#newt one shot

[when-worlds-end-archive]

Get Your Hands Off My Girlfriend

A/N - New fandom! New fandom alert! Time to write for one of my favorite TMR characters, the fluffy little newty boy! So very very excited, especially since I haven’t taken part in this fandom in a while! Let’s jump right in the chaos! Enjoy! :)

Day 15 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Newt x Female!Reader

Summary : The newest green bean hits on you, not realizing that you already have a boyfriend, the glade’s second in command, Newt.

Warning(s) : Male persistence/harassment, a couple swear words.

Word Count : 797

“Go on a date with me.”

Ever since the newest green bean had arrived in the glade, he’d been after you. Ever breakfast, every lunch, every dinner, even in between, it was always the same question. If he were asking anyone else, they would have been annoyed. You however, didn’t care that much, you were very good at blocking people out. It was something you’d gotten used to, being the only girl.

“I’ll pass,” you respond, the same answer you’d given him every time.

“Just one date,” he tries again, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You highly doubted that. Anyone that persistent normally couldn’t keep any of the promises they made, they just made them so that people would say yes. You weren't going to.

“No means no, Greenie,” Newt pipes up from across the table, pausing from his food to tell the newbie off.

“Let the lady speak for herself,” the boy fired back.

“Like I said before,” you took a bite out of your sandwich, “I’ll pass.”

As you chewed on your food, you could see the cogs in his mind turning, trying and failing to understand why your response was the one that it was. People like him just couldn't take no for an answer.

“You’re just saying that because Newt and Minho are here. I’ll be back to ask you again later,” with that, he finally leaves, allowing you to peacefully finish your meal.

“I truly don't understand how you’re able to tolerate it,” Minho wonders in amazement.

“Lots of practice, Minho. Lots and lots of practice.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I want to tell him off,” Newt stated when you were laying in the grass far away from the rest of the graders, your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you.

“We’re not supposed to be dating,” you remind him of the rule Alby had set, one to keep the peace amongst all the boys.

“Fuck that rule,” he mutters, shoving his nose into your hair, “it’s a stupid rule.”

You couldn’t deny that statement so you lean up to kiss him instead, your senses immediately sharpening as you feel every sensation; the early summer breeze blowing past you, the grass brushing your legs, the beating of his heart beneath your hand.

“Just do your best,” you say when the kiss finally ends, “neither of us want to be scolded by the man in the charge.”

“Fair enough.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It as during a meeting that he asked you again, sliding in beside you, bumping Thomas out of the way. He truly had the worst timing, talking to you when you were focusing on other things, other tasks.

“Go out with me?”

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No.”

“Why are you playing so hard to get?”

“Why are you talking to me when Alby is making an important announcement?”

Surprising even to you, your patience was beginning to wear thin. Normally you could hold up a lot longer against the advances of the newest green bean but there was something about this boy that ticked you off. Maybe it was the consistency at which he asked you, maybe it was the timing of when he asked you, maybe it was the way he asked you, you truly didn’t know. You just knew that it bugged you.

Wanting to get away from him, you silently begin making your way over to Gally, knowing he’d protect you from the unwanted advances. You didn’t get far however when the boy’s hand wrapped around your wrist, keeping you rooted in place.

“Release me,” you grit out.

“Not until you say yes,” he responds, looking at you expectantly. He fucking expected you to say yes.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend,” a voice rang out. Newt.

At this point, the meeting had been put on pause, everyone’s eyes and ears on you as Newt stalked over, a murderous look in his eyes. It had been a very long time since you’d seen this look.

“What?” The boy stammered out, “girlfriend?”

“Are you deaf as well as dumb?” Newt asked, coming to stand beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively.

“I, I,” the poor guy didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but if you ever touch her again, I will shove you into the maze myself.” Everyone in the room knew Newt wasn’t kidding, he never made threats unless he absolutely meant them.

“Yes sir,” he turned and fled to the other side of the room, much like a dog with it’s tail between it’s legs.

“With that out of the way, let’s resume out meeting,” Alby called out as you kissed Newt’s cheek in thanks, “and Newt?”

“Yes?”

“You both are in trouble.”

[bells-stories]

NEWT X READER

-Newt finds out that you have feelings for him but also the others…

-Snippet from PROJECT GRIEVER CHAPTER: 10 (Wattpad: bells_stories)

"They suit you." I hear a voice from behind and see Newt point at the flower in my hair.

"Thank you." I say quietly.

"Are you gonna tell me what you wanted to talk about?"

"I don't really want to do it here." I say twiddling my thumbs getting nervous. If he isn't okay with this, I don't want him to think I'm doing it to embarrass him. And if he takes it harshly I don't want him to take it out on the boys although I know that's not in his character.

"What wrong love? You can tell me anything." He says and puts a hand on my shoulder. I sigh and push him back a little farther from the boys.

"I have feelings for you." I say and don't look up.

"I-"

"Let me finish please. I also have feelings for Minho and Gally." I say pausing. And when Newt doesn't say anything I look up. He looks at me with his hands on his hips and with a look of sass. Which surprises me but I continue regardless. "I also...in short terms....I remember myself being in a very committed relationship with someone before I came into the maze." I said finally and he still looked the same. "Say something please." I say still playing with my thumbs.

"Well are you done?" He says sassily.

"Yes?" I say confused.

"Well great beacuse if you would've let me replied earlier I would've told you I already knew you had feelings for me and the others. But this new bloke you talk about from your dreams, I kind of feel sorry for him. I stole his woman." He says cheekily and I smile.

"You did?" I say mischievously.

"Oh yes I did. I'd like to believe the moment I met her, he was no longer hers." He put his hand around my waist and brought me close.

"Maybe I'm still mad at you?" I say looking up at him.

"I doubt it." He says and places a kiss on my lips. I break free and I look at his eyes trying to decipher how he feels. All I could see in them was endearment. 

"So you don't care then? About the others?"

"Not really no. I care about you and all I need to know is that you feel the same. If you care about the others well then they're lucky too but it won't stop me from wanting you all the same." He said and plays with the ends of my hair. "Now we should go help them before they start complaining."

"Agreed." I said and hugged Newt before we went with the rest of the boys. None of them noticed Newt and I's interaction because they were all busy arguing.

Read more here 👇

[valkyriepirate]

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Lean On Me

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night and notice Newt's absence. You go searching for him in his suitcase to find him passed out over his papers and try to bring him back to bed.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff :)

Word count: 1.3k words

A/N: I wrote this simply to satisfy my Newt craving. He is an adorable little cinnamon roll that must be protected at all costs.

#4- Lean On Me

You pried open your eyes and squinted in the darkness. The other side of the bed was vacant; you knew it without rolling over. Newt’s presence had become so familiar to you that when he wasn’t there, it was as if part of your heart had gone missing.  

You sat up, rubbing your face groggily. There was a light on somewhere in the house. You slid your feet into your slippers and padded toward the source, hugging your thin nightgown to your body. It had begun to get chilly, especially at night, and oftentimes Newt found you cuddled up in bed, shrouded by a multitude of blankets.  

The suitcase was propped open on a table in the foyer. A dim light glowed from within.  

Yawning, you stepped over the rim and descended into its depths. The creatures weren’t exactly aware of the passage of day and night in the suitcase, but most had seemed to settle once the sun had set in the outside world. A few of the nocturnal ones hooted and hummed as you entered.

“Newt?” you called sleepily, lighting a candle from the cabinet. “Are you awake?”

You turned a corner to his study, a small nook by the stairs crammed with bookshelves and creature care appliances. There he was, sleeping sprawled over his desk, stray papers from his latest endeavor strewn about, hair ruffled and mouth open slightly. You smiled at the sight of your husband. You’d given up urging him to go to bed months ago, realizing that he all too often tried to heed your words but became so swept up in his work that he lost track of time.  

You came up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders. “My love,” you kissed the top of his head. “Won’t you come up to bed?”

He started awake, blinking sleep from his eyes. “(Y-Y/N)?” He had a line imprint on his cheek where he’d fallen asleep on the table. He looked at his papers in confusion and began gathering them together. “What time is it?”

You ran your hand down the length of his arm and slipped your fingers into his ink-stained ones, preventing him from touching his work. “Time to go to bed,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear.  

He stopped and leaned into your touch as you ran your thumb over his knuckles. He trapped your fingers, brought them to his lips, and nodded.  

You helped him to his feet and sneaked a hand around his torso as you led him up the stairs. Newt, of course, was wholly capable of climbing the stairs by himself, but you wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to close the physical distance between you two.  

Newt didn’t seem to mind. You were the bolder one when it came to affection, but he always caught your touches and held you closer as if he could make them last forever. Often he would absentmindedly caress your arm or twirl a curl of your hair between his fingers. It was in the little things that you knew Newt showed the most care; sometimes a single touch from him said more than a thousand words.  

You tugged him into the bedroom you shared and released your hold as you went to fold an extra quilt over the bed. Your tendency to hog the blankets on cooler nights left Newt searching for warmth, you knew, though it didn’t escape your thoughts that his lack of cover usually led him to snuggle closer to you. Perhaps that was part of your subconscious plan.  

He stood on the other side of the bed, framed in candlelight. The fire shone around his hair just so, making it appear that he was crowned in a rubicund halo. He was unraveling his tie, his sluggish movements betraying how sleep-deprived he truly was.  

You flattened the quilt and came to stand by him. “Allow me,” you said, taking the tie from his hands. Deftly, you undid the knot. You had made Newt’s tie for him countless times each day before he headed off to work to the point that you could do it with your eyes closed. You tugged it from his neck and tossed it to the dresser.  

When you looked back up, Newt’s eyes were locked on you. When you first met, you found his inability to look you in the eye odd and yet a little endearing. As you two grew closer, he would hold your gaze for greater lengths of time, as if he had gotten lost in your eyes and was physically incapable of tearing himself away. Even now that you were married there was something vulnerable about it. It was like you were each seeing a hidden part of each other’s soul, like you were baring your hearts before each other and were unafraid of what it could expose.  

Not breaking his gaze, you allowed your hands to trail down his chest, grasping the buttons at his vest. His heart was racing underneath your palms. Yours skipped a beat. You were melting under that look. Gently, you unattached each of the buttons and slid the vest off his shoulders, leaving him in an undershirt that was already popped open at the collar. On the undershirt you let yourself undo only the first three buttons; you knew if you went any farther your hands might never stop exploring every inch of his skin.

You pressed on his shoulders and eased him to sit on the bed. He reached up to hold your hand, but you knelt to untie his shoelaces instead. You set his shoes aside and he drew you back to your feet, slowly wrapping his arms around your waist.  

“I don’t deserve you,” Newt mumbled, eyes flitting away and settling on your mouth.

You cupped his face in one hand and ran your fingers through his fluffy hair with the other. “The world doesn’t deserve you, my love.”

He closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. “But you deserve the world.”

Your heart seemed to liquefy in your chest, sending warmth trickling all over your body. You leaned forward to kiss his brow. When you pulled back, his eyes- half-lidded and aglow with the candlelight- were once again fixed on your lips. He pulled you closer. Softly, as if it demanded the utmost care in the world, he tilted his head up and pressed his lips to yours.  

He kissed you like he couldn’t believe you were his, as if you would disappear from his arms at any moment. It was delicate and utterly sweet and ended far too soon.  

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. His voice was shaky, and he was looking at you like you were a dream.

In reply, you kissed him again. You lowered yourself to sit on his lap and he scooted back, tugging you with him, your hips curved into his body. Your hands stroked his neck and once more found their way down his arms. He shivered under your touch. You smiled against his lips and moved the kiss deeper.  

Newt leaned back and pulled you both onto the bed. You fell against his chest and dipped into the crook of his arm. Running the back of your fingers over his cheek, you whispered, “I love you too.”

Sleep was quickly claiming him, and you could feel its steady hold on you too. You kissed him once more, then rolled over and blew out the candle. You snuggled underneath the blankets, feeling Newt’s warm arm slip around your waist, his ankles entwining with yours.  

You were entering a world of blissful dreams when you felt his soft lips on the crook of your shoulder. You cuddled closer to him, your back up against his chest, and smiled into the night.  

“Good night, my love,” you said.  

“Good night, my darling,” he said as he drifted off to sleep once again.

Masterlist

[that-tmr-girl]

Our Little Secret {Newt}

Newt x female reader AU smut

I've been to a million parties, and they're all the same. The adults will mingle and leave the couple of teens they dragged along to entertain themselves. Of course, there weren't very many of us. Tonight in fact, there was only one other besides me.

Sighing as people talked about who knows what I stepped into the empty hall. With my heels clacking on the floor, I stopped when I heard an extra pair of footsteps behind me.

"I was wondering when you'd get bored of being in there,"I remarked, turning around to face him.

"Bored? No. Not when you have that little, black dress on,"He sighed, walking towards me.

"Your favorite,"I whispered in his ear.

"Yeah? Why don't you remind me why,"He suggested, putting a hand on my inner thigh before tracing small shapes on my skin. As he trailed his hands higher he looked at me as he realized the little black dress was all I had.

"Mhm. You were just so sure I'd be down here tonight, weren't you?"He smirked.

"Bold of you to assume I was waiting for you."

"Is it now? Because these nights always end the same. With you struggling to walk when it's over."

"Good to know you pay attention,"I mumbled against his lips.

"I always pay attention to you,"He whispered, trailing a hand on my jaw. Still, he didn't move. Not yet. Just move closer and closer until he was almost there before pulling away.

"Come on. We don't want to be interrupted, do we?"He asked, taking his hands off of my body. Without a word I followed him to a few halls down until he pushed a door open. Stepping into the bedroom, he slammed the door shut before pinning me against the wall. Putting my arms behind his neck, we still waited for whoever would break first. Because this was just a game. A complex, game of feelings and lust.

This time I caved first as I pressed my lips against his. Keeping his hands on my waist, he trailed his tongue against my bottom lip asking for entrance. Denying it, he groaned before inching his finger closer to my pussy. Rubbing small circles on my clit, I moaned which he took full advantage of, darting his tongue between my parted lips. I ran my hands through his hair as he gradually deepened in, resulting in me being completely being trapped between him and the wall now.

As he moved his mouth to my collarbone I gathered enough sense to remind him not to leave any visible marks. Not so early.

"Sorry,"He shrugged, though we both knew he wasn't.

"Here. Let my get this off you. It looks better on the floor anyway,"He added, pulling at the sleeveless dress. Tugging it over my head, he allowed the garment to land on his floor before trailing his tongue down my stomach. Barely even needing to see them, he unstrapped my heels to toss them off.

"Why am I the only one not wearing anything?"I pointed out.

"There's nothing blocking my tongue now, is there?"He breathed against my thigh. Pressing a small kiss to my skin, I grazed my hands through his scalp. Giving me a teasing lick, my entire body shuddered at the feeling. He slowly flicked his tongue against my clit, finding an even rhythm. Quietly moaning his name, I couldn't help but push my hips further into him. I could just feel that cocky grin that I was so used to seeing as he plunged his tongue inside of me. Biting my lip to control my whimpers, he hummed causing desirable vibrations. Pulling away, he replaced his tongue with his fingers. While pumping two fingers inside of me, he used his thumb to rub small circles above my entrance. I could feel his gaze on me as I was reaching my breaking point.

"Mhm. You like this, don't you love?"He hummed, curling his fingers. Pulling his hair harder, he knew I was close as he placed his mouth back on me. Sucking on my clit, I reached my climax as I came. Licking everything he could, he trailed his tongue down my thighs to make sure not a drop was missed. As I was coming down from my high he suddenly started sucking on my pussy again.

"Newt, I'm still sensitive,"I warned.

"You already know I'll lick you clean. I'm not wasting your cum,"He said firmly, getting everything he could out of me.

Getting me worked up all over again, he stopped as he had apparently gotten what he needed.

"Your turn,"I said, dropping to my knees. Sliding out of his shoes, he undid his belt but left the rest to me. Unzipping his pants, I yanked them off. Seeing him already hard even though his boxers, I smiled in satisfaction before pulling those off too. Taking him in my hands, I slowly stroked his shaft. Thrusting himself into my hand, I barely increased the pace, pumping from tip to base. "Don't tease,"He pleaded as I started giving kitten licks to his tip. "Me? Tease you?"I asked before running my tongue on the side of his cock. "Would I ever do that to you?"I asked, looking up at him. With his eyes begging for me, I took him in my mouth. Running his hands through my hair, I bobbed my head as I sucked him off. Panting, he made a makeshift ponytail while gently pushing me further into him. Hitting the back of my throat, I sucked in my cheeks. Thrusting into me quicker now, I was almost choking as I increased my pace. Feeling him twitch in my mouth, I hummed. When his breathing was more ragged I knew there wasn't much longer.

Like always I was right as he shot his seed down my throat before pulling himself past my lips.

"Good girl,"He groaned as I swallowed his thick, salty liquids. Licking my lips to get what I could, I greedily sucked the rest of his cum from his hard cock. Trailing it down the side and tracing it back on his tip, his hands made there way to my hair. Still, he restrained himself from pushing me into him.

"Can I please just fuck you now?"He asked.

"What? My throat wasn't enough?"

"No. I want to be inside of you."

"You just were."

"Y/N-"

"Newt."

"Please,"He begged.

"I love when you sound like that,"I admitted, standing up.

"Trust me. I know,"He sighed, grabbing my waist and pulling me against him. Wrapping my legs around him, I could already feel his erection on my stomach.

Roughly throwing me on his bed, he connected our lips before trailing his mouth on my jaw. Moaning at the feeling, I felt his smile on my skin as he sucked on my collarbone, leaving hints of purple and red. 

"Mine,"He breathed out.

"Yours,"I agreed.

Biting down on my neck, I grew more verbal. He did it again, harder, before making his way to my sweet spot.

"Newt. You can't just give me hickey's all night,"I groaned, arching my back.

"But you always look so pretty covered in them,"He whined.

"You're always so needy,"I laughed as he pressed a kiss to my nose.

"And you love it,"He reminded me, as if one was needed. Still, he positioned himself above me.

"Ready?"He asked. I nodded my head, but he gave me the look. The one that said to use my words.

"Yes,"I promised.

Keeping a hand on my shoulder, he slowly lowered himself into me. Whimpering as he stretched me out, he heard and paused. Only halfway inside of me, I closed my eyes as I waited to be all the way around him. After a moment when I had adjusted to his length, I assured him he could move.

Grunting, he pulled out before slamming into me. Thrusting my hips towards him, he kept his hands on my shoulders as he pushed himself in and out of me. Putting my hands around his back, I started leaving deep scratches as he pounded into me. Moaning my name, he intertwined our fingers as he rested his chest against mine. Moving in perfect synch as he shoved himself inside me, he suddenly put my legs around him, forcing his way deeper. Now full on screaming his name, his breathing got heavier with each thrust. "You always feel so good,"He mumbled. Feeling the knot in my stomach tighten, he sang more. "You're so fucking good at this,"He repeated. As my walls clenched around him, my screams of pleasure and delight only grew louder. Biting down on my shoulder to stifle his, with one last desperate thrust we came. Filling me up, nothing in the word was real as white stars clouded my vision.

Pulling out, we both took a second to catch our breaths. Once we did he smiled down at me before pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. Looking at his perfect lopsided grin, something finally kicked in after a moment.

"You didn't pull out,"I said quickly. Before I could panic he pulled a pill bottle and a water off of his nightstand. Sitting up, I took a long sip before managing to swallow the pill with a bit of effort.

"We'll focus on your voice later. Let's just get you cleaned off,"He suggested.

"I wanna sleep,"I grumbled.

"Yeah? Well you can sleep when you're cleaned off,"He chuckled, picking me up. Putting my arms around his shoulder, he took his time as he set me in the bath before running the water.

As the hit water washed over my skin I was more than thankful for him for the thousandth time in one week.

Sitting beside me, I leaned back as he scrubbed my body.

"I really love you,"I sighed.

"I really love you too. Now let me get your hair,"He directed.

Yeah. I love him. I can never say it enough.

[toby-du-coeur]

despite everything, it's still you

tommy

newt

[nomoreusername]

Smile

Newt x gender neutral reader

Summary:When Newt notices you hiding your smile he quickly makes everything better again.

I looked into the little piece of broken glass as I thought about what they said. It was only meant to be a joke. I wasn't supposed to actually believe them.

But I did. I've been looking at my reflection and seeing what it looks like when I smile. Despite not caring about their words at first it seemed to be nothing short of true now.

My smile was ugly. It was far too toothy, too wide, too much. I've been trying to find a way to fix it, trying to change it, but nothing was working. It was still so hateable.

That left me with one desperate option. Avoid smiling as much as possible. If I do I try to hide it behind my hand. It looks ridiculous, but apparently so do I when I grin.

"Hey,"Newt said, walking in. I shoved the piece of glass under my bed.

"Don't you know how to knock?"I snapped, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

"Not with you,"He pointed out. That was true, but right now I can't stand anyone seeing me. Practicing how to smile is a hard thing to explain. Especially, to him.

"Out,"I instructed, pointing at the door. He was visibly confused as he left. I guess I would be too.

"I wish I could fix this,"I sighed, pulling out the broken glass one last time. If only.

