Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her.
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- Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 12 - Tina being back in the picture means more cause for Newt's social anxiety but also more cause for his favourite girl to save him 1.5k
~`~`~
Newt stumbled back from the door in surprise, a move that Tina took as a signal to come in. She placed her foot in the doorway, before Newt quickly blocked it with his body. She smelt faintly of alcohol, and her movements slurred together as she wrapped her arms around Newt’s neck. He felt his shirt go slightly damp with her tears as she wailed apologies, while he desperately tried to untangle himself from her grasp. He stuttered as he tried to confront her, but she spoke over everything he said until the apartment was full of the din of drunken apologies and nervous rejection.
“Why are you here, Tina.” Newt asked, edging further and further away from the woman as she got closer.
“I miiiissed you, Newt.” she answered into his ear, eyelids heavy as she held to his clothes. “I tried to go back but I’m still here. Didn’t you miss me too?” She smiled wetly, mouth full of something close to hope but not quite belief as Newt carefully unlatched her hands from his collar.
“I thought you went back,” he said, voice hushed. “You should be being comforted by Queenie right now.”
“Whaaat you didn’t really mean everything you said? Right?”
Newt bit back a yell when she moved to clasp her hands in his, and instead moved to stand on the far end of the room as her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I think you should go now.” His voice was as measured as he could manage, only wavering at her mouth pulling into a frown. She shook her head, taking a few steps forward before collapsing onto the carpeted floor. Her shoulders racked with her sobs, but she stayed quiet with her sadness.
Newt walked to her side to pull her up, but she lashed her hand out to keep him back. “Why am I losing to someone who doesn’t even love you.”
This time it was Newt’s turn to lean down in confusion, not sure he heard her quite right. “She’s got everything, a smile and those goddamn eyes. Sought after by every bloody man in the county. Selfish selfish selfish-”
“What are you talking about?” Newt interrupted, trying to speak over her monologue.
Tina’s mouth turned bitter at his question, and her next words spat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
She grabbed at her shoes and hurled them at the wall, stalking off to the kitchen of his house before rustling through his cupboards. He followed after her shortly, walking in as she muttered to herself. “Poser, charmer, flirting her way into every man she meets and all for what. Homewrecking witch, all for her to just go back to that awful awful man with his awful awful smile-” She punctuated her thoughts with the clatter of her glass on the counter, and the soft pop of a bottle opening. The air infused itself with berry gin alongside the melancholy, and the words were tangy.
“You don’t really think she’s for you, right? I can see it in your frown now; do you really believe she’s coming back? After visiting someone she’s known for so long who seems to be oh so charming? Complete opposite to your mess of sentences; you really think she could love all of this? You’ve entered yourself into a losing game, loverboy, and you better cross every limb in your body and hope she at least comes back to get her coat so you can watch her as she goes.”
She swirled the pale liquid in the glass as her words slurred together, and her eyes flickered all over his face as she spoke. None of what she said made enough sense, but his face still paled at her words. Speaking of which, when has she left for Charles’? When did she say she’d come back?
Had the minutes turned to hours as Tina traced drunken footsteps around the house, toes scuffing the carpet where hers should be?
Tina’s soft wails cut through his thoughts, and his ears thudded with blood at the same pace as his quickening breaths. All of a sudden her hand slipped, sending glass shards across the floor that he promptly stooped down to pick up. His fingers bled as he tried to find the pieces to fit the back together, as Tina stood and watched, tears slipping down her face more regularly. His hands were numb and shaking, so he placed the bloodied pieces onto the counter and moved to the living room, sitting on the sofa to calm his stuttering heart.
Newt never knew seconds could be this long.
~`~`~
He didn’t know what time it was when she came back, just that the room felt lighter. He heard her shuffle around with her shoes, kicking them off as she called his name. He didn’t respond; his brain felt too dry to even attempt any form of movement. His fingers had stopped bleeding, but still felt sore as he pressed at the scabs formed.
She found him that way, and knelt down beside him as she wiped dried streaks of water from his cheeks. “What happened, sweetie?” His mouth opened but he couldn’t form the words, only pointing to the kitchen. Her mouth pressed into a firm line, carding her fingers through his hair one last time before making her way to the doorway; a figure was curled up on the floor, breathing gently in a wrinkled dress, and the woman sighed. She lightly shook Tina awake, helping the girl up as she groaned in protest.
“Wha…where am I,” Tina groggily asked. Her eyes slowly widened as she realised what she’d done, so she stumbled out of the girls’ grasp, profusely trying to apologise.
“I’m so sorry for everyth-” she began, but was promptly cut off.
“Go home, Tina.”
Fat tears started to well up in her eyes again as she tried to repeat herself, but her apology remained unheard. Careful hands led her to the door as her vision continued to mist, and her coat was placed back around her shoulders. As soon as her heels slipped into her shoes she whipped herself around, ready to force the apology into acceptance, but all she received was a sure shake of the head.
“You can come in the morning once you’ve had some water. Take care of yourself, Tina.”
The latch clicked as the door closed.
~`~`~
Her heart was still thundering when she returned from the front door, finding Newt still resting in the same panicked position she’d left him in. His breaths came in shallow puffs, and he didn’t know whether he was inhaling or exhaling every time his ribs moved. His lashes had stuck themselves together, and all he could do was sit very still and hope no one would notice he was there.
But of course the one person who could never look past him sat by him, her thigh pressed against his. The low warmth felt almost comforting, and he finally allowed his eyelids to unlock themselves.
He heard a box open beside him, and turned to look as she took his hand to her lap, and pressed plasters to his cut skin that she had just fished out from the first aid. He sniffed slightly, just watching as she mended his fingers.
“I don’t know what she told you, Newt. But I’m right here. I have been, and always will be.”
She continued to wrap each digit into the same sticky cast, as if she hadn’t rebuked anxiety from Newt’s mind. She was so close, and she was so warm. She was light, and she was energy, and Newt was the soul to look up at her and the stars and adore. He was devoted to the shrine he called her spirit, so he did the only thing he could think of.
He leaned in.
And she met him halfway.
Her hands threaded through his hair, brushing the tops of his ears as he traced her jaw. Her lashes fluttered against his freckles, and everything felt so mellow and so right. He smiled against her lips as they pressed together, over and over as laughter rang in their cheeks. They were both a little clumsy in their movements, but each mistake was met with more love, and the universe sighed, as two halves finally clicked to become one.
- Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
A/N: you know the drill
part 11 - Gaining the courage to finally face their problems turns out to be full of more problems than they thought 1.7k
~`~`~
“I think I should confront him today.”
