#theseus scamander | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lacollectionneuse1967 · 5 months

Text

slip of the tongue

Theseus Scamander x Reader

The word left your mouth before you could process it, “Daddy.” He froze completely, locking eyes with you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face.

summary: you're a personal assistant at the british aurors office. you accidentally call your boss, theseus scamander, "daddy."

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, ddlg themes, (light) mdom/femsub dynamics, (light) size difference kink, unprotected penetration

It was mid-November. London was dark by four in the afternoon and you were out of the Ministry by five, pulling your trench coat around you and shouldering your way out into the stone streets and coal black skies. It wasn’t bitingly cold yet, but you kept your arms tucked close to your body regardless. Dipping in and out of the indistinct crowds, moving with purpose.

You had about fifteen stacks of classified documents on you, but they were safely magicked away into the lining of your coat, and they weighed nothing. Magic almost always weighed nothing, cost nothing.

For you, at least.

“A natural.” “The brightest witch of her year!”

That’s what they’d called you at Hogwarts. Even your closest friends in [your House] eventually grew bitter and irritable, so you had to feign stress before exams and pretend to practice your spells alongside them in the common room, in a display of camaraderie.

The truth was you didn’t need to practice, or study. Ever.

You were muggle-born, everything in your life before Hogwarts had been so difficult to bear, your parents’ death, the streets of East London, the orphanage. Even talking to other people, simple conversation, bore some inexplicable strain for you.

But magic had come as easy as breathing. Your wand was like a limb, an extension of your body, you didn’t even have to reach for magic, it just sprung forth, dancing into the world.

You wanted to be an Auror since you were fifteen. You were good at magic, and little else, and you were curious, had a talent for dueling and abhorred those who took advantage of the weak. It seemed a natural path.

You were hired straight out of graduation. You were only meant to work as an Administrative Assistant at the Ministry of Magic for a few months. But that was nearly a year ago…

In truth, you’d already been offered a position as an Auror. You turned it down discreetly. Theseus Scamander, Head of the British Auror Office, was the man you’d been assigned to as an assistant. He was the figure you answered to, and you’d been his sole, personal secretary.

Before you loved him, you liked him, but even then you could recognize that you liked him too much for what was appropriate to feel for your boss. He was nothing like you in that he was maddeningly easy to become fond of. He was funny and charming, kind and handsome. Sarcastic and a bit of a straight edge. You glowed in his praise.

Every “Excellent work, Y/N” or “Y/N, you’re a lifesaver,” or casual introduction beginning with “This is my genius assistant-” swelled inside of you with happiness. Once he’d even, absent-mindedly and only half-looking up from his copy of The Daily Prophet, said “Good girl,” and you’d nearly fainted.

The first time he hugged you, after some successful project of yours, he’d braced his arms around you and spun you around, and you’d gone wide-eyed and stiff. He set you down in a flourish.

You were terrified your reaction would put him off touching you forever, but he only laughed aloud, the sound like bells in the wind.

“Not scared of the death threats we receive from dark wizards but you’re scared of a little hug from your boss?”

Your heart seized, though you returned his laugh in relief. If he only knew what you were really scared of.

“Try it again,” you smiled and met his gaze defiantly. “I’ll do better this time, I promise.”

It always seemed to shock and delight him in equal parts, the way you responded to him. You liked to challenge him, and to make him smile just to see it spread across his face.

When Theseus hugged you the second time it was him who hesitated at the feel of your warm body pressing into his, his large hands hovered in mid-air before resting delicately on your upper back.

When you were hired he was still engaged to Leta Lestrange, as he was when you turned down the promotion you were offered. Pathetically, being his assistant was the closest you could get to him. You weren’t about to walk away from that, walk away from him. Between late-night talks at the office and laughter-filled afternoon teatimes at his house, he’d become something like a friend. You couldn’t have him, but this was enough to sustain you. You weren’t her, but you knew you meant something to him…

When you entered his dark apartment, slipping the key out from under the welcome mat, it was no warmer than the outside world. Barren and cold as death, no signs of life. You whisked your wand out and spelled on the lights, spelled the documents free and they fell heavily from your coat, thunking unceremoniously on the hardwood floor.

Since he broke up with Leta, Theseus hadn’t been home, that was clear from the state of his place. He had hardly been at the office. You covered for him without even having to think about it, without even blinking you spewed out excuses and deftly dismissed the Aurors who came to call on him.

You didn’t think about what that meant about your loyalty, to the Ministry and to him.

"Y/N," he’d prefaced in a letter, an owl sent to your house. "I trust you with my life. Not in theory, but in practice: with this letter you hold my life in your hands. You’re my assistant, but you’ve also become my closest and most cherished friend."

He’d mentioned Grindelwald, going behind the Ministry's back, “choosing sides,” and that he was with his younger brother, Newt. He told you to tell the Ministry he was on business if they asked, to make up something about a dark wizard lead in Romania. And he mentioned that he would need you to make copies of some confidential documents from the archives for him. He asked you to set them aside "but not in my office. Not safe. Bring them to my apartment. Key under the mat. I’ll be in touch soon. I owe you."

And so here you were. Still in your work clothes, a navy blue pencil skirt and chiffon blouse, black tights and your [hair color] hair pressed into loose finger waves, your heels scattered somewhere across his floor. You were organizing the documents into piles.

He’d requested the strangest things, all top secret, in the most restricted section of the Ministry Archives. Old maps and travelogs pertaining to sightings of some ancient creature with certain prophetic or spiritual abilities. Topographical maps of Bhutan and Austria. Classified research on dark magical objects that bound promises in blood.

It made you feel like you were in school again, made your head spin.

Wishing always hurt for you, coming from your background, you hardly let yourself indulge in it. But right now you wished he would’ve told you more. You wished, more sharply and painfully, that he was here.

In the middle of organizing the endless piles of parchment you began to drift off. The words on paper began to cross and blur in your vision. You didn’t want to disturb his apartment or his things, so you hadn’t put on the fireplace. Cold and tired you padded to his empty room.

Just a little rest before I finish up here. You thought to yourself. Just going to rest my eyes.

You crawled under his crisp bed sheets and your eyes pricked at the overwhelming smell of him. If you didn’t allow yourself to miss him before this, you couldn’t help it now. You’d never been in his room before, you thought distantly, fatigue already claiming you, dragging you down into a black sleep.

-------

You weren’t cold anymore. Someone had put the fireplace on. You became aware of this before you heard him.

“Y/N,” Theseus’s voice was rough and low and sweet. It must've been past midnight. He was dressed in a suit still, bending over the bed, his eyes tender and tired. “Did you fall asleep, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. You stirred. That word undid something in you. Unfettered any tension or stress you’d been holding in your body since he’d been gone.

“Theseus,” you muttered, still half-sleep. Your eyes were swollen, you would’ve been mortified, but he was here, at last, and he was looking at you with a gentle smile, so affectionate.

“M’sorry, the documents—I fell asleep-"

“It’s okay,” he chuckled. He dragged a hand over his face and stood. You felt guilty for stealing his bed, you didn't know where he'd been, but he looked positively wrecked. “Rest. I’ll wake you in the morning.”

He turned to leave, presumably for the couch. You reached out for him, any part of him, and your hand caught the waistline of his pants, a finger hooked there.

He looked down at the offending hand and raised a brow.

You were half dreaming, his arrival was so unexpected, so surreal. Your face felt hot, something like fever.

"Mm, don't go," you mumbled. And then, the word left your mouth before you could process it, “Daddy.”

He froze completely, locking eyes with you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face. You were suddenly terrifyingly awake.

You clapped a hand over your face, mortified, and rolled over in his bed so that the pillow concealed your face. Consciousness seeped in gradually and with every sober second you were swallowed by dread.

“Oh,” you said stupidly. “Oh god, I have to leave. I'm sorry, I was sleeping, I don't know why I said that."

You stood as clumsily as a drunkard, taking half his sheets to the floor with you. Your hair was a mess and your skirt had hiked up nearly around your waist, revealing your black panties through your sheer tights.

“Oh god,” you said again. You couldn’t look at him. You began to fix your skirt and pat down your hair when he stepped forward, eyes dark, hand gripped around your wrist.

You startled, confused. But he looked the opposite, an absolute calm washed over his face.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Coming home to you in my bed,” he let out a sharp breath, something like a stifled groan. “You have no idea what I wanted to do to you.”

Your stomach fluttered. You searched his face for any signs of confusion. He looked tired, a little undone, but more himself than ever.

“I don’t understand,” you didn't know why you felt on the brink of tears, when this is all you’d wanted all along. “You… you want me? But you were engaged, you…”

The look in his eyes was blazing and still, fire in water. It was enough to silence you.

