cassielovesdeadwizards

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

I have this headcannon that Regulus had a similar sorting to Harry, but with Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Regulus saw how Sirius was treated when he was sorted into Gryffindor…especially how their mother reacted.

So when the hat was dead set on Ravenclaw, Regulus begged to go into Slytherin. So that’s where the hat put him.

Idk, I just feel like he’s very Ravenclaw esque with a Slytherin attitude.

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

Why do I feel like James Potter would be the biggest Christmas fanatic?

Considering his upbringing, Effie and Fleamont would have made christmas the biggest thing in their home. After not being able to have kids in their younger years, and James being the miracle they needed in their forties, they would have made every little event special for him. And Effie wasn't stupid. She would have had a profound understanding that Christmas for only children can be lonely, so her and Fleamont would make it extra special for James, being with him every second of the day.

Growing up they probably decorated their huge motherfucking house on November 1st, and James would love every second. They'd let him take the reins, and Effie would be going behind him neatening everything up, and Fleamont would be holding the decorations boxes trying to keep up with his son.

"Does he ever run out of energy?"

"You're the one that fed him pancakes and peppermint hot chocolate at 8am."

And part of me believes that Effie and Fleamont would have this extravagant Christmas party just before Christmas where they'd invite all of their friends, and all of James' friends too.

And once they took Sirius in as their own, it became even bigger than they ever imagined, because it became catastrophically important to all three of them to show Sirius just how magical Christmas could be.

When James marries Lily, and they had their first Christmas with Harry, even though the little baby wasn't even one year old yet, James decorated the whole house with Harry strapped to his chest in a sling, talking to him and showing him each little decoration, telling him stories of the many Christmases he'd had at home with his parents.

He'd tell him the backstory between each tree ornament.

"Mum and I bought this one at a Christmas stall in London a couple years back."

or

"This is the first ornament I chose as a baby."

And Lily would watch the whole thing with a smile on her face, because Christmas for her had always been a hit or miss occasion, usually it was fine, but most of the time her and Petunia would argue, and to finally experience a Christmas completely filled with peace and love was something she'd always dreamed to experience.

And Remus and Sirius and Peter and Marlene and Dorcas and Mary all came to the Potters for that first Christmas, because they all wanted to be their for little baby Harry's first Christmas, and so they all spend the 24th/25th of December cramped in James and Lily's little cottage in Godrick's Hollow, sitting on the floor because there was no space on the couch, sleeping in sleeping bags on the floor and sharing stories of the christmases before.

And out of all the wonderful Christmases James Potter ever experienced, that one was his favourite.

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

starchaser 💫

I have no idea what this is. I just started writing and this happened. Enjoy I guess lmao

James’ heart stopped. 

The air around him became stagnant, as if the whole world took a breath it didn’t want to release. 

As he watched the boy on the stage- 

Man. 

He was a man now. Not a boy. 

His heart grew heavy, as if breaking all over again. The freshly healed scar over the crack of his heart splitting open with a sickening snap, that he swore the whole theatre could hear. 

But they didn’t. They were none the wiser to his distress while sitting in the back, his eyes glued to the performer on the stage, watching as his hands moved as he talked. Even while performing he was animated. It was like he was incapable of keeping his hands still. James used to love that about him. 

No. He did love that about him. 

He thought he'd gotten over this. The way he could hear his heartbeat in his ears when he saw him, or the way the skin on his arms would itch with anxiety and his hands would find comfort in running through his hair like he was a teenager again. How his stomach would flip and his eyes would draw to him no matter what he did.

He thought he was over him.

But as Regulus Black took the stage, performing a sonnet of Shakespear that James didn't currently have the brainpower to remember, his beautiful face, and voice, and body, all bouncing off the walls and projecting straight into James' veins...he realised that he never really stopped loving him.

As corny as it sounds to admit to himself, James felt as if he was home. Not the physical type of home, not the type of homeliness that his parents manor in the country gave him, or his old dorm room at university, or his new apartment...the kind of home you feel with a person. the type of home he felt when Regulus would practice his performances for him on rainy autumn nights in his dorm, in just a pair of James' boxers and a t-shirt, the type of home he always felt holding his body against his, feeling how small he felt in his arms.