Newt blinked in surprise at her statement. He knew this would come at some point, but he thought they would at least get some time to bask in the first weightfree moment they had together for a while. “The sooner it’s over the better, right?” She bit her lip in worry.
The afternoon lazing around in Newt’s case, wandering back and forth while he led her through tall grass and sand dunes was all she wanted to do, but she knew that the press of Charles’ threat pushing at the back of her mind wouldn't go away unless she finally shut him out. Things that should be easy have been unreachable for too long, and she’d be damned if she let the love she finally grasped slip out of her fingers like smoke again.
Newt felt the pressure too, but had shut it out from the forefront of his mind. After all, didn’t he have her now? He woke up to her in the morning like all the times he’s dreamed of, the imagination paling in comparison to seeing her bathed in warm light in real life. But he knew all of that would eventually come to an end if neither of them moved to oppose things that tried to stand in the way of them happily living.
He nodded, moving to click the latches of his case shut. “Be careful then.” he said, and he smiled in a way so shaky it made her heart clench. She crossed the living room in two strides and hugged him tight, and Newt hugged her readily. They stood there swaying a little bathing in their shared warmth, light slowly retreating back through the curtains. It felt like a deep sigh after holding your breath for too long.
“I should probably go now before it gets too dark.” she whispered, cheek still pressed against the crook of his neck. He wordlessly nodded again. “Probably,” he said back, eyes closed, and neither of them made a move to leave.
Eventually, she pulled away, lips sliding into a reassuring grin. “I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“I should go with you,” Newt begged, hands reaching out so they clasped with hers by the pinkies.
“He won’t open the door if you’re there…It’s best if I just go on my own.” She walked to the door, picking up her coat and gloves along the way.
“Fine; stay safe then.” Newt trailed after her, pausing by the coatrack as she slipped her shoes on.
“I promise.” she said with a final smile.
“Hey Newt?” His head perked up and caught the glint in her eye. “Do you wanna know a secret?” He nodded slowly, conscious of the mischief in her face.
“I’m going to have to whisper it to you though, I don’t want anyone or anything to hear.” Newt didn’t have time to question the absurdity of the excuse, before he leant so his ear was angled to her.
Instead of any statement, he felt the softness of her lips pressing against his cheek before she pulled away. She let out a small laugh at his flustered expression, and softly closed the door shut behind her as she left.
She wasn’t there long enough to see the heat crawl up Newt’s neck as he gently cupped the cheek she’d kissed.
~`~`~
The wind blew leaves into curls by her feet as she strode to Charles’ apartment. She rehearsed what she was going to say in her head over and over while she subconsciously avoided puddles and people. It had been a while since she went over to Charles’ place, she noticed; funny how quickly people you think will be there forever can turn into people you barely even know. The green paint on the door was still as washed out as it used to be, even if the doormat was just a bit more scuffed, and she realised she was glad that this chapter of her life was finally coming to an end; she held her hand to the wood and knocked.
The door swung open after a few minutes, revealing a smug looking man. His face morphed into one of shock when he saw her standing there, but his smirk inevitably slipped through his expression. “Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Her face was still pulled into a tight expression, words clogging in her throat now that the confrontation was finally real. “You just gonna stand there? Come inside.” He gestured to the corridor stretched out behind him, opening the door wider, and against her better judgement, she went in.
~`~`~
The walls were still decorated the way she remembered, photos hung in neat rows, and she found herself missing the haphazard way notes and pictures were pinned to the walls of Newt’s case. There was an extra hat on the coatrack that she vaguely recognised, a style a slight too feminine for Charles’ taste, but the possibilities of reasons were so endless she didn’t bother thinking about it much more. She didn’t bother sitting down; she wasn’t going to stay long anyway.
“I’m glad you finally decided to stop playing hard to get.” a voice behind her called, and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“That’s not what I’m here for, and you know it.”
She turned to face him, and locked eyes with the cocky smile she used to know so well. How did something that's supposed to be so familiar bring her so much dread? He crossed the room to stand closer to her, body now uncomfortably close to her figure. She took a few steps back, but he grabbed her wrist. His touch burned in the same way it had that night, only this time she managed to yank it from his grasp quicker. “I’ve already told you not to touch me,” she hissed. His smirk pulled itself into a frown at her statement, and walked even closer to her anyway.
“Well what do you want then?”
“I want you to stay out of my life, Charles, and I want to know what you’ve done with the letters.” Her feet felt like iron blocks against the floor, anger thrumming through her skin and readying itself for any blow. “What letters?” he asked with feigned confusion. “I haven’t done anything with any letters.”
“Don’t play yourself a fool; you’ve always been bad at lying. You meddling with things that aren’t yours have caused me too much heartache, so just tell me what we both already know and I’ll be on my way.”
“Honestly, dollface, you can check every item I own in this house and you won’t see any letters. I’m sure they couldn’t have caused you too much trouble, hon’, they’re just bits of paper-”
“You have no business telling me what’s important. You may have known me before, but you certainly do not know me now; I’ve changed Charles, and in our case, that’s a good thing. I’ve lived without you for so long and I can do that again a million times over just admit what you’ve done and I’ll leave.”
“What, and go back to him?”
His question shot her in her lungs, the sudden mention of Newt causing her words to stumble. “And what if I do?”
His eyes filled with concern, scanning her face as she shifted her weight between her legs.
“How do you know he loves you the way I do, hm? I’d carry the Earth for you, dovey, so what’s the use in clinging to a man still hung up on that American girl from his past.”
He must’ve seen the confusion in her eyes, because he quickly followed up with “Tina? I’m sure you know her?”
She nodded. Tina? Why does she matter? Newt hasn’t seen her for ages.
“You don’t really think she went back to America, do you?”
The silence that stretched between them after that statement was loud, broken only by his loud laughs. “Oh goodness, you do! You really thought that she gave up that easily. Look behind me, doll, look at all those bags. You want to know who’s really been intercepting all your letters? Well, you have your answer. Honestly, some of them were so pathetic. ‘It pains me to think of how long it took me to realise you’re who I really need, and I struggle to describe this love because even as I wrack my brain for phrases and words, I’ve come to the stark knowledge that not everything feels like something else.’ You really think he wouldn’t laugh at those words? I’m doing you a favour, pet.”
His mockery went on, filling the large space she’d left in her quiet. The words hammered cracks into her mind, and all of a sudden the walls around her felt too close. She desperately needed air, even if it nipped at her nose; anything would be better than standing here. Her thoughts dug into their own grave deeper and deeper. She had to get back.