“I want you. I ended things with her because I couldn’t live with it, wanting you. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, not at your job, and I’m sorry to bother you with it now, but it can’t be helped. You can leave if you want, things can go back to normal. Me, wanting you, and you knowing nothing about it.”

He seemed to return to himself now, he sounded like the Theseus you knew. Poised, sure of himself. Mercifully kind. But his chest was heaving and the desire, plain on his face, was enough to make your knees buckle.

He wants me. He wants me. With each beat of your heart you felt the truth of it swell inside you. You could see it, unmistakable, the look of want that mirrored your own. Ready to worship and renounce and claim.

“I don’t wanna leave,” you admitted, weakly. When he spoke again his words were terse, strained.

“Get back in bed,” is all he could manage, and then, “And call me that again.”

And for the first time since you’d known him, you defied him.

Like the possessed, you fell into him, kissing him. He stumbled back in surprise, catching you with his hands crowded around your face. And you were both kissing and grabbing at each other, you fell to your knees and he followed you down.

You couldn't stop kissing him, not even to regain your balance, to catch your breath. He tasted so good, and his mouth on yours would've been enough to sustain you forever. The two of you were so desperate with need, you were half-kneeling on the floor.

You began to whine in protest when he pulled away at last, but he stood and pulled you up from under your arms. When he threw you back onto his bed, your stomach flipped. He was looking down at you, pulling off his shoes and jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. With him looking at you like that, you would've let him do anything to you, anything at all.

“Sweetheart, I said,” he pulled off his dress shirt and your head went dizzy at the sight of his bare chest, his shoulders and arms. “Get back in bed.”

His voice was stern, but fond. You knew what he wanted immediately, and it thrilled you to give it to him.

“Yes, daddy.”

You could see him struggling to control his expression, he just bowed his head back and pinched his eyes shut. The corner of his mouth twitched.

The knowledge that it was you doing this to him, driving him crazy, turning him on, heightened your arousal. Submitting to him strangely felt like power in your hands.

“Good girl,” he said at last.

He was in his boxers now. The shape of his dick through the thin cloth made your mouth water. You wanted to press your open mouth against it there, wanted to pull it out and kiss it. You don’t know what had come over you. You couldn't think straight.

He got into bed beside you.

“Come and sit in my lap.”

Your body purred and thrummed in delight. This is all you’d ever wanted at the office, to drape yourself over and onto him like this.

You crawled over him and sat firmly in his lap, legs splayed around his thick thighs. His hands came up around your waist, sliding further up to your chest. He looked up at you unblinkingly, eyes hooded and reverent, but his fingers moved of their own accord, unbuttoning your shirt.

You reddened, suddenly self-conscious. “Wait, don’t-“

“Don't?” he raised an eyebrow. “What, you want me to stop?”

He made a tutting noise and continued to remove your shirt, you had to look away when he flung it across the room, you were so embarrassed. He had your bra off in seconds.

“So cute. So shy.” he said dotingly, but his actions were anything but cute, massaging and running the rough pads of his thumbs over your nipples over and over again in circles.

You moaned without meaning to, and the sound embarrassed you further. You felt him grow even bigger beneath you, between your legs.

“No, you don’t want me to stop.” He sounded so cocky you wanted to tell him off, but you couldn't, not with him playing with you like this. You could only moan weakly beneath his hands.

Your hips began grinding against the outline of his cock. It was so big your entire body thrilled at the feel of him, at the ludicrous idea of fitting it inside of you.

He seemed determined to humiliate you, he kept talking you through it.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Can you feel how hard I am?”

“Yes,” you answered, breathless.

“Tell me what you want. How you want me.”

“Inside me, please.”

“Please, who?”

You were so frustrated you could've cried. You wanted to come so bad, your legs were trembling. Up and down grinding and rubbing wasn't enough when you knew he wanted to be inside of you, that you could've had him inside of you.

“Please, daddy," You cried, feeling broken.

Theseus pushed you back onto the bed roughly and crawled over you, reaching down to hike your skirt even further up your midsection. You were already topless, but he gripped into your tights with both arms flexing and ripped them apart at the seam.

You gasped and instinctually tried to cover up, bringing your legs together, but he was already pushing your panties down past your ankles, and then his broad hands were covering your kneecaps, pushing them apart.

“No, no, don’t do that. You’re mine," He reprimanded.

It felt so vulgar, him seeing this part of you. But you were only half a person now. You needed Theseus inside of you to be complete, you were dumb with want. A whining, needy mess and he couldn't get enough of you.

Tears stained your cheeks.

“Please, pleaseplease-" You started to beg, but he silenced you with his mouth on yours, wet and warm and perfect. When he shushed you this time it was surprisingly caring, he caressed your face reassuringly.

“Okay, baby. It’s okay, I’m not trying to tease you, hold on.”

When he pulled out his length, your mouth went dry. You instinctually spread your legs wider. It was big, bigger than you thought. Both thick and long.

He reached a hand down between your legs to find wetness. Your back arched, your whole body curled and keened in pleasure against his hand, his touch.

But when he pushed a single finger at your entrance it met resistance. You moaned in pain and contentment when it finally slid in fully, past the knuckle.

“Ah,” he said with a grunt. “You can barely fit my finger, baby. You’re so tight.” He said this in equal parts admiration and lament.

“No!” you whined. “Please, please, I can take it-“

Theseus shushed you and kissed your forehead.

“I know you can, pretty girl. I don’t wanna hurt you, though.”

“I want you to. Please, please.”

He hissed something like fuck under his breath and began to add more fingers, a second and, then, absurdly, a third. You already felt like you were being split in half. He could barely move them, but soon enough he was pumping them deep and slow, in and out, and the act was so lewd you wanted to cry again.

“Fuck, that’s tight," he said to himself again. “Christ, Y/N, you’re gonna kill me.”

When he removed his hand you wanted to cry out at the loss, but then he was moving his body up, his hands clasped around the inside of your knees and he spread your legs up and open and wide, just for him.

When he sank down into you, his dick was so big and hard that your eyes bulged and your mouth opened pathetically.

“Oh,” you said, stupefied.

Then he pushed in and in, endlessly, until he bottomed out. You were already throbbing around him, so overstimulated from before, coming and fluttering around his cock before he’d even fucked you properly.

“Oh!” you exclaimed again, throwing your head back against the pillow and bringing the back of your hand to your mouth to bite, hoping to stifle the moan as your orgasm washed over you hard. Waves of pleasure ran from the crown of your head all the way down your legs, you could see it coming from a mile away but were nonetheless overcome, completely.

He made a small noise at the sensation of you tightening and pulsing around him and ripped your hand away from your mouth.

“I wanna hear you,” he ordered, and so you let him. It was almost an out-of-body experience, the way he materialized in front of you, inside of you, when you finally came back down to earth, blood roaring in your ears.

“I just stuck it in, and you already came?” His tone was dark and teasing. “That’s all it takes, darling?”

He leaned over and kissed you deeply, passionately, and then straightened your legs and threw them over one of his shoulders, bending you in half. He began to fuck you in earnest, fucked you limp. You really felt like a rag doll now, helplessly pinned beneath his weight, his hips pounding into your backside. He drilled into you, growing impossibly harder by the second, it was almost like being filled for the first time all over again.

You couldn't stop moaning, he kept telling you how good you were doing, how you were almost there. Kept asking you questions that made you blush, making you answer them.

Every thrust of his hips was pure ecstasy, vibrating shocks of pleasure were sent straight to your core, your whole pussy throbbing with it. He was fucking you and it was the best thing you’d ever felt, you never imagined sex could be this good.

You felt his dick stretching you wider and wider when he said, “Where do you want me to come?”

You didn't even think. The word preceded any thought.

“Inside. Please, please-"

“Fuck.”

The feel of him shooting into you, hot and warm and pulsing, sent you tumbling into another orgasm, it hit you so hard your vision went white and spotty. You had the impression your whole body was vibrating with the force of it.

He rolled your sweat-slick bodies over so that he was cradling you, holding you. You could feel his heartbeat, feel the air rushing in and out of his ribcage. He held you for a few minutes before finally relenting and pulling out with a hiss.

“You’re so perfect,” he panted, pressing a kiss to your temple, your chin, your neck.

You felt overwhelmed with emotion. Overstimulated. Completely at his mercy.

“I love you,” you said. Powerless. All your life you had clung to power, whatever power you could cling to and not be kicked off like a dog. But for him alone you allowed yourself to be weak.

Utterly and devastatingly weak.

You always imagined him saying it to you, first, but the thought barely had the chance to dampen your soaring heart because then he said, “I love you more. I promise you, whatever love you have for me, Y/N, I'll always have more for you.”