♡ - - - ♡

I nodded my head as Minho kept telling his story. It was admittedly kind of funny. I felt myself start to smile but managed to stop it just in time. I covered my mouth with my hand just in case it happened again.

"Are you alright, love?"Newt whispered in my ear.

"Yeah,"I shrugged, leaning back. He didn't look convinced. If anything he looked more concerned. He can't be though, right? I technically haven't done anything bad or wrong.

"Hey. Follow me real quick,"He whispered again, standing up. We slipped away from everyone without a word. Nobody seemed to notice.

"Where exactly are we going?"I asked as we walked away from the others.

"Just trust me. It'll only take a minute,"He promised. I wasn't sure if I believed him but didn't stop walking.

Eventually, he turned by the cliff and sat. He looked back at me expectantly. I joined him.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"He asked, looking at the sunset.

"Extremely,"I agreed.

"It's enough to make anyone smile,"He added. I didn't say anything this time.

"It always made you smile. How come you aren't?"He questioned. I fixated on the ocean below me to avoid looking at him.

"Y/N, how come you don't smile anymore?

"I do,"I mumbled.

"Barely, and anytime you do it's not yours. I want to see you smile from ear to ear."

"Why?"I asked before I could stop myself. I cringed at my words and wished I could take the back.

"Why? What do you mean why?"

"Why do you want to see me smile?"I whispered.

"Because I like seeing you happy, and I know you're happy when you wear that bright, perfect grin."

The only sound for a while was the crashing of waves against rocks. What was there to say?

"You don't think your smile is perfect, do you?"He asked quietly. I didn't say anything which was an answer in itself.

"Y/N, do you remember how we met?"He asked out of the blue.

"Of course I do. You were the third person up in the Glade. I helped you out of the box and showed you around,"I reminessed.

"And do you remember how scared I was at first?"

"Yeah. Alby and I were worried you were never going to leave the box."

"And I might not have. There was one thing though, that told me everything was going to be okay,"He stated, pausing so I was left with a burning curiosity.

"What was it?"I wondered.

"You. You held out your hand and flashed me that brilliant smile. Suddenly, everything was okay because you were there. I didn't even know my name, but that if someone could have such a genuine smile I would be okay,"He admitted.

I looked at him and searched his face for any sign of a fib. Then, I realized who I was sitting with. Newt's a lot of things, practically all of them incredible, but a liar is not on the list.

"See? There's that contagious smile,"He remarked, making me recognize that I was practically beaming. It's so hard not to when I'm around him.

"Now don't you ever hide that amazing smile again. Good that?"He checked.

"As long as I have you then yeah. Good that,"I agreed.

"Good. Do you want to go back to everyone else?"He offered.

I didn't say anything as I placed my head on his shoulder which was another silent answer.

Right there I was perfectly content in that one simple moment. It was just the sunset, me, and the one person who never fails to make me smile.

[storiesforallfandoms]

i’ll keep you safe ~ newt;the maze runner

word count: 2498

request?: yes!

@jesylovesmusic​  “ Hey I know you're not talking request right now but I just had a question for if you would accept request for the maze runner when they're open again. Ive fallen down a hole”

description: when a new girl who knows more than the rest of the gladers is brought into their world, newt finds himself drawn to her, and a strong desire to make sure none of the others hurt her

pairing: newt x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of the world being awful outside the glade

masterlist (one, two, three)

The Gladers had hardly grasped the addition of Teresa into The Glade when The Box shuttered to life again, signifying that another was being added into their world. There had been so many surprises and uncertainties with their recent two additions - Thomas and Teresa - that the others were sure that nothing else could ever surprise them.

They were proven wrong when The Box delivered to them another girl.

This time, she was huddled into the far corner of the box, her knees brought up to her chest and her whole body trembling with fear. The Gladers looked down at her with yet another feeling of shock, something that had become normal for them at this rate. None of them knew what to do, so Newt took the lead and jumped into The Box to retrieve their newest member.

He was taken aback when her eyes widened with fear upon seeing him and she started to scream, “No! No, get away from me!”

“What’s wrong with her?” Minho asked.

“She’s scared,” Newt responded.

He dared to take another step forward, but she shrunk away from him the best she could, hiding her face behind her hands. Newt felt a pang of compassion for her. They had all been scared and confused when they entered The Glade. It was never easy, and it especially wasn’t easy to collect the newcomers when they arrived in this state.

Newt kept his distance, but knelt down so that he came eye level with the unknown girl. She peaked at him around her hands.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m just trying to help you. I know this is scary; you just arrived to a strange place and you don’t even know who you are - ”

“I know who I am,” she cut him off. “My name is (Y/N). They took me away from my parents. They took my parents and I don’t know what they did with them, but I don’t think they’re alive. They tried to inject me with something, but I fought back until finally they just knocked me out and threw me in here.”

Her eyes gazed up at the other boys who were now peering down at her. The terror returned to her face and she curled herself up tighter into her ball. Newt stood and turned to look at Alby. He knew by the look on his leader’s face that Alby had heard what this new girl had said.