“Where is she now,” she asked, words so quiet Charles almost missed them. He looked at her, prompting her to ask again. “Where is she now?” she repeated a little louder. Rage licked against her veins, and she wasn’t sure whether he saw she was shaking. His mouth curved into that smile she realised she hated.
“Take a guess.”
That’s all she needed before she strode to the exit, pulling her coat tighter around her as she yanked the door open. Charles called after her, of course he did, but he stopped when she whipped her head around to look him dead in the eyes.
“Charles, how thick do you have to be to take the hint. I don’t like you, in fact, I hate you. So kindly, please go fuck yourself and remain out of my life.”
The slam of the door behind her punctuated the end of her final meeting with Charles.
~`~`~
Newt didn’t expect the knock to come this early, but he was happy nonetheless. He bounded to the door in his anticipation to see her again, to finally be with her with no weight on their backs. He was still grinning when he opened the door, but it quickly slipped off his face upon seeing who was standing there; someone who was supposed to be safe back home in another continent, comforted by Queenie and friends.
- Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
A/N: i know it's a mega slow slowburn just bare with...as always love you divas xoxo
part 10 - Newt, forever a man with a sweet heart, with a woman who confuses herself. 1.6k
~`~`~
The rest of the morning passed with comfortable conversation, the yellow sunlight drifting through the window with lazy ease. Newt’s dream drifted to the far end of his mind the more he busied himself with washing up or wiping down the table. But his eyes would still flicker over to her form every so often, muscle memory of what his thoughts made him dream the night before. The mundanity of the whole affair made him forget he lived elsewhere; almost.
“What do you think we should do?” she asked when they finally finished cleaning.
“About what?” Newt pulled out a chair to sit across from her, eyes not yet quite able to meet her own.
“About the whole letter situation?” Her fingertips traced absentminded patterns on the table as she desperately tried to make eye contact. “Who knows if this is the end of what he’ll do to us?”
Conflict was never Newt’s strong suit. He usually took whatever was given to him, staying quiet to stay invisible. Over the years his invisibility had decreased significantly; creating new friends tended to do that. He’d happily jump into any argument to help or save whatever he loved, whether it be a creature or person. This was no different.
“We’re going to not let him get away with this.”
~`~`~
“Tina, dove, staring out the window isn’t going to make him appear, you know.”
She gave a startled jump out of the spot she was warming by the window sill. Her mind dove back to reality as she gave him a nervous laugh; “don’t be silly Charles. I’m just..people watching.”
Charles gave an unconvinced pout, before moving over to where she was standing. It had been a while since they had first met each other, yet Tina still never felt fully at ease around him. The floor creaked under her feet as she shifted her weight, unsure what to say to him.
“I know you still think about him.” Charles said slowly, holding her gaze. She turned her eyes back toward the street, watching people’s heads bob by as they walked as groups chattered and laughed to fill the warm breeze. “It’s fine that you do, you know. After all, it’s him we’re trying to get back.” Tina gave a quiet hum in response. “Look at me dove, we’re not really doing anything wrong here.”
Ah, there it was.
Tina felt her lungs tighten at his sentence; not really doing anything wrong? Ever since she yelled at Newt that day, eyes wet and cheeks slick with tears, all she ever felt was that she was doing something wrong. The way she begged him to love her instead of accepting her fate felt wrong; the way she yelled and walked away while his head turned in shame felt wrong; the way she let Charles into her life as a useless method of revenge felt wrong. Most of all, this was wrong; how she sits at her window, mourning who she once was while trying to ruin the life of someone she never truly had.
She just missed home. But wasn’t it too late to back out from this now?
She gave a dry laugh at his comment, before turning away and walking towards the door.
“Hey where are you going?”
“To get some fresh air.”
She didn’t look back as she slammed the door behind her.
~`~`~
They had just finished lunch when Newt finally placed his suitcase on the wooden floor, clicking the latches to open it. He’d nearly forgotten he had it with him, so focused on her. He swung the lid open then straightened, lifting his foot to step into it, before he froze. He cleared his throat lightly, and she turned to look at him.
“Would you want to come in with me; I need to feed everyone.” he asked, face only slightly turned her way. “Only if you want to of course, I mean, maybe it’s not even your thing and you’d rather stay here and be comfortable which make-”
She cut off his rambling gently with a hand on his forearm. Did she have any idea what he was on about? Not really, but of course, for him, without hesitation she said “I’d love to go, Newt.”
His face broke out into a smile and he swore he could’ve lifted her into his arms right there and then, but instead he stumbled down his ladder, hands barely skimming the sides as he entered the case. She gave him a slightly puzzled look before peering in after him, crouching so she could look into the bag properly. The contents was extended into a room, glowing with warmth and a homey-ness she didn’t know existed outside of her own house. Papers and books were strewn all over the table, inky scrawls covering pages and pages full of meticulously drawn diagrams and notes. It smelt sorely like Newt; like sunlight and parchment and something undeniably loving. She knelt, breathing in the smell as she studied the room for a little longer.
“Are you coming?” she heard a voice call out from further across the room. She called a yes in response, before starting to carefully step down the rungs of the ladder. Only when her feet were finally firmly on the ground did she look around further; the room was somehow bigger on the inside. Herbs hung from panels in the ceiling with strange scents wafting from rows and rows of cabinets pushed to the far wall, and her eyes tried to take in everything all at once. She drifted over to Newt’s side as he busied himself with cutting up various chunks off a large slab of meat. He then tossed it all into a bucket and picked up another bag before heading to a door, looking over his shoulder when he realised she wasn’t following. “Well?”
Still slightly puzzled, she tagged along as he opened the door, letting a clean cut of light shine into the room. She squinted at the sudden brightness as she let her eyes adjust; she gasped in awe. Never would she have ever imagined Newt held what felt like half the world in his hands with half the animal population alongside it. To say she was shocked was an understatement, and she couldn’t help the small thrill she got as grass tickled her ankles, excitement thrumming through her heart. Newt’s mouth curled into an involuntary grin at her child-like joy, and nerves swirled at the bottom of his stomach again.
He led her carefully through each area, bracing her for temperature changes and warning her about anything remotely aggressive, and she noticed the way his eyes shone as he explained everything. She watched as he threw feed to occamies, shirt sleeves rolled up in the slightly warmer climate while he occasionally scolded or cooed at one. Her gaze drifted about his face, so close she could almost count each freckle, but her eyes wandered to his mouth. She traced the outline as he laughed, teeth glinting in the light, and her heart suddenly tightened. She wondered what would happen if he just let his head turn and lean, hand trailing up to tilt her chin…
What am I thinking?
