#shes too distracted by the obvious muscles that she doesnt stop to think

[sexybread-png]

[thewhumperinwhite]

Café: Hospital/Squad Car

In which names are fucking FINALLY exchanged; Sol comes out the same way I do 100% of the time; hands are held angrily; I Don’t Know About You Guys But I’m Sure Shawn Is Fine And Safe To Be In A Car With Right Now.

Previous Parts: Teaser One and Teaser Two

TW for: cops; implied past suicide attempt; referenced familial abuse; implied/referenced homophobia; self-harm.

Also, this is long, but I chose not to split it into two parts in the interest of getting back to The Action next time. Also please note that this is not a police procedural and I care about Gay H/C, not about How To Police Work, so please forgive the no doubt glaring inaccuracies.

@whumpitywhumpwhump 

Sol rests his pounding head in the hand not attached to his dislocated wrist, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to shake the residual claustrophobia still crouched hot in the center of his chest.

 He doesnt look up at the sound of Shawn being steered into the chair next to him. Shawn winces audibly as the motion must pull at his stitches.

“Thank you for waiting, boys,” the nurse says. She sounds uncertain in a way Sol generally doesn’t prefer in his medical professionals. “A, um. An officer will be here to talk to you shortly, I guess?”

Sol grunts vaguely, too tired to protest, and he can hear the polite smile in the blonde boys voice when he says in a too-bright voice, “Thank you. We don’t mind waiting.”

The nurse scampers. There’s a moment of what passes for awkward silence in a crowded hospital hallway. Then someone pokes Sol gently in the shoulder.

“Hey,” the blonde says in his velvety voice. “How do you feel, man?”

Sol lowers his hand and raises his head to stare at the blonde, who does at least have the grace to look sheepish. He spreads his heavily bandaged hands. “How do I look?”

The blonde fidgets, moving carefully to avoid straining his broken ribs, and picks awkwardly at the bandage above his eye with the arm that is not currently in a sling. At some point someone lent him a plain white t-shirt to replace his bloody button-down, but there hasn’t been time or space for showers, apparently— is the hospital normally so busy at five in the morning on a rainy Friday?— and his hair is still plastered up at odd angles and kind of red in places. Though it’s hard to tell whose blood is whose, at this point. On Sol’s other side Shawn is poking half-heartedly at his bandaged shoulder.

“Sorry, stupid question,” the blond agrees ruefully. “I meant, how’s your head?”

Sol glares at the floor. “It’s fine. Just a little knock. Not like I’ve never had one of those before.” In a much lower voice he adds, “I fucking hate MRIs.”

To Sol’s surprise, the blond’s face immediately softens. “Yeah,” he says, and he sounds almost— fond. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m Kent, by the way. Kenton Graves.”

Sol stares down at the boy’s hand, and thinks about telling him to fuck off. He takes Kent Graves’s hand in his bandaged one instead. “Sol Michaelis.”

Kent Graves blinks. “That’s, uh, quite the name.”

Sol raises an eyebrow. “Thanks,” he says flatly. “I picked it myself.”

Kent stares at him. Sol waits. “Oh,” Kent says, then, “Oh! I’m— sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun.”

Sol squints, lets Kent squirm while he weighs that response. It’s not a bad one, and he doesn’t ruin it by tacking on a bunch of excuses, just looks at Sol, embarrassed but not defensive. After a moment Sol waves his hand dismissively. “Whatever.”

Kent’s face relaxes into a smile immediately. It’s kind of distracting. Then he leans forward to offer his hand to Shawn, too, paling a little as the movement must make his ribs and fractured clavicle shift painfully. Sol winces a little in sympathy.

“Uh— Shawn Dugan,” Shawn says distractedly. Speaking of pale, Shawn is currently the color of string cheese. 

“Nice to meet you, Shawn,” Kent says politely. “You feeling okay?”

It seems to take a second for Shawn to focus on Kent’s face, but when he manages it he smiles, looking a little… scared. “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “A little. Uh. Freaked, I guess.”

Kent’s smile fades, and he massages a careful hand over his collarbone. “Yeah,” he agrees, settling back into his chair. “Me too.”

Sol glares down at his splinted wrist and says nothing. They tried to put him under general anaesthetic to reset it and he had to fight tooth and nail to keep them from putting him under. Goddamn bastards.

