelled. He ran upstairs, afraid something bad happened to her. ‘’Are you okay? Is the baby, okay? Do I need to call Newt?’’ he quickly said. Y/n laughed and shook her head. ‘’Look, I’m showing! Can you see it!’’ she lifted her shirt, exposing her small bump. Theseus calmed down and looked at her belly. ‘’Oh my, that’s amazing!’’ he dropped to his knees and put his hand on her stomach. ‘’Hello little one, I’m your father. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I can’t wait to meet you’’ he whispered. Y/n’s eyes filled with tears. ‘’You made me cry’’ she said, wiping her tears. He got up and hugged her, kissing her cheek in the process. They didn’t figure out what their relationship was, it pained them both. ‘’Y/n, what are we?’’ he whispered in her ear. ‘’I don’t know, but I know that I love you, more than a friend’’ she replied. They stopped hugging and sat on the bed. ‘’I want to be more than a friend to you, Y/n. I love you, you’re the mother of my child, that’s the most important thing. I want to be with you, if you’ll allow me to’’ he confessed. Y/n cried even more. ‘’I love you too, yes, I’ll allow it, silly’’ she laughed as they kissed.

‘’Why is the Qilin in our house?’’ Theseus asked his girlfriend and brother as he entered his home. Y/n turned around; her belly was getting bigger. 3 months left in her pregnancy, they recently discovered that she was carrying twins, a boy and a girl. Her belly was really big, but she was happy. Newt looked at his brother and smiled. ‘’He was grumpy, and the only thing that calms him down is seeing the twin’s soul.’’ Newt explained as Y/n petted the small animal. Theseus looked at Y/n shirt, it had a weird shape. ‘’Oh, the Niffler is in there, he wanted somewhere warm to sleep’’ she explained. Theseus swore under his breath and let out a sigh. ‘’Newt, I don’t want you creatures to roam around the house and risk hurting – ‘’ Y/n cut him off. ‘’Shush! They’re kicking!’’ she said, touching her belly. Theseus stopped his sentence and went near his girlfriend. ‘’Here’’ she took his hand and placed it where the baby kicked. He smiled to her when he felt it. ‘’That’s beautiful’’ he whispered. ‘’Newt, do you want to touch?’’ she asked. He nodded and put his hand on her stomach. They all looked at each other, smiling, tears in their eyes.

‘’For the last time, Thesus, it was a Braxton Hicks contraction. I’m okay’’ she said, rubbing her stomach. ‘’But if you go into labour and I’m not there!’’ he said. ‘’I will call you. I’m safe, Newt’s coming and the Qilin can sense the babies, I promise, go to work, get that promotion’’ she said. ‘’If there’s any change, even another Braxton Hicks, call me’’ he said. She nodded as he left his home, at the same time, Newt entered. ‘’I thought he’d never leave’’ Y/n chuckles. Pickett comes out of Newt’s pocket to jump on Y/n’s belly. ‘’Hello, you’’ she squeals. The creatures smile and jumps on her belly as a sign of joy. ‘’When’s your due date?’’ he asked, sitting on the couch. ‘’Yesterday, that’s why he’s so nervous’’ she says, smiling. The Qilin gets out of Newt’s case and sits next to her, resting his head on her belly. ‘’He’s always been nervous, but I get him’’ he says. ‘’Can you do me a favour? Can you go and make some raspberry leaf tea, Muggles say it helps the woman going into labour’’ she explains as Newt goes to make tea. She pets the Qilin as she waits for her boyfriend’s brother. She feels a pain in her stomach, so she takes deep breath to make them pass, but it doesn’t work. She doesn’t tell Newt, because she’s not sure if they’re real or not. The Qilin rise his head, looking at Y/n. His eyes talk: C’mon, tell him. Y/n shakes her head, Pickett squeaks. ‘’What are they trying to tell you?’’ Newt asks as he puts her cup down. ‘’They want me to tell you that I’m having contractions, but I’m not sure if they’re real or not’’ she confesses.

‘’I swear, you’re lucky I’m carrying two! Because I’m not doing this again” she moaned in pain. Theseus rubbed her back and tried to support her the best he could. She had been in labor for 13 hours without medication because it could be dangerous for the babies. ‘’You’re so strong, my darling, keep breathing, you got this’’ he praised her. Y/n felt pressure down there, like she needed to push. ‘’I need to push, like right now!’’ she announced. ‘’Go ahead, sweetie’’ the nurse called out. She pushed with all the energy she had left to try and get one of her babies out. ‘’You’re a warrior, come on give me another push like that and one of them is out’’ the nurse encouraged her. She pushed again. This time, the room was filled with cries, baby cries. Y/n let out a breath as she looked at her baby. ‘’It’s a boy’’ Their baby boy was born first, Y/n sobbed with joy. ‘’You did it, my love, our boy is here’’ Theseus calls out. ‘’Come on, Y/n, push again’’ the nurse calls out. ‘’Bollocks, I have to do it again’’ she groaned in pain. Theseus chuckled as he supported her again. 15 minutes later, Y/n was sitting with her girl in her arms, while Theseus was holding their boy. Newt came in the room, with Tina, Jacob, and Queenie following him. ‘’Congratulations!’’ Queenie squeals. Y/n smiles, she was exhausted and only wanted to sleep, but she wanted to be there for her guests. ‘’How did it go?’’ Tina asked, more calmly. ‘’It was so long, but I’m happy that they’re here’’ Y/n says. ‘’Do you want to know their names?’’ Theseus says, looking at the guests. ‘’That’s Emory Scamander’’ Y/n announces, smiling. ‘’And that’s Eugene Newton Scamander’’ at the sound of his name, Newt’s eyes fill with tears. ‘’You named him after me?’’ he softly asks. They both nod and smile. ‘’Oh’’ he softly reacts. ‘’Two E names, was it intentional?’’ Jacob laughs. ‘’Emory means strength and leadership and Eugene means noble’’ Y/n explains. ‘’You guys are such a beautiful family’’ Queenie says. Y/n and Theseus felt like it, a family. After all this time of loving each other, they now had children together. They were the happiest they’ve ever been.