She skulked off while his attention was undividedly on his creatures, retreating off to cool down and pray her ears finally turned a normal shade again. She let her feet take her further and further from the source of her flustered state, sitting down on a patch of grass beneath a tree.
What do I do now?
~`~`~
Newt turned on his heel, happy that his bag was now light and his bucket sat empty on the floor, but he realized the air was strangely still. He whipped his head to scan the surroundings, calling her name, but no response. Panic started to rise in his throat, cursing him for being so careless. His steady walks quickly turned into wide strides as he searched, stress slowly growing as he quickened into a run. He carried on calling after her, desperate to catch a glimpse of her form before they finally rested on a figure resting on a tree. He shakily exhaled as his pulse finally slowed. “What are you doing all the way over here?”
He only realized that she was asleep when he got closer. He moved to gently shake her awake, but paused when he realized what an image she was, light falling on her so it was almost like she was glowing. A Bowtruckle had threaded itself through her hair while she napped, creating a matted patch where it was dwelling. It reminded him of that morning when he woke to morning sun dancing and dappled across her face. He felt his heart grow, ignoring the teasing look the Bowtruckle in her hair fixed him. He lifted a hand to brush her cheek, which she immediately melted into. How could he admire her so, and not be able to stop his idle gaze tracing the outlines of her features, carefully noting how soft her lips looked, or how her brows kissed in a furrow when she was upset. He was desperate by now; how much longer was he willing to pine after her for? Surely he was reaching the end of his limits.
But the way she smiled into his touch told him he'd wait forever.
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 9 - Charles is getting desperate, but what happens when he meets someone equally as saddened as him sitting on the curb 1.5k
~`~`~
Charles hadn’t been well since the events that preceded him trying to force himself onto the girl he lusted for. Every day seemed to drag by more slowly, awaiting letters of apologies that never came, because why should he apologise to her? He couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. Days slowly turned into weeks where they didn’t speak, and he was driving himself insane. Hours upon hours he spent pacing around his small living room, where the memories of her and him as kids rolled through his head on rose tinted film. He was so sure that she loved him; if she didn't, what else was there that he wasn’t correct about?
He left the house on a morning that started like any other, except this time, he was on a mission. He was going to march back to that small cafe that he had been to so many times, and demand an explanation for the silence he’d been punished with. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone not being infatuated with him; not when his pride and reputation was built on the approval of others. He didn’t only want her; he needed her, the unhealthy kind of reliance that consumes a person whole once the dependance starts to press uncomfortably at their bones.
He briskly walked through the streets that were gradually growing less and less cold by the day, but he didn’t care about the weather; not at the moment at least. His feet carelessly kicked at pebbles as he strode by, sending them clattering along the pavement. ‘How could she,’ he muttered spitefully, repeating the words like a mantra as his steps started to march in time to his rhythm of ugly emotion. He started to kick more harshly at the gravel littering his path. ‘How could she, how could she, how could she, how could-’
“Ow!” a woman yelped as she stood up from the spot she was occupying on the curb. “What on earth would you do that for?” He knew she wasn’t quite from around there, the accent that tinted her voice telling him as much.
“No reason, I swear. Sorry,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Usually, he was more charming, voice warm as he flirted but as of now he was too pissed off to do anything about it. He still needed to get to the cafe; even though it was the middle of rush hour he knew he could get through to her if she would just let him finally talk to her. He tried to sidestep past her, but as he did so, he accidentally knocked his knee against a large bag teetering on the edge of the road next to the woman. The contents were sent spilling out across the ground, a few clothes were sent flying alongside a couple books and a small sheet of paper. He gathered them with mild haste, annoyed at the interruption to his plans but feeling bad that the woman's belongings were now dampening with puddles left from the early light shower. He flipped the square of paper, waving it to dry it off slightly before the figure printed onto it caught his eye.
“Do you know this man?” he found himself asking before he could stop himself. The lady rolled her eyes subtly, and responded with a curt “of course I do.”
“How come?” Charles was beyond curious; what a small world, where the man he had lost his own girl to seemed to be close with the woman standing in front of him. “We were close once,” the woman continued. “But not anymore, I don't think.” She frowned, a faraway look overtaking her eyes as she stared at the photo.
A few silent moments passed, and her waterline started to become wet with tears. She wiped them away before they could fall, letting out a broken laugh. “I'm not usually like this,” she said, forcing a grin as she took back the photo from Charles' hands. He didn't have to know her well to realise there was something more to the story, the heartbreak in her eyes visible, even to someone as emotionally out of touch as him. He helped her pack the rest of her bags, apologising as he layed them back down next to her. She nodded, not quite an acceptance but not quite a refusal of his clumsily said “sorry,” and he turned on his heel to start on his journey again.
He strode a few steps, and came to an abrupt stop. “Say, how close were you, with that man.”
She turned to look at him with a confused look on her face. “Ignore my bluntness, but that's not really any of your business.”
Charles rolled his eyes.
“Look, he's the possible lover of my lover, let's say.”
Her face grew even more conflicted with emotion as she tried to decipher his words. “Your lover…cheated on you?”
“No no, but it sure feels like it. You know how that feels right? Surely?”
She nodded slowly, memories flicking back to earlier that day. Her chest still felt heavy with his words, her face still rosy with shame as she chose her next words carefully.
“Why do you need to know?”
Charles smiled, the crooked sort that sent a full shiver along her nerves.
“So you want to be close with him again?”
She didn't know what to really say; did she want to be close with him again? How many more times could her heart break before the pieces were too small to put back together again? What more could she even do for him? She seemed to have tried everything, but was always met with the same careful, calculated look in his eyes, as if he was measuring how much love to give her with a scale.
Yet she still found herself nodding, less slowly than she was a few moments ago.
“Of course I do,”; she had never heard herself so uncertain.
Charles’ grin widened into a large smirk, and the woman realised she had possibly made the wrong choice. “Good.”
Before she could take back her words, they both heard a hurried fluttering from above. They looked up to see two owls jostling into each other, large feathered wings to making it difficult for the birds to pass by each other easily when they had so obviously made a beeline that crossed. One of them dropped what they had been holding in their talons, the letter falling slowly to the ground. She lurched forward to catch it before it could drop to the wet ground, eyes catching on the name written carefully on the front. She had seen this same neat scrawl on coffee cups, and a name tag pinned to the front of an apron.
Of course fate would deal these cards.
She pried open the wax seal; she felt her stomach drop at the first line.