-----

He cleaned you up and gave you some of his clothes to change into. Soft and oversized, you were almost drowning in them. He changed into his own pajamas, changed the bedsheets and threw the old ones on the floor. Gave you a toothbrush to use and soon you were both cozy and tucked back in his bed.

“I wanted to do that from the first time I saw you," He admitted. “Even though I was your boss, and your friend, and I was a taken man at the time. It made me feel ashamed, sick with myself. How badly I desired you.”

Hearing Theseus say these words was like a dream, or something you wouldn’t even dare to dream.

“Are you staying here for good now? Or are you leaving me again?” You asked.

“You’re coming with me. With us.” He said in a way that was so sure and simple, it made you feel safe. Made you forget about the Ministry, and the world falling apart. “We need your help. And besides, I've missed you.”

-----

part two here

A/N: woohoo first fic ever! let me know if you have any requests or if you'd like a part two. right now i am only writing for theseus and no one else.

#theseus scamander #theseus x reader #theseus scamander x reader #theseus smut #theseus scamander fic #theseus scamander smut #fantastic beasts #callum turner #hp fanfic

2K notes · View notes

oncasette · 25 days

Note

FANGTASIA. send in a character from my guide + one of the prompts below for a drabble!

OK LAST ONE I PROMISE. but you know I had to send in a theseus request so … theseus + "You think I like being like this? Every time someone fucking touches you I want to rip their hands off!" teehee 😋

'𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗡 (𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗗𝗢)

theseus scamander x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“I can hear you sulking over there. C’mon,” you urge as you watch him out of your periphery. He closed his eyes before he exhaled slowly. Deeply, forcing all of the air out of his lungs in the hopes that his foul mood would exit with it. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want to hate your secretary, to be the possessive guy that never let his partner speak to another man, but it was starting to eat away at him. It was a lot easier to lose you when he didn’t fully have you, yet.

or the one where theseus can't stand your secretary.

warnings: none that i can think of, semi-possessive theseus?

masterlist

He was just your secretary. That’s what you keep telling yourself. And Theseus. All he does is your filing and allow people entry into your office. And bring you your morning coffee without you needing to ask for it, with the exact amount of cream and sugar you take without you ever having told him in the past.

Of course, this was just him being excellent at his job, it was why you’d kept him on for so long. There was a quick turnover rate for secretaries at the ministry. A year or two, at most, before they were either fired by their respective bosses or they left to pursue a field they were actually passionate about. But not Richard. No, you’d been working with Richard for the better part of five years. Long before you’d ever met your now boyfriend–if you could even call him that, only having been on a dozen or so dates at this point. Not that the question hadn’t been on the tip of his tongue since the first time you batted your eyelashes at him.

That didn’t stop Theseus from clenching his jaw every morning when he stopped by to say hello only to find your secretary to have abandoned his post outside your office in favor of holing up in your loveseat and carrying on with whatever annoyingly dull topic of conversation he’d chosen to occupy your time with. It didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes at the way his hand lingered over yours as he dropped off the accounts you needed that afternoon during your lunch break, little more than a glance cast askew at him as he sat beside you. It didn’t stop him from biting his tongue so hard it bled each time you brought Richard up in the evenings when he walked you out of the building.

No, it didn’t matter how long you’d worked with the man. Theseus knew a crush when he saw one.

“What’s wrong, love? You’ve been tense all day,” you say, gently placing a hand onto his shoulder. He’d been sitting in your office for a little over an hour, his work day having already drawn to a close but you’d had to finish up a last minute assignment your boss had thrown on your desk fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave. Theseus hadn’t minded waiting.

“Nothing,” he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Richard had been especially irritating that day. He’d barely had five minutes alone with you before you’d forced your secretary to go home once the clock hit six.

“It’s nothing, lovely. Promise,” he says. At the very least, having this time with you was beginning to dull the headache that had formed earlier in the day. He thinks it started when Richard had once again waltzed into your office during your lunch hour with the hopes of taking you out to the bakery a couple blocks away.

“Okay,” you drawl, eyebrows drawn together.

It’s then that Theseus notices the parchment stuck to your desk lamp. It was a charmed doodle, one that poorly illustrated a man with smoke shooting out of his ears sitting at a desk played on a loop. To keep you company while you work - Rich. Of course.

“You ready?” you ask, shuffling around documents and files on your desk to deal with on Monday when you return before grabbing your bag off the ground and slipping your coat on. You circle around the furniture in your office to stand in front of Theseus. He ran a firm hand across his brow bone as he stood to meet you. He leans forward to place a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth as he nods.

It’s hard to ignore how stiff he’s become.

“Are we still good for dinner at yours tonight?” you ask.

“Of course,” he hums. He wasn’t going to let this ruin the one of the few evenings a week he got to spend with you. Or, at least, he was going to try to not let it ruin it.

Once he was sure you’d both collected the remainders of your belongings, he takes your hand in his to apparate the two of you to his flat. Since you weren’t going back to your place, he didn’t feel the need to walk the two of you all the way across the ministry just to disapparate from there. He only did that to spend a couple extra minutes with you, anyway.

It’s only the second time you’ve been to his place, but the short wave of nausea prevents you from feeling too overwhelmingly nervous about it. You set your bag beside the door before you move to the kitchen to sit and let the urge to vomit begin to dissipate. Theseus smooths a palm over down your arm as he slides up behind you.

He leans down to whisper in your ear. His nose brushes against your cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe a penny…” you trail off.

“A penny?” he huffs amused.

“For your thoughts,” you say.

“I told you it was nothing.”

“Darling, I know something’s wrong. I want to help if I can,” you say, tilting your head back enough to look at his face. He bends again to kiss your forehead. It’s tender, sweet. Nearly domestic.

“It’s just work stress, I guess,” he says. He wasn’t technically lying.

“I’m sorry,” you hum, bringing a hand up to smooth across his cheek for a second. “Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you get some of it off your chest.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, love,” he says as he begins to move away from your chair. He meanders around the small kitchen as he starts to gather the things he needs to cook dinner. You hardly notice as he charms the cutting board to dice vegetables for him.

“It wouldn’t be a burden. Richie’s always telling me about the kinds of things that bother him at the office,” you say. Theseus’ jaw clenches. With his suit coat already having been slung across the couch in the living room, he’s quick to roll his button-down sleeves up to his elbows.

“Fucking Richard,” he mutters. It’s so quiet you almost miss it. Your brows raise. He runs a palm over his jaw, resisting the urge to bite down on one of his fingers.

“This is about him?”

“What?” he asks as he turns away from you to grab noodles from his pantry. The first time he’d asked about Richard had been harmless. A one-off question at the end of your evening when he’d been walking you back to your flat. A question you’d answered simply. He’s just your secretary. Then he’d asked again. A second and a third time.

“This. Your… mood. It’s about him, isn’t it?” you ask. You’re attempting to sound understanding, but you know there’s an edge to your tone. He doesn’t elicit an answer. “I thought I told you he wasn’t anything to worry about. He works for me.”

“I know,” he grumbles.

“Then what’s this about, hm?” you ask, standing from your chair and moving into his space.

“It’s just.” He’s cracking, slightly. He hates that he’s allowed himself to get affected by something so trivial. “He’s always there.”

“You’ve got yourself in a fit because my secretary comes into my office during work hours?”

“It’s the way he is around you, you know? He’s always around, always touching or trying to touch. You should see the way he looks at you,” he huffs. The box in his hand drops onto the counter suddenly, his hands following as he pushes his weight against them.

“Thes-” you start.

“You think I like being like this? You think it’s something I want? To be so angry and aggravated about something that I can’t control? That you can’t control?” he asks. “Everytime he touches you I want to rip his fucking hands off.”

You step behind him, winding your arms around his middle until he’s stood straight again. His hands find yours and interweave between your fingers.

“It’s not you,” he sighs. “Well, I mean, it is you. I don’t see how there isn’t a single man left in the world not wrapped tight around your finger.”

You press a kiss between his collarbones. He relaxes into your hold.

“I don’t want Richard,” you say.

“I know.”

“I want you.”

“I want you, too, darling.”

“But I also want you to talk to me,” you say as you urge him to turn to face you with a tap of your fingers against his torso. “I’ll talk to him. I can’t say I haven’t noticed him being a little closer to me than some of the other secretaries have been with their bosses, because I have. So, I’ll talk to him. But, I need you to talk to me, too.”

His forehead falls forward until it’s pressed against yours.

You continue, “I need you to tell me when stuff like this bothers you. You can’t just be all angry at the world and do nothing about it and expect it all to change. Okay?”

“I can do that,” he hums.

“Good,” you nod.

“Good.”