Another strange thing to continue the string of surprises they had been going through: this new girl had memories of the outside world.

~~~~~~

After finally managing to get (Y/N) out of The Box (although not without a lot of screaming and a hearty fight), they put her up in a room alone. It was the only way they could get her to calm down. One of the Gladers would come by to give her food to make sure she wouldn’t starve, but she refused to face any of them. She stayed in the room until she knew they were gone, then she would take the food and leave anything to be collected outside the door by the time someone else came by.

She wouldn’t even open up for Teresa. The boys thought that maybe (Y/N) was afraid because she was one girl with a large number of boys, so maybe she would feel more comfortable if she was approached by another girl. However, when Teresa came back from giving (Y/N) her routine meal, she told them, “She definitely does not care about gender. She screamed at me as if I were one of you guys.”

On the day that Newt was tasked with bringing (Y/N) her food, he felt a bit more courageous than the others seemed to be. He wanted to know more about this new person; he wanted to know what exactly she knew about the outside world. Maybe she could tell him how they all got there. Maybe she’d know how to escape.

He approached her room with a tray of food and knocked at the door. Of course, there was no response. He placed the tray on the floor by the door and backed away two steps. He waited again, expecting to hear her shuffling around her room to come get the food. When she didn’t answer, Newt tried knocking again.

“I’m not going away until you come out,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid of us. If anything, we should be afraid of you. You’re this strange new girl that’s been dropped into our world saying you actually remember what life is like outside The Glade. How do we know you haven’t been sent to hurt us?”

There was no response again. Newt sighed. Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

He pressed his back against the wall next to her door and slid down till he was sitting. He still couldn’t hear any movements inside the room. He wondered if she was even awake. It was only midday, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t trying to escape this situation some other way.

“Obviously, you’re not going to hurt us,” he said, hoping she was awake he wasn’t talking to himself. “If you were, you would’ve by now. You’re either genuinely scared, or you’re an incredibly good actor with much patience. I’m choosing to believe the former.”

He put his head back against the wall behind him. “You have to understand, you’re the first person to ever come here to remember life before The Glade. None of us remember how we got here. We just woke up in The Box while being transported in. We understand that, if someone took you the way you say they did, that you’re very scared, but we’re all very curious to see what you know. You might be our key to finding out how we got here and how we can get out.”

When no response came, Newt sighed and admitted defeat. There was no coaxing (Y/N) out of her room, and he wasn’t about to sit around so that she couldn’t get her food. He was pulling himself to a stand when he heard the doorknob slowly turn and the door creaked open just a crack. (Y/N) peered out at him through the door, her face a mixture of worry and sadness.

“You don’t want to leave here,” she said. It was the first time she had spoken since that day she arrived in The Box. “It’s...terrible out there.”

“What do you mean?” Newt asked.

(Y/N) opened the door a little more, just enough to poke her head out and see if there was anyone else with Newt. She knelt down to pick up her food and beaconed for him to come inside.

Besides the sheets on the bed having been messed a little, it looked as though the room was untouched. Not even the clothes that had been brought for her to change into had been touched, Newt noticed. It was like she had been spending all of her time in bed or pacing around the room. She didn’t want to be entertained, she wanted to be home.

She sat down on the bed and placed the tray in front of her. She ate slowly, her eyes never leaving Newt. He didn’t want to push his luck too much, so he opted to sit on the floor across from the bed. He waited until she felt ready to talk.

“The world is not...good,” she told him, finally, after what felt like hours of silence. “There aren’t many of us left out there, and the ones who are left...they’re not nice humans anymore. Not like in here.”

Newt pushed aside the thoughts of Gally and the way he treated Thomas and Teresa when they entered The Glade. Definitely not everyone in here was “good”.

“A virus took out a lot of the population, and those it didn’t take out have resorted to fighting for survival. My parents and I were fortunate enough to have hidden in a bunker full of survivalists who knew how to handle the situation, but even then we had out moments where things were looking dark. Honestly, I don’t think any of us expected to survive as long as we have. Others were lost much earlier on.”

“How did you get here then?” Newt asked.

(Y/N) sighed, looking down at her plate. “Our bunker was compromised. A couple scientists who said they’re trying to find a cure for the virus or something. They grabbed us, took us in for testing to see if he had been infected, then they put us up in some rooms in their labs. Next thing I knew, they were bursting into my room and dragging me off. My parents tried to stop them, but they were detained as I was taken. I have no idea what happened to them or if they’re even still alive, but I don’t have much hope for it. One of the scientists tried to explain to me what was going on, but I didn’t want to listen. I just wanted to get out. And then, suddenly, they just knocked me unconscious and threw me into that thing that brought me here. I woke up just before it opened up and you guys found me.”

“No wonder you were so scared then. You probably thought we were one of them.”

She nodded. “I thought you were going to kill me. I thought that they found traces of the virus in me and that’s how they dealt with people who were infected. I have no idea why I’m here, or what ‘here’ even is.”

Newt was also starting to wonder where “here” was. Was The Glade supposed to be a safe haven for those who hadn’t been infected by the virus in order to save them? If so, why wipe their memories before sending them in? Why not send in their families, too?

He always knew there was a world beyond The Glade, but he never could’ve imagined it was as awful as (Y/N) was saying. Newt always figured that maybe he and the other Gladers had done something bad and The Glade was their punishment. But maybe The Glade was a way to save the world once this virus was taken care of.

Newt was brought out of his thoughts by the sounds of whimpering. When he looked up, he saw tears running down (Y/N)’s cheeks and her body was trembling from silent sobs. Against his better judgement, he got up from the floor and rushed over to wrap his arms around her. To his surprise, she leaned into his embrace and buried her head into his chest. He could feel her tears dampening his shirt, but he could care less. He held her and allowed her to let out her emotions in a safe environment. She could finally let her guard down, even just for a second.

“I just miss my parents,” she sobbed. “It’s the not knowing that makes it so awful. I have no idea if they’re dead or alive, if they know where I am, if I’ll ever see them again. I’m all they had, and then those fuckers took me from them!”

“I know,” he said. “Until you know for sure, it may be best to think of them as still being alive.”

“How will I ever know for sure?” she asked. “I’m never getting out of here.”

“We’ll find a way. We’ve been trying for so long, and now we have you who actually knows about life outside The Glade. There’s a huge chance we could get out of here and find your parents.”

(Y/N) pulled away from Newt. Her eyes were swollen and puffy and her cheeks were tearstained. His heart ached for her. The Gladers always wished they knew where they came from or what their life was like before The Glade, but now Newt was realizing what a gift it was for them not to know those things.

“There’s bad people out there,” she said. “What if they try to kill us?”

“We’ll just have to prepare for that,” Newt said. “We can talk to Alby, that’s our leader, and tell him everything. He’ll come up with a plan.”

“What if your people don’t like what they hear?” she asked. “You’ve all been in here for how long? Dreaming of a life outside of this place, a world that’s beautiful and good. What happens if I tell them that the world is not beautiful and good and they decide they don’t believe me? What happens if the entire place turns on me except for you?”

It was a small thought in the back of his mind, but Newt refused to let it wiggle it’s way in. He took (Y/N)’s hands in his and squeezed them. “I would never let them hurt you.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? You’re going to protect me? You don’t even know me. Those people down there have been with you for years, and you’re going to back up the crazy new girl who just arrived?”

Newt nodded, which seemed to surprise her.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I believe you,” he said. “I know it’s going to be hard to swallow the fact that the world outside of The Glade is not what we pictured it to be, but it’s something that we have to prepare for whether we believe you or not. And because...well, there’s just something about you. You interest me. I’ve actually been waiting very patiently for many days to be the one to bring you food so I could try and talk to you.”

It was Newt’s turn to be surprised when a small smile spread across her face. “You’re quite the charmer for someone who’s been stuck in here with a bunch of dudes for years.”

Newt chuckled. “Maybe my lack of practice helped.”

(Y/N) leaned into Newt again, which took him by surprise yet again. She guided the two of them down until they were both laying on the bed, her head against his chest and his arm around her. He could feel the tension leaving her body as she relaxed against him.

“I just need to lay here for a second,” she said. “And I don’t want to be alone. We can go down and talk to your people later, but I just need to build up the courage to do so.”

Newt nodded and ran his hands through her hair. “That’s fine. Take as much time as you need. I’ll stay here as long as you want.”

Her arm moved around his stomach and gave him a small squeeze. “That might be for a very long time. You never told me your name, by the way.”

“It’s Newt.”

“Newt. I want you to stay, Newt.”

[rowniebow]

mercy | newt scamander x male reader

Summary: You and Newt have been put in a sticky situation. Newt has been the hot commodity lately, but you were all too ready to bargain. 

Warnings: Angst

Reader: Male, muggle

Parining(s): Newt Scamander x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

masterlist

Your eyes focused on the cold cement ground you sat upon. Your knees were pulled to your chest. Your head was pounding from all the stress and commotion. You couldn’t help but wonder where you would be as of right now if you had denied the strange British man and stayed working at your nine-to-five factory job. Would you still reside in your pathetic, run down apartment across from Gerda who shared her butter and you shared your eggs with? Would Jerry still be belittling you about how lazy you are at your job? Yes. Most likely Jerry would still be an asshole.

But, most of all, would Newt be in this situation if it weren’t for you? You can’t help but think he would be sitting at home taking care of his creatures if it weren’t for you agreeing to join him. That, at least, is what you said to convince yourself you were okay with what was all happening. Convincing yourself you were at fault for the bad things so your “solution” to the issue - this decision you were making for the both of them - wouldn’t be as painful.

What were you to do, though? When someone shares their most vulnerable feelings with you, and you share your own, are you really supposed to just watch them up and leave without you when their hand is extended as Newt’s was? When they’re offering you an out of your miserable life, and instead an invitation to what you assumed would be a nice quiet life with someone you loved and doing things you loved with them? Are you supposed to say no to joining the person you have grown to care the most about? 

You were yanked out of your thoughts as the loud metal doors were peeled open by two large, muscular men clad in armor and wands out ready to strike if you made even one off move. You couldn’t help but wonder if all that was truly necessary for you: a small man with no capacity to fight back. Good lord, you couldn’t even get rid of spiders. All you could do was ignore them and wish them on their merry way. 

You stood, the shackles hung off of your wrists and ankles. The rusted chain clattered against the cement floors, scratching against your already pounding head. You trudged with the two large men trailing close behind you. They poked at your back every once in a while when you were dragging from exhaustion. 

You three arrived at the large wooden double doors. They creaked as the men opened it to reveal you to the man that hasn’t left your mind in years. 

You took in every aspect of Newt with a gasp. His arms were limp and pale from all the hours they had been hung up against the wall. He was on his knees, but his ankles, bloody and bruised, sat chained to the wall just as his wrists were. Blood drained out of them, you were sure they were tingling with discomfort. He didn’t look up, leaving you to look at his knotted, messy hair. Strands flew everywhere, it didn’t even have its usual shape and part. His dozens of layers of clothes had been removed. He stood limply in his tousled white button down and brown straight legged pants. Both clothing items were ripped at the seams and ruffled beyond the familiarity of Newt’s well-dressed and ironed appearance. 

“Oh, Newtie,” You groaned at the sight of him. Rage filled your veins. You suddenly began to rethink your bargain, wondering if these awful people who had already done this to him would keep their part and let him go after all this. 

Newt looked up with wide eyes at the sound of your voice echoing off of the brick walls. His eyes were swollen and red. His cheeks were patterned in purple and red. Hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He struggled at the chains, trying to stand up and move towards you but, of course, he was to no avail. “Y/N,” he called out hoarsely, tears threatening his eyes. You ran towards him, the guards obviously wanting to stop you but they let it happen knowing what was to come. 

“Newt, goodness, my sweet,” You cooed, lightly rubbing your hand over his wounded cheeks as you examined him. He winced slightly as you grazed the open skin but overall he refused to look away from you, shocked to see you in front of him. “Are you okay? Lord- obviously you’re not. It’s okay, alright? I-It’s gonna be over soon, okay?” You hushed your tone, wanting to save all your words for him and only him. 

His bloodied wrists caught your eye, “Can we- Can we please get this bullshit off of him? God,” You hollered out into the echoed room. The chains released themselves, magically, of course, and Newt fell into your arms. He struggled to snake his own limp limbs around your waist. You felt his shaking body and breath and nearly broke down. 

You continued to hold him close, a hand keeping his head in the crook of your neck and another keeping him upright in your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you continuously whispered into his hair that was still soft as ever despite it all. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“Now,” A voice boomed from behind you. “Would you like to break the news to him, dearest? Or, shall I?” 

You ignored the threatening voice - the voice from the man who’s at fault for the crimes committed against the two. You only continued whispering your hushed apologies. You reassured Newt, in between quiet sniffs, that he was going to be okay and that it would all be over soon. That he wouldn’t have to worry anymore and he could continue to forget this. 

Newt, listening to your every word and absorbing it (grateful that he gets to hear it again at all), peaked over your shoulder at the presence who had walked in. Neither of the two had seen the man’s face. He stayed hidden under his black, hooded cloak. A mask sat over his face, keeping anyone from seeing him. 

Newt watched the man, blurred from his tears, take several steps in the room. After hours and hours of the torturing done to him by this man, he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do much more than look and groan. He happily let you rock yourselves back and forth as you chanted comforting phrases into his ear for only him to hear, and ran your fingers through his hair, and left your warm heavy hand in the middle of his back and rubbed it in small circles. 

“I suppose I’ll take that as a plea for me to tell him.” The voice boomed out once more. 

Your eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You quietly sobbed, muttering, “Please, don’t be mad. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.” 

“The little muggle has offered himself in exchange for your peace. For your freedom.” You could hear a smile in the man’s voice as he spoke of your bargain. You could also very clearly hear a sharp gasp from Newt, as he began to moan in disagreement. “Yes, we haven’t decided what to do with him, yet, but-! I am a generous man, myself, so I have decided to make the deal with him.” 

Newt struggled but managed to push himself away from your loving hold. “No, I-I don’t agree with this.” He managed to squeak out. His ragged voice from all the screaming you had heard him do from down the corridor shook and let a cold shake travel through your spine. 

“Yes, well,” The man with the booming voice behind you turned and made his way out of the door. “I thought I’d be kind and let you say goodbye. We’ll be back for you soon enough.” His uncaring voice sent rage through Newt. His fist clenched but he was too weak to do much of anything. 

The door slammed shut leaving you two alone with one another. “No,” Newt began but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“Love, I can’t let them hurt you anymore than they already have. Or the creatures. You get to leave with them, I made sure of that.”

“N-No, but,” He gulped, doing his best to soothe his scratchy throat. “I-I don’t get to leave with you,”

“That’s okay-,”

“No! It’s n-not okay.” His eyelids fluttered and his mouth twitched at the ends.

“Yes, it is,” You moved your hands to hold his cheeks. His head struggled to stay up with the weight of gods pushing him down. “You’re gonna be okay and the creatures are going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

“No! I-I-I won’t be okay!” He let out a pained sob. The waterfalls escaped his green eyes.

“You will. And you’ll live a nice quiet life like you said you would.” The smile that graced your lips was filled with nothing but pain and Newt saw right through that.

He stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be okay without you. I don’t want to live a ‘nice quiet life’ without you. That-That is just no life at all, one without you.” 

Salty drops of water streamed down your face at his words. What could you even say to that? You’ve been telling yourself you are doing this for him but it’s not as if you would be anything less than angry if he were doing the same for you. 

“There-There must be a-another way.” Newt shook his head, refusing to believe this was the reality he was going to have to accept. He kept his eyes trained on you the whole time as he took in every detail, anxious this was going to be the last time he saw your face. He absorbed your skin and where it wrinkled. He memorized every divet in your imperfect perfect complexion. How your eyes were swollen and red from rubbing them all day. The way the light reflected off of your mesmerizing eyes. How insanely beautiful you looked in every way all of the time. He couldn’t believe he scored someone as gorgeous as you, inside and out. Fully and completely beautiful. 

“Newt,” You whispered his name, afraid if you said it any louder then the name would escape the two of you and run off somewhere it shouldn't be. “I love you. You are going to be okay. You are resilient and stubborn - I know you can do it.”

“I-I don’t want to, Y/N.” He sighed taking you in. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered as the doors burst open again with a slam. You rushed back into his arms for one final moment where you could feel safe.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me,” 

“I love you so much, Newtie. To the moon and back.”

“I-I love you, too.” 

The hushed words exchanged between the two were cut short as the big men came to pry you and Newt off of each other. You continued to fight to reach him, but your strength was nothing in comparison and you were only left reaching your hand out as the space between you two grew. Newt continued to scream and holler, even gathering the will to stand and jog after them. But, of course, he was overpowered by yet another unnecessarily strong guard. 

The last thing you saw of Newt was him on his knees, screaming your name and pleas for mercy.

[its-vannah]

Mrs. Scamander - Theseus x Reader

A/N: I think this just topped "I Do" as my favorite fic I've ever written. I took creative liberty with Theseus' mum, which I think added a bit of humor <3

Word Count: 1,556

Warnings: Fluff (?), overbearing mothers

"Does everyone know why we're gathered here today?" Mrs. Scamander asked, her ankles crossing over one another as she nursed a cup of tea in the palm of her hand, bringing it to her lips.

Theseus nodded, running a hand through his dark brown hair, "Because Newt-"

"No, not because of Newt. It's about you." She said with a sigh, watching as her oldest son's brows creased.

"What in the bloody hell have I done?" He asked, shock spread across his face.

"Watch your mouth, Theseus." She warned, "Theseus, it's come to my attention that since becoming Head Auror, something I'm very proud of you for, that you've been… lacking in other areas."

He groaned, "Mum, please…"

Newt stirred beside his brother, trying to keep Teddy from rumaging in between the couch cussions looking for spare change. Once he wrangled the niffler into the crook of his arm, awkwardly smiling up at his mother.

She cleared her throat, "Theseus, if you look around this room, you'll find that you're surrounded by the people who care about you most."

He surveyed the room and took in the cold hearted truth of it: He really only let three people close to him, and even then, "close" was an iffy term.

Before him, his mother sat in her quilted settee, a look of worry on her face as she looked her son up and down. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and his tie was loosened around his neck. Theseus had barely slept the night before, or any night this past month, really.

To his right, Newt sat holding Teddy, more preoccupied with wrangling the niffler than trying to help with his brother's intervension. And to his left, you were perched on the arm of the couch, the tea in your hands untouched. If it had been anyone else, he would have questioned why they were a part of a family matter. But you had practically grown up with he and Newt, so it went without questioning.

"Mum, it's a big responsibility. I'm tired, that's all." Theseus said, giving her a weak smile.

"Being "just tired" may work when you don't get a lot of sleep at night, but you're far beyond that point," Mrs. Scamander shook her head, "Is it true that you've been falling asleep in the office?"

His eyes widened, "How'd you find out about that one? Who told you?"

The room went silent, his mother sipped her tea, and all eyes fell on you.

"Y/N!" Theseus exclaimed, "It was one time!"

"One time this week, Thes. And it's only Monday. Last week it was eight. Trust me, I counted." You frowned, setting your teacup on the sidetable, "I only told her because I care about her. And I know you wouldn't listen to me if I told you to get some more rest."

He huffed, crossing her arms, refusing to look in her direction.

"Theseus, stop acting like a child. We all know it's true." His mother sighed, waving her wand to refill her tea.

"And I suppose Newt told you something, too? How I've been adding more and more sugar to my tea to keep myself awake?"

He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"You've what? Theseus, that's not at all good for your health and you know it!" Mrs. Scamander scolded, "No, Newt told me about the incident at Hogwarts. You were left in, for lack of better words, a prison… hanging upside down? Is that correct?"

"Newt got me out of there just fine, mum." Theseus grumbled, slumping back into the couch. He flinched when he felt something move behind his back, watching as you slid your hand out of the way. He had almost forgotten that you had been rubbing small circles in his back for the past fifteen minutes in an effort to be supportive.

"Watch your tone, Theseus." His mother warned, "Look, I know things have been difficult, especially this past few years. With your promotion, losing Leta, getting back on the right track with your brother… But it's time to make better decisions, starting with your lack of sleep."

Theseus shook his head, "Mum, I'm a grown man. I'm perfectly capable of making my own decisions."

She raised a brow and he immediately appologized, accepting his defeat, "I'll get more sleep."

"Continue."

"I promise." He finished.

"Now that that's out of the way, it's about time you settled down!" Mrs. Scamander explained, "I'm not getting any younger, Theseus, I'm in desperate need of a grandchild! Why, just across the street, the Wollenstones are expecting not one, but two grandchildren this spring! Come on, Theseus!"

"Why are you only asking me for grandchildren? Newt's here, too!" Theseus argued, but one look at Newt and he remembered why he hadn't settled down yet.

Mrs. Scamander rolled her eyes, "Newt already has someone on his mind, Theseus. The point is, you don't."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I know my son."

Her words stung, but they were true. Between trying to rein his brother in and catch up to Grindlewald, he hadn't had much time to think about settling down with someone.

"I think it's best if I go. I have a lot of wo- resting- I need to do." Theseus swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, rising from his spot on the sofa.

"Aren't you going to stay for dinner? I made your favorite for dessert. Treacle Tarts." She frowned, waving her hand through the air to mimic the shape of the tart.

But Theseus continued walking, calling out that "that's Newt's favorite" over his shoulder.

Mrs. Scamander was about to follow after him, but you held out a hand, "Let me go, see if I can diffuse the tension."

She nodded briskly and you scurried after him, trying to catch him before he left.

You turned a corner into the hallway and another into the narrow foyer, dozens of photos of the boys hung on the wall, sprinkled in with at least a half dozen of you.

When you caught up to him, he was struggling to get his coat off the hangar, too frustrated to even think.

You approached him slowly, trying not to startle him. Placing a hand gently on his shoulder, you reached for the hangar with your other, "Let me help you."

He didn't fight you on it, his tight grip on the hangar loosening so you could grab it, his whole palm red from grasping it too hard.

Slipping the coat off, you set put the hangar back in the closet before helping him slip into the navy blue coat. Once it was over his shoulders, he turned back to you, a gentle smile on his face, "You were always too good to me."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug, and you grinned, "Always were a hugger, weren't you?"

Theseus stiffled a laugh, "Would you have it any other way?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn't."

You untangled yourself from him and he sighed, "I'll see you later, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Theseus." You smiled, and before he knew what he was doing, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

He then turned to walk out the door, not giving one thought about what he had just done. Then it hit him: he had kissed you. And, surprisingly, you had kissed him back.