“My darling, Newt,”
Darling? Since when did they call each other darling? Was she upstairs every morning, asleep while birds pecked at the window, dropping letters full of pet names and sweet words? Was she making Newt tea to drink while he wrote, lovesick, what he should be saying to her instead? Her lungs felt tight as she reread the line over and over, breath catching at the comma every time.
She didn't notice Charles slipping to be next to her, reading the letter over her shoulder. She only felt him yank the piece of paper out of her hands and tear it, stashing it in his pocket before he clasped her hands in his. She reluctantly looked up to meet his eyes. He had faux worry glazing them, mouth set tight as if to hold in a laugh that he wanted to let out at her panicked state. This isn't the easy gaze she's used to meeting; she wasn't surprised that Charles' ex-lover fell for Newt instead. Who wouldn't.
“I can help you, love.” Why was he being so nice all of a sudden? He smiled next, all teeth as if he was trying to win her over. “Why don't you let me?”
She has lost her resolve; why shouldn't she let him help her? Questions whirled her mind, but she didn't have time to answer any of them before more wings caught her eye. That's Newt’s owl, she thought mindlessly, but she must've said it aloud, because one accurately aimed “Accio, letter,” from her counterpart later, there was a new piece of paper on their hands, with a messier name written across the front, under the words “To whom I hold dearest.”
Her heart faltered. More questions were now flooding her mind, each drenched in a new tub of fresh anxiety and guilt, but Charles didn't seem to notice. He just flashed her that same grin again.
“I’m Charles, by the way. You?”
"Tina,” she answered flatly.
“Tina,” he tested the name in his mouth.
“Well Tina, I think we're going to get along just fine.”
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photograph the februarys in exchange for a cheap place to live. all you have to do is go to their gigs, take a few pictures, and hope that they like them.
it starts out simple enough.
until the bands frontman, steve harrington, begs for more.
CONTAINS: fem!reader, slow burn, roommates to friends to are they lovers ? (worse), messy feelings and situationship, sexual tension, alcohol dependency, unhealthy coping mechanisms, probably unrealistic depictions of band life in the 80s but idc the vibes are there.
playlist ‧₊˚.
track one: i wanna get off
a friend from college offers you a job and a place to live. its pretty hard to turn down. free concerts, you get to do what you love, and steve harrington will be your roommate. its a shame hes too pretty for his own good.
track two: but youre such a tease
now officially the februarys concert photographer, you hit the road with them on tour. how bad can three months be stuck inside a small tour bus with steves needy hands and songs reserved only for you ?
track three: you did me bad
with tour winding down and an album set to be released, tensions inside the tour bus grows. when the already blurred lines between you and steve get crossed, the fallout of your relationship nearly sends the band spiraling as well.
track four: but i wanna go faster
recording an album is hard enough when the person steve has written every song for cant look him in the eye. its even harder when said person is also his roommate. and it definitely doesnt help that the rest of the band thinks its steves fault. now hes stuck on yet another tour bus with you. and everyone else. for six months.
track five: gasoline, pretty please
screaming crowds and flashing lights with steves name on everyones lips. everyones lips but yours; the lips he cant forget. when you get offered a job that would force you to leave the februarys behind, steve only has one last chance to beg you for more.
"come home to me, okay?"
"always," steve promises.
in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.
PAIRINGS: steve harrington x henderson!reader, slight jonathan byers x reader
CONTAINS: fem!reader, slow burn, slight enemies to lovers (reader more just pities steve), cursing, miscommunication, unrequited love, angst, protective older sister chaos, violence in the later seasons.
You kiss her forehead and pull Steve up from the couch, putting your jacket on and tossing him his. “Our Valentine’s day wouldn’t be the same without someone crying or throwing up. We’re going. Dinner can wait.”
Steve wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.”
“You two confuse me so much.” Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness.
“We get that a lot.” Steve kisses your temple. “C’mon, angelface. The lesbians need us.”
Summary: ten valentines days with steve. some years it's romantic, some years it's heartbreaking, but for better or worse, he's your forever valentine.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of vomit, pregnancy, cheating (steve doesnt cheat)
Words: 11.9k
Before you swing in: happy valentines day !! is this a day late ? sure. but we're going to ignore that ! heres a cute little fic of valentines day with steve throughout the years. joe touring really influenced this because i made steve a rockstar but honestly it fit tbh. anyways, hope you enjoy !
-
Somehow it’s always Steve who you spend Valentine’s day with.
In high school it’s because of academic obligations. You’re student body president and Steve is the president of the key club. Each year when February rolls around, the two of you are responsible for hanging pink streamers in the gym and selling enough tickets to afford a decent DJ.
Thanks to the infectious Valentine’s day yearning for love and potential makeouts under the bleachers, the Lonely Hearts dance always manages to draw in a crowd. That, and Steve promises that anyone who buys a ticket is guaranteed a dance with him.
It’s gross and highly exploitative. And also quite brilliant.
You never cash in your ticket, though. While Steve spends the night spinning around girls dressed in pinks and reds and whites, you’re manning the punch bowl to make sure no one spikes it.
Each year, Steve finds a way to sneak gin into the cherry liquid behind your back.
“I’d stop serving little Benny there that punch of yours.” Steve slides next to you, dressed in all black with a rose pinned to his ribbed vest. He reeks, a terrible concoction of every perfume worn by the girls he’s spent all night with.
Benny, a small, frail fourteen year old with eyes too big for his comically small glasses, hiccups. His hand is extended towards you, empty cup waiting for more. His face is flushed and he sways ever so slightly.
You sigh. “How much gin did you pour in this time, Harrington?”
“An entire bottle.”
“I hate you, you know.”
Steve laughs. “Not my fault that you never catch me.”
Pinching the bridge of your nose, you glare at him. “I still hate you.” Then, remembering that a severely intoxicated Benny is still waiting for his drink, you gently tap the kid’s arm. “Why don’t you go sit in a corner, buddy?”
Benny hiccups again and stumbles away. Steve snickers, but his laughter turns into a yelp of pain when you kick him in the shin. “Don’t you have girls to dance with?”
“Not if you keep kicking me like that,” he winces, rubbing his quickly bruising injury. “Jesus, are those heels made of steel?”
“Why are you still talking to me?”
“Can’t a guy talk to his most consistent girl?”
A snort masks the reddening of your cheeks. “Real flattering, Harrington.”
“I’m serious!” Steve nudges his shoulder against yours. He’s smiling wide at you, charming as ever. “You realize this is like, our third year spending Valentine’s day together, right?”