“You also need to remember that I’m a grown-up and I can handle myself, too, right? Just because another man may or may not have his eyes on me doesn’t mean I’m going to go running off into the sunset with him,” you say. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest, his eyes crinkling with a soft smile at the sides.

“Alright,” he says.

“Now,” you say. “What’s for dinner?”

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner #callum turner x reader #harry potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them

544 notes · View notes

obessedwithfictionalmen · 2 months

Text

✨️Masterlist✨️

John Egan:

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

Did you just kiss me?

Alright, bet!

Protect You

Back to black

Until you come back home / 2 /

Stop trying to feel everything

Inventor

Soft and prude

Small space

Run!

You want my jacket?

Kiss me before you leave

I hate / love you

Princess and the fool

I have a plan

You're like me, but better

New Girl

Never felt so...

Too Sweet

Callum Turner:

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

Qué serà serà

Finals season

Joe Rantz:

Training / 2 /

Theseus Scamander

Young, dumb in love

Curtis Biddick

Daylight

Your idiot?

You have to live

Gale Cleven

Told you she was real

Who did this to you?

Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

Therapist

Ronald Speirs

Disguise

John Brady

Misunderstanding

657 notes · View notes

barrykeoghanstan · 2 months

Text

Callum Turner's curls are my Roman empire ❤️

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #masters of the air imagine #mastersoftheair #masters of the air x reader #major john egan #boys in the boat #the boys in the boat imagines #theseus scamander #joe rantz #joe rantz x reader #theseus scamander imagine #the only boy in new york #frank churchill

433 notes · View notes

luvvleionni · 2 months

Text

WHITE BOY OF THE MONTHHH!!!

edit by haileaep on TikTok

#callum turner #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum turner x reader

410 notes · View notes

strangerdangerwrites · 9 months

Text

the art of lies | t.s. (fantastic beasts) - chapter one

Summary: all your life you had been handling the dirty truth, and here he comes presenting you with his sweet lies.

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x Fem!Reader

genre: romance, mature audience intended

warnings: mature themes, implied sexual content, sexworker protagonist, pleasure house (brothel), smoking

the art of lies masterlist

IN THE ABSENCE OF DAYLIGHT, Paris comes alive, after all, it is known as the City of Love.

Love in the form of freshly picked flowers from the florist.

The sweetest chocolate that tickled your taste buds.

Hand-written poems that rivaled world-renowned poets.

A love so sweet and tender that it caresses you gently in the night

But that certainly wasn’t the truth, it never was. Love wasn’t like that.

Love was the thorns that hid beneath the roses.

Love was the bitter taste that lingered in your mouth after your first dark chocolate.

Love was the letter from lovers that had written goodbyes instead of ‘I’ll stay’.

Love was the harsh tug of your hair, the rough hands that hold your wrists, saying the words ‘You are so beautiful’ only when you are in the middle of the bed, spread willingly to the desires of man.

Here, in Paris, is nothing but filled with nights of debauchery where all senses are thrown out the window. The sickening smell of expensive perfume and wine drowning you in the world of sins. And Paris was notable for it, here you are free! Or so they say.

Truth be told, you could never be free, always staying in hiding from the Non-Magiques. And here you were indebted to your handler, Madame Blanche, the owner of the renowned luxurious Maison close ‘Amour Délicat’.

Like her name, the whites in her hair and the sharp look in her eyes tell her story. She was a former courtesan before and when the first war of the non-magiques happened there she learned something that would give birth to her only child, the Amour Délicat. When she shared the truth of what was happening in the world of the non-magiques to the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France (Ministry of Magical Affairs of France), Madame Blanche was greatly compensated, and there from the ground up, she built her history.

Madame Blanche is far from the harsh and ruthless handlers in the non-magiques world of prostitution; she is commanding and ruthless. When she saw the reality of the world, it opened her mind to do whatever it takes to protect herself, and that is by being well-known that you create a sense of security in being seen. Here she opened her doors to those willing to work for her, at first, many were wary as to join and take employment, the look of disdain and gossip were indeed not for the faint of heart.

And you who had nothing to lose, took the first bite and jumped straight into death potion.

You, who only had your name and the clothes you wore on your back crawled straight inside Pandora’s box.

Madame Blanche had saved you, she had given you a roof, food, clothes, and the protection that you needed. The life you formerly had was long gone; it was all in the past, thrown into the sea to be forgotten.

And here you learn to be a great witch. She first-hand, had taught you how to be a legilimens, as her first courtesan, she has taught you how to traverse the mind easily, to learn secrets, and how to use them to your advantage.

“The most powerful of witches and wizards can all be defeated by the secrets they hide.”

While the other courtesans were only taught surface-level legilimency, you were a natural. Not only can you do it nonverbally and wandlessly, but you can also communicate with others telepathically. Madame Blanche had opened you to all possibilities, and with that, she entrusted you with the highest position of being her right hand.

And your skill at legilimens always comes at night when you bed another clientele. And in the middle of pure ecstasy, they reveal the truth unwillingly. Here in the dimmed candlelight, you walked through the halls of their mind unlocking every door with a skeleton key of your abilities. No matter how many layers, or how many locks they keep, trust you could open it with ease. Secrets like marital affairs, financial debt, graft and corruption, illegitimate children, crimes, enemies, first love, their favorite color, the last thing they ate, their thoughts at that very moment… you can see and feel. An out-of-body experience, stripping you naked from yourself, from what you are and who you were. Here you forgot you were even breathing.

You didn’t realize you had been lying on the bed still for the last few minutes, the house elf, Bernadette, had been looking at you worriedly, and in her hand was your dressing robe, colors almost like the blinding light.

“Was the man harsh on you today, Miss?” She asked, placing the mulberry silk robe on your hand. You gave her a small smile and shook your head. The faint marks of rope were the clear sign of your lies, yet you were accustomed to it.

“It is alright. Run my bath for me?” With a wave of her hand, the bed took itself towards the laundry room and came in a small golden tub that fit your frame. Muttering a spell it filled the tub with bubbles and water, you stood before it before hitting it with a wave of your wand. The gramophone in the room suddenly erupted into soulful jazz music. With a scrub and a bar of soap ready at hand, Bernadette tried to assist you but you declined. Stepping foot into the warm bubbly bath.

“I would like a moment alone.” You waved your hand as soon as the words left your mouth, the house elf knew to leave you to your own devices. You were a grown woman, a woman who has been doing these for the last decade. And whenever you tried to look into your future, all you could see were the grand walls that painted your very eyes, the moving wallpaper depicting fields of various white flowers, you were stuck in Amour Délicat for the last moments of your life. This was the only thing you will ever know. You were indebted and grateful to Madame Blanche, and that led to your loyalty. She protects you and everyone in the Maison close. Outside these walls was uncertainty.

In the hot water, you submerged yourself trying to wake yourself up to the fact that this is your life. Yet when the warm glow of the city, fireworks erupted the skyline, muffled by the water you sat straight to peer at the noise. Without even looking, you knew families were in their own homes, enclosed with the scent of pastries and the warmth of their own fireplace. It was just a few minutes before New Year's Eve, and here you were working. Alone, staring into the distance, craving the sense of a warm home.

Holding your knees close to your chest, you stared at the skyline as Muggles and Magical people alike celebrated the night with a bright display of fireworks.

Unbeknown to you, Clarice, the receptionist had been preventing the members of the British Ministry of Magic from stepping foot towards the quarters an hour before the new year would start.

“You cannot go inside; this is a private and respectable property,” Clarice spoke, her accent rushing the words as panic littered her veins. Her arm at ready with her own wand. The lounge was filled with thick air as the British aurors pointed their wand at the girl, not understanding a word she shouted.

Click-clack! Click-clack!

With every slow step, Madame Blanche descended the stairs.

“And what do you English want? Here to close Amour Délicat? You don’t have the right.” Madame Blanche boasts, looking at the men below with her chin pointed upwards. Looking at them one by one, the Madame could not read their minds, the British aurors have been trained in occlumency. Remaining calm, she stood on the balcony, overlooking the whole crowd below.

“We were looking for one of your workers. I believe they have the answers to the disappearance of one of the assistant delegates of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.” Torquil Travers claimed, holding a photograph of a man in his middle 30s-40s.

Summoning the paper in the grasp of the Madame, she looked at the photograph intently, racking up all the lists of their clients. Without even showing hints of recognition, Madame had thrown the paper back into the hands of the aurors.

“I believe you must have a permit before we further your inquiries. If not, then leave.” Turning around, she waved a hand to open the large doors.

“We have it, signed and approved by your own Minister.” Stopping in her tracks, the auror walked up to the steps and held it right in front of the Madame’s face. Now a hint of annoyance was painted on her pointed brows.