[magicalhideoutengineer]

Newt & Leta

Leta is now engaged to Newt's, older brother, Theseus Scamander, which Rowling calls "A twist neither of them would ever have seen coming. It creates some awkwardness in their current relationship because Newt once had strong feelings for the woman who is about to become his sister in-law."

- Crimes of Grindelwald production notes

While Redmayne says It’s one of those relationships where there was definitely great love there, there was also romance, but was it ever a full blown relationship? I don’t know. But certainly she’s somebody who has touched [Newt] hugely and at the beginning of this film you realize she’s in a relationship with his brother so, of course, that comes with great complications.”

- Entertainment Weekly

Eddie Redmayne: This one [Leta] was like, I think, love of Newt's life when they were at school. But actually Newt's all like in love with Tina. He's desperately trying to get back to New York. But he cares. He massively cares about Leta.

- Extra TV

Eddie Redmayne: I mean, his brother is engaged to this girl who he had a huge affection for growing up, so there’s obviously a real tension there.

- Buzzfeed

Eddie Redmayne: It's complicated. It's all I have to say. He's kept like this girl in his heart all this time. He comes back and she's engaged to his brother. I mean, that is complicated family stuff right there.

- Entertainment Weekly SDCC

Eddie Redmayne: At the beginning of the film, Newt kind of has found out that his brother's engaged to this girl, Leta, who was kind of one of his closest friends, and perhaps they... He definitely had a crush on her when he was younger, but like that's now in the past.

- E! Insider

Why awkward? Were Newt and Leta actually romantically involved?

Zoë Kravitz: I don’t think it ever went to that place, but Newt has so few friends and connections in his childhood, maybe in his mind it might have gone there? I don’t think it was ever acted upon. But it still feels like a betrayal when she ends up with Theseus.

- Entertainment Weekly

"It's unclear whether Newt and Leta's relationship was romantic or confusing," Kravitz says. "They were both so young when they met."

- Entertainment Weekly: The Ultimate Guide to Fantastic Beasts

Callum Turner: You get the fact that there’s a deep love between [Theseus and Leta] and a connection in a completely different way than how Newt and Leta love. Theseus and Leta are opposites, whereas Newt and Leta are very similar. Theseus offers her support and love and acceptance and stability in a way that Newt was never able to; theirs was always more of a companionship rather than being in love.

- Fandom Interview

Callum Turner: It is complicated, but I think that the important thing to realise is that it wasn’t a full relationship, right? It was a companionship at school and I think he[Theseus]’s of the understanding that it wasn’t as severe as it’s being made out now.

- Futurepreviewsllc

David Yates: We have a character called Leta Lestrange and she used to be Newt's girlfriend.

- Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them interview

David Yates: She [Leta] used to be Newt Scamander's love and now is this sort of very mixed-up, quite conflicted, intriguing, beautiful ex-lover of Newt Scamander. 

- HBO Asia

David Yates: Yes. Leta Lestrange comes into the second movie. She's quite complicated and damaged and confused and Newt is absolutely still in love with her, so she has a kind of power over him, and she, yeah, she's a kind of tragic figure, so we will see a bit more of her in the second movie.

- Cinemablend

Joshua Shea: When I first read the script, they [young Newt and Leta] were set to kiss in the script. We didn't [film it]. It was a decision that... I feel like I'm gonna be shot by Warner. bros snipers for saying this, but actually, yeah, basically what happened was I chatted to Eddie about it and it was actually Eddie's idea. I think he said that, "Even if there were..." I definitely think that there was a romantic relationship in some way, but I don't think it was hugely intimate. I think it was very much like a caring, loving friendship. It's that balance. I think, yes, maybe they did have a relationship, but I think it was very much... I don't think Newt is the kind of person who's very touchy-feely. I don't imagine him walking around kissing girls at school. So I'm glad we made the decision. Yeah, so I think that was why we made the decision. I think Eddie was like, "It feels too much, a kiss." And I think we decided on the sort of, if you look very carefully, it comes off like a hand touch, which I think that was enough to kind of convey a sense of like intimacy and a kind of connection.

- Speakbeasty