Before the door could shut, Theseus turned and opened it back again. You stood in the exact spot you had been standing in when he had left, but your fingertips were now touching your face, a large smile spread across your lips.

Theseus couldn't help but smile back, taking long strides towards you as he tangled one hand in your hair, the other settling on your waist as he leaned in for another kiss.

Your hands found his shoulder and his chest as you fell into the embrace, lips moving against his.

Chances are, the two of you would have stayed like that for hours if it hadn't been for the clatter of a teacup on the floor.

Your heads whipped around to see Mrs. Scamander standing in the middle of the foyer, her eyes wide, tea seeping through the marble floors. She began jumping up and down, "Good Godric, it happened! Newt, it happened!"

Within seconds, she was bursting through the front door, bounding across the street to the Wollenstones, "Agatha, you won't believe it, I'm going to be a grandmother! Agatha!"

You and Theseus couldn't help but laugh, and you leaned your head into his chest, watching as his mother told the whole street about what she had witnessed, "I can't say I'm surprised."

"That my mother is sharing our moment with the whole neighborhood? Me neither."

"That's Mrs. Scamander for you." You giggled, your hand entwined with his.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Mrs. Scamander." Theseus teased.

"Watch it, Theseus." You responded, raising a brow, "But for the record, I prefer gold bands over silver."

Back in the tea room, you could hear Newt call out, "That's what Teddy prefers, too, so I'd be careful if I were you!"

The two of you laughed, releasing the breath you had been holding for far too long.

[tried-my-hardest]

Passing Stars || A Newt Scamander Imagine

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader (Gender + House Neutral)

Summary: It's your third year at Hogwarts, and you can't help but notice the cute guy in Creature Care. So, what's your next move?

Word Count: 4342

A teeny, tiny disclaimer! I don't... know how imagines work... so apologies if this seems like a self-indulgent fic because well, at this point it is. But I'm open to writing anything (that's reasonable, of course) so please don't be afraid to request something! I'd love to go as in detail with your request as I did with this little story, perhaps even more in-depth! It's pretty much up to you :) Now, Enjoy!

_ _ _

You were never a fan of the way they presented people’s houses. They were loud, obnoxious, and worst of all, embarrassing. You dreaded watching people getting sorted into houses, the lackluster applause when someone was sorted into Slytherin, and the unparalleled favoritism when someone was sorted into Griffindor. You were judged from the very start, based on a title.

It’s your third year at Hogwarts, one you were dreading. You never made many friends during your prior years, and it didn’t feel like this year was any different. Aside from the casual friends you’d made in classes like Charms, Potions, and Astronomy, there wasn’t much to look forward to in terms of interaction.

That was before you walked into your “Care of Magical Creatures” class.

Professor Kettleburn stood in a clearing, surrounded by a strew of familiar faces. Faces that would probably stare at you with a blank look if you called them out by name. Which you could. You just don’t feel like getting stared at.

You were outside of the Forbidden Forest, a little too close for comfort. Your eyes watched the shadows in the forest, flickering as the wind moved the branches. It was eerie, as if something was looking back at you. You watched the forest for a while longer, settling down onto the grass like some of your peers. The professor had yet to acknowledge anyone, as he watched a separate spot of the forest. Times like this were when you wished you remembered to pack a watch, rather than leaving it on the corner of your bedstand back home.

Your fingers picked at the dirt in front of you, glad that your uniform consisted of mainly dark colors so they wouldn’t be too badly stained. The grass rustled a couple of feet from you as another student sat in the grass. You watched them out of the corner of your eye, curiosity lingering in the back of your mind.

His hair ran over his eyes, a jumble of messy brown locks atop his head. His face was covered in freckles that made random patterns along his face. His eyes darted towards you for a second before he straightened and resumed watching the forest. You smiled, his frightened nature endearing in a way. 

You scooted over, your socks picking up random dirt along the way. You paid it no mind, stopping once you sat next to your target. 

“Isn’t the forest mysterious?” You spoke, startling him once more. You laughed, quickly covered by a cough. He nodded meekly, seeming to curl in on himself. You waited a few more seconds before realizing he wouldn’t speak unless you prompted it.

“Newt, right? Newt,” You pause, trying to remember his last name. Yet with each passing second of awkward stuttering, you slowly stop talking and swallow harshly. You clench a fist, groaning internally at what a fool you are to forget someone’s last name, right to their face.

“Scamander.” You look at Newt, his face a bright red. You light up, happy to get a response. “Scamander! That’s- It was on the tip of my tongue, I tell you,” You chuckle, rapping your knuckles on your sides. 

“I’m (y/n). (y/n) (l/n),” You watched him smile, looking at you once more and darting his eyes away. The wind blew past the both of you, people’s voices rising around you. You turned around with an eyebrow raised. People were talking amongst themselves, at a considerable distance from you and Newt, may you add. They were all staring at the Professor intermittently, who’s now produced a notebook and is furiously scribbling into it.

You turned back around, clicking your tongue. “So… why are you taking this class?

Newt nodded slowly, shrugging. You watched him, waiting for a reply. He stared at the ground for a little too long for comfort, but you held onto the hope for a response. Your gaze drifted back to the chatter behind you, everyone’s conversations coming with relative ease. Well, of course, they’ve known each other for the better part of two years at this point. They had good social skills, skills you had yet to acquire. It’s no wonder that Newt would barely talk to-

“I l-like magical creatures. They’re f…fascinating.” Newt stuttered his way through the sentence, all while keeping his face a beet-red as he stared at the ground. You laughed, bumping your shoulders together. 

“Well, to each his own. I just picked this class cause in all fairness, who wants to take muggle studies?” You shudder in mock horror, pulling your knees to your chest as the wind delivers a chill down your spine. Newt laughed softly, his deathlike grip on his robes loosened, perhaps a sign that he was warming up to you.

He opened his mouth before he was interrupted by a book slamming. You turned around to find Professor Kettleburn staring at the class, his finger on his lip. “Everyone, stay completely still.” You froze, the wind ruffling your tie in the breeze. Your eyes followed Kettleburn as he jumped into a series of random, jerky movements. His hair flipped around, whilst his robes hung off of his shoulders, falling faster with each action. You caught a glance at a mess of greens in Kettleburn’s non-human hand as he extended it into the empty clearing. 

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats, leaning in to see what he could be feeding. People gasped once they saw Kettleburn’s metal fingers pried apart. A small grey creature revealed itself from thin air, its eyes fixated on the food in front of it. You look back to Newt, whose eyes were open wide in amazement. 

You smiled, turning back to watch Kettleburn swoop the creature into his arms, cradling it like a baby as it ate. He turned to the class, a broad smile on his face. “Now, can anyone tell me what the name of this creature is?”

Immediately, you saw Newt’s hand raise. No one else bothered, too fixated on the strange animal in front of them. 

“Ah, yes, Mr. Scamander?”

“It’s a Demiguise! Ah- Sir,” He corrected himself quickly, looking back at the ground once more. You felt some kids around you bristle, someone coughed ‘Nerd’ somewhere to your left. You shot the area a dirty look, but the professor paid them no attention.

“Correct, Mr. Scamander! This, my students, is the rare Demiguise. It is highly reveled in many communities, mainly for its fur and ability for precognitive sight, or as you all know it, predicting the future.” He smiled, the ecstatic grin on his face looking menacing with the odd mustache he wore.

“Fur?” You mumbled, tilting your head in confusion.

“They can make invisibility cloaks. Or- so I’ve r-read.” Newt whispered behind you, coughing to cover the sound of his stuttering. You turned around to smile at him, leaning in slightly. 

“So you’ve read?” You whispered back, raising an eyebrow in slight amusement. Newt flushed even harder than he had already been prior and began to pull at his tie.

“I told you, I- Uh, I really like m-magical creatures.”

He smiled at you, and you smiled back. Maybe, you’d have a friend this year. 

Class ended relatively quick, maybe too quick for your liking. 

Newt lingered awkwardly, a brown satchel hung on his waist that seemed to have come out of thin air. You got to your feet, brushing off the dead grass on your uniform.

“What’s your next class?’ You inquired, walking to the nearest entrance to the school side by side with Newt. He shuffled a crumpled paper out of his robe pocket, pausing to smooth it out on his leg.

“Um, I think- I have Charms n-next. Yeah.” Newt smiled, pursing his lips into a tight line. You glanced at your schedule, frowning slightly. 

“I’ve got Herbology next,” You paused before the both of you walked inside Hogwarts. “You mind if I compare our schedules?’ You held a hand out and stepped aside to give other people room to walk through the doors. Newt seemed slightly worried, his hand shook as he handed the schedule to you. You took note of it but moved on to comparing the two papers. 

A glance over revealed the two of you shared multiple classes.

“Hey!” You looked up, smiling. “We’ve got Defense Against The Dark Arts, Potions, and Astronomy together! How about that?”

Newt looked slightly shocked, stunned even, but smiled nonetheless. “That’s- great!” He stuck his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth. You folded the papers back up, handing his schedule back. He nodded, heading inside. Some small talk later and you parted ways, the moving stairs taking the green-eyed boy from your sights.

You sighed, heading to Herbology. At least you had a couple of things to look forward to today.

Lunch rolled around faster than expected, with you getting out of Transfiguration fairly unharmed. Your robes, sadly, couldn’t say the same. Charred on the edges due to the unfortunate mishap that was the Draconifors Spell. You couldn't understand the appeal of creating a bunch of little dragons that wanted to eat your fingers. And, burn your clothes.

You made it to the mess hall, the familiarity of sitting alone was trickling back slowly, but surely. Your eyes wandered around, before catching onto a familiar head of messy curls. Your mouth curls upwards into a coy smile. Newt, who seemed to have a sixth sense of sorts, raised his head to catch your gaze. He smiled quickly before turning back down to his food.

You slinked up behind him, dropping onto the bench next to him. You got a couple of looks from the people around you but ignored them.

“Hey! How was Charms?” Newt seemed startled that you even bothered to sit with him, much less talk to him. He shrugged, picking at his half-eaten food.

“It was decent. We uh- learned about the Cheering Charm.” You tilted your head, and as you did, Newt flicked his wand at you, muttering under his breath. You were suddenly overcome by an urge to cheer, and well, that’s exactly what you did. You got to your feet, hooting and hollering like a madman. Your eyes widened, mortification rolling over you in waves. And yet, you couldn’t stop your cheering. Everyone’s eyes turned to you in confusion, as well as some professors who had just walked into the mess hall.

As soon as the urge faded, you shut up promptly and sat back down. Your face was flushed, a tremble running through your legs despite having sat down already. You turned to Newt, an expression of shock across your face. He was smiling to himself but quickly turned serious.

“Sorry, I- I thought it would be easier to s-show rather than tell,” Newt mumbled, his quirky half smile on his face. You couldn’t stay too mad toward your new friend.

“Nah, it’s cool. Just… never do it again,” You bumped his shoulder and laughed, then reached for the nearest plate full of food. His eyes watched as ash fluttered between your shoulders, falling onto the table. Newt raised an eyebrow, as he realized your fingers were scratched and bruised.

“I- What happened there?” He pointed, his fingers brushing against yours. You both straightened at the touch and you prayed to all the gods out there that your face wasn’t a bright red.

“Oh, you know. Transfiguration and uh, mini-dragons.” You wiggled your eyebrows, taking a bite out of your lunch. 

Newt nodded along as if mini-dragons weren’t out of the ordinary for him. “You know, (y/n), I’ve got some band-aids somewhere. I could… give you some. If you wanted,” He coughed, rubbing his forearm.  

“I’d love that, Newt!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as Newt began to ruffle through his bag. He produced a few spare bandaids, with little designs on a few. You pulled them closer to you, realizing they weren’t designs, rather, they were drawings of magical creatures. A little crude and simplistic but they were recognizable nonetheless.

“My mom, uh, she drew these. Just something to get me through my day and stuff. That one’s my favorite,” Newt pointed to a drawing of a Bowtruckle, a creature you’ve only seen in books. Your smile widens discreetly as Newt fidgets with the band-aid. It was kinda adorable watching Newt gush over creatures, even if he’d only done it a couple of times with you. Still cute nonetheless.

At this point Newt is watching you, his lips parted with a slight airiness to him. You say to him, “Is there something on my face?” while gesturing to your mouth. He shakes his head, tapping the table.

“Which one do you… want?” You look at the doodled on band-aids, before looking back at Newt.

“Whichever one you think looks best,” You say, hoping he chooses something nice. He does, in fact, and picks up the Bowtruckle one. He holds it out, expecting you to take it, but you instead wave your fingers around.

“You don’t expect me to put it on, do you? I’m so clearly eating!” You gasp in fake outrage, while your plate goes mostly untouched. Newt turned red, mumbling an apology as he grabbed your hand hurriedly. He jumped as if realizing how fast he grabbed your hand, but kept a firm grip on you as he applied the band-aid. The bandaid goes over your fingers like a little ring you could look at all day. You make a mental note to treasure the band-aid forever.

Newt finishes wrapping it, his hands lingering on yours for a few seconds. You almost sigh once he takes them back and places them in his lap. He’s really too nice to you.

You realized that most of the students around you are filtering out slowly. Your eyes look around the room, and it seems as if the next class is starting, really soon in fact. Newt caught onto it as well, and the pair of you start cleaning up.

“Don’t we have the next couple of periods together?” You handed Newt the rest of his bandaids, his hands soft compared with yours. 

“Um, mostly. I’ve got a free period while you have History of Magic,” You pause, your eyebrows raised as Newt waited for you to get up.

“I- uh, got a look at your schedule earlier.” He offered up, smiling as you both walked towards Potions.

“Aw, well, don’t get too happy. You’ve still gotta see this face for two more classes,” You gesture to yourself, smiling, and in turn, almost run into a wall. Newt holds back a small laugh before straightening up. You grumble, pushing him softly.

“Not funny.”

“I beg to differ.”

Potions passed by without a hitch, especially since Newt is your partner. The both of you made a good pair, aside from when you tripped over air and almost knocked Newt down as well. He laughed it off but you still felt guilty. 

He walked you to your History of Magic classroom, as you coaxed him to ramble about his other classes. You learned some more about Newt on that walk, a happy feeling bubbling to your chest as he divulged more to you. You learned that his brother’s name was Theseus and that he loved the color green. You learned that you weren’t his first friend at Hogwarts but had already made it onto his list of tolerable people. You scoffed at that, proclaiming that you’d make it onto a better list in due time. Newt assured you that it looked like it was heading that way. You spent the rest of the walk in awkward silence, wishing each other goodbye as you reached your class.

History of Magic couldn’t have gone by slower, especially with your teacher’s mundane voice. You breathed a sigh of relief as your class was dismissed. You sped out the door, realizing you and Newt had never set a plan as to where you would meet. Luckily that problem was solved as soon as it appeared.

Newt sat next to your class doorway, sleeping against the cool stone wall. You walked back to him, standing in front of him. You nudged his leg, prompting him to wake up, his eyes wide open in fear. It quickly faded as he looked up at you, worry replaced with a shy smile.

“Hey silly, you didn’t have to wait here.”

“I had the period off. Thought I’d- wait. Didn’t have anything else to do so, um-,” Newt picked at his fingers, awkwardness threatening to seem back into the conversation. 

“I- That was really sweet of you Newt. Honestly,” You offered him a hand, and he took it graciously. You hoisted him up and helped him pick his stuff off the ground.

“Ah, thanks (y/n),” The pair of you headed down to Defense Against The Dark Arts together, joking around.

As it turns out, Newt is really good at Defense Against The Dark Arts. Like, to an almost unfunny degree. You watched him in class, amazed as he completed task after task without a hitch. As he began to pack his things up, you leaned in to whisper, “Holy crap. When were you going to reveal you were an actual god at this?”

He just laughed you off, pulling at his tie. 

“I- I’m not a god. It just makes. Sense,” You nodded along as if you understood what he meant.

After class, you hung around for a little to finish writing some notes. Newt had been the only one to write comprehensible notes between the two of you, and you’d promised yourself you weren’t going to fail Charms as badly as you did last year.

“You think we could just… skip Astronomy?” Newt mumbled as you scribbled down words. You looked up, dumbfounded, pausing your writing to give Newt a wide-eyed stare.

“Did you just ask to- skip class? Who are you? And what have you done to Newt?” You point a finger at him accusingly, his face turning a bright red.

“I-! I just don’t like Astronomy that much. It’s- It’s not my cup of tea,” You still couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Out of all the classes, the one about space, space, is the one your new friend doesn’t like.

“Newt, you’re killing me here,” You groan, shoving your notes into a bag. Then the two of you proceed to haul ass to Astronomy.

The next couple of weeks went swimmingly, much to your delight. Your grades are up in classes, and you’ve grown considerably close to a certain green-eyed boy. You spent nearly every day together, he helped you with Defense Against The Dark Arts and Creature Care, and you kept him from jumping off the nearest tower because of Astronomy. Which was pretty easy, Newt just didn’t have the attention span to sit and stare at “dots in the sky,” as he so lovingly put it.

You found yourself drawn to him regardless. There was truly something about him. Maybe it was the way he’d laugh at your poorly constructed jokes, Maybe it was the way he’d cheer up when you sat next to him, his smile making the sun pale in comparison. Or maybe it was the way your fingers would brush against his, and he’d jump as if he’d seen a ghost, only to realize it was just you. Then he’d push his hand closer to yours, right until your hands were side by side. 

There was a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t explain, and it grew hotter when Newt was near. How you longed to chase that fiery feeling, put his lips against your own, hand in your hand.

But perhaps it would just be your little fantasy, nothing more.

You sat criss-cross on the stone floor of the Astronomy “classroom”. It was just a secluded area on a castle tower, without any kind of roof. There, your class would learn about stars while the late autumn winds pulled at your robes, tangling your ties. Newt was next to you, mirroring your seating position. His knees touched yours but neither of you felt like moving. The Astronomy professor was wrapping up class right about then, explaining your homework for the night. You leaned into Newt, his soft hair tickling your nose as you did. 

“Hey, Newt,” You whispered, taking your fingers and walking them down your leg. He hummed back in response, his eyes flickering to your fingers as they moved about.

“You wanna do something fun later?”

He gave you a side eye, a tired expression on his face. A couple of weeks with you, and you showed him just exactly what “fun” meant to you.

“If this fun activity involves sneaking out again, I think I’m going to pass (y/n).”

You groan, flopping your head onto his shoulder. You felt him tense underneath you, a sign that he was trying his hardest not to give into you.

“But I’ve got to show you something. Please? Pretty please?” You nudged him, causing him to exhale loudly. He brushed you off, an amused look on his face. “Alright. But if we get caught, you’re taking the blame,” He smiled his lopsided grin, pushing you playfully.

“Why, of course,” You shot back, an even bigger grin on your face.

Sneaking out after curfew was like second nature to you and Newt at this point. He’d been dragged along with you too many times to count that he’d picked up on your little tricks. The two of you tip-toed around the castle, Newt following you blindly as you still hadn’t explained where you were going.

“(y/n), you seriously can’t do this to me! Come on, where are we going?” He begged, making sure to keep his voice down. You kept quiet though, his pleas falling on deaf ears.

The two of you eventually reached your destination, the Astronomy tower. You turned back to Newt, whose face had fallen as he realized where the two of you were.

“Are you kidding me? (y/n), if this is your idea of a joke-” You stopped his ranting by grabbing his wrist and pulling him onto the floor. He tumbled awkwardly, and you winced, whispering an apology.

“Alright, I know you hate stars but, I’m a big fan of second chances. And you, my good sir, are the proud owner of a second chance tonight.” You pat the ground next to you as you lay down on the cold stone. The two of you had changed out of your uniforms, wearing casual sleeping clothes. The weather was nice tonight, with +a warm breeze blowing around the two of you.

Newt laid down next to you, his uninterested eyes panning across the vast sky.

“All I see is a whole lot of sky. Not really anything worth getting in trouble for.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. You and Newt were a couple of inches apart, yet you prayed he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of you in waves.

“I wanted to show you this constellation. It uh- it kinda reminded me of us,” Newt stayed quiet as he watched you lift your wand. You recited a spell you had memorized just a few hours prior, and to your surprise, it worked. A glowing light emitted from your wand, silky strands of white floated over your heads and arranged themselves in a pattern.

“See, the spell is supposed to show you a constellation. It shapes it out so everyone can see it,” You whispered, the dull light shining across your face.

Soon, it stopped in your desired form. Newt coughed uneasily, rubbing his nose. 

“Uh, what’s it supposed to be?”

“It’s Andromeda and Perseus. They’re part of an old Greek myth,” You murmured, your eyes entranced by the figure above you.

“He saved her from a sea monster, you know. She was supposed to be a human sacrifice to the monster, but he came in and saved her, and her people. They got married soon after, and had a girl.”

“Cassiopeia,” Newt muttered, his voice soft and quiet. You turned your head over to him, and he did the same. 

“What? I’m quite brushed up on Greek Mythology, I’ll have you know. Still doesn’t explain why you dragged me out here though,” He trailed off, a hard look in his eyes.

“Well, I just thought it was … romantic. Something for us to look at together, or something,” You shut your eyes in embarrassment, your attempt at woo-ing Newt going a little awry.

All you heard for the next few minutes was the wind, slowly dying down, and Newt’s slow, even breathing.

You peaked an eye, wondering if your friend had fallen asleep. He hadn’t, rather, he was looking up at the sky. The spell had worn off, leaving the two of you in darkness, the only light coming from the night sky.

“I don’t think that was very romantic, (y/n). You pretty much gave me a history lesson,” A light airiness was in Newt’s voice as he mock scolded you. He lifted a hand, pointing to a cluster of stars.

“There. That’s romantic. Those stars make a little heart. You should’ve shown me that instead,” Your face flushed, as you followed Newt’s line of sight. You shifted closer to him, your eyes struggling to find the simple shape.

“Newt, I don’t-,” You paused, feeling his warm hand enclose your own. You stopped speaking, your heart beating loudly in your ears. Your hand felt warm inside of Newt’s, safe. The two of you fit like puzzle pieces, finishing that grand picture. Your world spun, everything slowing and suddenly feeling right. This felt right. Newt felt right.

“(y/n), are you still having trouble finding it?” Newt’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it echoed in your skull.

“No, Newt. I think I found it. And you’re right, it’s much more romantic,” He smiled, squeezing your hand. And you smiled back, because it felt right.

[vintage-marina]

It's you

summary: It's basically little stories about how the reader came up in the box and adjusting in the Glade.

Female reader!

request by: @acupnoodle

hii!! since you write for tmr, could i have a minho and reader fic where she remembers his name when she wakes up in the glade, and no one knows why? maybe she has a locket or sumn he gave her before as well?? one day she has a nightmare and only he can calm her down, and later they find out they used to be together before?? Happy ending please!! sorry if its a bit chaotic 😅 Thanks!!!

wordcount: 5464

TW: nightmares, a bit deppresed, swearing

I changed it a bit, so it would fit in the story! Its angsty but also fluffy

Eyes flewing open you let out a startled shout. You moved your head to scan your surroundings.

Where the hell am I?

"Hello!" you screamed at no one, you tried to tear up the netting. "Hello! "

You were moving up, and it was going fast, what was going on?

This thing where you're in wasn't going to stop, deep down you knew it too.

"Fuck!"

It was then that you knew it would be fruitless, you put your hands in your hair and paced in the little box. Breathing a few times to deep, breathing a few times to shallow while mumbling panicking things.

"Shit!" you kicked a box in frustration. Splinters flew from the inpact and your feet went in the box, while rice spilled out.

Wait, no wait a minute.

You were surrounded by wooden boxes and carefully you pulled your foot out.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips, maybe there is a logo on them. Crouching down you searched for an answer, "Who put me here?" Your finger danced on the wood and you looked. After a few seconds you found it, the bold black letters staring right in front of you.

W.I.C.K.E.D

That's really assuring.

But before you could mull it over the roof of the lift disappeared and you were met with the blasting sun.

You squeeshed your y/e/c eyes, noticing people around you.

"It's a girl.. " someone with a boyish voice said.

"No way!"

"Dipps on her!"