Somebody wearing heels clicks down the long hallway in their direction, and Sol raises his head too fast, his vision blurring out for a second. “Fuck,” he mutters, raising a hand to his pounding head.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys,” the person attached to the noisy heels says in a brisk, businesslike voice. As Sol blinks she slowly resolves herself into a pretty girl in a police uniform, her long black hair bound back into a tight braid. “How are we feeling tonight?”

Sol hasn’t really had a chance to look in a mirror since before he was shoved in an ambulance fucking five hours ago, but if he looks anywhere near as wrecked as Shawn or Kent, the answer to that question should be pretty fucking obvious. Nobody answers the officer, anyway. She smirks at them, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, I thought so. Well, we’ve got the okay to take you three down to the station so you can tell us exactly what happened, kids. Do any of you have anybody you’d like to inform of your whereabouts and condition before we get this show on the road?” She fishes a flip-phone out of the pocket of her not-very-flattering uniform trousers. “You can use this if you didn’t get a chance to grab your phone before we left the café. I’ve been told you left in kind of a hurry.”

There’s a moment of silence as all three of them stare at the phone. Shawn, with a nervous glance towards Sol and Kent, who haven’t moved, reaches a shaky hand out for the phone.

“Uh,” he croaks, and then he lurches forward slightly and raises a hand to his head. The officer has to take a quick step forward and grab hold of his uninjured shoulder to keep him from falling right out of his chair. He pauses for a second, and then looks up at her. Sol winces at the look on his face. Shawn is almost thirty, but he looks like a scared kid.

“I-I’d like to call my mom,” he croaks, and he’s really a worrying color under his embarrassed flush. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

The officer’s face softens at Shawn’s obvious distress, and she passes him the phone. “Yeah, of course it is.” Planting her hands back on her hips, she looks from Sol to Kent, one dark eyebrows raised. “Who’s next? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Shawn gets very shakily to his feet and wanders off a little down the hallway to call his mother in peace, using the wall for support. Sol looks expectantly over at Kent, who fidgets and then looks back at Sol for a second, and then down at the floor.

“There isn’t anyone I want to call,” he says, looking up at the officer.

Sol looks at him. There’s a muscle jumping slightly in his jaw. Interesting. Sol shrugs. “Me neither, I guess.”

The officer looks from Sol to Kent, frowning. Sol can’t really tell if she looks annoyed or— god— sympathetic. He looks away to keep from rolling his eyes. “You sure? Last call.”

Sol and Kent exchange a look almost without meaning to, and then they both look at the floor. Sol thinks of the look on Kent’s father’s face as he left the cafe. It isn’t an entirely unfamiliar one. “Yeah,” he mumbles finally. “I think we’re both sure, lady.”

There’s a long, awkward moment when the officer and the two boys listen to Shawn murmur shaky assurances into the phone and resolutely do not look at each other. Then Shawn hangs up the phone with a click and stumbles back over to hold it out toward the officer. “Thanks,” he croaks, swaying a little.

“Uh— no problem.” The officer looks from one pale face to the other, looking a little out of her depth. Then she sighs and squares her shoulders. “Okay. The sooner we get down to the station, the quicker you kids can go home. Are, uh— “ She falters a little. “Are you guys all okay to walk?”

Annoyed, Sol swings himself up to his feet, overbalances, and has to be stopped from falling by a hand on his shoulder he realizes to his mortification belongs to Kent. He wills himself not to blush and feels his cheeks and ears reddening anyway, and shrugs away. “Yes, we can walk,” he snaps, shaking his head to clear it.

The officer doesn’t quite laugh at him, but it looks like a struggle to hold it in. “Okay, sure, tough guy. Squad car’s this way.” She strides away, her non-concussed head held high, and the noisy clicking of her heeled boots drills straight into Sol’s skull, sounding much louder in his bruised brain than it probably is.

In his irritation he shoves Kent’s offer of a steadying hand away a little harder than he means to, and Kent winces away like he thinks Sol might hit him. Sol immediately feels guilty, but there’s no way to take it back, so he just stomps after the police lady, and Kent falls back to make sure Shawn doesn’t fall over, instead.

“You can call me Officer Santos, by the way,” she tells Sol over her shoulder. “I think that’s a couple steps up from ‘lady,’ don’t you?”

Sol grumbles at her.

It’s fucking freezing outside, but the fresh air feels good against Sol’s face anyway— the MRI machine had been so damn closed in, and he’d started sweating all over, and while he doesn’t feel clean and he aches all over, at least the icy wind snaps a little bit of clarity back into his poor overheated brain. 