It's funny how wounds that take months to heal can open back up with a single glance.

He could feel when Regulus became aware of his presence. He felt the atmosphere change...the weight of the smaller man's words became heavier, as if they were getting harder and harder to say with each moment that passed.

When Regulus finished the sonnet, and the audience applauded, James only sat and stared. He stared until his eyes started to water and he realised that he needed to blink. And when the curtain fell, he stayed seated, watching the spot in the curtain where Regulus had stood, as if manifesting him back on stage. He stayed there until the whole theatre had emptied out.

"Sirius would kill you for being here."

The voice rang in his ears, and he didn't reply straight away, as if speaking would break some sort of spell, and this would all fade away into the back of his mind.

When he finally registered Regulus sitting about five seats up, he spoke.

"I know." He said, his voice sounding strained. Not in frustration, or anger, or even discomfort. James doesn't think he could ever feel discomfort in Regulus' company. The strain was more from the longing that plagued his every muscle, his every nerve.

"Then why are you here?" Regulus asks. It was true, that Regulus Black could be perceived as cold and ruthless, a sharp edge to his voice that could have only been created in the cold confines of the Black Family house. But James knew Regulus like he knew his own language, like he knew how to breathe. His coldness was a shield he used to protect his innocence, his naivety.

James could hear the hopefulness that laced his words, each syllable lined in a tiny bit of gold.

"If it's any consolation...I didn't know you were performing. A friend of mind recommended the show." He says, because if there was one thing you should know about James Fleamont Potter is that no matter how many lies he's told in his life, not a single one of them was to Regulus Arcturus Black. "But I'm glad you were."

The words left his mouth out of an old die-hard habit to always tell him the truth.

Regulus said nothing. Not for a while anyway. He just sat in his chair, looking out towards the stage he'd just owned. James didn't look at the stage. He was looking at the side of Regulus' face, at the empty spaces of skin where his love used to be, in marks of red and purple. He looked at the his nose, which he used to kiss and Regulus never used to admit to liking.

Regulus opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then closed it again. James wanted him to say whatever it was he was going to say. He wanted to hear and feel his words, he didn't car if they broke him in two or stitched him right back up, as long as they were directed at him.

"I was scared."

Whatever James had expected him to say, it certainly wasn't that.

"Of what?"

"Of being broken first."

James knew that that was supposed to make him angry. That Regulus had broken his heart in an attempt to beat him to the finish line, as if their relationship was doomed to fail.

But it didn't.

Instead he moved closer, to the seat right beside his estranged lover. He didn't touch him. Partly because he knew that if he did he'd never want to stop...but also because he didn't want to scare him off.

"I forgive you."

It was like all the tension in the room dropped, crashing to the floor and breaking the silence that had grown too uncomfortable to sit in any longer.

"What?"

"I said I forgive you."

"Yeah, I heard you. That's stupid, you didn't deserve-"

"Stop." James said, in an uncharacteristicly stern tone of voice, that even surprised him. So much so he waited a few seconds before speaking.

"You don't get to tell me what I do and don't deserve. What I did and didn't deserve. Do you really think that my love for you was that feeble that it would break and dissolve just because you left me? Just because you shattered me and left me completely inconsolable? Do you really think that your impression on me was that vague, as if I don't love you as easily as I breathe? Regulus, you could have quite literally stabbed me in the back, and I would've returned the knife to you with a smile on my face because I love you so irrevocably that not a single part of me hates you for what you did."

The words hang in the air, the weight of them laying heavy on Regulus' head as he processes them, letting them sink into every bone of his body.

See, what Regulus really wanted was for James to tell him exactly what to do. To look him in the eyes and say 'I want you back' and take him home and never let him leave. Regulus knows that he's damaged. That his nothing-to-be-desired childhood had left him with scars that even now refuse to heal. But if there's one thing he's certain of, it's that the day he broke up with James was the day he realised his self-destructive ways would never let him be happy.

James could sense his internal war, the battle field in his mind, he could see it playing behind his eyes.

James wasn't a stranger to taking a chance.

"Get your coat on. We're going home."

He says, standing up and pulling his own coat over his shoulders, buttoning it up.