You roll your eyes. “We’re only spending it together for a school dance.”
“Still makes you my longest running Valentine, Y/N.” He winks, smug, and you want to stain his pretty face with the cherry red of the punch before you. He’s close to you now, close enough that you can smell his expensive cologne under all the perfume that taints it.
Suddenly your mouth goes dry. You look up at him and find that he’s already staring down at you. He doesn’t move, doesn’t shy away from the proximity that only seems to be growing smaller and smaller between you.
“Steve!” Heather Morgan stomps over, the ruffles of her lilac dress swishing with her forceful steps. She stops in front of you and him, though she doesn’t bother to acknowledge you. “I thought I was guaranteed a dance?”
Three Valentine’s days with Steve Harrington, countless prom committee meetings and club organization conferences, shared lunch periods and classes, all have led to the intimate knowledge of the lines of his face and how every miniscule twinge of muscle reveals everything he’s feeling.
The forced smile that he gives Heather, eyebrows drawn together and eyes dim, is nothing like the bright and overwhelming smile he gave you only moments ago.
“You’re absolutely right.” Steve holds his hand out to the girl and walks towards her. “With all the hard work Y/N put into this dance, it’d be a shame if I let it go to waste and not abide by my promise.”
Your cheeks burn at the indirect compliment and Heather simply rolls her eyes. She yanks Steve’s arm and he gives you one last weary, yet shy and gentle, smile that’s etched alongside his freckles and moles.
–
After graduating and moving to Chicago for college, you figure that maybe your first Valentine’s day in a big city will be spent with someone who doesn’t get freshmen drunk and dance with demanding girls.
Then, your first week in intro to philosophy, you meet Oliver.
He enters five minutes late, out of breath and frantic, and blindly throws himself into the first seat he finds. In his rush, he doesn’t see you until he’s thrown his jacket off and hears your quiet, “ouch.”
“Oh, my god.” His blue eyes are wide as he stares at you in horror, taking in the scene before him. He’s completely thrown his jacket on top of you. “I-I am so sorry!”
His British accent nearly sends your brain reeling. Oliver is tall, his black hair makes his skin appear almost luminescent, and there’s a dimple in his cheek that softens the harshness of his accented vowels.
“It’s fine,” you shrug the jacket off, too shy to say much else. He’s arguably the most perfect man you’ve ever met and it’s eight in the morning and you’re not quite sure if this is a dream. “Just… caught me by surprise?”
“Christ, I’m genuinely so sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I-I overslept and I only just switched into this class quite literally twelve hours ago and–”
“Top row,” your professor clears her throat, glaring at you and Oliver. “Is Aristotle really so interesting to you that you decide to interrupt my class in glee?”
You’re beet red, frozen in shame and fear, but Oliver simply laughs and ducks in head. “My apologies, Miss. Please, continue.”
Even the professor is charmed by his accent, and she shakes her head with a slight chuckle. She carries on with the lecture and Oliver is quiet next to you. You don’t speak for the rest of class, but during the last five minutes, a note slides across your desk.
Coffee?
– Oliver (the dunce who threw his jacket on you)
A second coffee date follows the first. Then a third. A fourth. A fifth and sixth until they slowly turn into dinner dates. Sneaking into each other’s apartments when your roommates aren’t home. Kissing as you lazily study together in bed.
Late January comes and you think that you’ve finally, finally, found someone to spend Valentine’s day with. Someone real and yours and lovely.
Oliver tells you to meet him at his apartment at 7:30 for dinner. He’s promised you homemade roast, a recipe from his mother. Valentine’s day will be a quiet dinner with only candlelight as your company. No streamers or spiked punch; it’s everything you could’ve ever wanted.
“The potatoes need a few more minutes, then we can eat.” Oliver kisses your forehead as he wipes his hands with a towel. The kitchen is warm, the smell of herbs and garlic infiltrate the air. On the counter the beef is resting, its aroma enough to make your mouth water.
You take a sip of wine. “Thank god.”
“Hungry, are we?”
“A home cooked meal by my hot boyfriend?” You raise your glass. “Of course I’m hungry!”
Oliver laughs, kissing you again. “Well, good thing I have all night to feed you–”
The front door slams, startling the two of you, and someone calls out, “Sorry! Sorry, please ignore me!”
Your fingers tighten around the stem of your wine glass hearing their voice.
Oliver groans, “one second, babe.” He leaves your side, but you don’t follow, too afraid to face what’s waiting for you on the other side of the wall.
“I thought I told you I had the apartment tonight?” You hear Oliver hiss at the intruder.
“You did! I just-I kinda left my guitar here and Robin will kill me if I–”
“Hurry up!”
“What, your date can’t wait five seconds?” A laugh, pleased with his own joke. You close your eyes, imagining the scrunch of his nose and tilt of his lips; you haven’t forgotten the details of his face, even after months of not seeing him.
Oliver mumbles something and you strain your ears to listen. He sounds upset, anxious, arguing with the other person in the room, and something akin to unease creeps into your stomach.
“Relax, man. Just go finish that bizarre British dinner for Bianca.”
Silence.
You set down the wineglass and finally walk into the living room. The click of your heels is the only evidence of life within the apartment. Oliver stands near the door. His eyes are closed, he doesn’t want to face you just yet.
Steve’s back is turned to you. His posture is relaxed, natural. He isn’t aware of what he’s just undone.
“Long time no see, Harrington.” Your arms are crossed, shielding yourself from what’s to come. Your voice sounds more confident than you feel. “I guess you’re the roommate I never got to meet.”
He spins around quickly, almost falling over, recognizing your voice immediately. His childish stumbling tells you that he almost doesn’t want to believe it. When Steve’s eyes land on you, they soften, warm brown filling with fondness once more.
“Y/N!”
Steve steps forward as if to hug you, but then seems to remember where he is, what he had previously been talking about with Oliver. He stops, the fondness in his eyes diminishing to confusion, then slowly to anger.
“You’re… not Bianca.”
“Evidently not.” Your laugh is bitter.
Steve narrows his eyes at Oliver. “What the hell, man? You told me you were dating some chic named Bianca.” He points a bewildered finger at you. “This is Y/N.”
“In my defense,” Oliver sighs tiredly, clapping his hands together in a defeated manner. “I didn’t think you’d know either one of them, so. This is just brilliant.”
“Are you dating them both?” Steve’s eyes bulge out of his head. If you weren’t on the brink of crying and throwing up, you’d laugh at his poor state of shock.
“That’s how cheating works, Steve.” You say weakly.
Oliver tries to say something, but he’s drowned out by Steve’s yelling. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Steve–” He tries again.