Then he sees the squad car, and cringes a little. “You’re— not gonna let one of us sit up front, are you? he asks Officer Santos halfheartedly.

“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” she says cheerfully. “My backup’s already in the driver’s seat. Back seat’s not really meant for three people, but you kids’ll fit just fine if you get a little cozy, don’t worry about it.”

She grins at him, and then practically skips over to the passenger’s side. Sol grinds his teeth.

Sol turns back to glare at Shawn, who has a hand clamped over his mouth, and then at Kent, who seems to be half holding him up, although his face is very pale. Shawn’s shoulder is resting against Kent’s collarbone, and Sol can’t keep in a sympathetic wince before he schools his features back into a glare. “You’re sitting in the middle,” he snaps at Kent. “If anybody gets puked on, it ain’t gonna be me.” He slides into the driver’s side before either of them can protest.

It takes some doing to actually get Shawn in the car, and by the time everybody is seated and buckled in, Sol and Kent are pressed together from shoulder to hip. His head starting to spin a little, Sol notes that Kent has nice thighs— slender, but with more muscle definition than he saw from far away. Sol wonders dizzily if he works out.

Shawn, who seems to be sweating king of a lot, rests his head against the window and goes immediately to sleep. Sol kind of envies him.

Officer Santos’s “backup” turns out to be a twenty-something man with shaggy hair and a carefully cultivated smattering of stubble across his chin. Sol sees that the driver very briefly reaches for Officer Santos’s hand once she’s slid into her seat, but elects not to comment.

Kent looks around at the cramped interior of of the squad car with academic interest, and Sol rolls his eyes at him. “What, you’ve never seen the back of a police car?”

That earns him a quizzical look not just from Kent but from Officer Santos, too, and he immediately regrets saying it.

“Uh— no, never,” Kent says, but thankfully doesn’t ask any of the dozen questions written all over his dumb pretty bruised-up face. Instead he reaches forward and taps against the plexiglass divider between the back seat and the front, like the one in a taxi. The little sliding glass door stands open. “What’s this for?”

“It’s bulletproof, in case you guys turn out to be violent killers,” Officer Santos says brightly.

“Soundproof, too,” the driver pipes up. “For when we have to take noisy drunks back to the station.

Kent laughs, and the sound is awkward and strained. “Oh.”

Officer Santos elbows the driver in the ribs. “Come on, backup. Let’s get these kids back to the station so we can all go to bed.”

He laughs, and as soon as he starts the car, Officer Santos dives for the radio knob. Screaming metal guitars fill the cab, but the noise dills into Sol’s temples with far too much force for him to enjoy it even a little. He throws his hands over his ears. “Jesus!”

“I agree,” the driver says, grinning, and reaches for the radio himself.

If anything, the candy-coated pop he selects is even worse, especially because he grins widely and starts singing along. Sol’s head hurts entirely too much for him to judge whether or not the driver is any good. “Christ, will you shut up?”

When Officer Santos yanks the radio back to the metal station, Sol gives up and reaches forward around Kent to slam the sliding door in the divider closed, and although the sound doesn’t entirely cut off, it at least dies down to a bearable drone. Sinking back into his seat, Sol heaves a relieved sigh, mostly for the sake of his own pounding headache, but also because even in his sleep Shawn looks fucking exhausted, sweat visible on his forehead even from Sol’s seat.

Sol rests his head against the pleasantly freezing glass of his own window and basks in the silence for a second. In fact, he makes it a respectable forty seconds before he can’t resist shooting Kent a sideways glance.

The blond is playing with the bandage above his eye, and looking deeply uncomfortable. Sol frowns at him.

“You know,” Sol says abruptly, and doesn’t stop when Kent winces at the sound of his voice, “I don’t fucking get you, kid. There’s no way they’d take you to the station if you’d called him and had him pick you up. You’ve gotta be fucking loaded, right?”

Kent’s blue eyes slide over to Sol’s face, and then he looks down at his hands, smiling unhappily. “I’m not actually sure I am ‘loaded’ anymore. He may have actually disinherited me this time.”

“What, for— “ Winking at me? Sol doesn’t say. “What’d you do?”

Kent’s answering huff of laughter is pathetic enough that Sol almost doesn’t hear it over the hum of the car around them and the faint pounding of bass from the front seat. “Uh, I dunno. Something stupid, I guess,” he says softly, and twists his hands together.