Regulus sat and stared, as if his entire body was still computing the words that had come out of his mouth. So James sighed and gently took his forearms, pulling him out of his seat and zipping his coat up. He took him ice cold hand in his own warm one, interlacing their fingers together like a puzzle piece, and he walked him out of the theatre.

James took him home.

James. Took. Regulus. Home.

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

Safe | R.Black x platonic!reader

regulusblack x platonic!fem!reader

Synopsis: you are Regulus’ safe space, the person he can be himself around. And he is yours.

Warning: MCD, mentions of ab!se????

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Sometimes, you just like to be alone.

Now, this isn’t to say you don’t like being around your friends, because you love each and every one of them. But the thing is about being in a friendship group with four troublemaking boys, and living in a dorm with four loud girls, is that peace can be rather hard to come by.

You were an introvert by nature, but an extrovert around those you could trust, and other than your little Gryffindor family, there’s only one other you can truly be yourself around.

Regulus Black.

In your third year, and Regulus’ second, you and him had crossed paths on a midnight stroll to the kitchens.

You’d been wary at first, only knowing of him what Sirius had told you, but you soon found that Regulus could be just as sweet and kind as any Hufflepuff, as smart as any Ravenclaw and so incredibly brave that it put most Gryffindors to shame.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be down here.” He had said, a cold exterior to his voice that seemed unnatural. He turned to leave.

“You don’t have to leave, I normally just sit here and read anyway.” You tell him, taking a seat at one of the kitchen tables.

Regulus looked hesitant, as if merely associating with you would get him in trouble. Eventually, however, he took a seat on the furthest table from you, pulling out a notebook and his quill.

After that, it became a sort of tradition, sitting at your respective tables doing your respective tasks. However, as time went on, the space between the two of you got smaller, as you both gradually moved closer to the middle table.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” He asked you now, a single tear escaping and falling down his cheek.

You thought of the way Sirius spoke of his family, the way he despised them all and promised to never return. The way he practically fell into your arms when you arrived at James’ after the news.

“I don’t think so, Reggie.” You told him.

One thing you and Reggie had promised each other, was that you’d never lie to the other. You were both raised on lies, in completely different ways. Regulus had been told his whole life that his only purpose was to serve; his mother, the dark lord, produce an heir. You had been told that you didn’t deserve the same love you shared, you were told that no one would ever reciprocate the love you feel for others, and so maybe you should just stop.

Regulus looked down at his hands, holding the picture he carried in the tiny pocket of his tie. A little moving image of him and Sirius looked up at him, a relationship he believed would never be salvaged.

“You don’t have to either, you know.” You say, reaching to take one of hands in yours.

“I have to, it’s my responsibility.”

“No, it’s not. You think your mother cared about responsibility when she used that curse on you?” It was harsh to say, but you would say anything to make him understand that that house was not his only home. Not the only place he belonged.

“You do understand, Reggie, that I will get you out of this,” you told him, looking the boy you now saw as a little brother in the eyes, a secret promise in your stare. “I won’t let you get that mark, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

“You can’t stop it, nobody can, don’t you understand?” He grabbed your arm, trying to make you see his sense, but you were relentless. “Since Sirius left, my mother had a grip on me so tight it’s hard to breathe, y/n.”

“And so have I.” You pulled him into a rare hug.

Regulus was never one for affection, verbal nor physical. He never saw the desire to be in a relationship and he saw even less sense in physical intimacy such as kisses and sex. It didn’t interest him. But you did, in a pure and platonic way.

See, Regulus has friends in his house, but not the kind you can talk to, not the kind you can sit and just exist with.

He found a blissful form of existence with you. You didn’t expect anything from him, didn’t want him to be anything he didn’t want to be. And you didn’t think of him as worthless when he couldn’t do something, instead you made room for him to be exactly who he wanted to be, and that was enough for you.

“Please, Reg. Come home with me.” You asked.

Regulus had read many books, many romances and fantasies and books his mother definitely wouldn’t approve of. When someone asked you to come home with them, it usually had explicit intentions, the act of taking someone home had undertones of possession, or intimacy.