Two boys jumped in the box beside you, quickly you stepped backwards having the wall pressed against your back. You touched the woven chocker that clung on your neck in nervousness, it almost felt natural to do this.

"Stay back!" you hurled, switfly pickup up a lose plank.

"I said-"

The boys lifted their hands in surrender, "Hey we aren't going to hurt you. " The boy had a funny accent, it sounded familiar like you already heared it before.

Another boy with blond hair rolled his eyes and folded his arms, simply grabbing you by the arm and dragging you out of the box. Quickly you grapped the plank even tighter and whacked him a few times with it, the people around you started laughing.

"Shucking hell greenie, you have to do that?"

Despite the fact that you were scared, almost peed your pants in the Box you surprisingly survived the day. Newt, yes that's his name showed you around the Glade with the leader Alby. Supposedly that's what they call it the Glade, you stuck besides them the whole day. They were like water and fire, while Alby was harsh and strict Newt was more kind and no that doesn't mean laidback. You knew after a day they both valued order and following the rules.

It was still sunny, but you smelled the aroma of dinner. The three of you walked away from the animals and the scent of grass filled in your nose.

"So if I got it right, every month new supplies and a new person," they both nodded while continuing walking. "And you guys don't know who?"

"No, we don't." Alby said.

Lifting your brows, "Well I thought it's W.I.C.K.E.D. do you want to know why?"

"No," he said again. "We know that W.I.C.K.E.D is sending us here, but who are they behind the name? That's what whe want to know."

Suddenly feeling utter ridiculous, you looked at the ground. "Yeah, I guess so," the three of you fell in a silent for a bit.

"Do you already-"

"It is really asocial to put people in here without memory, which douchebags does that?"

"Yeah," mumbled the two of them.

"And don't go into those creepy looking, really tall walls where you hear sometimes whirring if you're not a Runner, am I right?"

"Yep."

"Do your part, no time for not doing anything. Never harm any Glader bla bla bla."

Hearing feet pattering on the ground you met with the black eyes of a boy, he looked confused why a girl was in the Maze but quickly he gave a smirk. He ran to the side of Newt and folded his arm around his shoulder and pressed Newt against him. He just came back from the Map Room where he had drawn the route he sprinted during the day and you couldn't help but notice that he was cute, very cute and sweaty.

"Thanks mate, I really appreaciate your sweaty pit." Newt grimached and pushed him away, that earned a scoff from the boy.

"It's the sweat of champions, I would appreciate it too if I were you." He gave a lopsided smile and talked a bit with Alby and Newt. The Homestead was coming closer and after a bit of chatting the boy tore his gaze from Newt and Alby and focused on you.

"You're.." he paused for a moment, not really knowing what to say. Lifting a brow you kept his gaze. "You're a girl," he stated.

"Good eyesight," he couldn't help but notice the sarcasm dripping of your tone.

"Thanks, I have a gift to spot pretty things," with only that the converstation ended. Leaving you spluttered with warm cheeks and him with an amused glint in his eyes. It was like he had the last word. Then his gaze shifted to your neck, a woven necklace from thin rope clung tightly around it. It was worn you could easily see the oldness behind it, it almost whispered the tale why you wore it. Somehow an unfamiliar feeling crept up in his belly, it was confusing. He only knew you for a few minutes, but that necklace felt familiar. He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away, it's shucking ridiculous.

When he tore his gaze off from you, something gnaged at you. Something that you couldn't place. Still, you kept looking at him trying to figure out what was bothering you.

Minho.

As quick as that name went off in your head, as quick went it away. Why did you know his name before he said anything?

"I'm Minho, by the way. Do you remember your name already newbie?"

Wow, you must be really good at guessing people their names, but something deep inside of you raised the alarmbells.

You wanted to answer, but no you still didn't know your name. What the hell, you know your curse words but not even your fucking name?

Panic crawled up from your toes to your throat, licking and burning like it's fire. Alby easily spotted your panic, giving a firm shove at Minho. "It's normal for newbies that they don't know their name, but don't worry it will come back." He said giving his rare smiles at you.

The chattering of the boys became louder and the four of you arrived just in time for dinner! You picked up a plate and scooped hot pulled pork with vegetables on it. The sight from it made you mouth water and you questioned who made this delicious meal. You turned around and your face fell into a slight frown.

The boys were eating disgusting, you grimaced.

The other three already sat down. Scanning the room you looked for a place to sit, insecurity bloomed in your body. Did someone even want you to join their table? Unsure what to do you dwelled on the fact that you felt horribly out of place. You were the only girl surrounded with boys, who wouldn't feel out of place? Shifting from leg to leg, you looked outside into the forest.

But Newt quickly pulled you out of your thoughts and waved you over and you gladly accepted it.

"Bloody Hell, for a moment we thought that you would eat standing. "

You gave a small 'smirk', hoping that they wouldn't notice your doubt.

"Ofcourse not," you casually said while sitting on the bench next to Minho. "I was just admiring the view."

"Yeah the view is absolutely beautiful," rolling his eyes Minho took a bite from his food.

-

You quickly became familiar with everyone and after a few weeks of trying out the jobs you found out that being a Med Jack and a part timer Garderner suited you the best. You spent most days learning new technics and you even requisted a book about plants from the Creators (that's what the other Gladers called W.I.C.K.E.D I guess.). The 'free' time when there weren't any injured Gladers, you found yourself with your hands in the ground planting and nursing your medical plants.

"You shank!" You pushed Clint away. "You almost made me dropped this!" For extra dramatic purposes you pushed the beeswax almost up to his nose while you heard Jeff laughing.

Your integration went pretty well, you easily picked up the strange curse words and after a few days you learned your name.

Y/N.

Everyone knew the first aid post, it was a large wooden shack that laid near the west wall of the Maze and everyone knew that you worked there. And so in the first few weeks of your career the stream of wounded Gladers kept coming.

"We never have seen so many injuries in such a short time," Jeff noticed. You only had a few seconds to put down your beeswax before he poked at your sides. "They just want to be treated by the oh so pretty Y/N!"

Grumbling some curse words at him you swatted his hands away while Clint made kissing noises.

"Stop it! Both of you!"

"But Y/N, you're so easy to make fun off!" Clint said.

Pushing his head away you walked to the sink to disinfect your hands while picking up two jars. One was empty and the other was filled with calendula oil, after disinfecting the empty one you simply ignored Clint and Jeffs tantics.

The three of left eachother alone after that and you thanked the Creators that you finally had the time to make the calendula ointment. Picking up the jars you brought them to the stove where you melted the beeswax, it was a calming experience after nursing a lot of boys. After two weeks you noticed that a lot of them did it on purpose and you sended most of them of to Jeff and Clint, "who have much more experience" you told to them with a sly smile.

The creaking of the door pulled you out of your thoughts and a bruised Minho stepped inside. Putting down the stuff you washed your hands again while barking: "Sit!" to him.

While you were surprised that he took your advice, Clint en Jeff shared a look.

The teenager was under the small cuts and blood trickled out of some gashes. The med-box was in no time in your hands and you crouched down, "Do you have any more injuries than just your face?"

"No."

You gave Jeff and Clint a look that said: "Am I the right person?"

They both nodded.

For some weird reason the past few days you couldn't look him in the eyes. Maybe he was to pretty or something and you were still hurt.

He couldn't meet your eyes either, well that was a first. He thought that if he looked you straight in the eye, you could see what he was thinking and yeah that would be really awkward for the both of you. And so he focused his gaze on your woven necklace, the weeks that you lived here he thought about it. The only thing that felt familiar for the first time while he arrived so many years ago in the Glade. He wanted to touch it, maybe then he could figure out why this thing was bothering him so much, but deep down he knew that would be fruitless.

He felt your hand resting on his shoulder to steady yourself and immediately the place went on fire. He coughed in embarrassment and you looked him in the eye for a second before breaking it, feeling a bit shy maybe, no hurt? He didn't know, but he didn't ask, too afraid that you retorted the question back. Last week he came to the realisation that you were pretty and that he wanted to be near you. And so in his logically mind he decided to avoid you.

What an idiot, isn't he?

The stinging sensation brought his mind back to the real world and he mumbled an: "Ow that hurt!"

You were dabbing an cottonpad with some anti-bacterial liquid on it and you weren't really careful with it.

"That's what you getting from ignoring me, stupid."

"I'm sorry but some people have to do actually important jobs", he flashed you a smile.

Narrowing your eyes, you sighed irritably: "Shut up."

"You wish."

But the two of you dropped the subject and didn't mention it anymore.

-

You were still bothered by it, and you didn't know what to think of it. Why did you know Minho's name before your own? It was weird, really, really weird and to be honest you thought about it daily. You got from W.I.C.K.E.D (no, the Creators) some dark blue dungarees that you put on when you were in the Gardens and instead of whispering some lovingly words to your plants, you were thinking about him.

With his stupid but cute face.

Wait no, with his stupid face.

If someone found out that you thought Minho was handsome than your life would be truly over.

You were still mad at him tho, he ignored you for a whole week! What was wrong with that guy?

Anyways back to the main topic, his name. While you thought about it, the sun was scorching on your back while sweat dripped on your back.

Fuck, it's hot.

No matter how long you thought about it, you couldn't think of an answer and so the logically answer was to annoy Newt with this information.

"So you knew his name the second you saw his face?" he said in disbelief. Holding his hoe even tighter.

You nodded.

"Bloody hell Y/N, how?"

"How am I supposed to know, shank?"

-

A new Greenie arrived, you were now two months in the Glade.

Stars were twinkling in the night sky and the heath of the bonfire licked at your body. Boys were laughing and chattering and some were even dancing from the high of Gally's stoken alcohol. You couldn't judge them, the beverage was really strong and nursing a glass in your hand you looked at Gally who invited the Greenie to fight.

Ah shit, you thought. It didn't really ended well with the two of you while you wrestled on your Bonfire, leaving you with a bloody nose and a bruised body. While he couldn't see out of his eye for the whole week, oh how you felt so proud to see him with a black eye.

Standing up you walked to the circle while everbody stood with anticipation who would win. Gally was stronger that's for sure, shoving the Greenie towards the outercircle but after a few minutes it was him who laid on the ground while the Greenie supported a small smirk.

Quickly nudging Minho and Newt you gave them a laugh, maybe Gally would finally lose. Then he swiped his leg and the new guy fell on the ground with his head falling hard on the dirt. He groaned for a moment but then a light bulb went off, mumbling something under his breath.

With a look full of disbelief he stood up, "Thomas." Turning around he said it again. "I remember my name, I'm Thomas!"

"Thomas!" Alby cheered and the rest of the boys including you whooped and hollored.

When everything quieted down, Minho and you sat on a wooden bench. It was quiet between the two of you, unable to control the nervousness in your stomach you watched the fire curling up.

"How do you even got that?" He suddenly asked.

"What?" You said back to him, now your gaze resting on his face. The fire gave his skin a nice hue.

"That," he leaned forward and touched the woven necklace that you always wore. His face was a few centimetres away from you and feeling his breath fanning up in your neck made your stomach doing flipflops.

The necklace was made of straw at least that's what Minho thought, by the looks of it the maker wasn't really good but whatever, it was cute.

"I dont know, I wore it since I came up in the box. Maybe it was really important to me before I came here," a whisper, you didn't dare to speak louder than a whisper in fear that he could hear your nervousness.

"It suits you," he whispered while leaning back. "Shank," he said with a grin.

And poof the romantic air was gone, crossing your arms you sarcastically said: "Gee thanks, thought that we had something goin' on."

-

Your back was pressed hard against the three, the prickly bark against your skin made you feel grounded. In these two months you loved the night scenery more than the day, the sun was just too bright and just a tad more orange than you remembered. It gave you a shiver along your back when you thought too much of it. With the recent events that happened in the Glade, your uneasiness grew and grew (even more than you had arrived.).

Your nails dug in the palm of your hands, while Minho raised a brow.

"Are you okay, slinthead?"

Could you say it to him? What your thoughts were about those recent events, about Thomas? You mindlessy tugged at your necklace.

Would Minho become mad?

The thought about him getting mad maked you sad, but you had too tell him hoping that he would ease your mind and so you spoke with hesitation.

"Something shifted when Thomas arrived here," the two of you had to whisper because the others were already asleep.

Opening his mouth Minho wanted to say something, something to defend Thomas.

"Are you getting on his back now too Y/N?" you could hear the irritation slipping out.

"No! Ofcourse not!"

He didn't look at you, tossing a small rock, "Yeah right."

Shaking your head your thoughts were running lapses, why would he think that?

Standing up the fallen leaves crushed underneath Minho's shoes, "I think I'm going to sleep, enjoy your night." With that he left you alone.

His steps were louder than he hoped, still angry at the situation that happened a few seconds ago. Why are you accusing Thomas for all these things? Whacking the mosquitoes away his mood became worse.

"Shucking things."

"Minho wait!"

He walked further, he could see the outlines of the Homestead. Just a few minutes walking and then he could finally sleep, finally!

"Minho!" your voice was louder and you tucked at his arm. He turned around and met your E/C eyes. "Let me explain," you begged to him.

He didn't said anything but he didn't walk away either and so you talked. "In these few days that he's here with the girl, he became my friend too!"

Oof that sounded a bit too defensive.

"Alright that came out wrong, I care about him and her but I'm talking about Thomas right now. Ever since he got here the dynamic of the group feels off, some like him and some find him suspicious like Gally." taking a breath you continued. "Just because I consider him a friend doesn't mean I can turn a blind eye to what happens here right now!" you kicked at a metal beetle that walked on the leaves and dirt.

He scowled at your accusation but held his mouth.

"First that girl Teresa, then Ben that was stung by those disgusting Grievers and-and," tears stung in your eyes and you took a deep breath. "And a few days ago you, Alby and Thomas were stuck in the Maze, I was.." A few tears fell on your cheeks, hugging yourself you looked at the ground. "I- uh I thouht you were going to die and I was so- I was so scared, Minho."

His gaze softend and he touched your shoulder in comfort. "Well I'm still here, am I?"

You wiped with the back of your hand your tears away, "and I didn't know what to do and I'm scared.." you couldn't even finish your sentence before you started sobbing.

He pulled you in for a hug and you grabbed firmly a piece of his shirt, "I'm sorry," you whispered again and again. Although he was still irritated at your accusation his heart broke after seeing you cry, he petted the back of your hair soothingly and he reassured you.

"It's okay."

He had seen you cry before, he calmed you before and he stood by while your other friends consoled you, you even consoled him a few times but he never saw you so upset like now.

"I'm not blaming Thomas you know," you mumbled in his shirt after a few minutes. "It's just I think somehow Thomas is a piece of something we don't know yet, something bigger than us, something more influential. I think he catalyzed something when he arrived in the Box. I'm sorry I shouldn't have attacked him like that."

"And I should've heard you out, are you good again?"

"Yeah," the two of you let eachother go and the both of you walked to the Homestead.

"Sorry that I cried on your shirt."

"It's alright shank, it's like a little souvenir."

He admired your smartness, in that moment.

-

The morning came too quick and the day went too slow, you didn't slept for one second that night and Clint and Jeff were doing their best to keep you awake. The three of you took shifts about stacking the supplies, caring for the still unconcious Teresa and Alby.

He was still panicky telling things about the Flare (what is that?) and he told you things about Thomas that made your stomach drop.

What did he mean that you worked with the enemy? It's not like you could ask him, he wouldn't even remember it and so you store the information away for a next time.

You didn't like how this was going at all.

Washing your hands in the sink you watched your appearance carefully, the bags under your eyes growing with the day. A sign that you slept badly, it's not like you didn't want to sleep but you were plagued with nightmared after what happened with him.

Him.

Minho.

You were terrified that day, already thinking the worst. For the rest of the day you couldn't even work only thinking about them. You cried for the first time yourself to sleep that night.

You shifted your gaze away, it was time for work.

You checked the vitals of Alby who stared ahead of him and changed the bandages on the fresh wounds. "You're wounds are healing fine, Alby. How is your neck feeling?"

"Sore," he grumbled.

"Shall I get you an ice pack?

"Yes that's fine."

When you got back he gratefully took it and oressed it lightly on his bruise. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, you shift wasn't over.

"You and Minho huh..-" he said slowly.

"Yeah what's with us?" You shot up out of your chair after almost felling asleep.

"You two were a cute couple."

What, what did he mean by that?

You and him were a couple?

That would be impossible you knew him for two months!

"What do you mean by that?"

"Like I just said!" He didn't gave any room to ask more questions.

He pointed at your necklace and said further: "He woved that necklace for you."

He didn't talk further, but a soft smile graced your feautures.

-

Everyone laid in their hamacs, the stars were twinkling in the night sky. Some were fast asleep were others were still chatting with eachother, you stared at the stars.

Looking at them gave you in a strange way hope, a new beginning, to be free. Because let's be honest everyone here including you is trapped. But you weren't awake to marvel at the sky, no you were confused by what Alby said.

Minho and you were according to him in a relationship.

That didn't make any sense.

But why did you felt so comfortable around him?

Why did he make you so nervous and so relaxed, like you were high on a kite? High on love, was that possible?

And could it be that you had a life before the Glade?

A life where you were with Minho, did you even had parents? Siblings? Maybe even a pet? Did Minho take you to the cinema? You knew what they were, but you couldn't remember if you ever watched a movie in there. Did you had friends, people who you cared for other than the ones in the Glade?

It made you sad that you couldn't remember one thing from your past.

Did your parents love you?

A deep gnaching hole appeared in your heart when you thought about your family. You didn't even know if you had any.

But what Alby said, if this was true than you knew Alby before you were sent in the Glade. Does that mean what Gally said about Thomas that it was true?

That he couldn't be trusted?

You didn't knew him long, but you could tell that he was trustworthy. Maybe he changed after he lost his memory, because you couldn't no you wouldn't believe that this was for pretend and he was still his 'old self'.

You softly smiled at yourself if it was really true that Minho and you were together, does that mean it can still happen?

You tried to stay awake but with those thoughts you fell in a deep sleep.

It was a sunny day and you could smell the freshky rained grass and the flowers from the Homestead. Today should be a nice day, a good day to take care of your plants. You didn't want to think about what happened yesterday, to the Runner Ben. That boy didn't deserve that fate, but he tried to kill Thomas and that can't be tolerated. You faintly smelled the blood on your flowers, it made you sick.

Hours and hours long you sat still as a mouse by your plants, you only watered them after each quarter. The thick red liquid splashed down on your plants giving them a freshly new colour. The artificial sun set down, that gave your sight a slight blur, it was time for dinner. With blood coating on your shoes you walked to the Homestead, leaving bloody imprints in the green grass.

No one was there, but when you looked at the West Door suddenly you understood. You were there in a second, everyone was huddled in a circle screaming supportive things. Time literally stood still, tears pooled in your eyes. The walls were closing and there he was Minho, holding an unconcious Alby. Looking to the ground a small puddle of your tears were beneath your feet while dried flowers floated in the waters mixed with the blood on your shoes. You could've swore you saw the same blood coated on the walls in the Maze. You looked at them again, the boys next to you were faceless.

They weren't going to make it, Minho looked exhausted with dirt smeared across his face and small cuts on his body but Alby looked even worse. Orange bumps appeared on his body, suddenly the walls were covered in them too and at the same time they were leaking. The ground was slippery and Minho almost fell (or did he trip because he was too exhausted?). Suddenly the orange bumps where gone and before the walls could close Thomas wormed himself to them and then nothing, you couldn't see them anymore.

Everyone was away, you sat alone by the wall. You didn't know for how long, eyes red and puffy you stared blanky forwards.

They were going to die.

You scrunched your brows and you couldn't help but sobbing again. With trembling hands you covered your whails in the hope that nobody would notice. Newt walked up to you with two warm plates, he himself didn't looked very well either. Two persons crying with eachother while trying to eat their food, that was friendship.

Tears flow in your hammock, the thought of them of Minho being gone made you feel hopeless. Your breathing was to quick and your nose was stuffed with snot. With trembling hand you gribbed at your hair in frustration. Why couldn't you, why couldn't you switch-

"Y/N,"

Someone called out your name, was that Minho's ghost to say goodbye?

"Y/N?" someone was shoving you hard.

"Y/N!"

With a hard gasp you woke up, sitting in a second upright. Startling the chubby boy, he took a step backwards.

"You were-were crying and I had to wake you up. Because you were waking everyone up,"he said with a cheeky grin. He promply got a shove from Newt.

Where's Minho?

Is he allright?

Eyes wide, breathing frantic, you looked around, Only these two were awake and if you weren't in such a state you would say something to Chuck.

"You alright Y/N? Nightmare?"

You nodded still not sure if your voice would be steady, but Minho. Is he still in the Maze? Your sleepy brain forgot that he was already back.

"Minho," you croaked out, your throat feeling like sandpaper.

"He is fine, I promise you." Newt spoke to you, he knew that Minho was important to you. But when he didn't get the answer he was hoping for he walked a way to retrieve him, fuck his sleep right?

Chuck sat next to you on your hammock, mumbling stories in the hope that you would feel okay. You couldn't feel okay, only if you knew if Minho was safe.

"Minho," Newt shaked his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

Slowly blinking for a few seconds, he woke up. The sky was still dark and he rolled his eyes at the boy with the accent. "What?"

He pushed himself upwards and sat on his hammock, rubbing his eye boogers away. "This better be important, dude."

"Your girl needs you, you slinthead. She's all shaken up from a nightmare, Chuck is now with her." Newt whispered to him.

Suddenly he woke up, he choose to ignore Newt's words about you being his girl. If he stood still by his words, he would like that but now wasn't the time. He walked fastly through the sleeping boys and his heart broke again when he heard your crying for the second time in the last few days.

Something really has shaking you up and he knew exactly what, he couldn't help but beat himself up for getting stuck in the Maze. Not knowing that it would destroy you. Your hammock came in his sight and he quickend his pace.

"Hey, Y/N," he whispered placing his hand on your shoulder. Chuck seeing his liberation quickly stood up and mumbled a quiet goodnight and walked though his hammock.

You placed your hand above his and a broken laugh and sob came out of your mouth.

"Minho, you're safe."

"I can't leavemy girl behind, can't I?" he said with a small laugh but he quickly wiped his own tears away when you didn't look.

Newt tiptoed away to his own bed, seeing that the situation was under control, a small smirk on his face. Minho wouldn't see the end of it, surely.

You embraced him, that he gladly welcomed. The two of you sitting now on your hammock while your hand sneaked through his hair. Your breathing now normal. "I thought you were stuck in the Maze again," you whispered only for him to hear. "I had a nightmare about that day."

"I have them too after my adventure," he whispered honestly back.

He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and in the heat of the moment you planted a kiss at the top of his head. His body froze and you hoped that he wouldn't reject you, but to your surprise he quickly relaxed again and the two of you cuddled for a few minutes without saying a word.

"Hey Minho," you grabbed his attention. "Do you want to know what Alby told me today?" Looking into his eyes, you searched for an answer.

"Sure tell me."

"He told me," suddenly you grew nervous. What if he didn't like what you are going to say?

"He told you what?" He shook you out of your thoughts and you didn't meet his eyes.

"He told me," you took a deep breath. "He told me we were a couple before all this."

You thought he would laugh, that it would be ridiculous but instead he gave you a warm smile. "Really?" He said in disbelief.

"Really and that you woved this necklace for me."

Oops, he couldn't believe that he tought that his own necklace was ugly. Anyways.

"Alby told you that?"

"Yes, he did."

And before you could say anything again, he hyped himself up and looked at you. You really are beautiful. With his tumb and his indexfinger he grabbed your chin and looked at your lips. "May I?"

"Yes, you may."

He gave a sweet but short kiss on your lips and after the two of you departed you felt your face become hot. "Now sleep," he demanded. "The last few days you look like a zombie."