For a second, his sleeve shifts up and Sol catches a fast glimpse of a single, deep scar on his left wrist, but he tugs it back down so fast Sol can’t be entirely sure.

There’s a very awkward silence. Sol wonders if Kent knows he’s seen it. Probably not.

“It’s like a twenty minute ride to the station, man,” Sol says, when he doesn’t think he can take it anymore. “Elaborate, dammit.”

Kent winces a little and shifts in his seat, poking at the thin scar on his forehead in a way that seems unconscious. “Uh, not that it’s any of your business, but I— broke up with my girlfriend.”

Sol blinks, and waits for him to go on. He doesn’t.

“What the fuck’s that got to do with you dad?” he asks blankly, and Kent laughs and looks away, really scrubbing at his scar now in a way that looks like it should be painful.

“Uh, well, I say girlfriend but I guess the real word is fiance,” he says, fidgeting, and that pulls Sol right up short again.

“Huh? How old are you, man?”

Kent laughs again, looking everywhere but at Sol’s face. “I’ll be twenty this May,” he mumbles. “Sophie and I grew up together, and I think my father kind of decided I’d marry her when we were, like, nine. Her dad’s a business associate.”

“He what? What year is this?” Sol says blankly. “Who the hell does that?”

“My father does, I guess,” Kent says, and the way he says “father” reminds Sol of things he doesn’t really want to think about. Damn, he’s really going to town on that scar of his. Sol’s surprised he hasn’t just torn it right back open.

“So why’d you break up with her, then?” Sol says, because goddammit that’s enough with the awkward pauses. “Because you’re gay?”

Kent actually splutters at that one, and actually looks Sol in the eye for the first time in the whole damn car ride. He also colors prettily. Sol feels weirdly pleased with himself. “Uh,” Kent says, and then looks away, flushing. “Um… no, actually. Or not… entirely, anyway.” Oh, god, now he’s digging his nails against his scar. “I’m not really sure why I did it, exactly. I think maybe I just wanted— I wanted— “

Sol one hundred person does not mean to dart his hand up and wrap it around Kent’s and after he’s done it his brain catches up with him and they both freeze and sit there stock still for at least ten seconds, Sol’s bandaged fingers all tangled up with Kent’s.

Finally Sol drops their twined-together hands to the tiny space on the seat between his right leg and Kent’s left one, even though half of his brain is screaming at him to let go of the guy’s hand oh god.

“Fucking quit that before you tear your fucking face open, okay? Forget it, I’m sorry I asked.”

Kent is staring down at his hand, which is still trapped beneath Sol’s, and wow, he is red all the way down to his broken collarbone.

Sol stares down at their hands too, and is feeling his own face start to flush when he’s saved by Shawn apparently coughing up one of his lungs. They both jump like they’ve been shot, and Kent snatches his band back before turning to touch Shawn’s shoulder with admirable care.

“Hey, you alright?” Kent asks him, and Shawn, shaking with chest-deep coughs, shakes his head.

“Oh man,” he says faintly. “Dude. I feel like absolute shit right now.”

[inkstainedfanfics]

Dinner for Three

Request: Hi. Could I request an imagine? Newt is dating Reader but doesnt know he is a wizard. One day niffler escapes (or any creature) and Reader goes to see what is happening and she discovers the trunk and she is freaked to the point of passing out.

Word Count: 2,027

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Special thanks to @drdanwrites for helping me realize I was starting this story in the wrong place. Go follow her for awesome writing!

Requested by Anonymous but also tagging @red-roses-and-stories @dont-give-a-bother @caseoffics @myrtus-amongst-the-stars @ly--canthrope @thosefantasticbeast2 @benniesgalaxy @whatinbenaddiction

Your face is red and you’re shifting nervously in your seat as Newt once again glances at the hallway over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in a half-frown as he stares at the shadows. The plate of your homemade spaghetti remains virtually untouched in front of him.

“So,” you begin, desperate to start some sort of conversation on this fifth date, “have you decided what you’re going to write about?”

His eyes snap back to you, anger fading into guilt. “Sorry, what?”

You force a smile to your face, acting as though this isn’t absolutely mortifying. He clearly doesn’t want to be here; you’re annoying your own boyfriend. Sure, you’ve only been dating for about a month now, but you’ve come to really care for him. The last thing you want to do is annoy him.

“Have you decided what you’re writing about yet?”