But with you it meant safety, salvation, a place to exist and be safe. A place to call home where you don’t have to watch over your shoulder and keep your form. A home where peace can be felt in the foundations of the walls, and the threads of the carpet and tapestries.

With you it meant love, and affection.

In a way Regulus had only ever felt with you.

He thought of you often, when he felt alone or when he felt helpless. You had never made him feel any of that, not once.

He thought of you as the mark was imprinted into his skin, the sharp pain shooting from his forearm to his bicep, up to his shoulder.

He thought of you when he realised just how out of his depth he was, staring at the sketch of the locket he was hunting to steal.

He thought of running to you, instead of following through, asking for your help, your salvation.

He thought of you and his Brother as he was dragged into the depths of the ocean, falling deeper into the black abyss as the inferi clawed and reached at him, pulling him down, down, down.

His last thought as the burning of his lungs became too much, as the peace of the water turned to silence, as his limbs stopped responding to his brain, his heart stopped beating, was you. The thought of you hopefully being safe, of never having to fight a war that was not yours to fight. The thought of his brother having someone as pure as you to exist with, as he did all those years.

He wanted his last thought to be of someone safe, and it was, because his last thought was you.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Somewhere in the middle of London, a young Gryffindor girl felt a burning in her lungs.

She felt a part of herself being ripped away, a pain she’d only known once when she lost her mother. And deep down she knew, that her truest friend had been lost to the war he neither started or wanted to fight in.

And she blamed herself.

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

Masterlist <3

Harry Potter:

- Mistletoe remus x reader

- safe regulus x platonic!reader

- Starchaser james x regulus https://www.tumblr.com/cassielovesnewt/766803793380851712/starchaser

Maze runner:

- The Stars newt x reader

Fandoms I don’t mind writing for:

- Harry Potter (golden trio or marauders)

- The Maze Runner

- Bridgerton

- shadow and bone

- six of crows

- 9-1-1 (FOX)

- Sam and Colby

- Celebrities (within reason, 18+ for obvious reasons)

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

Mistletoe | R.Lupin x reader

| harrypotter x aunt!reader | remuslupin x fem!reader | golden trio era |

Synopsis: after the death of your brother, you take in your nephew as your own, shutting everyone else out in your grief. However, once you’re reunited with an old friend in Harry’s third year, old feelings start to come to the surface as you help each other through your grief.

WARNINGS: mentions of dea!h, mentions of grief. (In this story, let’s say Voldemorts curse bounced off Harry and killed moldy voldy for good, Harry has a normal childhood)

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“Thank you, for standing with me.” You say, watching as the train leaves the station for the fourth time since your nephew had been accepted into Hogwarts. “It’s always so hard watching him go.”

“It’s no problem at all, you know that.” Remus told you, placing a tentative hand on your arm as you play with your hands worriedly.

It was the same overwhelming anxiety year after year, watching the only family you have left, the only part of James you have left, slip further and further away into the distance.

You and your brother were inseparable, known quite rarely as James and y/n, but more commonly as the Potter Twins. It was a rare occurrence to see one of you without the other, especially at school.

You weren’t with him when he died. No, you were in your own house, washing dishes by hand, because you were to bored to do it by magic. You weren’t with him, but you felt it. Like a knife through the chest, you felt the part of your soul that belonged to him fracture into a million pieces. Your heart that matched his break and turn cold as the glass you held fell to the floor.

You knew part of yourself had died, but not which part.

Not until you reached the Potter’s house.

Not until you found yourself screaming until your throat was raw, begging your brother to wake up.

When you finally heard the crying of a baby over your own sobs, you knew you had to take him before Dumbledore got his hands on him, taking him away from you forever.

“Hello, little one, Auntie y/n’s going to keep you safe.” You whispered, your voice only a fracture of what it used to be.

You tried not to look towards the lifeless form of what used to be one of your greatest friends.

You raised Harry as if he was your own, teaching him everyday about the parents he lost, because you would be damned if James Potter would ever be forgotten.

“I know it’s not, but still, thank you.” You tell him, before turning your head to look into his kind eyes. “You can come over, if you like? Despite what Harry might have told you, I’m a good cook.”