"So kind are you," you shot back but you didn complain. Instead you were laying down and you pulled him with you. "Only if you stay," you said with a cheeky smile.

"I couldn't even climb out even if I wanted to."

The two of you laid down and quickly fell asleep with the soft snoring of the other Gladers as background music. The two of you were going to be bullied relentlessly, but you didn't care.

Your fears were now calmed down even if it was for a bit, but you couldn't ask for more.

-

Comments are appreciated!

[seungsvoid]

TAINTED THRONE | thomas (the maze runner)

pairing — thomas x male! reader

summary — since the first day in the maze, y/n’s been getting weird visions. his mind is rattled with them until a greenie a year later pops out of the box like he owns the place. y/n’s visions only get worse from there and as thomas builds himself a reputation in the glade, y/n struggles with everything he thought he knew about himself.

word count — 1335

warnings — cursing, suicide attempt (not really), violence and gore. sexual content references but nothing explicit.

chapters — previous next

SWEAT GATHERED ALONG HIS BROW, small pants escaping his lips as he limped toward the entrance/exit of the Maze. He had injured himself last week but was trying his best to not let it get to him. Some of the other runners were behind Y/n, all of them wondering how he were still faster than them with a hurt leg. "Almost there guys. Minho's group is meeting us in the map room." He called out behind him.

He exited the maze, noticing Alby talking to someone he didn't recognize at first glance. However, when he got closer to the person, he halted in his steps before he almost fell to the ground. He ushered the other runners to go ahead of him so that he could talk to Alby. "What's up, Shuckface?" He slung an arm around the (taller/shorter) male, all while trying to inconspicuously study the new boy.

"I told you not to call me that, Runaway."

Y/n looked up at him with a soft — yet joking — glare before he looked back at the Greenie. He was (taller/shorter) than Y/n for sure, his eyes were a light blue and several freckles and moles were scattered across his face. His hair was a mixture of being black and brown. He was really good looking.

"Who's this?" Y/n asked, hoping the Greenie would answer rather than Alby. He could sense that the Greenie was hesitant on answering him but Y/n gave him a reassuring look that said he could tell him. "Thomas. My names Thomas."

Y/n gave an amused hum but soon something came rushing through him. He had to hold his head and squeeze his eyes shut. Thomas looked to Alby with wide eyes. He was confused.

"This happens sometimes. Go get Newt, Greenie." Thomas simply nodded before hurriedly running off to find the British boy he had become aquatinted with already. Newt was standing by the gardens, talking animatedly with one of the other Gladers as Thomas approached him. He was slightly out of breath but the blonde still understood what he was trying to tell him.

Y/n lay on the ground now, his eyes wide with what appeared to be either fear, recollection, or both. His chest rose and fell heavily while Alby was squatted next to him, trying to get him to calm down. He wouldn't though.

Scattered memories were making their way through his surface but there was one that just stuck out to him. It was one of the same ones he had the first day in the Glade.

A lady peers down at him, her blonde hair creating a halo that made the younger him think she was to be an angel - only if she hadn't been the one prodding him with needles - and a smile that seemed to be unsettling yet sweet, and comforting at the same time. "Y/n? Can you hear me?" He felt himself nod and before he even had the chance to utter a word, another needle was stuck into his skin and the lady brushed a baby hair away from his face.

“Good. That's good. You won't be down there for too long. Thomas – he'll come down soon after. You won't remember him but that’s the whole point. All you have to remember, Y/n, is that Wicked is good."

"Y/n, never forget. Wicked is good."

Y/n shuddered, moving to sit on his knees with his head between his hands. Shocked gasps fell from his lips and even Newt couldn't calm the (e/c) eyed boy down when he finally came over. When a certain name came from the boy, Alby whipped his head to Thomas, his eyes holding a burning fire. "You. Talk to him."

Thomas pointed to himself confusedly to which Alby rolled his eyes. "Yes you, slinthead! Talk to him."

Thomas didn't know what he would be able to accomplish by talking to Y/n but he was already on Alby's bad side, he didn't want to get deeper in it. So, the blue eyed boy crouched down to him and placed a band on his shoulder, prompting him to flinch slightly.

“Uhm hi –" Newt mouthed 'Y/n' and Thomas nodded, "Y/n. It's Thomas. Are you okay?" Y/n shuddered and shook his head. "What's wrong?" Thomas didn't know how to handle this situation; he assumed he wasn't very good at comforting people.

"I - I remember...."

Thomas looked to the others, his exterior still showing that he was confused. Newt placed his hand on Y/n’s other shoulder. "What do you remember Y/n?"

It took him a moment to reply but Y/n spoke with a shaky voice, "Him. I remember Thomas."

———

Y/n lay on one of the makeshift beds in the homestead, completely unconscious. At the end of his bed sat Newt with a frown plastered on his face. His eyebrows were drawn together tightly as he tried to think of why Y/n would be the only one that was able to get his memories back without getting stung, which before him, was the only way anyone could get their memory back, or at least parts of it.

A knock on the wooden door pulled the former Runner from his thoughts and he turned to look at Alby who offered a tight lipped smile to the second in command. He stepped further into the room and behind him came Thomas who was looking rather upset. "What's he doing here?" Newt stood up and looked as if he was about to attack the new Greenie. "Woah, calm down, Newt. He just wanted to come see Y/n." It took the blonde a moment to allow it but he eventually nodded, albeit reluctantly, and settled back at the end of the bed. Newt had been the closest with with Y/n after Nick's death - which hadn't been that long ago - but he was still extremely protective over the boy; just as Nick had been. He was trying to protect him from something that might've as well been way beyond Newt.

Thomas slowly walked over to Y/n’s bed and sat in one of the chairs placed next to it. An idea popped in his head but he didn't want to risk Newt jumping him. Despite his rather small frame, he looked strong and Thomas didn't know what he, himself, looked like so he didn't want to try him. Instead, he spoke his idea to the two leaders.

"What if I touch his hand? I was just thinking that.. maybe whatever he’s thinking could be transferred to me somehow?" He said a little nervously but still tried his best to look them in the eyes. Alby exchanged a look with Newt and the two of them nodded. "Go ahead." Thomas took a deep breath, reaching out and taking Y/n’s hand in his own. It was slightly cold compared to his warm one but he tried to ignore it as he closed his eyes.

Y/n looked up at Thomas with a light hearted smile as he leaned down to whisper something in Y/n’s ear. Thomas didn't know what he had said but it caused a light blush to cross over the other boy’s cheeks. He (stood up on his tip toes/ pulled Thomas down) to brush some of his dark hair away from his forehead so he could see his blue eyes properly. "You know, you're in desperate need of a haircut, Tommy." Thomas saw himself laugh, a genuine laugh as well, which made him wonder how close the two of them really were. Whenever this was.

"But then you can't play with my hair, Y/n/n."

Y/n smiled and (leaned up again/pulled Thomas down) but this time to plant his lips on Thomas’. What came next made Thomas quickly open his eyes. Even though it was him, he felt weird for seeing that, as if it hadn't even been him doing those actions in the first place. "You alright there, Greenie?" Thomas looked up at Alby with a shaky breath.

“Yeah.. Yeah I’m okay.”

tags — @bxckbexk @itstuneshere @fitzells @grfields

[bells-stories]

NEWT X READER

Project Griever (Wattpad bells_stories)

Snippet From Chapter 7

Y/n has a hard Time forgiving Newt after what he did……

"Alright as in you forgive me?"

"No. But you can earn forgiveness. Teach me how to watch these clothes." I say and he chuckles.

"Good that. Alright then you want to gently move your clothes up and down the washboard and make sure you have water and soap as well so you can actaully clean them." He says and I start up again and he shakes his head disappointedly. "No no not like that." He moves down into the mud and close to me. He takes my hand in his  and pushes it up and down guiding my hand. I can feel his breath right next to my left cheek and I can feel his heart beat through my back. I feel a blush creeping onto my face and push the thoughts away remembering how I was still supposed to be upset with him. But he makes that impossible.

"Like that?" I ask breathlessly and turn to face him. His face millimeters away from my face.

"Just like that love." He says and he notices his mistake but before he corrected himself I say:

"Don't. I like when you call me that I was just being pissy." I said smiling to myself.

"I know." He says and he turns to look at me. I freeze and look into his eyes, the way the morning sun reflects on them makes them seem golden and he pushes my hair behind my ear and I turn away before anything else can happen.

"I think I'm good now." I say cursing myself that I'm pushing him away but it's necessary in order for him to know that forgiveness is not that easy.

"Mhm perhaps." he says and he gets up and walks away. I looked at his leaving silhouette confusingly and question him.

"That's it?"

"Give me a minute." He replied and I'm even more confused as ever. However I keep washing my clothes. Just as I finished Newt came back with two plates of food. "Sorry 'bout that darling, had to wait a little for Fry to finish." He says. "Breakfast. Enjoy before the meeting. Cheers!" He says and raises up his food. I laugh but then cringe knowing that I forgot about the meeting completely. Note to self: take smaller sips of Gally's concoction.

"I forgot about that. Gally's drink is no joke." I say holding my head from this headache that won't go away.

"Oh trust me I know. One time I drank a whole flask of that bloody thing. Ended up naked somewhere in the deadheads." He laughs to himself and before I can think I reply with:

"I wish I could've seen that." And I gasp a little knowing what I just said. Newt didn't take any notice to that and replied.

"Never say never." He winked right at me and I felt my cheeks go hot. Newt and I ate in peaceful silence after that until I spoke again.

Read more here 👇:

[valkyriepirate]

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Christmas at Hogwarts

Summary:  Christmas has come and the students at Hogwarts have returned to their homes for the break. All except you, a Seventh Year Muggleborn staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re feeling quite lonely- that is, until your friend Newt Scamander finds you in the dining hall by the fire. Soon you realize that Christmas may be far more magical than you’d hoped. 

Warnings: Fluff overload. :)

Word count: 3.6k words 

A/N: I know I’m posting this fic wayyy after Christmas, but it’s always Newt Scamander season in my heart and I couldn’t resist. ;D

#5- Christmas at Hogwarts

The fire was your only company in all of Hogwarts that night.  

It blazed and crackled in the grate, warm and inviting as a dear friend. You scooted closer, shivering even underneath your thick coat. Your hands seemed incapable of warming up. No matter how close you held them to the fire, the warmth declined to accompany you for long. It was too painful a reminder of your family; like them, the heat pushed you away if you got too close, threatening to sear your skin. Yet too far and it felt like there was not a fire burning at all.  

You swallowed your respite. It was Christmas Eve, and Hogwarts was decorated beautifully- golden tinsel strung along the window frames, evergreen wreaths with large acorns and red bows adorning the doors, and even an enormous pine tree set up in the corner, clothed in a myriad of twinkling lights and shining ornaments. But the décor was just another reminder of how alone you were. Everyone in your House had returned home to loving families and abundant gifts for Christmas- all except you.  

You pulled your (Y/H) scarf tighter, rubbing your face with the soft cloth as you tried to thaw your freezing skin. You refused to let any tears fall. Yes, you were alone, but it was Christmas. There was solace in the good memories you had of years past, and no matter how desolate things seemed, you always felt that the magic in the air was stronger this time of year.  

You had taken to drawing miniature snowmen in the fireplace cinders with your wand when you felt it: something small and warm brushing against your leg. Startled, you looked to the side but saw nothing. Then the same sensation rubbed against your other leg. As you turned, a furry little creature poked its head out from underneath your coat. It looked like a fluffy platypus, with a pink bill, pale feet, and tiny curved claws.  

“Well hello, little fella,” you said, scooping the creature into your hands. It was incredibly soft. “Where did you come from?”

The creature purred as you stroked it tenderly, gazing up at you with shimmering black eyes. You laughed in delight as it scurried up your arm and snuggled between your scarf and your neck.

“Cold, are you?” You tucked in both ends of your scarf, creating a scooped blanket for the creature. “There. Is that better?”

It nuzzled into your neck and you laughed again as its fur tickled you. It was possible it escaped from one of the classrooms, but you didn’t feel the need to return it anywhere- at least, not for now. You felt the weight on your heart begin to lessen. Maybe you wouldn’t be so alone on Christmas Eve after all.  

“Teddy?”

You craned your head around at the familiar voice. You hadn’t heard anyone enter the main hall- in fact, you had been sure you were the only one left in the whole building. As you wondered who it could be, a boy with a swath of ruddy hair emerged from the hall.

“Teddy? Don’t be a scoundrel. I better not catch you stealing any-” The boy stopped when he saw you. “Oh. (Y/N). I didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here either, Newt,” you said, a smile creeping up your face. The presence of your longtime friend was an even greater relief to your solemnity. “What are you doing here?”

He shifted, pulling at his bright yellow Hufflepuff scarf. “I-I came to find Teddy.”

“He’s with me,” you said, patting your scarf. “But I mean, why are you here- not at home with your family? It’s Christmas Eve.”

He didn’t speak for a long time. Eventually he said, “I... may have missed the last train.”

You gaped at him, a disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “You missed the last train? How?”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes. It occurred to you that maybe he had been withheld from boarding for an unknown reason.  

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I guess it’s just nice not to be alone.” When he didn’t reply, you offered, “Want to sit with me?”

His eyebrows twitched up as if you’d given him an umbrella on a bleak rainy day. Newt was undoubtedly much different than the rest of your friends- he was so incredibly gentle and humble in a way that was rare to find in anyone else. He was always generous in his kindness, but the moment even the smallest kindness was offered him back, he was so unprepared that it almost made you want to laugh.  

He came and sat down a little ways away from you. You patted the floor next to you, beckoning him closer. “Come here. You’ll feel the fire better.”

It was impossible to tell if the redness on his cheeks was a blush or the glow of the fire. Slowly, he scooted to sit next to you.  

“He’s taken a liking to you,” he mumbled. “Teddy, I mean.”

“I think he’s taken more of a liking to my scarf. I can’t say I blame him.”

Newt smiled briefly, staring at the embers on the ground. “Nifflers may pride on materialism, but they know a pure heart when they see one.”

Something about the words warmed your insides. “Where did you find him anyway?” you asked.  

“You could say he’s a family pet.”

“Oh. Your mother keeps magical creatures, right?”

“She breeds Hippogriffs,” said Newt. “Some of the other creatures are...adopted family members.”

You gazed contentedly into the fire. “That sounds nice.”

Newt stole a glance at you, playing with the rim of his cloak. “If I may ask... why are you here, (Y/N)?”

It was your turn to run short of words. The truth was that you were a Muggleborn and your family vehemently disapproved of magic. Some of the professors at Hogwarts had hexed them for years into believing that you went to a boarding school like any other, but last year the truth got out. Your family ordered you to stop attending Hogwarts. When you refused, they said you could stay- so long as you didn’t return home.  

You still loved your family and missed them dearly. But you couldn’t deny the magic in your veins. You couldn’t leave Hogwarts behind, not when it had been your second home for so long. Not when it meant saying goodbye to the friends you had made.  

Instead of saying any of this, you gave Newt an encouraging smile and said, “I couldn’t make it home for the holidays.”

A comfortable silence passed between you two, broken only by the crack and snap of the logs in the fire. In that moment it seemed you had bonded in a way you never had before. There was something about being alone together on a holiday when you were meant to be with everyone that united your shivering hearts. You thought that if it had to be anyone here with you tonight on Christmas Eve, you were glad it was Newt Scamander.

“(Y/N)?” said Newt after a while.

“Yes?”

He seemed to be treading carefully. “How would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me?”

You blinked at him before breaking into a grin. “Do you really mean it?”

“Well, only if it’s something you’d like to do-”

You laid an excited hand on his knee. “That sounds wonderful. What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Newt appeared so startled by your touch that he sat frozen in place as you jumped up and bounded down the hall. You stopped at the doors and turned back to face him. “Come on Newt, don’t be a slowpoke,” you said, a teasing tone sliding into your voice. Teddy the Niffler chittered in agreement.  

Blushing deeper, Newt pushed to his feet and followed you down the hall. “Don’t you turn against me now, Teddy.”

If it could have been possible for a Niffler to snicker, he would have. You laughed at the two of them. “Race you to the front gates!”

Newt didn’t have time to reply before you took off. Smiling to himself, he ran after you, the sounds of laughter and clicking soles on stone floors filling the lonely castle with a beautiful kind of music.  

******

The snow had been falling heavily since morning and was settled so thickly across the cobblestone pathway that you felt like you were walking on cotton candy. You were still panting and flushed with heat from your sprint throughout the castle, and the frigid air blowing your hair away from your face was more welcoming in that moment than any fire could have been. Your breaths came out like transparent white clouds as you turned around and triumphantly pumped your fists in the air. “I win!”

Newt, panting just as hard and clutching his side, nodded fervently. You wanted to giggle again at the sight of him- one pant leg rolled a bit higher than the other, his scarf tossed askew around his shoulders, his cloak hanging crookedly around his body. You had to resist an urge to ruffle his already messy hair, which was quickly becoming powdered white with snow.  

You peeked inside your scarf to check on the Niffler. “You alright in there, little buddy?”

The creature’s eyes were wide with exhilaration. He gave you a sweet kiss on the chin and you laughed as its ticklish fur caressed your skin.  

“He’d prefer to be carried all day if you let him,” Newt said, crunching across the snow to you. “Though I’d be careful. He tends to steal shiny things.”

“This little guy, a thief?” you scratched his soft belly. “That couldn’t be.”

“Have you lost anything?”

You playfully bumped him with your elbow. “Got nothing to lose. Come on, we’d better go before they douse the lanterns.”

The snow proved as deep and noncompliant as it looked from afar as you and Newt treaded along the path. Each of your steps sank down until the snow was nearly to your knees, making every few steps quite arduous work. Newt came up with the brilliant idea to magic the both of you a pair of snowshoes, and from then on the going was far easier.  

The two of you were chatting about your semesters, your midterm exams, and your plans after Hogwarts when you reached the hilltop that led down into Hogsmeade village. It looked like a Christmas town, with slanted rooftops layered with snow, light gray smoke trailing from chimneys, and sparkling green-and-red lights along the storefronts. You even spotted a few decorated Christmas trees in windows and in front of squat buildings.  

By then the cold had seeped back into your bones and left you shivering to your core. Newt, dressed similar to you, was clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. Nothing in the world seemed more appealing right then than to huddle up in one of the Hogsmeade pubs next to a fireplace, preferably with a cup of something hot. But an idea had crept into your mind.  

“What’s that?” you gasped.  

Newt furrowed his brow, searching the scene below. “What?”

“That, down there.”

“The village?”

“No, to the left of it.”

You stepped backward as he stepped forward to see. “The forest?”

“Next to the forest.”

“I’m not sure I understand-”

Newt was cut off as a huge, crude snowball hit him clean in the back with a splat! He jumped, whirling around questioningly, one hand already on his wand. Then he saw your impish grin.  

“Does this mean war?” he asked rather timidly.  

You scooped up more snow and rolled it into a ball. “This means war.”

Newt dove as you aimed the next snowball at him. He gathered one and took aim at you, though his force was poor. The snowball came just short of your feet.  

“Afraid to hit a girl, Scamander?” you teased. “I’m sure Teddy could throw harder than that.”

“I’m only afraid it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me,” he said as another of your artillery smacked him on the shoulder.  

“This should be an easy win then!”

The two of you ran down the hill, peppering each other with snowballs, dodging and rolling in the snow, the sound of your laughter sweetening the lonely night air. The ice was numbing your fingers and your sides were aching with exertion, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t had this kind of fun in a long time.  

You darted to a nearby tree to restock when a cluster of snow larger than your head exploded upon the side of your face. You looked up, mouth open, and stared in disbelief at the Hufflepuff.  

“Sorry!” Newt said quickly, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-I didn’t realize-”

He was cut off as you whipped out your wand and, grinning from ear to ear, lifted a mountain of snow into the air above his head. With a flick you let it drop, effectively drowning him from head to toe in a small avalanche.  

He burst from the little mountain, sputtering and shaking snow out of his eyes. “You cheated,” he gasped. “Magic.”

“Whoever said there were any rules?”

You granted him a moment to pull himself out of the snow and get back on his feet. He gave you a playfully hesitant look. In the next moment, his wand was in his hand and a fleet of snowballs were soaring towards you.  

You retaliated to match, sending torrents to meet him and diverting his attacks. He’d finally begun to give the competition you were looking for.  

You slipped as he used magic to shift the snow beneath your feet, seeing that he was rolling a snowball large enough to cloak the forest. While he was distracted, you caused a ball to hit him in the back of the head, impeding his focus. In one fell swoop, you made a gust of wind knock him to his knees and destroyed the giant snowball before it could approach you. You waved your wand vivaciously and tiny snowballs about the size of chocolate frogs ambushed him from all sides.  

Newt struggled beneath the attack, but he was unable to gather his wits in the firefight. At last he shouted, “You win! You win! I surrender!”

With a swish the ambush ceased. You strode toward him, tossing your scarf over your shoulder in victory. “I win for the second time tonight, Scamander. You’re off your game.”

Newt looked like he was trying not to smile. “Consider it Christmas spirit. I’m feeling gracious.”

You reached out and dusted some of the snow from his hair. “Perhaps. Or perhaps that’s just an excuse.”

“Perhaps.” His voice turned quiet. You were suddenly aware of how close you two were.  

“Well, as the winner, I should get some kind of prize, don’t you think?” you said.  

He’d been staring at the ground, avoiding prolonged eye contact as he usually did, but now his gaze snapped up to meet yours. “Yes. I suppose so.”

Your heart had begun to thump erratically and you weren’t exactly sure why. It cut through your puckish bravado, stilling your thoughts and making them run wild all at once. He was close enough that you could smell the comforting scent of the fire sunk into his cloak and see the remains of snow still stuck to his eyelashes.  

Newt wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. He was looking at your lips.  

He’s my friend, you thought. He had been for years. But if he was simply that, why were you suddenly feeling this way?

Your head leaned closer to him ever so infinitesimally. His did the same, as if compelled by some external power. Perhaps it was the magic in the air or even the spirit of Christmas, but you didn’t allow yourself to think about what you did next.  

You took him by the scarf and kissed him.  

You felt a flicker of surprise go through his body, and if you were being honest, you were surprised too. But in the next moment his stiffness melted away and he sank deeper into the kiss. One of his hands came up to cup your face ever so delicately as if you were a dream made of snow that would swirl away in an instant.  

It seemed that you two stood there for hours, yet once you pulled away it felt that less than seconds had passed. You and Newt appeared to be locked in place by each other’s gaze, breaths coming short in little white clouds. He was blushing so profoundly that his cheeks were almost as red as his hair. He took a shaky breath and leaned forward again, and you could sense the insatiable desire that had now awoken within him, how one kiss seemed to open doors to a million thoughts and longings the both of you had stored so deeply within that you hadn’t ever acknowledged it.  

Your lips had barely met for the second time when something furry barged its way in front of your face. Both you and Newt stumbled back, startled. Then you erupted into laughter.

“A jealous one, are you?” you snatched Teddy from where he’d run atop your head and poked him in the side. He warbled indignantly.  

Chuckling, you looked back up at Newt. A grin was plastered on his face that was so broad you truly believed it had the capacity to light a shooting star.  

You stepped closer to him and set Teddy on his shoulder, wrapping the Niffler up in Newt’s scarf. Your fingers lingered on his chest for a moment before you turned your eyes to the ground, feeling heat sweep your cheeks.  

“That was a pretty good reward,” you said bashfully.

“You should win more often,” mumbled Newt. You two would have probably stood there smiling at the ground like idiots for the rest of the night if Teddy hadn’t released a chirp of impatience.  

“He must be cold,” Newt bundled the Niffler underneath his cloak.  

“To the village?” you suggested.

“To the village,” he agreed.  

You two set off on the path you’d been on before, and even though it had to be nearly midnight by now, the moon and stars seemed to shine brighter, and the Christmas lights decorating Hogsmeade Village twinkled with greater joy. As you walked, you felt Newt’s hand brush yours. You slid your fingers into his and the connection sent pleasant shivers up your arm.  