Newt drops your gaze as he lifts his fork. “Not quite. I’m mulling over some ideas still.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, nothing too interesting yet…” he trails off, looking at the hallway behind you again.

“I’m sure they’re fascinating.”

“Possibly.” Newt’s murmur is as distracted as everything else he’s said tonight.

You sigh and scoop up a bite, wondering just what you did to incite the obvious annoyance and anger he has. Does he not like pasta?

He doesn’t notice your despair as he scoots his chair back and sets his napkin on the table. “Excuse me for just one moment.”

“But where…” you begin, trailing off as he strides past you, attention on something else entirely.

He’s gone, leaving you alone with two plates of spaghetti and an empty chair.

You set down your fork, rubbing your forehead as his footsteps disappear into another room. The evening had started out so well. He’d taken your jacket, seemed excited for the dinner you’d brought over, even pulled your chair from the table for you. And the beginning of dinner had been as lovely as every other date with Newt. You’d discussed his recent business trip to Bolivia and hazarded a few more guesses about what he does for a living – accountant, photographer, cartographer – though none of them were correct. He’d even complimented the shirt you’d chosen (an hour’s worth of changing over and over was not wasted) and asked you to elaborate on how you’d learned to cook so well. Then, suddenly, halfway through the story about your mother helping your press garlic, something had changed.

Had it been something you said? Your mind goes into overdrive as you consider everything you’d brought up. You’d mentioned something about Newt’s mother in your story. What if she’s sick? What if she was just in a car crash? What if they can’t stand each other?

You drop your head into your hands, absolutely miserable. God, how can anyone stand dating someone? It’s too stressful, too full of rules and worries.

Something slams behind you, startling your thoughts away. “Newt?” You call out slowly. A sharp rap sounds from the door. “Newt, is everything all right?”

God, what if there’s an intruder he’s fighting? What if he expects you to be calling the police right now instead of sitting at the table. You stand, starting for the telephone but stop yourself as there’s another bang. If he’s fighting an intruder already, there’s really no time to wait for the police. He needs help now.

You make the decision in a split second and don’t let yourself consider any other approach. Snatching a large statue of a dragon from the mantel, you slowly walk to the door. The plates of spaghetti sit there, cold now, but the embarrassment you felt earlier over them is completely forgotten. Your entire focus is on the noises coming from the other room.

A huge crash rattles the door you’re staring at; a cry of pain follows. “Newt!” You cry, rushing forward.

You hesitate at the door for only a second before steeling yourself and pushing it open. It only moves a few inches before slamming against to a halt. Planting your feet and tightening your grip on the statue, you drive your shoulder into it and manage to push it open wide enough to squeeze through.

A wardrobe lies face down on the ground, blocking the door. The ground around it is covered in shattered glass: Once a vase, you assume, by the tulips now lying in a puddle of water. The curtain over the window has been torn in half and hangs by threads, and papers are strewn across the ground. The only thing in the room not overturned or destroyed is a small suitcase sitting open.

“Newt?” You call out tentatively, creeping forward, careful to watch where your feet land.

There’s no response.

You peer around the room, searching for some explanation, but there isn’t one. There’s no place he could have escaped to. The room’s on the third floor, the window’s shut, and the only way into or out of the room is through the door you managed to pry open.

You’re still baffled by his disappearance when you peer into his case. That, unfortunately, only makes this entire situation worse.

A staircase. There’s a staircase in this suitcase. Your hand shakes slightly as you try to reconcile the facts. Newt’s disappearance, the torn-up room, the suitcase with stairs… Oh mercy, what the hell?

“Newt?” You call, voice barely carrying through the room and certainly not making it down the short staircase. “Newt?” You try again as you work up the nerve to crawl down there.

You take a deep breath. Maybe this is just a weird decoration style that you’ve never seen before. Maybe Newt owns the apartment directly below this one and it was just weirdly constructed. You wrack your brain but come up with no better answer. Weird decoration. All right.

Stepping down the staircase, you keep the dragon statue firmly in one hand and up against your chest. At first, you think you’re hearing things, that all this stress has driven you to hallucinating, but with every step down, strange noises grow louder. There’s caws, croaks, tweets, and… roars?

You reach the bottom step, and the room opens up in front of you. You stare, eyes wide, at the place. This is no second floor, no apartment. This can only be described as a habitat.