“That would be nice.” Remus chucked, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

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Sitting with Remus at your kitchen table, you started to realise just how much you had missed him.

“I let him keep the map, last year.” He told you, a small grin tugging at his lips as he sipped his tea.

“Remus Lupin, despite the years that have passed you still have some mischief in you.” You tease, sipping your own coffee.

“Well, once a marauder, always a marauder. Isn’t that what we all used to say?” He retorted, and you genuinely smile.

A rare sighting since the passing of your brother, a sight only Harry has known.

You reach over and take his calloused hand in yours, brushing your thumb over a scar that lay there.

“I’m so sorry that I pushed you away, I never meant-“

“No, no, none of that. I won’t have you apologising for the way you chose to grieve. You lost your brother, and took on the responsibility of raising his child all in a matter of hours. I wasn’t what you needed then, and I understood that completely.”

That’s something about Remus that you had always loved. No matter how wronged he was, he had always found it within himself to understand. No matter how much somebody hurt him, his empathy would always shine through.

“What about what you needed? You lost everybody, and I shut you out.” You said, your confession leaves with shame and regret. He held your hand tighter.

“What I needed was to know that you and Harry were safe. And I knew that. I managed my grief in my own ways, but I managed nonetheless.”

Something else about Remus that you loved, was the way he held eye contact when he spoke. As if people would stop hearing him if he looked away. His eyes held onto yours now, sending secret messages of reassurance that he can’t speak with words.

He smiled, picking up his tea once more to take a sip. You wondered if he had had somebody to hold all this time, if somebody had been there to hold his hand as his world fell apart around him.

As you look at him, you remember the small school crush you used to have on him while at Hogwarts. The way you used to purposely sit next to him in the great hall so he’d have to lean down to talk to you, since he was so tall.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I had a bit of a crush on you in school.” You say, smiling down at you drink. He scoffs in amusement.

“Me? Why on earth would you have a crush on me?” He said, as if the idea was absolutely preposterous.

“Because you were always so kind. No matter how angry you were, you never spoke to me with anything other than kindness. And you’re tall, Godric knows that makes any girl fold,” you laugh. “And I thought you were pretty.”

“Pretty?” He looks scared to ask, as if the answer would somehow sting.

“Yeah, I’ve always thought your beauty was more soft than other boys,” you look into his eyes, seeing the same boy you loved in your school years. “The other girls would always tell me how gorgeous Sirius was, and he was, but I was always too busy staring at you to notice.”

Maybe it was the fact that you finally had a soul your own age to talk to. Or maybe it was the familiarity of talking to an old friend, someone you once spent every waking moment with. But you told him everything, about how lonely you’ve been, about how awful you feel about hating Harry’s similarities to James, about how much you love Harry and how it hurts to not be by his side at all times.

You tell him everything.

And he listens to every word.

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Remus came over almost everyday until Harry was due to come home for Christmas.

He laughed with you, held you while you cried, and grieved with you. The way the two of you should have done all those years ago.

It felt as if the twelve years you were eleven years you were apart never happened.

“Auntie y/n! Over here!” Your nephew called, carrying his case for the holidays with him.

“Harry! Oh, I’ve missed you!” You say, placing your hands on his cheeks and kissing the crown of his head.

“It’s only been a couple of months.” He says, smiling at your antics,

“I know, I know, but you know I have no one to fret over while you’re away.”

Harry hugs you, the kind of hug he knows you need once you see him again.

Harry knows his Aunt struggles to be away from him, he also knows that she thinks he doesn’t know. But since a young age Harry has noticed the way he Aunt always hugs him tighter in the mornings, as if being away in her dreams was far too long, and how she always holds his hand while out and about, and how she sends weekly letter just to check he’s doing alright.

And he replies to every single one, because while others would see it as suffocating, Harry feels nothing to affection and gratitude towards his aunt, because he may be all she had, but she’s all he has in return. And if a letter a week soothes her mind, he has no quarrels in doing that.

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Harry was beyond happy that Remus would be spending Christmas with them. To him, Remus was an extension of his Father, one more person he could ask to tell him stories and memories of the man he never truly met.

You would always tell him anything he wanted to know, but deep down you knew that he knew it pained you. And so he doesn’t ask much of you, but you wish he did.