“No! I-I was unknowingly an accomplice in your cheating?”
“I did try to hide them both from you–”
“You’re such a jackass! I thought the British were supposed to be posh and all that-that bloody bullshit!”
You touch the back of Steve’s elbow. You’re mortified and embarrassed and you really want to cry right now. No words come out. Your mouth won’t open. All you can do is hope that your touch is enough.
Immediately Steve stops yelling. He tugs you against his chest, understanding everything the touch meant. He doesn’t care that it’s been six months since he’s seen you or that you were never particularly close in the first place. He wipes the tears that have started to fall from your eyes with a tenderness you didn’t know was innate within him.
“I’m taking you home,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “Go get your things, alright?”
Weak and numb, you do as you’re told.
“Y/N, wait–” Oliver tries to reach out for you.
Steve steps between you. The look on his face is violent, almost frightening. You’ve never seen him like this. “Don’t.”
Oliver stumbles back. It’s enough of a distraction for you to quickly grab your purse and keys, vision blurry from tears as your body shakes. Every nerve, every fiber of your skeletal body is screaming at you to run.
When you’re ready, Steve uses his body to prevent Oliver from looking at you. His hands are gentle as he guides you to his car. He whispers reassurances, rubs circles into your back, and allows you to cry the entire way home.
It doesn’t surprise you when Steve doesn’t leave after parking in front of your apartment. It also doesn’t surprise you when he walks you to your door and lets himself in.
“Stay here,” he all but shoves you onto the couch before making his way to your kitchen. He walks through the apartment as if he’s done so his entire life. “I’ll be right back.”
“What are you–”
“Less talking, more crying!”
You curl yourself into a small ball, too tired to argue with Steve. While you have no idea what the hell he’s doing, you’re relieved that your roommate, Jane, is out with her boyfriend for the night.
At least someone is having a happy Valentine’s day.
Steve returns with two pints of ice cream and spoons. He’s already opened one of them and hands it to you as he plops onto the couch. “Figured you’d have a stash.”
The ice cream he hands you is your favorite flavor. You don’t remember ever telling him this. “How did you–”
“This is our fourth Valentine’s day in a row, Y/N,” Steve pokes your side. “When are you gonna stop questioning my loyalty to our sacred tradition?”
Mouth cold from ice cream and face hot from crying, Steve manages to pull a laugh out of you. It’s feeble and small and more of a grimace than something joyous, but it’s more than you ever thought was possible.
Steve laughs with you, knocking his own pint of ice cream against yours. “To Valentine's day, angelface.”
“To Valentine’s day,” you sniff, laughing again. The moment is bizarre and not at all how you envisioned spending the day, but somehow it’s wonderful and reminiscent of the years before. There’s only one thing missing. “I miss the pink streamers.”
“I’ll hang some up next year.” Steve promises, winking at you as he always seems to do, falling back in familiarity.
You rest your head against the couch, warm, and hum thoughtfully. Steve always keeps his promises, and you can almost envision the messily strewn up streamers and tacky holiday decorations he would find and insist on using. The apartment would be full of light and warmth, and the thought makes you smile.
“I’d like that.”
–
Inexplicably, Steve becomes your best friend.
He all but declares Oliver dead to him and refuses to step foot in their apartment unless it’s to eat or sleep. He cuts off all contact with the guy without even blinking. You try telling Steve that he doesn’t have to jeopardize his relationship with his roommate and he scoffs at you.
“I’m giving that motherfucker the coldest shoulder known to man, Y/N. Whether you like it or not.”
And there isn’t anything else to talk about, really.
Slowly Steve starts spending all his time at your apartment to avoid his, and you find yourself actually enjoying his company. He doesn’t stray far from your room and he always brings over extra napkins from the restaurant he works at, saving you an extra five dollars a week in household supplies.
Plus, Steve introduces you to his coworker Robin, and she’s so enthralling and chaotic and vibrant that it’s only natural that when she becomes your best friend, Steve does, too.
Spring semester ends and Jane announces that she’s moving out to live with her boyfriend come summer. The first person you call is Steve. He moves in a week later.
“Have you looked over the sheet music yet?” Robin has her legs tossed over your lap as the two of you sit on the couch. Steve sits on the floor, leaning his head against the couch, his hair tickling the bare skin of your leg.
You’re watching some movie that Steve had been dying to see. It’s Valentine’s day and he’s begged you to let him watch some cheesy romance movie he saw an ad for. He claims it’s to get into the holiday spirit, but you know it’s because he has a crush on Patrick Swayze.
Robin tagged along because she has a crush on Jennifer Grey.
“Hey, doofus!” She throws popcorn at Steve’s head when he doesn’t respond to her question.
“Can you at least aim for my face?” He flicks the popcorn out of his hair, cringing. “The butter makes my hair feel gross.”
You ruffle the locks, shaking his head in the process and he swats you away, albeit without any cruelty or malice. “Could be from all that hairspray you drown it in.”
“I’m with Y/N on this one,” Robin leans forward, invading Steve’s space with ease. “Anyways, did you read the music or not? Kelly wants your opinion before our gig tonight.”
“Why does she care what I think?”
“Because you’re the lead singer?” Robin looks at you. “Do you think all that hairspray has rotted his brain?”
You shrug. “Probably.”
Steve flips the both of you off and you giggle together at his annoyance. Ever since meeting Robin, making Steve’s life as miserable as possible has become your favorite thing to do together.
Robin then asks again about the song and she and Steve fall into a conversation about Kelly and her obsession with their other bandmate Connor and whether or not the song is actually good or if it’s just another attempt for her to win him over.
You watch them talk with a lazy smile. They become so animated when they discuss music, and you admire how well they work together. It doesn’t surprise you that they formed a band together after only being friends for two days. They take music seriously, obsess over it in a way you don’t think you’ll ever quite understand, but that you will always admire.
“You’re coming to our gig tonight, right?” Steve suddenly turns to you, eyes pleading and hopeful.
“Where is it again?”
“The Vexture. We go on at ten.”
Robin has turned her hopeful eyes to you as well and you shift uncomfortably. The Vexture is a grungy club that’s always packed with people looking for someone to call their own, and given the fact that it’s currently Valentine’s day, it’ll only be worse.
The thought makes you nauseous.
Steve sees you grimace and he immediately throws himself into your lap. “No. Absolutely not. You have to come.”
“I haven’t even said anything–”
“You were going to bail!”
“I–I wasn’t!”
Robin pinches your cheek. “You’re a terrible liar, dear.”