Stone bites into your hand as you white-knuckle the statue. A long-necked grey … thing … wanders past you, giant eyes fixated on the moon above you. You’re grateful it doesn’t seem to notice you as it roams forward. A pack of birds you vaguely recognize roam past you, pecking at the ground. You nearly drop the statue when you realize they’re dodo birds. Dead creatures, extinct if you learned anything in school.

A shout bursts out in front of you, startling both you and the tiny, grey giraffe.

Newt’s a few yards away, chasing a mole, a branch extended in his hand. He doesn’t notice you as he yells something gibberish. You don’t know what the hell is happening, can’t reconcile it with the man you know. He’s not crazy, doesn’t use made up words or play around with tree branches. He also has never once mentioned having a staircase in the beat-up case he carries around everywhere, never talked about these strange creatures, never let on that he has a whole ecosystem here.

You stop breathing as a flash of green light seems to shoot from the end of the branch in Newt’s hand and streaks through the air. It connects with the mole, and the animal freezes as though its muscles just stopped working. Newt waves the branch again.

You pinch yourself, eyes wide, breathing stopped, as the creature slowly begins to move, jostling side to side first then rising into the air. Every part of you is screaming to run, that this isn’t natural and you need to get away, but your muscles don’t cooperate.

Your vision spiderwebs and disappears just as Newt turns in your direction, mole in his hand.

The world’s dark and black and all you can make out are some muffled sounds. Someone near you is speaking, saying something about Merlin and shocks. Something else caws near your ear, and the sounds grow louder with each passing second.

“There you are.” Newt’s words are muffled as he nods to himself, hand wrapped around your wrist, presumably taking your pulse. “You’re all right.”

You try to sit up as your vision returns, only managing with Newt’s aid as he wraps an arm around your back to support you.

He’s kneeling next to you, sleeves rolled up, branch in his mouth. His lips are curved up in an apologetic smile, and he reaches up to take the branch from his mouth. “Terribly sorry I didn’t mention something earlier.”

You blink, glancing around. The field still surrounds you. Creatures have appeared, poking up over the tall grass or peering at you from a distance. Animals you’ve never seen before slowly creeping forward.

“Where am I?” The question’s shaky, because of your recent fainting spell or because of the discomfort coursing through your veins, you’re not quite certain.

“My…” Newt pauses, appearing to be searching for the right word, “workplace.”

“But how? And why,” You jerk your chin at his wand. “are you carrying a branch?”

Newt attempts to suppress a grin. “It’s not a branch.”

Your head spins. “Where’d the green light come from?”

He opens and closes his mouth twice before dropping his head. “I think I have a lot to explain. Perhaps we should go upstairs and I can explain everything over dinner?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the grey giraffe in front of you as you nod. Its adorable, blinking at you with those huge eyes. “What’s that?”

“A mooncalf.”

“Is it dangerous?”

Newt laughs. “Only if you’re a handful of grain.”

“May I pet it?” Your cheeks are flaming as you look up at Newt. The question seems so juvenile, but the creature’s too adorable as you watches you.

“You’d like to?”

“If he won’t hurt me.”

Newt’s grin softens as he looks at you.

“So, can I?” You question again.

“Of course. Would you like to feed him?”

The creature brightens at the word, letting out a soft caw that has your heart swelling. “I’d love to.”

Newt helps you to your feet, leading you through the area. “I suppose I don’t have to hide what I’m writing about now.”

“You’re writing about this? All of it?”

He chuckles. “All of it.”

“That’s… wow.”

He raises an eyebrow in response, but nods down at the statue you’d forgotten you’d brought down. “May I ask why you had my statue of a Hungarian Horntail?”

Your cheeks burn. “I, um, thought you needed help.”

“With what?”

“I, um, I thought maybe you were being attacked.”

Newt grins at the words. “And you were planning on fighting with that?”

“It was the first thing I saw. You were the one dropping everything in there. It sounded like you were being murdered.”

“Well,” he says between laughs, “thank you for your worry. I do appreciate your attempt to save my life even if it was misguided.”

You roll your eyes at his teasing, but he tugs you against his chest and you can’t help smiling. The rest of the night goes well. You learn about spells and creatures and a whole dimension of the world you wish you’d known your whole life. Newt lets you feed the creatures and shows you the bowtruckle’s trees. He walks you through the fields and, when the moon is at its height, kisses you quickly.

Both of your cheeks are red as you head back to the apartment.

The plates of spaghetti are still there, cold, a waste, but Newt warms them up quickly and you eat before finally grabbing your jacket and walking out the front door.