You came upon a homely pub with a sign out front that read THREE BROOMSTICKS INN. Newt held the door open for you and the delicious scent of peppermint eggnog and baked frosted pastries wafted out to the street.  

Despite how quiet the street had been, the pub was bursting with customers, all huddled in groups or pairs, all sipping some heavenly hot beverage that warmed your stomach by its very smell. Deep-bellied laughter echoed off the wooden beams of the arched roof. A cozy fire crackled in the great hearth.  

You ordered two hot butterbeers and sat on the floor in front of the fire. Newt sat next to you, and as soon as he did Teddy scampered out of his scarf and into your lap.  

“Traitor,” Newt whispered, but his voice was so innocent it made you grin.  

The butterbeers came round and you wanted to bathe yourself in its warmth. As the two of you took blessedly long sips, you sighed and rested your head on Newt’s shoulder. Earlier tonight, you had been sitting and staring at a similar fire, thinking about how you’d be alone on Christmas Eve. And while all your friends and house mates would be surrounded by family tomorrow morning, opening their gifts, you knew that you had gotten the best gift of all.  

“Thank you, Newt,” you murmured.  

He blinked. “For what?”

“For being you,” you said. “For being here when no one else was.”

He was quiet for a long time. Eventually he said, “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

“Merry Christmas, Newt.”

The two of you sat by the fire so long that you had nearly drifted to sleep on his shoulder. The other customers were singing carols and clinking glasses, and in that moment, you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.  

The next thing you knew, Newt was gently nudging you awake. You looked up, rubbing sleep from your eyes, at a bundled, slim young man with a head of dark hair covered by a winter hat. Perhaps you were just incredibly sleepy, but he had a striking resemblance to Newt.

He knelt to get on your level. “What am I going to do with you, Newt?” He ruffled Newt’s hair. “Missed the train? Really?”

Newt just smiled. “You came back for me?”

“I can’t very well leave you here for Christmas, can I?” The young man turned his eyes to you. “I’m Theseus. Newt’s brother.”

“(Y/N),” you said.  

Theseus looked between you and Newt, a sly grin creeping up his face. “Would you like to come with us?” he asked.  

“Come with you? Where?”

“Home,” Theseus said simply.  

You glanced at Newt. He was staring at your lips again. He looked up to meet your eyes. “Please,” he said quietly.  

You thought you might melt into a frosty puddle right there on the floor. “I would love that. Very much.”  

“Alright then.” Theseus offered you a hand and pulled you to your feet. He patted his brother’s shoulder. “Left in Hogwarts on Christmas. Just like my brother. Shall we?”

You slung your arm around Newt’s. “We shall.”

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Fics: Headcannons:

[headers/dividers by @saradika]

please note that i give nobody permission to re-upload or translate any of my work.

[arcadian-litterateur]

there's many different ways to kill the one you love | newt x oc

Masterlist

summary: when thomas finds a picture of a blonde girl above newt's bed, alby tells him the story of frankie, the first glader—and the first glader to die.

wc: 9.4k bc I tried to fit so much backstory and trauma in I'm so sorry

warnings: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, suicide, panic attacks, nightmares, blood, newt and frankie make out at one point but there's nothing explicit bc they're literal children

a/n: this is a heavy one, be warned. also ik that technically there is a male frankie in tmr but ignore that bc i love the name frankie for a girl and rosalind franklin was a queen. btw, this fic follows movie lore-where thirty boys didn't come up all at once. also, thomas is there for longer before teresa comes up and everything goes down. newt and frankie are fourteen. alby is seventeen.

frankie is played by emily skinner

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗛𝗔𝗗 been given the job of befriending Greenies a long time ago, and that meant he was friends with just about everyone. But being friends with people didn't necessarily mean opening up to them. Newt didn't like talking about his feelings. Even Alby, who'd spent more time with Newt than was probably good for him, couldn't always figure the boy out. He tried, and often he succeeded to some extent, but even he couldn't force Newt to process his trauma—which is what he needed to do. Alby simply held out hope that Newt would open up to a Greenie one day. And hopefully not terrify them while still doing the emotional processing he needed to. And soon, because Newt was starting to get lost in his head again; Alby could tell, and the last time it had gotten bad, Newt had ended up with a limp. Alby couldn't afford something worse.

When Thomas came up in the box, Newt took an immediate shine to him. He was funny and stupid and needed a voice of reason. Newt figured he was pretty good at that so he gladly stepped into that role. What he wasn't prepared for was the amount of questions that poured from Thomas's mouth. And they weren't "normal" Greenie questions either—they were invasive and private and prying. Newt didn't like it. He also didn't answer. But he knew Thomas was wearing him down—and he knew he was going to snap at the boy soon.

A week after Thomas arrived, he met Newt by his cot, ready to do his trial in the Garden. He saw a small, grainy photo of a petite blonde girl sitting in front of what looked like a makeshift Med-jack hut. She looked incredibly frail and had dark bags under her eyes, but these observations paled when Thomas saw the bright, beautiful smile on the girl's face. The photo was taped to the wall above Newt's cot, but the corners were worn, as if it had also been kept in a pocket for a period of time.

"Who is that girl?" Thomas asked Newt, who was grabbing his water jug out from under his cot. Newt looked to where Thomas was pointing and almost instantly recoiled slightly.

"That's Frankie," he mumbled, not meeting Thomas's eyes.

Thomas's brow furrowed. "But I thought you guys said there aren't any girls in the Glade."

Newt fixed his gaze pointedly on the brunet, "There aren't." Then, obviously unwilling to say anymore, he briskly walked out.

Thomas inched closer to the photo. Yes, the girl was definitely in the Glade, and he could see the Maze walls towering above the hut that the girl—Frankie, Newt had called her—was leaning on.

Thomas reached a hand up to examine the picture more closely when he heard, "Shank, don't touch things that aren't yours!" Thomas whirled around and saw Gally glaring at him. "Newt has been through enough, don't take his klunk."

"I-I wasn't!" Thomas protested.

"Yeah?" Gally scoffed, "It sure looked like it."

"I just want to know who Frankie is!" Thomas explained.

He saw something change in the other boy's eyes, who gruffly replied, "Go ask Alby if you want to know about Frankie." Then the sandy-haired boy turned on his heel and left, calling over his shoulder, "And keep your hands to yourself, shank!"

Thomas knew he should join Newt in the Garden by now. He was risking time in the Slammer now, but his curiosity got the better of him. He was just too intrigued by the picture of the girl and Newt and Gally's cryptic reactions. So instead of reporting to the Garden, he went and found Alby, who was on his way back to the Homestead after meeting with the Keeper of the Bricknicks about supply needs. "Hey, Alby!" the brunet called out.

The chocolate-skinned man paused and turned to Thomas. "You realize you're supposed to be with the Track-hoes this morning, right?" he asked.

"Yes," Thomas replied,"but I really need to ask you about something, because no one else will talk to me."

Alby sighed, looking at his watch. "Okay, ask away, but you gotta walk with me."

Thomas fell in step with the leader of the Glade and asked, "Who is Frankie, and why is there a picture of her over Newt's bed?"

Alby stopped dead in his tracks and swore, "Well, shuck, kid. Is that why Newt looked so sad?"

Thomas shrugged, "Maybe? I'm confused, though."

Alby ignored Thomas's explanation and turned to Chuck, instructing the curly-haired boy, "Go make sure Newt took his meds this morning, and tell Luke to keep an eye on him. I want to catch any possible situations while they're still manageable. Make sure Luke always sends someone with Newt if he leaves his sight." Chuck nodded and raced towards the Garden, leaving a stressed-out Alby and an even more confused Thomas outside the Homestead.

"Did I do something?" the brunet inquired, visibly lost.

"Maybe," Alby replied, which was not the answer Thomas wanted. "But you didn't mean to. The Greenies never do." At this, the dark-skinned male turned to the younger boy and chuckled, "Do you want some explanation now?"

"Yes," Thomas begged, "please."

"Then come on," Alby motioned towards his room, which was set apart from the rest. "We can talk here. It's a long story and I don't want to be interrupted." Thomas and Alby settled onto the floor, the former looking expectantly at the latter. With a deep breath, Alby started talking.

_______________________________

𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗚𝗟𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 is told upon arrival that Alby was the first boy to come up in the Box. This is true. Every Glader assumes that this means Alby was the first Glader. This is not true. And it's not a secret—not really, but every Glader knows that you don't talk about the first Glader. No one but Alby tells the story, and no one bothers Newt about it. It's an unspoken rule in the Glade, one that gets slowly absorbed by all Gladers.

The first Glader was named Frankie.

It was dark, but Frankie could see a few specks of light floating through holes in whatever contraption she was trapped in. Whatever it was, the teenage girl could tell it was hurtling upwards by the G-forces pressing her back into the sharp wooden corner of some sort of crate. Her eyes had adjusted slightly, and she could tell now that she was in some sort of cage—a metal box filled with crates, barrels, and…her. She scanned the crates, unable to tell what they could contain, her mind only registering several letters on the side of one of the crates: ‘W.C.K.D.’ But Frankie didn't have much time to take this in before—SLAM!

As the Box (as she'd named it in her head) reached its final destination (she assumed), it jolted, sending her flying backwards into one of the crates. Frankie could feel a jagged edge get caught on the tender skin of her scalp, and when she touched her hand to the wound, it was sticky with blood. With a hiss, she pressed the heel of her palm to the tender spot, gritting her teeth against the sting. On wobbly legs, the blonde stood, steadying herself on a crate. There was sunlight streaming through the lid of the Box, and Frankie tentatively pushed on it. It moved slightly, so Frankie quickly climbed onto a crate, the added height giving her enough momentum to push the lid up and over, effectively freeing her.

But the teenage girl didn't climb out of her cage. Instead, she slumped to its floor as the adrenaline from waking up like this wore off. And as Frankie tried to force breaths into her lungs, a new kind of panic overwhelmed her, because a new fact was becoming apparent—she couldn't remember anything. She had no recollection of why she was here, how'd she'd gotten here, where here even was—and she had no memory of where she'd been before this metal box. The only thing she could remember was her name (Frankie), which she'd recalled when her head had collided with the crate.

Taking a tentative step into the sunlight, Frankie shielded her eyes from its intense rays, surveying what could only be described as a Glade. The air smelled of campfire smoke and fresh, new earth. The Glade was mostly just wide open grass, but there was a cluster of small trees on one side, and a small hut on the other. Surrounding the Glade were four large, stone walls. One had a large gap in it. Frankie squinted, noticing the odd passages branching out from the gap, and it suddenly dawned on her—she was in the middle of a fucking maze.

Frankie had been placed here on purpose.

The only sign that anyone else might live in the Glade was the tiny hut, and so, hoping for any clues as to why she was here, Frankie raced towards it. But she was met with bitter disappointment, because it was completely bare. She realized, anxiety rising, that it was a shell. It was waiting for her. Frankie thought back to the crates she'd ridden up with. They were filled with everything needed to homestead—she'd checked before she'd come to the hut.

Whoever had sent Frankie here was watching, and they wanted her to build a homestead. Build a life here. Frankie ran outside, looked up at the sky, and screeched, “Fuck you!” Then she collapsed to the ground in a heap of sobs.

Once Frankie had regained a bit of functionality, she decided to keep track of the days, so as to keep a sense of the passage of time. By the end of the first day, Frankie had taken everything out of the Box, which was good, because the next morning, it had gone back to wherever it came from. On the third day, Frankie had moved most of the essentials into the Hut. She stacked all food-related items in one area, all clothing and toiletries in another, and had set up a nice makeshift bed in the corner. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Frankie wasn't a gardener or a scavenger, and she couldn't cook well either, so she hoped the foodstuffs in the crates would last long enough for her to learn those skills through trial and error. She still couldn't figure out why she was in the Glade, or what its Creators could want from her, but the girl could at least try her hand at surviving. She reasoned that someone or something was bound to happen eventually.

At the start of her second week, Frankie, who'd been living off of tally marks, canned fruit, and jerky, started feeling the effects of her gradual loss of hope. Upon arriving in the Glade, the blonde had noticed thin, red scars on her arms in neat, precise rows, and had easily deduced that something in her ‘before’ had caused her to carve those lines into her arms herself. She also reasoned that if she'd fallen into that depression then, she could easily fall into it again. And the longer she went in this Glade alone, with the horrid Maze that shifted in the night and creepy sounds of some kind of creature, the more she felt her mind slipping into a very serious depressed state.

The word ‘hope’ wasn't in her vocabulary anymore.

Frankie’s sixteenth and seventeenth day in the Maze consisted of eating the last of the foodstuffs, wandering aimlessly in the small patch of trees and letting tears trickle down her pale, sunken-in cheeks. She was underfed, overwhelmed, and utterly alone. It had been over two weeks since she'd come up in the Box, and she was still in solitude (not counting the creepy-sounding Maze monsters). She still had no clues as to her real location, her purpose, or her captors. Her situation seemed bleak, and under even darker lenses of examination, (like her handy-dandy depression lens), there seemed to be no way forward.

Frankie decided that if some kind of help hadn't appeared at the one month mark, she would take matters into her own hands. Kill herself.

As the days went by, Frankie became increasingly convinced that the Creators of this place wanted her to venture inside the dark, deadly walls of the Maze.

“Well, I won't do it!” the teenage girl screamed at the sky. “I won't explore your fucking Maze!” Of course, there was no answer, but that didn't weaken her resolve. Frankie was determined to never step foot in the Maze. She was also ignoring just how necessary planting seeds and trying to start a life would be if she wanted to survive. After all, she wasn't really trying to survive. She was already giving up. There was no motivation in her to keep going.

The blonde pondered this, wondering if it made her weak. She was sure, after all, that most people would have the instinct to build a life; a livelihood. Most people would try to get out, or start a garden, or send for help. If anyone else was in her situation, they'd put on an exciting show for whoever was watching. But not Frankie. See, whoever had put her here had made a seemingly grave mistake—they'd placed a girl with an untrustworthy mind in an unfamiliar place and then expected her to try.

Even if logically, she knew what she should do, her fucked-up brain was still going to win every time. She would still sit there, unmotivated and depressed. She would tally the days…and then pass them by staring blankly at the Walls. And if nothing changed by the time one month passed, she would end it. She refused to wait here forever.

At sunrise on the first day of the new month, Frankie put one more tally mark on her makeshift calendar, laid down on her bed, and slit her pale wrists. Fire licked at the cuts, burning her arms before consuming her. After several moments of extreme pain and spots overwhelming her vision, Frankie's eyes shut and it all went black.

She didn't expect—or want—to wake up, but after some unknown passage of time, she did, her eyes unwillingly flickering open as a shuffling sound moved from her left side to her right. When a warm hand gently turned her right wrist so her palm was facing up, her breath caught in her throat and she jumped, her eyes flying open.

“Woah, there, tiger!” Frankie stared at the dark-skinned boy who was holding her wrist. His expression was one of relief and amusement, but she could also see a tinge of worry in his eyes. She glanced down to where he gently held her wrist and observed the heavy bandaging that mirrored her other wrist. This boy must have nursed her back to health.

“You weren't supposed to save me,” she informed him, her voice barely above a whisper and raspy from lack of use. She used his (quite muscular) arm as support to sit up slowly. Scanning what she could now see was the Hut, she noticed that the boy had taken the liberty of moving her belongings to one space and filling the rest of the Hut with medical supplies. “You redecorated,” she commented.

“This building was in the perfect spot to make it a Med-hut,” her companion answered. Then he grinned, “I'm Alby, by the way.” Frankie nodded once, noticing he'd added to her makeshift calendar. He'd been there almost a week and a half, then.

“I'm—”

“Frankie. I know. You told me.”

The blonde girl looked at Alby in surprise, “I don't remember that.”

“You wouldn't,” Alby chuckled, “you were drifting in and out of consciousness for the first few hours after I found you. When I walked into the Hut and saw you, I thought you were dead, but you opened your eyes and giggled, ‘Hi, I'm Frankie. Welcome to the fucking Glade.’ Then you promptly blacked out again. That's when I started grabbing medical supplies from the Box to stop you from bleeding out.”

“I'm surprised you succeeded,” Frankie chuckled dryly.

“You'd only made the cuts thirty minutes or so before I found you, from what I could tell,” Alby reasoned, “so you were lucky, I guess.” Frankie looked down at her wrists, moving them in circles to test their mobility. They both stung like hell, but the right one could move fine, while the left one hurt too much to even twist slightly. She hissed in pain, rubbing the tender joint.

“You narrowly missed an artery on that one,” Alby told her.

“Wish I hadn’t,” she retorted, “then I wouldn’t still be in this Glade.”

“Hey, I’ve made this place a bit more liveable,” Alby teased. “I’ve built a makeshift Homestead and started a Garden.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, “You did that in a week and a half while caring for me?”

The boy shrugged. “What can I say? I must have been good at architecture before this.”

Frankie laughed, “Maybe. I think I was just good at overthinking.” Alby nodded, reaching to undo Frankie’s bandages. She let him change them, trying not to grimace as she took in the gross, jagged cuts on both wrists. They were mottled with bruises and half-formed scabs on the shallow parts. The left wrist still had a large section of skin that was hanging open, blood trickling slowly from it. As Alby dabbed at the cuts, he frowned.

“The right side is healing nice,” he commented, rebandaging that wrist before turning to her left, “but this cut keeps reopening. I’m worried it will become infected.” Grabbing a bottle of alcohol, he warned Frankie, “This is going to hurt.” With that, he poured an ample amount of the liquid onto her wound. She let out a shriek.

“You could’ve counted to three, you heartless fucker!”

Frankie’s insults fell on unfazed ears as the receiver wrapped the throbbing cut, “You should be okay for the next couple days.”

Walking around the Glade was a bit of a challenge for Frankie, but with a heap of Alby’s cooking on her plate and his arm to lean on, she made it around the whole walled enclosure. Her legs were very wobbly, but she was glad to be out of bed and away from the reminders of her failed suicide attempt. Alby had warned her that she wasn’t going to let her out of his sight, because he wasn’t going to let her die. She just rolled her eyes.

“There’s no hope for us. We’re just some kind of exhibit in a godforsaken horror zoo. We’ll be better off dead.” But secretly, she was thinking that Alby, with his two room Homestead, half-built Kitchen, and small garden bed, might actually be able to give her hope. Neither teen had set foot in the Maze; it was too soon and Alby had been busy building the foundation for this little ‘civilization,’ as he was trying to convince Frankie to call it. But maybe they could survive here. At least until someone from their befores realized they were gone.

Over the next few weeks, Alby made good progress on the buildings, completing the Kitchen and outfitting the Homestead with furnishings. Alby and Frankie each had a room in its two room structure, and Frankie had moved her belongings from the Medhut to the Homestead. It was a meager pile of belongings, just some extra clothes, a journal and pen, feminine projects, and of all things, a disposable camera.

Alby had given it to her in exchange for promising to try and stay alive.

Frankie was still a less-than-decent gardener, but her wrists still weren’t healing right, so she couldn’t truly build. She could almost garden…as long as she was careful. So she did her best to take care of their food source, letting him handle the struggle of actually cooking. He wouldn’t let her near fire, just in case it might tempt her to harm herself. She appreciated the concern, but knew deep down that if she truly wanted to die, she’d find a much more efficient method than burning herself to death.

And the longer her cuts went without fully healing, the more worried she became that she was going to leave Alby alone here whether she liked it or not. She obviously couldn’t remember anyone besides the teenage boy, but she still got the feeling that he was a kinder person than most she’d known in her before, whatever that was. And the fact that he spent time nursing her back to health even though he had no obligation to? It was sweet. Very sweet. She didn’t want to abandon him to live in the Glade alone.

With Alby here to help her, the voice of depression in her head quieted.

The two teens decided that if the Box brought another teen up at the month-mark, it would be safe to assume that a new teenager would come every month. After all, the Glade seemed too vast for two inhabitants; like it was supposed to be filled with more people, and Alby and Frankie had agreed to ignore the implications of no teenagers in the Box. The implications of what that meant the Creators of this hellhole wanted them to do. They couldn’t decipher their exact ages, but it was clear that Alby was around seventeen, while Frankie was closer to fourteen.

At the very least, it was clear that Frankie was quite a bit younger than Alby.

To their relief, on the day that marked the month, the Box came up loaded with crates, barrels, and a scared, shaking teenage boy. He had dirty blond hair and bright, doe eyes, his arms and legs stick-thin as he huddled in a corner of the Box. He looked to be about Frankie’s age, and he looked terrified.

“I’m Frankie,” the teenage girl smiled, trying to look reassuring as she offered a hand to the boy. This was a mistake, though, because as she pulled him up, the fragilely repaired skin of her left wrist tore right back open, blood immediately gushing out of her arm and onto the boy’s startled face.

Her vision immediately blurring, Frankie leaned against the Box, the sudden blood loss going to her legs. She felt herself losing consciousness, arms flailing to find any support as she fell. In true Frankie manner, she swore as she tumbled down, but in her semi-conscious state, her speech slurred, and so the last word out of her mouth was, “Shuck!”

Then she passed out.

_______________________________

𝗡𝗘𝗪𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 tell he was green.

He’d already thrown up once, yellow stomach acid mixed with blood, (though he couldn’t tell if it was Frankie’s or his own, because he was pretty sure he’d bitten his tongue). But looking at the cuts on Frankie’s wrists, half-healed and probably infected, he felt incredibly squeamish. Alby had explained the story to him—Frankie’s lonely first month in the Glade, her suicide attempt, Alby’s care as he tried to save her, and the life they’d built from there.

Newt thought that his new reality might be partially responsible for his nausea, too.

He’d washed the blood from his face and changed into the clothes sent up with him, Alby directing him to set up a cot in his room.

“We didn’t know if anyone else would be coming up, so I just built two rooms. I figure we can just squeeze in until they’re full and then build on once we run out of room,” the older boy had explained. Newt felt too numb to do anything but nod. Now he simply sat near Frankie, who was lying on a cot in the Medhut, barely conscious. She didn’t seem to have the energy to do anything but groan in pain as Alby set to work sewing her wound back up.

As he tied off the thread, a concerned look in his eyes, Alby patted the top of Frankie’s head, “I’m sure this is the last time I’ll have to sew one of these bad boys back up.”

“You mean, ‘I hope this is the last time,’” the girl grumbled.

Alby rolled his eyes, but Newt could see the note of worry in his eyes that confirmed Frankie’s statement. “Rest up, Frankie,” he ordered, motioning for Newt to leave the Medhut with him. “Take a day off tomorrow,” Alby added, to which Frankie replied,

“Fuck you! I’m working tomorrow!” The strain in her voice, however, said otherwise.

“Frankie,” Newt hummed, shaking the blonde’s shoulder lightly, “time for breakfast.” It had been four days since he came up in the Box, and the teen felt much more comfortable around Alby and Frankie. He’d realized quickly that despite their tough exteriors, both were as cuddly as teddy bears. Alby babied Frankie like she was his little sister, which was adorable to an extent, but after one too many days of bed rest, the teenage girl had asked Newt to take a turn caring for her.

Frankie had an obsession with creating nicknames for everything in the Glade, which she wrote in detailed lists in her journal (what else was she supposed to do?)

“We can call ourselves Gladers,” she had suggested, “and if we ever have someone who wants to solely work in the Med-hut, we should call them a Med-jack, because you go in jacked-up and hope you’ll come out less jacked up!” Newt and Alby had laughed but agreed. “And the last person to come out of the Box will for the first month be a Greenie, because they’re a newbie, which means they’re green.” Then with a smirk, she’d added, “And if they’re anything like Newt, they’ll be physically green, too.”

“You bled on me!” Newt had protested.

“You ripped my arm open!” the teenage girl shot back. “And it’s too late, Greenie, I’ve already decided.”

“I like it,” Alby had nodded, laughing when he saw Newt’s scowl.

“You’re both jerks,” the sandy-haired teen mumbled.

“And you’re a little shit, but I’m still being nice,” Frankie sing-songed.

“Hey, I didn’t cuss at you!” Newt had gasped, Frankie sticking her tongue out to say,

“So?”

“So you were rude!” the boy had insisted. “You should apologize!” Frankie had glanced at Alby, who was watching with a bemused expression. She mouthed ‘Help?’ but the dark-skinned boy had just shook his head.

With a groan and dramatic eye roll, Frankie had forced out, “I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings. Do you want me to ask the Creators to send you some little boy pants? They might fit better.”