“Did he get into trouble at school? My dad?” He asked at the dinner table, casting looks toward Remus and you.

You let a laugh slip past your lips, and you hold your hand to your mouth.

“Harry, your father invented trouble.” Remus told him, smiling fondly at the memories.

“Oh, come one. You talk as if you weren’t a step behind him at all times! More often than not, if my brother was in trouble, so were we!” You laughed, for the first time remembering your brother with joy rather than grief.

“And you talk as if you weren’t the mastermind behind most of that mischief.” He says, casting you a look of teasing and humour.

You gasp in faux shock, clasping your chest and looking towards your nephew.

“Absolutely false, Harry. I was no trouble in school.”

Harry laughed then, “Professor McGonagall says otherwise.”

You stop and snap your attention to your Nephew as Remus laughs, no longer able to eat.

“What?” You say, a little panicked, mostly laughing.

Harry watches as his Aunt and who he now sees as an Uncle playfully bicker and argue about who was more trouble to who, and wonders when they’ll realise just how in love they are.

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You’re clearing the table after Christmas dinner, stacking plates into piles and wrapping left overs in foil. Harry had retreated to his room to tend to his new quidditch set before the traditional Christmas movie night before bed, and y/n took it as a great opportunity to clear up.

A hand touched the small of her back, moving her slightly to the left as he squeezed by, taking the plates from her hands.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ve got it.” He says softly, sending her a small wink before carrying them over to the sink.

“Let me do something then, because you did most of the cooking and now you won’t let me clean.” You complained, not a single trace of discontent in your voice.

He turns to you, humour in his eyes but a frown on his lips.

“And what if I want to do all of this, then what?”

“Then you’ll just have to deal with me helping.” You say, stepping closer. You’re standing in front of him now, holding a cup full of cutlery in one hand and a plate of leftovers in the other. “Mr Lupin, I believe you’re blocking my way to the fridge.”

“Oh am I? Thats a shame, I guess I’ll have to take these off your hands then.” He says, taking the plate and cutlery and placing them on the side.

You’re about to argue when he turns back to you, much closer than before. “Let me help you.”

“You’ve done more than enough.” You say in a small voice.

“And what if I want to do more?” His hand reaches up and places a strand of your dark hair behind your ear, but his hand doesn’t fall, it stays put against your cheek.

You look up to see a branch of mistletoe growing from your ceiling, right between the two of you.

His eyes never leave your face, more accurately your lips as your breathing gets heavier.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice so small you barely hear it. All you can do is nod as his other hand is placed ever so gently on your waist, pulling you in.

He places his lips on yours, and it’s the most gentle kiss, but you feel the weight of a thousand words that have never been said behind it, pushing him closer.

To Remus’ surprise, it was you who intensified the kiss, placing a hand behind his head and pushing further into him. When you broke apart to breathe, he placed his forehead onto yours and closed his eyes.

“I think I’ve loved you for a while now, Miss Potter.”

“I’ve loved you always, Mr Lupin.”

What neither of the two seemed to notice, was their nephew sitting at the top of his stairs tucking his wand back into his pocket, closing the book about growing magical plants with spells.

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

The stars - Newt

Warnings: none, just pure fluff (Newt survived and made it to the safe haven #jamesdashnercountyourdays)

Author note: Most of what I write is to put my ideas down into words, i just don't have the creative capacity to write my own book, so I have to use characters invented by somebody else. If anyone sees this, you're more than welcome to request, I'll try my best.

Summary: You realise why the lack of stars in the glade was so significant to you, and why, even if you had no recollection of the fact, you always compared them to him <3

The day you came up in the box was one of the most terrifying things you had ever experienced. Actually, it was the only terrifying thing you remembered experiencing, but that's not the point. When the doors opened, you did what any scared little girl would do, and you searched for the loving salvation of a womans gaze but found nothing. Only the curious stares of boys.

You can't remember why that was so terrifying, feeling so different and so confused, not knowing a single thing about yourself. Maybe it's because those terrifying boys are now the only things in the world you would actually kill yourself to protect, but you would never dream of being scared of any one of them. Especially him.