“Come to my office, only I can accommodate two of you. Choose wisely.” Madame Blanche said in a cold tone, not even bothering to wait for aurors as she walked straight to the lift.

“Scamander! Come with me.” Travers could upon the young man, the older auror respected the young man’s abilities and thinking, after all, he was a respectable war hero.

Stepping into the lift, the walls were decorated with moving painted white flowers, the madame touched the button to the highest floor, and the black lining of the lift showed its elegance. As the Aurors stood behind her, eyes darted across each other in nervousness. The Brits showed no sign of anxiety, even if that was far from the truth, the Madame held an air of regalness suffocating them with the scent of floral perfume. As soon as the doors of the lift parted for her, the room was quite the luxury and beauty with its eclectic interior, engulfed with knick-knacks from travels, moving statues, paintings from famous muggles, and the large glass pane showing the night sky.

In the middle of the room was a velvet green chair, a large glass table, and a lone flower sitting in the golden vase.

“Sit.” She pointed toward the chair in front of her, while she remained standing encircling the room looking at the Englishman that disturbed her home.

“Our clients value discreteness, we simply could not disclose it easily… yet since you presented me with a hand-written note by our minister I must oblige to your request. Then talk, what is it that you want?”

“We are looking for Charles Moore. He has been in charge of communications with the French Ministry as a part of assistant delegate for our Ministry, he asked to be assigned here after the Muggle World War. The day he was posted to return, he didn’t. And we believe that in his letters to his sister, he claimed to be…”

Madame Blanche raised her eyebrow at Torquil Travers waiting for him to spit it out.

“In love.” Theseus replied. “He claims that he has found the love of life here in Paris and was planning to buy off her indenture. Or so we believe.”

Madame Blanche scoffed.

“There are many dames in Paris, and he chose to settle with a courtesan?” Madame Blanche laughed, making Travers find it humorous as well. In the keen eyes of Madame Blanche, he saw Theseus's brows turn into a frown before shifting back to biting his cheeks.

“Are you certain that it was in Amour Délicat?”

Theseus answered with a nod.

There were three letters in total from Charles Moore to his sister. And for the past few days, Theseus had been assigned to look for the exact description of the building. He alone took the time of the day, looking at details of every establishment and brothel in Paris, from the world of the muggles to hidden alcoves of the French Wizarding World. After 2 days, he had seen the exact description of the magnificent-looking walls lined with silver and the sweet nauseating scent of flowers, that’s when he knew this was it.

First Letter:

Dearest Ange,

I believe I have found the love of my life! No one is ever as beautiful as her. No amount of theatrics on the show could ever take my eyes off of her. She sat there like a flower, waiting for me.

As soon as the play was over, I tried to approach her. Tell her to take my hand and run away with me. Oh, Ange! I never felt something like this. This must be what love is. Yet, my heart turned to pieces when I saw her taking the arm of another man, walking together side-by-side as they left the theater. I trailed behind them, and saw the most luxurious of buildings, sparkled with silver linings and flowers decorating its walls. Then I stopped and stared, and the man left her there. That’s when I realized what it was… I know this might sound ridiculous, but she is working in the red-light district and with that, no amount of apprehension could hinder me. I know you would flip the whole house upside down, but Ange this is love. I am certain of it. No amount of your denial could keep me away from this.

From your darling brother, Charlie.

Second Letter:

Dear Angelique,

With the amount of your reply, I take that your silence was your approval.

Today, I took liquid courage to go ahead and talk to her. But the only way was that I had to pay a fortune. I walked to the receptionist with high hopes, and with her assistance, she immediately gave me a room. With flowers in hand, I waited for her only to get my hopes up when another girl walked into the room. I was filled with disappointment. I asked the lady of the night for the description of my love, and she claimed that she was part of the ‘bouquet de blanc’. First-time patrons' pocket money is not enough to gain an audience. And me being an assistant could only lead me to certain places, yet I will persevere.

Give me a few more days and I’ll be able to, no matter the cost.

From your brother, Charles.

Last Letter:

To my Darling Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well, I could not disclose to the ministry the cost of my expenses… but I found another way. Worry no more. Today, I will finally be able to talk to her.

The day that I return home is when she is with me.

�� From your loving brother.

Placing the letters right in front of the Madame of the house, with a lifted finger her smile faded into a scowl. Someone from the inside was spreading information about her courtesans; Bouquet de Blanc was valued in secrecy. This was a catalog of their courtesans that had regular high-paying patrons, and this was not open for viewing so easily. Patrons that were deemed valuable to her and her Maison close were accommodated, the pure-blooded noble families, higher ranking officials, royalty even. And someone from the lower ranks of her courtesans had their tongue quite willingly.

Waving her wand, she summoned a large logbook. There inside was information such as names, professions, ages, nationalities, and ranks of their patrons, of course, the courtesan they were assigned to. Whispering the name Charles Moore, it skimmed through the pages with ease, and there in bold letters was the name of the auror the Brits were looking for. Travers tried to peer at the other listed names, his curiosity taking the best of him.

“Curiosity is the lust of the mind, Mr. Travers. Why don’t you sit still, and I’ll call upon her.”

Closing the book harshly, Madame called upon Bernadette. Apparating next to her mistress, Madame Blanche whispered to call the girl. Nodding the house elf disappeared within a blink of an eye. Behind them, the elevator dinged, while the Madame tapped on the book with carefully manicured nails.

“It is New Year’s Eve; would you like to avail of our services? It can easily be arranged. I know it’s a long journey and your work for your ministry is greatly appreciated, it wouldn’t hurt to take the night off— to indulge yourself in your sensual desires.”

The older man shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Suddenly they were interrupted when the elevator doors dinged, signaling the arrival of the courtesan. Turning around a slender figure stepped foot in the room, She wore a long flowing green nightgown.

“Come in here and greet the Brits, Maeve. They would like to talk to you about Charles Moore.” Madame Blanche pointed to the aurors in front of her, the back of the courtesan’s neck grew in a cold sweat.

“I–I do not understand Madame Blanche. I didn’t do anything wrong! The man asked– and I swore that was the last of it, I told him what he wanted to hear.” The girl's pleading cries fell on deaf ears as the aurors could not understand what she was crying about. Theseus' eyes darted between Madame Blanche and the girl’s tear-stricken face. While Torquil Travers stood to show his authority, ready to apprehend the girl.

Within just a few seconds, Madame Blanche had already seen the inner linings of the girl’s mind. The fear registered in her thoughts while she traversed doors upon doors to look for the memories of the missing delegate, and right there she found what she was seeking.

In just a few quick strides, Madame Blanche towered over the girl with a look of disdain painted on her red lips. The old mistress, jaw held tightly as she wiped the tears of the girl. Only to hold the young girl’s face tightly, her long nails pierced through the delicate skin while she stared straight down into the young woman’s eyes with an intense look, unblinking.

“You may leave, pack your bags, and look for work elsewhere. I do not take it kindly to those willing to open their mouths willingly to my secrets. Bernadette, escort her out of here. I have found what I’m looking for.”

The girl refused as the house elf dragged the wailing girl back to the elevator, screams of ‘no’ echoed through the walls.

Travers, who was far too confused, shouted for the house elf to stop as the girl was a key witness. Even pointed his wand threateningly at the old mistress, ready to cast a stunning spell within the tips of his lips. The madame disarms him with a flick of her wand, his wand went flying right off his grasp and cluttered on the hardwood floor. Madame shook her head no when the auror Travers tried to pick it up.

“You’re a legilimens.” Theseus muttered; Madame Blanche turned around to face the man giving them a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

“Would you like to view the girl’s memory and be done with it? I need to run my business after all.” Offering to perform legilimency to project the memories to the aurors, they declined. They knew not to, after all, they too have secrets that protect their ministry.

“We decline. We, Aurors value our minds and do not open them so willingly.” Travers stated, still apprehensive of Madame Blanche. “But the girl needs to be questioned, we have to have her testimonials as to Moore’s disappearance.”

“Then you must trust my word because I too have my secrets to keep. That girl didn’t kill or cause his disappearance. He came in here one night, to question about the catalog of my courtesans and that was it–”

Cutting off the handler of the brothel, Theseus insisted; “Charles Moore stated in his letters about a ‘bouquet de blanc’. I hope that might ring a bell, after browsing through your catalog in the lobby earlier. I couldn’t find traces of this list, is this a secret that you are hiding from the ministry?”

Madame Blanche’s eyes narrowed at the young auror; her piercing ice-blue eyes almost looked like they could kill.