Later that week, a parcel arrives at your house. When you open it, a warm feeling floods your veins. Inside is a dragon statue and a note: Next Wednesday, thunderbird lessons. Newt.

[pj-fanfics]

Murray Backstory

so murray and bianca lived in same neighborhood cute fat kids in their class only fat kids sometimes they'd get teased early on like they gunna get married and they'd laugh it off like yeah w/e bianca has a pretty backyard with her own tiny garden she invites him over to help her out lifting bags of dirt cuz she lives with her aunty and she's brittle/can’t lift much over the years, murray starts to grow a crush on her bianca is always super sweet and never malicious, she is very caring person she even had a choice to live with her rich uncle or frail aunt and picked her cuz she thought she needed the most help so one day, some bullies sneak into bianca's backyard and smash up bianca's garden and that was just tip of iceberg bianca's aunt has a nasty fall and breaks her leg they end up having to move with her uncle cuz they can't provide for her in their tiny town but she never told murray cuz she didn't want him to worry about it he knows about the garden, not the moving part so he saves up all his money and in one night, replant a good chunk of what she had planted before it just so happened to be on the night before bianca left but then murray goes to school next week wanting to hear about her new garden but her friends all oh i guess she didn’t tell u but she moved away doesn’t believe them runs to her house to find it for the most part empty, she never had a whole lot in the house, all that mattered was that garden there's a note on the gate to the garden left for him thanking him and asking him to forgive her for not saying anything about the move he ends up keeping this note throughout his life but that kicks starts his spiral of depression he gets mad first and bitter for not saying anything to him questioning if they were ever really friends but he's just a teen, he's a very sensitive boy and bianca knew that no matter how much he tried to hide it by acting quiet and cool mad at himself for never telling her how he felt though it seemed obvious to everyone else, including Bianca as he grows up, he passes by her house every day to school has to start taking the longer route to avoid it checks on the garden he planted it's withering, close to dying he goes on to school by the time he's in hs, he's gone total cool quiet commando wrestle team captain but still really smart ends up being a part of poetry club as well which gets the babes babes start asking him out he sees quite a few of them after school and they tell their friends somewhere during that time, he bumps into tippo and serenity they like hey we heard you're a decent writer, we need a songwriter for our band, u interested Murray like yeah maybe Serenity’s shitty hs band only consists of her, Tippo and Murray Murray as bass player Im sure Anit is invited to be in the band as well but they're maybe unsure of their potential Anit goes to college later on, Murray takes over drums for the songs that need it most the songs don't require them as much Murray also in charge of odd instruments kazoo, triangle, tamborine, digiridoo, rainstick Murray finishes hs but doesn't go off to college gets lots of girls for his looks and mute demeanor plenty of them prolly groupies of shitty hs band that's the name of the band "shitty high school band" has a gang motif they usually only play one gig a month 2 if they really wanna but for Murray it's a decent distraction then one of their so-called fans, a Roselia, says she's been a fan since their beginning but Murray never takes the compliments to heart he doesn’t recognize her but they fuck and later she finds him like we gotta talk, I am pregnant, you’re the dad and I wanna keep it Murray world comes crashing in first of all how did you get this number I’m half way across the countryside for this tour *consisting of 8 cities, lame ass tour but BEFORE ROSELIA CALLS HIM he's performing at a stadium in the desert think south west, arizona, new mexico fans come up to him and he does the schtick of pleasing the crowds but then he catches a glimpse of someone familiar then bolts to them it's grown up Bianca has to stand up on her tippy toes to hug around his neck she still fat but she swoons like look at u~ you got sick muscles now you could be one of the security guards murray departs from rest of gang to go off with her looking at the clear vast desert skies at night catching up all night murray debating bringing up her note he gets some closure by telling her he forgives her for leaving without a word but is still hesitant to bring up his past feelings to her now that he's been around the countryside and banging a lot of girls along the way, he feels very dirty being in front of her again and she's literally unchanged then he decides he gunna do it he gunna come clean but then she sneezes her familiar cute baby kitten sneeze when she wipes her nose, he sees a ring like ....... that's new :I oh yeah, I met him while I was going to school he didn't go to school with me he was the son of my uncle's gardener after I would come home, he'd be there helping his dad and I brought them drinks and sometimes I'd help them too uvu my uncle would scorn me, telling me it's their job to get messy but i didn't mind uou murray peeks over growing up, bianca was very poor her only pairs of shoes were a pair of old boots that seemed to last forever by the time she was in middle school, she seemed to already fit into them they were always dirty from being outside sure enough, she's wearing boots, different pairs, but same brand/style and they are worn and muddy even shows her a picture of baby Kassandra and murray like I sure would like to meet her someday Bianca hands her a card with her address like stop by any time! we'd love to have you! and your band could come too if they have the time :> the next morning, Murray gets the call being around bianca that one night has sparked something in murray he's not sure what to call it but maybe from seeing the baby picture, he maybe felt a bit of remorse again for himself if things were different maybe that could have been our baby remorse for the child that IS his like I didn't love this woman, now I have a responsibility to raise it cuz I know going in, this lady is gunna be trouble and everyone else knows it too keeps Serenity on speed dial when he has to get Leila out of there quick KALA ALSO HAPPENS TO BE A SWEET TENDER LADY WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE ROUND AND CURLY HAIRED HE'S GOT A TYPE Murray winds up having to put his visit with Bianca someday on hold