You don't know what it was about him, but as soon as your eyes met, you felt safe. They were brown, but not the boring kind, the deep kind of brown that makes you feel warm and loved, the kind of eyes you can stare at for hours.

He jumped down into the box with you, but you didn't flinch. Even though you had no idea who the boy was, a part of you know that he was nothing to be afraid of. And when he spoke, it gave you a crippling sense of familiarity, as if you'd heard his voice a million times over but had no recollection of ever hearing it.

"It's okay, we're not going to hurt you." He spoke, and his voice drilled into your brain, as if you new it like you knew your own heart but a curtain had been draped over the memories, locking them away.

"I know." You whispered, looking into his eyes, refusing to tear your focus away from the only shred of familiarity you can't seem to remember.

That night you looked up into the sky, but saw nothing but a navy abyss. The stars were missing. For some reason you couldn't quite remember, this was your breaking point. All the stress and fear of the day bubbled up and you cried yourself silently to sleep.

That seems like decades ago, the glade. You'd been through so much since then. And throughout all of it your friends had been by your side. Minho was like a brother to you, caring and loving yet so humbling, always finding a way to show you up. And Thomas had become a symbol of hope, leading you through thick and thin and always finding a way to keep you safe.

Newt was different, the way you loved him was lightyears away from the way you loved your other boys.

You'd been in the safe haven for two weeks. Two weeks since W.C.K.D fell, since the foundations of the last city crumbled into ash. Two weeks since you'd lost your sister. It was unreal to think that you and Teresa had a whole history of loving each other before your memories had been stolen from you. A history that she dies knowing, like a secret only she was allowed to know.

There was a spot you could go to, when it all felt a bit to much. A small cliff, only twenty of so feet from the surface of the ocean, looking out into the sea. It was where you went to think.

Instead of looking out into the ocean, you looked up into the sky. Since leaving the glade, not once had you thought to check on the stars.

When you looked up at the stars, the only person you could think of was him; the way his smile made your stomach fizz like popping candy, the way his laugh could make any of your moods ten times lighter, the way his touch made you feel like nothing else in the world could touch you, the way his words drown everyone else out into white noise. But mostly you think about the way he looks at you. The way little specks of gold swim in the abyss of his eyes, shining back you. The way he looks at you as if your the only person he'll ever care to look at again.

As if you hung the stars in the sky.

"There was a time before the maze where you could tell me the name of every single constellation in the sky."

The accented voice snapped you from your day dreams, making you jump slightly. He sat down next to you, his shoulder pressed firmly against yours, as if not touching you would mean you'd slip away.

"When I woke up on the berg, my head hurt so bad I couldn't even think of my own name. I panicked at first, thinking those bloody shanks had dumped me into another one of there tests, that my whole life after the maze had been a dream,"

You kept your eyes on him, not daring to look away. He was staring at the stars, as if they were the only thing holding him together.

"Everything was so loud, I left like my brain was working as a millions miles an hour. Probably still bugged from the infection, I guess. But then you were there." He said, turning his head to look directly into your eyes.

"You leaned over me and told me everything was going to be alright, and suddenly I remember every single thing W.C.K.D had ever ripped from me. My only theory is that the infection worked like a reset button, bringing everything back."

He looked back towards the stars, and it was like he blended into them. As if he was meant to be up there, shining on everyone instead of living in this hell of an earth.

"I remember loving you, and I remember how hard you fought them when they took me away."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your eyes still piercing into the side of his head.

"It doesn't surprise me, that even after my memories were taken away, I still found a way to fall in love with you. I don't think there's a single version of me out there that doesn't fall in love with you." He's looking at you now, but he's not scared, as if he knows something you don't.

He brought his hand up to your face, brushing you cheek and pushing his fingers through your hair, resting his hand on the back of your head. He tried to pull you in, but he didn't need to, you were already there.

Your hands where on either side of his face, holding him as if he's break. And the kiss was so gentle, so delicate it was almost as if you were both made of glass. He pulled you in deeper, stealing your breath away. When he pulled away, he placed his forehead onto yours, as if desperately trying to share the memories he longed for you to remember.

"I love you." You say.

"I know." he replied.