“No, of course not. My bouquet de blanc is the Amour Délicat trade secrets. I could not easily say it out loud for fear of our competitors copying what I built from the ground up. If you would like to browse that catalog, then let me— although I must say, we do not easily offer our services freely.” Walking towards a dark oak cabinet grabbing a large book with golden linings. Placing right back at the table, Madame Blanche flipped through the pages with images of different courtesans, and right on its last page was a picture of you.

“I believe she is the one he is asking for.” She pointed with a manicured finger, right before your name was a title given to you.

Queen of the Night; Night-blooming Cereus

You were smiling, looking right at the onlooker like it was destined. While others bashfully hid their eyes, sultry looking to get admirers, you didn’t need to do that. You had your charm, something that allures the onlookers to choose you. Madame Blanche tried to flip the page to show them another photograph of you leaving nothing to the imagination to the spectator, but Theseus stopped her.

“I think that is enough, could you summon her to talk to us.” Theseus declared with a cough, standing up to close the book and stepping right in front of Travers' line of sight. “Please.”

Madame Blanche smiled, this time it was far different. “I believe your permit only limited you to talk to one of the key witnesses… And since Mr. Moore was not a benefactor of bouquet de blanc, I know because I am the only bookkeeper of that catalog… you must pay a hefty price.”

Now, the Aurors were stuck in the beginning, only pieces of blocked paths. If Charles Moore was not on the list of high-ranking patrons, then they could only comply with the demands of the authority and right now it wasn’t them who was holding the winning cards. When Travers' authority gets threatened, he scoffs, ready to drag Theseus out of the old woman. Madame Blanche truly was a businesswoman, she played them a fool. Whether they get out of the establishment empty-handed, or with empty wallets was their choice. They could simply not arrest the old woman, this was out of their jurisdiction, they were out of their element and far from their own country, and they simply couldn’t do whatever they wanted.

“Either you pay full price, or you will tell me why such a simple assistant is being hunted down by the best Aurors of the British Ministry. Pick your price.” She sat arms folded right in front of her face, holding her chin while she grinned at the standing men.

Within a minute of no one budging, Travers' patience wavered. With a deep sigh, he faltered. With one last glance at Theseus, he held his head low.

“Charles Moore stole 4,000 galleons. We believe that he tried to buy her indenture and convince her to come to London with him.” Travers confessed. That was the half-truth, Theseus’ senior took out the part that it was from the subsidy for international affairs. And the way he stole it was undetected like he had some insiders to help him, they were now battling an unseen threat. They only noticed it was missing after 3 months, when Theseus looked at the accounts and noticed that something was awry.

Madame Blanche started laughing, “He believes he can buy off her indenture for 4,000 galleons. Oh, what a joke! That’ll only cost him half an hour at most”

When Madame Blanche stopped laughing, she pointed back to the lift doors. “Head to the floor below. I’ll tell her I sent you.” The aurors nodded and headed to leave only to be held when the Madame halted them to stop.

“You endanger my investment; I’d rather you stay here than be near one of my priceless courtesans.” She stated, pointing at the older auror. Theseus can see his senior jaw tightened, and the veins on his neck grew red in anger. Not only was the older auror disarmed, but he was also being held under surveillance in fear that he might endanger you, now his patience and authority wavered on thin ice, and his eyes clouded with anger.

“I’ll talk to her and I’ll find what we need.” Theseus whispered as soon as he stepped foot in the lift. The doors closed slowly; he saw Madame Blanche’s eyes watching the other auror like a hawk.

When the doors for the lift opened, what greeted him was a vast hall painted like the night sky. With a slight shift of his eyes, he can see the tiny freckles of stars that decorated a lone white door. Unlike the outside of the establishment, this seemed out of place with the flower motifs of Amour Délicat. Here he can feel the cold breeze of the winter night. Knocking on the white door, he called out to the name he had seen written on the catalog.

You who had been preoccupied with your thoughts; wishing to know the feeling of stepping out of your body, floating, freely, like the ghosts that linger down the dark alleys. Right outside the window, the streets erupted in cheers as they all greeted each other another happy new year. Drinking down the champagne that was given to you by a patron, noting a taste of toast and coffee and a subtle spice drowning out all your other senses. When the fireworks ended, you lay there looking at the skylight as the only glow of the light left was the moonlight.

A subtle knock started you as you let Bernadette waltz her way in. Her company and the cup of tea are greatly appreciated when your water has now gone cold. But instead of the house elf, what replaced her was someone far taller than her; there he stood only the silhouette of his slender frame seen.

Theseus didn’t expect what he saw, a lone woman basking in the golden tub, a melancholy look written in her eyes.

Sad. You looked sad.

The only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of the gramophone across the room and the muffled cheers that erupted right behind the glass windows. With the faint sparkle of light, you saw a slight frown on his face. Realizing your predicament, you went back to wearing the mask when you were at work.

“Would you like me to keep you company?” You asked, turning around delicately, careful not to show another ounce of skin. Tilting your head to one side and smiling at him, the same one he has seen in the photograph earlier.

When Theseus realized what you were implying, he held his hand and shook his head, showing you a metal badge indicating the words ‘auror’. You had a fair share of French aurors that came to you for a night, often playing the role of the captive and captor. What a lack of imagination, if this is the role he wants to play then so be it.

“You would like to play that role? I, the convict, and you the detainer. Would you like that darling?” You asked, ready to approach him when he realized what was happening, he turned around not to face your naked form. The tips of his ears went red in embarrassment.

“I didn’t come here for your service; I was sent here by Madame Blanche to question you. My name is Theseus Scamander, I was sent by the British Ministry of Magic.” He announced.

Ahh… A British Auror. You hummed and stood to grab the white robe and placed it on your body. Hearing the sound of faint footsteps, Theseus waited until you gave him a signal.

“I see… talk I don’t have all night to entertain you.” This time you put your weight and one foot, crossing your arms across your chest. Your hand laid steady on your wand.

Turning around, you pointed toward the chair that sat across from you, and he agreed to your request. As soon as he did, you went and grabbed the champagne you had been drinking earlier and procured another glass to pour him one. Placing it next to him, you stood in front of him and drank yours, waiting as he did too. Theseus eyed it suspiciously, but you continued to drink it on your own accord.

“A gift… something lighter than the fire whiskey.” You replied as you down the glass in one gulp. He nodded and carefully took a sip of his. You sat in front of him and grabbed the bottle to pour more down into your glass.

When he exhaled in satisfaction, you knew it tasted amazing. Theseus knew what you were doing, trying to lower his guard, not sitting to show you were in control, and intoxicating him to vulnerability. Yet, he remained calm, showing no signs of threat to you. If Madame Blanche was a legilimens, there was a high chance you were too, all he needed to do was throw you off his scent.

And just like he had predicted, right at the moment you tried to pry his mind. A knot on your brow formed when you stared intently at him.

‘You looked sad.’ Those were the thoughts that circled his mind, like a mantra. You can feel it. Feel him. It made you nauseous, the bile in your throat rose as his thoughts engraved into yours. No one had looked at you and thought you were sad; it was always beautiful. Sadness and you were never to be put in a sentence, and when his thoughts did it terrified you.

To be seen broken makes you fear. To be seen feeling sadness made the feeling of being stripped naked for the whole world to see. All your life, you had built these walls that made you stand on your own two feet. The ache in your mind becomes unbearable, you weren’t beautiful… underneath all the expensive clothes, and pearls that glittered your skin— you are crooked, battered with bruises, wrecked by time, your skin filthy with sin, you were a tragedy… a rotten work.

“Stop.” With gritted teeth, you fail to look at his eyes and his mind. A slip of the tongue made you realize what you had said out loud, that was all Theseus needed to know that you too are a legilimens. “State your purposes.”

Right in the pockets of his coat was the photograph of Charles Moore, he carefully placed it on the table in front of him waiting for you to pick it up.

“Do you recognize him?” He placed the picture within your line of sight. Pausing he tried to scope for your reaction. “It’s Charles Moore, an assistant delegate of the British Department of the International Confederation of Wizards.”

“He has been missing for months and the last contact we had from him was a letter to his sister, trying to have an audience with you.”

Your eyes examined Moore’s photograph. And minutes passed your silence almost became too heavy to Theseus's dislike, but he needed to thread your waters carefully, you were already agitated for unknown reasons.

“I believe I do not know who this person is.” You smiled and stared at Theseus, the first time you met his eyes after your outburst earlier.

He pointed out another slip of your strong facade right at its mark. “Yet you do not deny that you do recognize him.”

“Maybe I do… Maybe I don’t. It is possible he is one of my long lists of admirers, doesn’t erase the fact that I do not know him at all.”