Alby had coughed, “That was a shit apology, Frankie. In fact, it was just another insult.” Then he’d sighed and admitted, “Newt has a point, as much as I hate to say it. Who knows how young W.C.K.D will deign to go? They might send up ten-year-olds. As hard as it is in a place like this, we should at least try to set a good example. We’ll come up with alternatives.”

Frankie had finally agreed after Newt reminded her of the hilarious ‘Shuck!’ she’d let out after covering him in blood, and they’d all agreed that it was a suitable alternative.

Newt smiled at the thought, returning to the present as Frankie stirred, awakened by his mention of food.

“Breakfast?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. The girl had been quite fatigued from losing so much blood during Newt’s arrival, and it was taking her quite some time to gain the energy back.

“Yup,” Newt encouraged, “and once I check your bandages, I’ll bring you some.” At this, Frankie’s eyes flew open.

“No!” Newt raised an eyebrow.

“No? What do you mean, no?”

Frankie scowled, “I want to eat with you and Alby.”

Newt chuckled. He loved her tenacity, and at first, it had made him slightly timid, but he’d adjusted quickly and picked up on the fact that it was her defense mechanism.

“I’m not sure that’s smart,” he began, not the least bit surprised when she interrupted.

“I don’t shucking care!”

With an eye roll that could envy one of Frankie’s, Newt told her, “Well, I do, because Alby and I care about your health.” He could see her trying to figure out her next argument, the gears turning in her head.

“I’d be doing the exact same thing there as I’m doing here; sitting!”

“And how would you get there?” Newt inquired. “It’s a hard walk for someone recovering from blood loss.”

Frankie huffed. “It’s only five minutes!”

“And that’s about four minutes too many for you,” Newt told her decisively. With a resigned sigh, the girl let Newt finish with her bandages. But as Newt disposed of the dirty rags, an idea lit up Frankie’s brain.

When he turned to face the blonde, Newt was surprised to hear, “You can carry me!”

“What?” Newt sputtered.

“You said I can’t walk all the way to the dining hall, so you should carry me there!” Frankie crowed with a big grin on her pale face.

“Fine,” the teenage boy said. He leaned down and easily swept her off the bed in a bridal carry. “Comfortable?” he inquired, walking towards the Kitchen.

“Yes,” Frankie smiled, her head resting organically on his shoulder. The teen boy hummed in response, sending vibrations through his chest into Frankie’s body. It was a comforting sensation, and coupled with the warmth of his body, Frankie realized that she felt oddly safe in his and Alby’s care.

For two teenage boys she’d known for a month at most, it was impressive. It was probably the whole saving-her-life thing. It earned them brownie points.

The next few days, Newt took the time to carry Frankie around. She wasn’t that heavy and she was great company. He definitely enjoyed gardening more when Frankie was there, even if she was constantly forgetting to drink enough water and take it easy. Newt got into the habit of forcing her to hydrate and take breaks, despite her constant grumbling that ‘she was perfectly healthy’ and ‘didn’t need much water.’

Newt, of course, had the upper hand in these debates, as he could always point to her still scabbed wrists and pale complexion. Eventually, as Frankie gained back enough strength to start walking to and fro as she pleased, these debates simply became an inside joke that the two had, often ending with insult battles.

Alby found it equal parts amusing and frustrating, just like the younger teens’ insistence that the small copse of trees be called the ‘Deadheads’ after Alby came out of them one day, swearing and grumbling, “One of the trees tried to kill me! It tried to take my head off!” The other teens just laughed at him, earning sharp glares from the older boy.

As the three teenagers settled into a rhythm, Alby grew accustomed to completing the day’s work with Newt and Frankie, and then retiring to the Homestead to relax while the other two went off to frolic and explore. He didn’t mind the alone time, and he was incredibly grateful that Newt and Frankie had bonded so well. Frankie still refused to view rescue as a viable possibility, but he could tell that to her, living here in the Glade forever was enough. Fostering these friendships with the boys who’d brought her back from the dead was enough for her.

Frankie may have gained her leg functionality back, but she’d gotten used to Newt ferrying her around, and so she’d jump on his back and ‘force’ him to give piggyback rides on their explorations. She knew he could easily insist she walk, and deduced that his willingness to carry her across the Glade indicated that he secretly enjoyed it as well. She always took her camera with her, snapping pictures of nature, Newt, and even the Walls, if the sunlight hit them in an interesting way. The collection of images grew, occupying the otherwise empty walls of the Homestead. Alby had to admit, it gave the Homestead a homey feel. It was comfortable here.

Frankie realized her rising feelings for Newt on one of their adventures. They were sitting by the pond, Frankie weaving grass together while Newt braided her hair.

“How’d you learn to do that?” she inquired.

Newt let out a hum. “I’ve no idea. Maybe I have a sister somewhere.” The girl smiled, checking the final product in the clear water. She let out a tiny gasp. It had been a long time since she’d felt pretty, but all of a sudden, she felt positively beautiful.

“I love it, Newt!” she squealed, throwing her arms around the boy. Her excitement caused the pair to topple over, Frankie landing on top of Newt. His hands immediately found her waist, as if to ensure she was okay. Her hands tangled in his air, and she was struck with the sudden urge to kiss the boy.

Their lips almost touched.

Frankie rolled off of Newt, clearing her throat as she mumbled, “It’s probably close to dinnertime.”

Then she quickly stood up, and before Newt could offer her a piggyback ride to the Kitchen, Frankie was half-running, half-stumbling away, all the while thinking, Shuck. I’m falling for Newt.

Newt walked behind her, forehead creased as he watched Frankie go flying back towards the center of the Glade, trying to ignore how his hands shook slightly, vibrating in time with the butterflies fluttering in his stomach. What was this weird feeling he got every time he twined his fingers through Frankie’s hair, or heard her laugh, or received a smile? Why did her presence make his skin all prickly while at the same time forming a warm glow around his heart? It seemed so silly to have such an odd reaction to the girl. He couldn’t even fathom why she could be affecting him so.

He wasn’t as confident in his emotions as Frankie was in hers.

“Alby, why does my heart speed up when I’m with Frankie?” the teen inquired one night, nervously dragging his thin fingers through the dirty blond fluff piled atop his head. It was grimy and matted, and his fingers got stuck, Newt wincing as he untangled his hair from his jagged fingernails.

Alby, who was sitting across from Newt by the firepit, looked surprised, but then chuckled. “Well, do you usually feel scared around her, or happy around her?”

Newt smiled. “Happy. But maybe a little nervous, too. She can be intimidating.” Alby nodded in agreement, a toothy, knowing grin adorning his handsome face. “So why do I feel that way?” Newt pressed, annoyed at Alby’s silent smirk.

“Oh, I think you know, Greenie,” Alby replied, letting out a small chuckle when Newt groaned.

“Alby! Give me a real answer!” The older boy just shook his head.

“You know the answer. Now figure out what your response is going to be.”

Before Newt could shoot a snappy comeback at Alby, Frankie waltzed over and plopped down next to him, chirping, “Hi, Greenie!” Newt rolled his eyes.

“You know my name, why’re you still calling me that?” Frankie grinned patronizingly,

“Oh, Newt, you’ll always be green in my heart.”

“You mean nauseous?” he grunted.

“Yup!”

Alby watched the exchange silently, watching the pair’s body language and banter as it suddenly dawned on him—Newt’s feelings were returned. These two were mutually attracted to each other—these two fourteen-year-olds in an awful, unexplainable prison, finding comfort in each other; feeling safe despite everything.

It was kind of beautiful.

Of course, the two were completely oblivious, both believing that their feelings were unrequited. Newt and Frankie simply continued to act like best friends, unable to see the flirting that was plain as day to Alby. That’s what he got for being older and wiser, he thought to himself.

But as much of the romantic tension that he did see, there was even more that he didn’t. Like all the nights that the two younger teens ended up in the same bed, for example.

It was just a normal night in the Glade, but Frankie’s mind didn’t care for peace. It liked to wreak havoc on its owner, especially while she slept (or more accurately, while she tried to). Frankie had been hopeful for a dreamless rest, but in the middle of the night, she started reliving that first lonely month. Except that in her dream, every time she woke up after slitting her wrists, she was back in the Box, starting the month over again.

Trapped here forever.

The teenage girl bolted awake, sitting up in bed as she regained her bearings. She was breathing heavily, forehead slick with sweat.

“It was just a nightmare,” she murmured, trying to convince her racing heart of this truth. She slowly eased herself back to a horizontal position again, but was out of bed wincing within seconds. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again by herself.

She hated waking Newt, but ever since he’d forced Alby to move rooms (the older boy snored), Newt had told Frankie to bug him any time. So, taking a deep breath, she padded over to his door and knocked. After a few seconds of silence, she became too anxious to linger in the dark hallway and simply entered the boy’s room.

His room was surprisingly messy—she’d expected him to be an overall organized person—but she ignored this small detail, tiptoeing around the piles of clothes and other materials on the floor. As she neared his bed, Frankie gulped, noticing that Newt was shirtless. He lay sprawled across the mattress, just boxers on his frame. This made her even more anxious to wake him, but she just took a deep breath and lightly shook the blond’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” the boy mumbled, eyes fluttering open as he looked around the dark room, disoriented.

“Hi, Newt,” Frankie peeped, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his deep, groggy voice and mussed hair.

“Frankie?” She could hear a hint of a smile in Newt’s voice as he rubbed his eyes. “What do you need, love?” he inquired, the pet name slipping out like it always did when he was tired. Frankie would never confess to it, but she secretly loved it.

“I had a nightmare,” she admitted, heart skipping a beat when Newt immediately frowned,

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” she assured him hurriedly. Newt opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, Frankie blurted, “Can I stay here?”

She felt blood rush to her cheeks immediately, but Newt just said, “Of course, love.” Frankie immediately climbed beneath the blanket he’d pulled back, right into his outstretched arms. She carefully rested her head on his chest, arms wrapping around his lean torso as she listened to the steady beat of his heart. His chest rose and fell with every soft breath he took, Frankie’s cheeks red as she took in the closeness of their bodies and the rhythm of Newt’s hand rubbing her arm.

“Are you comfortable?” the girl whispered, craning her neck to get a glimpse of Newt’s comforting face.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, love. Just sleep.”

The raspy tiredness in his voice made it even more attractive than it already was, and all Frankie could do was mumble, “Okay.” Then she drifted off to sleep, undisturbed by nightmares now that her knight in shining armor was holding her.

When she woke up, Frankie panicked for a second, chest restricted by something on top of it. But upon opening her eyes, the girl chuckled, finding Newt laying on his stomach between her legs, head resting on her chest, arms around her waist. Obviously, he’d shifted during the night. Frankie certainly didn’t mind; this way, she could run her hands through his soft hair. She’d noticed that he’d started washing it more often recently. It was certainly nice that the head of hair resting on her chest smelled like shea butter, not dirt and B.O.

After a few minutes of lying peacefully while Frankie played with his hair, Newt began to stir. With a large yawn, he stretched, rolling onto his back, but staying between Frankie’s legs.

“Frankie?” he mumbled, obviously not awake enough to remember why she was in his bed.

“Hey, Greenie,” the girl smirked, running a hand through Newt’s hair again. He closed his eyes in enjoyment.

“That feels good.” Frankie laughed, helping the boy sit up.

“Oh, really, Newt?” Neither teen commented on Frankie’s nightmare from the night before. Frankie felt better—Newt’s presence was enough—and Newt knew Frankie well enough that he could tell she wanted to move on. And that’s how it was the next time it happened, and the next. Newt never pressed her to talk about her dreams, and Frankie never pressed him to talk about the nightmares she knew he had, too.

The body heat of another was enough comfort for them both.

It should have been obvious to Frankie and Newt that their feelings were shared, but the two lovesick fourteen-year-olds remained blissfully unaware even after these late night cuddle sessions. It made Alby wish he had longer hair just so he could pull it out. Eventually, fed up with Newt’s insistence at denying his feelings, Alby hatched a plan.

Yes, he was desperate enough to play matchmaker.

Alby wasn’t great at whittling, but he was determined enough to create a decent, simple flute-like instrument. Coupled with a small bonfire, the stilted little flute’s music was all Alby needed to convince Frankie and Newt to dance together, the pair laughing as they twirled around, hand in hand.

“You stepped on my foot!” Frankie yelped as the two pretended to waltz, circling the fire.

“Sorry,” Newt winced, drawing the blonde girl slightly closer to his tall frame. Alby watched from a few feet away, a smile on his face as Newt and Frankie settled into a slow-dancing position, swaying gently from side to side with Newt’s arms around Frankie’s waist and her arms around his neck. Alby changed his flute’s melody to match the mood, watching the scene intently as a reality tv show host. Being as unassuming as possible, he waited for something—anything—to happen.

“Frankie, love?” Newt whispered, the girl looking up at him expectantly. “You look gorgeous in the firelight.” Frankie blushed so red that Newt could see it even at this time of night.

“Don’t be silly, Newt,” she argued. “I’m covered in sweat and grime, and I don’t own a shucking hairbrush. That cannot possibly translate to gorgeous.”

“Yes, it can,” Newt insisted, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “Trust me, love; you are gorgeous.” Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed as the boy’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her soft skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered in response, Newt just humming as Alby watched the pair, practically spontaneously combusting. “Newt—” Frankie was interrupted by the loud shriek of a Griever, causing her to jump from surprise.

Newt chuckled, “We should all go to bed, shouldn’t we?” Alby wanted to protest at first, but then saw a golden opportunity.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of the fire. Newt, walk with Frankie back to the Homestead, yeah?” The younger boy quickly agreed, Frankie knowing better than to protest, as it wasn’t a judgment of her own abilities, but just Alby’s overprotective nature manifesting in an overbearing approach.

“What were you going to say before?” Newt inquired, the girl looking at him in confusion. “Before the Griever so rudely interrupted you,” he clarified, eyebrows raising slightly at the blush that flooded Frankie's face.

“Oh, that—I was just going to ask if…” she trailed off for a second, but quickly regained her resolve, “I was going to ask if you'd stay again tonight. My nightmares have been bad.” Newt’s eyes lit up immediately as he threw an arm around Frankie's shoulders.

“Of course, love.” As the two reached Frankie's room, they both went for the knob, hands colliding in a burst of sparks that caused the two teenagers to exchange sheepish looks. “Sorry,” the British boy mumbled before following Frankie into her room.

A mostly comfortable silence filled the room as the teens quickly changed into their night clothes, sleepovers a routine enough occurrence that half of Newt's clothes were in Frankie's small dresser.

Neither Newt nor Frankie could deny the slight tension in the air, however, when Newt turned around a tad too soon and caught a glimpse of Frankie's bare breast as she pulled her night shirt on, the tension became almost unbearable. He attempted to act as if it hadn't happened, but judging from the blush on her cheeks, Frankie was just as aware as he was of what he'd seen.

They came to an unspoken agreement to ignore it, clambering under Frankie's blanket together as Newt fit his body easily into the outline of the girl's, spooning her. They laid there quietly, breaths filling the room as Frankie felt Newt's exhales tickling the back of her neck. His arms were wrapped almost lazily around her waist, as if they were just supposed to be there. Frankie's eyes fluttered closed at the sensations, hyper aware of Newt's firm chest against her shoulder blades.

Shifting slightly, Frankie unintentionally rolled her hips as she adjusted her legs’ positioning, the girl's breath hitching when the small of her back brushed against Newt's pelvis.

She remembered very suddenly that he was a teenage boy.

“Newt,” she whispered, rolling over in one fluid motion so they were face to face, “gosh, Newt.” Her gaze was soft, very un-Frankie-like, her bottom lip getting caught between her teeth as she gently cupped his cheek in her hand. Stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, she wondered when she'd become so bold.

The teenage girl felt soft hands trail from her ribs to the small of her back, Newt guiding her even closer to himself so their hips were flush against each other. Frankie felt as though her entire body was blushing in one red, burning shade, her eyes squeezing shut of their own accord when Newt's hands drifted lower, resting on the girl's ass before squeezing tightly, Frankie whimpering as her hands found a new spot—tangled in the boy's hair.

“Will you kiss me, Newt?” she asked in a whisper, the boy nodding before using a hand to lift her chin. His lips closed in on hers, Frankie waiting in anticipation, but Newt didn't kiss her full on the mouth. Instead, he planted a kiss on the corner of the girl's mouth, a dissatisfied groan leaving her vocal cords.

“Newt,” she whined, a low chuckle leaving his throat before he pressed a kiss to the other corner of her mouth, followed by a soft pattern of pecks that trailed along her jaw. Finally, sensing her patience waning, his hands found their way back up to her face, pressing his lips to hers with a passion Frankie hadn't expected him to have. She eagerly answered the requests of his soft lips, letting him have access to her mouth as she closed her eyes in contentment, completely happy to let him have dominance. His tongue flicking against her own, Newt's eyes held a deep desire that Frankie was sure was mirrored in her own.

“Gosh, you're so beautiful,” the British boy murmured, leaving Frankie breathless with no words as he continued to brush his lips against hers. Then he moved to her eyelids, placing soft kisses on them as he slowly ground his hips against her own, like he didn't fully believe this was real and had to make sure Frankie was truly there. Being loved on by him. With one last peck to her nose, he pulled back and just stared at her face softly, admiring the teenage girl's ethereal beauty.

“Newt—” she mumbled through swollen lips. “What are we?”

The spell broke.

All of a sudden, Newt was rolling off of Frankie and clambering out of her bed, grasping at the dark, messy floor to find his day clothes as Frankie sat up, stunned.

“Newt—Newt?” she asked anxiously. “Newt, what are you doing?” The British boy froze momentarily, eyes locking with the blonde's, but just as quickly, he unfroze and started towards the door.

“I'm sorry, Frankie. I'm really sorry,” he muttered. “I'm so bloody sorry. I just can't.” He looked at her with a pained expression, “I can't do this.” He stumbled over his words for a second before spitting out, “I don't want this.” Then he scrambled to leave, Frankie frozen in bed, stunned.

How had it all gone downhill so fast? How had it all fallen apart so quickly that she couldn't catch it; couldn't stop the snowball?

After a few seconds of denial, Frankie, though still unable to process what had just happened, found a tear rolling down her cheek. Then another, and another, until a rainstorm was charting paths down her face to fill a sea in the bed sheets below. Frankie found herself growing angry and heartbroken all at once, unable to reason out whether Newt had meant he didn't want her or didn't want a relationship. She wanted to scream, yell, curse his stupid name and wake Alby, too, but all she had the strength to do was let out one gasping, quiet whisper.

“Fuck you, Newton.”

The next day, neither teen would tell Alby what had happened, but he had enough sense to figure out that something had gone down, and from the cold, formal way Newt and Frankie were greeting each other, it didn't take the older teenager long to deduce a basic summary of the previous night's events. Alby tried in vain to bridge the chasm that lay between Newt and Frankie now, reasoning that they were stronger together, but nothing he tried could fix the damage Newt had done to Frankie's trust.

Alby became resigned to a fate of mediating between two icy parties, but what he wasn't willing to accept was Frankie drawing back into herself again. He watched her close herself off from both boys, noticing how she dug her nails into the scars on her wrists when Newt passed, and he remembered what he'd promised her when she woke up from her attempt—he wasn't going to let her die. Not by outside causes, and not because of her own mind.

Alby knew deep down that to help Frankie, he needed to first get her out of this hellhole, and that's why he first turned to the Maze.

There was no way he'd let Frankie out of the Glade into such an unknown, likely hostile environment, so the leader of the trio recruited Newt, who'd wanted to explore the Maze all along. Frankie, of course, opposed the idea with everything in her, wanting the well-being of both boys despite Newt's earlier defenses. She still treasured them both, and so the thought of them risking their lives in the Maze scared the girl.

But they were persistent, and Frankie held no real power over them. She just wished that they'd be content in the Glade. That they'd squash this desire to explore the Maze.

The morning Alby and Newt departed the Glade to run the Maze, Frankie ignored the sun's cues and instead simply glared frostily at the boys, as if to give them one last chance to back out. But of course, they didn't. Instead, they disappeared into the Maze, ignorant of the fact that they would never see Frankie again.

At least, never alive again.

_______________________________

𝗔𝗟𝗕𝗬 𝗛𝗔𝗗 remained relatively calm during the whole story; emotionless, even, but at this last statement, his head fell into his hands, a strangled sob coming from his mouth.

“Alby—” Thomas said uncertainly, but he was interrupted as Alby's head snapped back up, an anguished, feral look in his eyes.

“She fucking killed herself, Thomas! She slit her fucking wrists, right on the scars, so fucking perfectly that it must've been so meticulously intentional.” The leader of the Glade let out another angry cry before continuing, “She collected every single photo, poem, drawing, memento…everything that had any connection to her at all…and burned it. All of it. So we'd have nothing left of her. And then she wrote a fucking note that said, ‘You shouldn't have left.’ Set it next to her. Went to the Med-hut, right where she did it the first time, and ended it. When we got back and found her, she'd already been gone for at least a few hours.”

“I'm so sorry,” Thomas whispered, voice cracking, surprised to find a few tears in his eyes for this girl he'd never met; this girl whose brain had worked against her from the very start. Alby looked at Thomas with the expression of someone so in pain they could barely breathe.

“She died alone, Greenie. She fucking died alone.” Alby shook his head, “She shouldn't have had to die alone. Everything about it was awful.” The dark-skinned boy caught Thomas's eye again, answering his unspoken question. “Newt's photo only survived her purge because it wasn't in the Glade. It was in his pocket. He was in love with her, but he was too scared to admit it. At least, until it was too late. Fucking screamed it when we found her, as if a love confession could raise her from the dead.”

Alby laughed, but it was devoid of humor. “Creators started sending up antidepressants for Newt after that. Didn't make him take ’em at first, but…well, something happened that made them necessary.”

Thomas didn't know how to process all of the emotions rolling off Alby's body, especially paired with the deja vu the whole story brought with it. So he just sat there, not moving for a few minutes before Alby stood abruptly.

“Time to get to work, Greenie. Why don't you do your job trial with the Builders today instead of the Track-hoes?” The brunet agreed numbly, staggering out of Alby's office as the tales of Frankie ran through his mind. The image of that blonde in the photograph cycled through his head over and over, her smile getting stuck in his thoughts. She looked so happy in the photograph, and it made Thomas wonder if that joy was real. If that photo was taken in a happy time.

“So did you learn your lesson about being nosy, Greenie?” A gruff voice interrupted Thomas's thoughts.

He looked up to find Gally towering over him and mumbled, “Probably not. But I did learn to be more careful about being nosy.” Gally just stared at the boy for a second before sighing.

“Good enough. Come with me and we'll start your job trial. Not that it matters, I wouldn't take you. But that's inconsequential.”

Thomas trudged behind the Builder, barely even processing his words before asking, “Is there a grave for Frankie?” Gally looked at the other boy sharply, causing him to turn red, but the taller boy finally replied,

“Yeah. First one in the Deadheads.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said quickly, glancing over at the clump of trees that housed the graveyard.

“No, you can't go see it right now,” Gally added, Thomas scowling,

“I wasn't going to ask!”

“Sure,” Gally snorted. As the two boys reached the Builders' latest project, a repair site for a Slicer hut, Gally turned to Thomas and said, “Look, I get it. You're curious. But getting fixated on Frankie will help no one. I came up after Newt, just a few days after Frankie died, and spent the month trying to mediate between Alby and Newt, who were both trying to handle the guilt by blaming each other. It was the most miserable month of my life, and once they became civil again, it was still a nightmare to be reminded of her. Once I got them to talk again, I chose to just move past it and not think of it. And that's what you need to do. We didn't know her, so it's not our business. Got it?”

Thomas was taken aback by the harshness of Gally's words, unable to tell if the tall boy felt angry or sad about his forced role as peacemaker. The 6’3” Keeper of the Builders definitely didn't seem like the peacemaking type. But then again, Thomas was learning not to judge a book by its cover.

After all he'd thought Newt was a ray of sunshine.

That evening, as Thomas knelt silently at Frankie's grave and placed a makeshift bouquet at the wooden plaque, he wondered why the Creators had sent a girl with depression up to the Glade.

Unfortunately, no one would ever know. The only answer anyone had ever received was, “WCKD is good.”

the end