kazukoyo Gotta support his babby

ProfessorBees as this crazy lady he's currently married to is abusive and threatens him and their child every other day

Kazukoyo She got a screw or two loose

ProfessorBees working mom as a stripper Murray stay at home dad and part time repair guy or construction mom works day shift daddy has to work at night then the wife finds Murray's note and address card from Bianca burns them then takes Leila like I knew you never loved me after all I've given you she clearly drunk Murray has his phone on 911 and on speaker as soon as she out the door, leila in the car crying dont u worry sweetheart, i'll make sure he doesnt hurt us again >:0 but baby leila reaches out to daddy trying to escape mom idk how his phone would be on speaker if this is early 90's late 80's? maybe just leaves phone handle down and towards angry wife doesnt know what to do she just slammed the door he immediately tells the cops his address and reporting of kidnapping then furious dials serenity and tippo to call them whats up too then mad dash to his own car and chase after wife but then crosses a dinky bridge, and sees almost if it was in slow motion, her car hit the side of the bridge and it flips over and it bursts into flames murray reaching inside desperately, manages to find baby Leila's car seat easily slips her out as she was only half buckled in, thankfully is still alive and no open wounds is about to go back for his wife, but the car's weight and flames wear strain the car cabin's support and it crushes down Murray holding baby Leila refusing to let her go waiting on the other side of the bridge for police/firemen/paramedics to check on this small baby his ex-wife did not survive the crash but Leila only had a few bruises Murray decides he's not going back to that horrid apartment full of broken memories buys a house from his old neighborhood one with dusty old items and a little dusty garden in the backyard he starts with expanding Bianca's garden from a small gated corner to the majority of the backyard, completely covering it with dirt and plants then starts to work on remodeling the house it's small but it's just him and Leila so it doesn’t have to be huge breaks down a few walls to make it more open finds a few of Bianca's old belongings puts them in a shoebox he no longer has her address but he's got it memorized by now he'll deliver them personally when he's got stuff sorted out it's nothing of huge importance her dishes, bowls, lunchbox, maybe her kid needs something of her mother’s? Leila sees the box from time to time but doesn't know a Bianca so in her early years, makes her up like she's an imaginary friend it makes Murray's heart bleed how much little leila acted like he did when he was a kid trying to act cool/quiet but of course his face always :I :'I and continues to do so for the most part ends up going to a community garden to get tips from fellow gardeners and meets a lady who's there for a weekly course she recently had a miscarriage and is taking this class as a therapy but so far, only proceeds to depress her a bit as she knows nothing about plants and her crop is wilting Murray helps her out a lot and they seem to really hit it off younger staff at garden center ship them hardcore and Kala even invites them to wedding lmao Murray just wants close family and friends Kala brings her family plus the ones who shipped them from the start Leila super >:I for a new mommy *cling to her she mine now, dad off with you we have things to discuss like who's gunna get me more cake? >:I *grabs at wedding cake gimme murray and kala put her down lEila like nO wrONG direction Leila like what 4-5? old enough to know she getting her very own mom look ferro I got one >:I *shows off tall round mom Murray invites Bianca and family too but only Bianca shows up and gives Leila a toy too Leila like thanks stranger Bianca getting her shoebox of old treasures back and Murray telling stories of young Leila pretending to have a friend based off of u Bianca finding this all wonderful that he came back to her garden and just made it bigger and also renovated that drafty house into something much more fit for a family tl;dr bittersweet murray backstory I made up in the span of 2 hours?