“I highly doubt that. You’re a legilimens, and I am not; that is true. I need to know if you have met with him once, and if you are proven to be telling the truth then I would leave this room. But I can tell you’re lying. Skilled legilimens can procure memories into another person, and all I needed was the time and date, any people that were trailing him. Your truth is all I need.” He proposes.

“Or would you rather we do this the hard way? The choice is yours.” He leaned forward as his head rested on his knuckles.

“You give me the illusion of free choice when all you want is to pry my mind. Is there something you are not saying, Mister Scamander? Tell me the truth, what is in it for you? What would you get to look into the inner workings of my mind? You expect me to believe that you honestly want nothing else? Just my memory? I hardly doubt that.” Challenging his proposition, you leaned forward as your palms hit the glass table harshly with a loud slap, not before rebutting his claims. “Surely it could not be just you are looking for a testament, you wouldn’t work hard on that, all you needed is a vial of the strongest veritaserum and it would be done. Then why are you pushing hard to look into my mind?”

“You play a cruel game of trust.” He sighed, making you scoff. “Mr. Moore had said in his letters about how he will get the currency to meet you, his means to getting it is unsaid. And that was a clear sign that he needed someone to work with him to get that from a subsidiary of international affairs, you are simply a madman to be able to work alone. And all I need is— you. All I need is you.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“I need you to work with me. You knew better than just mere rumors, you knew everyone and could see their thoughts.”

Working with the British Ministry, consider it treason. Yet, you never were loyal to this land. Your loyalty lies elsewhere, it stays to those who have given you a sense of protection. Your loyalty is within Madame Blanche’s hands. Hands that remained choking you to stay.

Still, you let Mr. Scamander entertain you with his words.

“It would have to take you a valuable price, Mr. Scamander. I am an expensive woman, yet, I am considerate. Give me leverage and I will give you what you want.” That’s when he stopped and stared at the photo, avoiding any eye contact. “What could you possibly offer Mr. Scamander, tell me.”

You grinned as you took a sip at the champagne, just like a war, both of you had been disarming and hurting each other for the kill. Breaking down every barrier with a small slip-up of each other, both of you were professionals at your trades. He is an Auror, he knows how to spot lies and negotiate, give you the feeling of support to make you break down your armor. Meanwhile, you pride yourself on being a great liar, you know what to say to appear compliant, and you know how to adapt and play the games to your tide. Every word and sentence uttered until one of you would lose the battle of wits, one slip and the fallen would crash and burn.

Leaning back you gave him a smile, your wand procuring a cigarette that lay on the table. Placing it gently on your lips, the tip of your wand lit up a flame. With a deep inhale, you knew you were already winning the battle. You didn’t need to look into his mind, to know that he was fighting a losing war. His occlumency was far useless when the knot on his forehead and the jaunt of his chin told you he was conflicted.

“I have been offered riches that could fill De Nile, clothes that were woven from the rarest of silks, jewels that shone brighter than the sun, houses that housed thousands of rooms, paintings of the most beautiful landscapes, songs and sonnets about my beauty, the most exotics of creatures that lay hidden within the government’s grasp… Pray tell, what could a simple auror like you have that can overthrow all those proposals?”

He was silent, expression never changing. And no matter how hard you try to pry to look into his mind, it remains still like he is right in front of you.

“Safety.” Your smile faltered. “I offer you safety.”

You blinked and blinked. Trying hard not to show that your jaw was slack in silence; the timeliness of the gramophone hitting its ending notes was fitting. His words lay heavy on your mind.

Amour Délicat had always offered you protection, but never safety. Safety was a word often associated with emotional aspects that were never visible in your job, safety offered you the sense of never needing to keep your secrets in this line of work or needing not to utter a word that would be your downfall in these walls. Protection kept you free and sheltered from physical aspects and threats, like the two guards that trailed you whenever you needed to do outside work, or the walls that shielded you from the rain. Safety is a foreign word, way too foreign that it burns you with curiosity. A thrill you never experience on a silver platter. It gives you hope— and hope gives you greed. A greet that surpasses all material things known to man. You want to take it all, consume your being until all is left is the safety that you wanted, the safety of being able to walk free, to run away, the security of not needing to know that this is the place where you would meet your demise.

You knew how Madame Blanche worked, she took pride in knowing secrets and that is her leverage. And right now Madama Blanche would be none the wiser when you will take his deal. And there is one thing in the world that the Madame hated, and it is to not know anything at all.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

You held your hand to him and stood up, apprehensive he stood up as well taking your hand in his. Looking up into his eyes, you called upon the house elf. Bernadette immediately appeared right beside you.

“Don’t promise me empty words.”

“I won’t.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we made an unbreakable vow.”

Your hold on his palm tightens, only to travel into his wrist. Without breaking eye contact you give him a minute to decide what his choice would be. Does he trust you enough to do it at the expense of his life, or would he rather fear being the one to dictate his actions?

His palm pressed tightly into your wrists, not like the rough hands that occupied your wrists hours ago, his hold was gentle, not imposing. Nodding at Bernadette, a thin tongue of flame issued at the tips of the house elf's fingertips and wound its way around both your and Theseus’ hands. It felt like a burning wire, keeping your skin aflame.

“Will you, Theseus Scamander, promise to provide my safety, as he and I work together?”

“I will.”

“Will you, abide by our oath, to only tell the truth to me?”

“I will.”

a/n: dialogue that is formatted like this “dialogue” is in French. i tried hard to make it one-shot i really did, buT I SIMPLY CANT SO HERE I GIVE YOU WORLD BUILDING AND MORE LORE UPON LORE ON THIS FIC.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x y/n #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander oneshot #theseus scamander fic #theseus scamander smut #theseus scamander x you #fantastic beasts fic #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts one shot #callum turner

651 notes · View notes

ak-dolly · 1 month

Text

#callum turner #the boys in the boat #fantastic beats and where to find them #the only living boy in new york #fantastic beasts #girlblogger #girlblogging #tbitb #joe rantz #theseus scamander #thomas webb #aesthetic #movies

210 notes · View notes

peaky1wh0re · 3 months

Text

Favorite Brother duo

#newt scamander smut #newt smut #newt scamander #fantastic beasts and the secret of dumbledore #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beats and where to find them #fantastic beasts #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter smut #harry potter #theseus scamander #theseus #Theseus Scamander × reader

280 notes · View notes

torkorpse · 3 months

Text

Callum Turner has now fought in both world wars (and has looked hot doing it).

#callum turner #theseus scamander #fantastic beasts #john egan #bucky egan #masters of the air

228 notes · View notes

willyoubemycherryy · 2 months

Text

♡︎𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓂 𝒯𝓊𝓇𝓃ℯ𝓇 𝒸ℴ𝓂𝒻ℴ𝓇𝓉♡︎．．. because I need it right now.

“𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒄𝒆...

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒄𝒆.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔☁︎︎

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆🜚

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒆

𝐷𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒．．．

𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖.”

It’s quiet.

Nothing but slow breaths and the soft, familiar feel of his hand smoothing down the back of your hair, breathing with you as he silently held you.

The best days really will be some of your worst. But you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t want to think about it, you just wanted the stable peace his presence always gave you.

He was focused where you’d get distracted, decisive where you’d be impulsive, he’d hold it down where you couldn’t even piece it together…and honestly; that’s part of why he’s so attractive to you.

Simply wonderful, really.

The strong, silent type x resident cacophony.

And yet somehow, with you laying on top of him almost clinging; soaking in his warmth, listening to the gentle thrum of his heartbeat…all you felt was love. The kind of love that made you want to live more, show up for yourself harder, and recycle.

It was moments like this that made you glad live exists because it bought him in it.

The thrum between you wasn’t immediate. It started like gravity; like how the moon pulls the sea closer when their glimpses collide.

He didn’t see you for what you weren’t, instead he saw you for everything you were.

In joy and in sorrow.

The atmosphere was like a big, heated, blanket that smelled like home. It was just what you needed.

Whispering so you don’t break the delicate spell that’s been cast; “you still with me?”, The soft kiss lowered to your hairline gives you your answer．

“I never left you”. Voice hushed to match yours but the tenderness stays the same as he tightens his arm around you, holding you closer…

..to his heart. Where you’re safest.

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #masters of the air #mota #fluff #comfort #john egan #joe rantz #john egan x reader #joe rantz x reader #thomas webb x reader #the only living boy in new york #the boys in the boat #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #callum Turner smut #callum Turner fluff

167 notes · View notes

lacollectionneuse1967 · 5 months

Text

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so.

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore.

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you.

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder.

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.”

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch.

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.”

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence.

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint.

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still.

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard.

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

—————

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there.

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely.

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore.

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken.

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.”

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin.

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not.

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either.

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

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

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside.

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?”

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.”

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

#theseus smut #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #hp fic #fantastic beasts

800 notes · View notes

oncasette · 10 months

Note

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂. send in a character + a scenario for a blurb + 𝗨𝗠𝗕𝗥𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔

ok theseus request!!!!! what about some hurt/comfort, maybe him reacting to you crying? + [ CUP ]: bringing both hands up to cup the receiver’s face, the sender draws them in closer to them in order to get a better look at their face. (I feel like this prompt fits the scenario perfectly so yeah <3)

𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥, 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗’𝗩𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥

summary: 1.7k

It’d been all his stupid idea, one you vehemently wanted to run away from. One that struck fear up your spine like lightning and sent fire licking at the base of your skull. An idea that, now, led you to be standing outside his old flat’s front door with ice-cold rain sticking your clothes to your skin and hot tears streaming down your cheeks hours after he’d left you reeling in your own flat.

or the three times theseus asked you to move in with him and the one time you asked.

warnings: implied smut

masterlist | taglist

Moving in with Theseus hadn’t been your idea. It’d been his. Totally, completely, and unarguably his idea. One he’d spent weeks, at this point, convincing you to go through with. An idea you’d initially been so adamant about turning down. But he was nothing if not persistent.

He’d presented you with a key the first night he’d asked. Just a key, warm from where he’d kept it in his coat pocket pressed tight against his chest over the course of his work day. He’d dug it out of the jacket that had been hastily tossed off to the floor near the side of the bed when you’d nearly jumped his bones after he’d apparated back to his flat. You’d already been home–his home, that is–snuggled up in his bed with a cup of tea and a sleep shirt he’d had since his seventh year.

“What’s this?” you asked as he’d handed it to you. His hands shook, and he’d been grateful you failed to make a comment on it.

“A key,” he hummed as you took it.

“But… Thes, I already have a key to your place?” Your eyebrows knitted across your forehead as your statement quirked into a question.

“I know,” he said. “My lease comes up in a month and I…”

You brought a hand up to the side of his jaw, urging him to continue as his lips pressed kisses to your palm.

“I know yours does, too. A week after mine, but I was hoping you’d think about letting it.”

It’s a wonder it hadn’t clicked for you yet. His beautiful, bright girl that amazed him every day, who was making him spell out this question for her, letter by letter, while his heart threatened to give out in his chest.

“Letting it do what?” you asked.

“Run out,” he exhaled. Merlin, his lungs felt heavy.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” you asked, hand dropping to your side as you sat up fully. You brought the top sheet with you, covering the skin Theseus had spent the last hour and a half marking with his teeth. His eyes burned as he followed your movement and leaned his back against the headboard.

“I’d been trying to, yes,” he said.

“Don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know,” you swallowed, throat dry with a lack of an answer. “Fast?”

“Love, we’ve been together for nearly two years. I thought–”

He’d been cut off with your legs being thrown over the edge of the bed, feet scrambling to hold your body up as your hands reached for the clothes you’d been wearing earlier in the evening.

“I can’t.” With your eyes screwed shut, you tugged your slip back up over your body and crossed the room to grab the shirt you’d come to his flat in–not the one of his you’d been wearing when he’d come home, a sight that has his jaw aching. It’d taken you a minute longer to find your wand, white knuckling it as you pressed a kiss to your boyfriend’s hairline. You were gone within the minute, with the key left at the foot of the bed.

He hadn’t even had the chance to move from the spot you’d left him in.

He’d left it alone enough after that, though his heart had ached each time his hand passed over the weight of the key he still kept in his pocket.

The second time he’d asked–more insinuated, this time–had been at breakfast two weeks later, thankfully, in a less vulnerable state of dress.

“I saw the flat yesterday,” he said, though his eyebrows were raised with the hint that there was more lingering under that statement than you’d wanted. “Unfurnished, that is. I saw it a couple weeks ago when I bought it and everything, but I saw it for the first time since I’d signed the lease on it yesterday.”

“Theseus.”

“Look, I know. I know.” He drew his fist tight as he inhaled. “I know you think it’s too fast, darling.”

“Then why are you doing this?” you asked.

You weren’t even sure why you were fighting it this hard at this point anymore. It was all you’d thought about since he’d asked the first time. And you weren’t going to lie, you’d warmed to the idea. Not that you were ready to admit that, apparently.

He brought your hand up to gently lay kisses on your knuckles. “Just come see it with me, yeah?”

You offered him a pointed look. “Don’t have to make any snap decisions,” he assured you. “Even though I’m desperately hoping that you will.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?”

“I’ll go look at the flat with you,” you said.

He’d been so eager, the smile he’d given you had been enough to allow him to convince you to stop by the next morning.

It was a lovely flat, honestly. It had a kitchen large enough to house an island, a bedroom much bigger than you’d been anticipating, and a view that had you fully leaning out the window to get a better look at. And, it was a five minute walk away from your office. A fact Theseus had mentioned thirty seconds into your initial walkthrough. A walkthrough that had unsurprisingly consisted of all the reasons Theseus had picked the place. Or, better worded, all the reasons Theseus thought the place would be a perfect fit for you. For the both of you.

“The living room’s the perfect size for your couch, you know. I was thinking you’d want to bring it along if you ever ended up here since you spent so long picking it out and everything…”

“Thes, it’s beautiful. It really is,” you said, stepping closer to him as you watched the corners of his lips twitch into a grin.

He fully bridged the gap then, hands falling to your hips to tug you into his chest. “So?”

“I’ll think about it,” you hummed and he leaned down to kiss you fully.

“Improvement,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

The next couple days had been a constant barrage of dropped hints. It felt like you’d been suffocated beneath the weight of the question, one that hadn’t been asked in its entirety since that first night.

He’d been halfway through one of his… less subtle hints when you snapped. All you’d wanted was time. A bit of time. A tiny, miniature, speck of time to organize your thoughts, and he’d given you just short of what you’d needed.

The key had been dangling from his fingers, for Merlin’s sake, and it took all the strength in your body not to snatch it out of his hands and throw it out the window of your own flat, the one the two of you were currently curled up in.

“Stop it!” you spat. “I said I would think about it, right. I can’t think about anything with the way you’re keeping this up.”

He stalled, fingers wrapping around the gold key to hide it from view. His jaw snapped closed as your own clenched.

“I’m sorry, I just…” you sighed.

“No, I get it. I’ll give you some more time,” he said, a crack of thunder in the distance rumbling overhead as you watched him pull away from you to gather the few belongings he’d brought with him.

He left with little more than a muttered goodbye as he slipped out the door. Not even a kiss, one you’d been hopeful enough to think would come despite your current situation.

You knock on the door with feeble fingers, toes curling in your shoes as your socks meld to the skin of your feet. You wait a minute. Two minutes, nearly three before he throws open the door with only a pair of trousers on.

“What are you-” he cuts himself off. “My love, are you crying?”

You barely manage out a shake of your head, a piss poor attempt at a lie, as a shiver rumbles through your torso.

“Come here, come inside,” he steps aside enough to let you in. He shuts the door once you’re inside, immediately tugging you into his chest where the warmth of his skin does wonders to calm the tremors wracking through you. Both of his hands come up to cup your cheeks, drawing your face into his direct gaze no matter how much you want to shove your nose into his neck and hide from his worrying eyes.

“What is it, darling?” His eyes scan your face as his hands hold the weight of your head up under your jaw. His thumb clears a tear off your cheek before it has the chance to fall. “C’mon, love. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please let me live with you,” you sniffle, hands coming up to grasp at the waistband of his pants. The way you’re clinging to him feels desperate, like he’d slip away if you managed to let go.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry I let it go on this long. I’m sorry I ever made you think I don’t want this, want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you sob. “Please let me live with you.”

“I thought you wanted-”

“I thought I did, too,” you hiccup, and Theseus has to fight to hide the smile that’s working its way up his face. “But, then I realized what I really wanted was you. This. All of you.”

“You have me. You’ve always had me darling, promise,” he says. “And obviously I want you to live with me… but are you sure?”

You nod.

“I need to hear you say it, lovely. You’ve kind of been fighting me on this since day one,” he says. “I’m sure,” you say.

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander imagine #harry potter #fantastic beasts and where to find them #r's 2.5k #callum turner #callum turner x reader

2K notes · View notes

wizardingsworld · 2 years

Photo

CALLUM TURNER as THESEUS SCAMANDER in FANTASTIC BEASTS: THE SECRETS OF DUMBLEDORE 2022 | dir. David Yates

5K notes · View notes

obessedwithfictionalmen · 1 month

Text

Young, dumb in love

Theseus Scamander X Wizard!Reader

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

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

Word count: 1.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #fantastic beasts

152 notes · View notes