You try to argue but Steve covers your mouth. You thrash underneath him, completely opposed to his body weight on you and his grimy hands covering your mouth, but he’s freakishly strong and Robin is a traitor who helps him hold you down.
“Look, Y/N.” Steve’s hair falls in your face. “We all know that last year was rough.”
“Fuck Oliver!” Robin shouts, wringing her hands together as if envisioning choking him.
“What she said. Anyways, you took a hard hit. It’s understandable. But I refuse to let you spend Valentine’s day all alone, alright? You haven’t dated anyone in months. You’re coming tonight.”
You want to bite him, to kick him off and pinch his skin, but you know he’s right. Deflating, you cross your arms and reluctantly nod.
Steve and Robin cheer, jostling you around, and despite the annoyance and fear you’re feeling, you can’t help but laugh at their childish joy.
“Love the enthusiasm, but can you guys get off me now?” You croak out in between laughs.
They scramble off the couch and Robin helps you up. She fixes your hair and kisses the tip of your nose. “We have three hours to make you irresistible tonight.”
“I’m not dressing up–”
“You have no free will when it comes to me.” Robin smiles wickedly and grabs your hand, pulling you to your room, having long forgotten about the movie that’s still playing in the background.
“Can I join?” Steve calls after the two of you.
Robin slams the door in his face.
The Vexture is loud and overflowing with people by the time you get there. The lights are dimmed and Robin has to hold your hand as she guides you through the crowd. Since they’re performing, they’re allowed to cut the long lines and are able to get you the best seats in the house: backstage.
“You made it!” Kelly throws her long and lithe arms around you. She smells of vanilla and honey and her hair is tied in loose knots. Glitter adorns her eyelids and pink hearts dot her cheeks.
“I’m being held against my will,” you shout into her ear, hugging her tightly. “But I’m here.”
Connor pats your back and chuckles. He’s matching Kelly’s heart theme with a pink heart painted on his own cheek. “Well, at least you’ll have a good time!”
Steve hands him a guitar and checks his hair in the mirror. Robin dressed him in a white button down and demanded that he leave the first four buttons undone. The exposed strip of skin from the base of his neck to the swell of his chest burns your lips.
“We ready?” Steve pulls you by the waist, flush against him, and winks at his bandmates.
Kelly and Robin cheer and Connor slams his drumsticks together. A cheer of your own tumbles from your lips, allowing your body to lean against Steve’s, and his fingers dig into your side as his chest rumbles with pleasure.
The crowd erupts when they get on stage. They all get into their places. Robin with her keyboard. Kelly and the bass. Connor behind his drum set. And Steve, front and center of the stage, smiling into the mic as his fingers pick at his guitar.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He’s a natural on stage. People scream his name and he plays into it with such confidence and charm. Steve smirks, knowing he has the audience in the palm of his hand. “That’s what I like to hear!”
He plays the first few notes of the song they’re starting with tonight. Easy and light. He’s setting the audience up, tempting them, leaving them wanting more.
Steve grabs the base of the microphone and tilts his head at the crowd. “Who’s here with their Valentine tonight?”
Almost everyone cheers and whistles. Hands get thrown into the air and lovers kiss the smiles off each other’s face.
“Hell yeah!” Steve laughs, high on the energy in the room. He plays a few more notes, turns his head away from the crowd as he does so. You watch him, curious, and find that he’s looking at you.
When he has your attention, Steve laughs again and goes back to the mic. He’s smiling wide, cheeks pink. “You know, I’m also here with a Valentine tonight.”
The audience gasps and cheers and claps for him. Robin wolf whistles, loud and obnoxious, teasing eyes looking only at you. Kelly snickers and Connor points one of his drum sticks at you, clutching his heart dramatically.
The apples of your cheeks pinch together a glorious red and Steve can’t take his eyes off you. His eyes, soft as they always are when he looks at you, are like molten earth. He smiles into the mic again, unable to look away from you.
“This is our fifth Valentine’s day together,” he tells the crowd, smiling so much he’s almost slurring his words. “I kinda hope that this angelface will always be my Valentine.”
Robin whistles again and the roar of the Vexture is so loud now that you can’t hear anything besides the blood rushing in your head. Steve screams along with the crowd and Connor counts the band in and there’s music all around you and dancing and Steve’s sweat drips down his chest and there’s a burning deep within your stomach.
He’s beautiful.
You hope that he’ll always be your Valentine, too.
–
Sophia enters your life early junior year. You find her in your kitchen one morning wearing one of Steve’s old t-shirts, and you make her a cup of coffee.
She’s nice. Her hair is bronzy and she has incredible green eyes and an angelic laugh. She studies English and she’s the only other person besides your classmates who has read Plato, so you’re honestly quite fond of her, and you can see how Steve falls for her hard and fast.
Robin, however, has other thoughts.
“I don’t trust her.” She says one day in January. Steve is at Sophia’s, so you invited Robin over to bake cookies and watch the latest episode of a show you both enjoy.
You frown at her. “Why not? I think Sophia is nice.”
“Ever notice how the only way we can all collectively describe her as is nice?” Robin shivers. “What kind of psycho only has one personality trait?”
Well. There isn’t a lot you can argue with there. Sure, everyone who has met Sophia has liked her, but when you think about it, Robin’s right. They’ve all described her as nice, maybe quiet, but always nice.
“I think you’re just overprotective of Steve.” You try to defend. You like Sophia. She’s become a very loose, very distant, acquaintance. “Just give her some time.”
“They’ve been dating for months now, Y/N. She creeps me out.”
“Sophia isn’t some off putting creature, Robin–”
“Guys!” Steve barrels through the front door. You and Robin both scream, but he ignores your terror and throws himself at the two of you. “How much do you guys love me?”
Robin responds with, “how much money do you want?” while you reply, “depends on the day.”
Steve breathes heavily, grasping your hand. “I need you guys to please, please do me the biggest favor.”
“Did you kill someone?” You pull your hand away, weary of the scene before you.
“What? No! I just–” Steve inhales sharply. “It’s Sophia.”
“I knew it!” Robins screeches, but you jump and cover her mouth. She tries to scream through your silencing, but her words are muffled and jumbled.
You smile at Steve awkwardly. “Don’t mind her. What’s going on with Sophia?”
“She wants to go on a double date for Valentine’s day.” You and Robin stare at him as if he’s insane, and Steve groans. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, alright? But she-uh. I guess she’s had some shitty Valentine’s days in the past and thought it’d be better if we had other people with us? As a safeguard?”
“That’s…” Concerning, you want to say, but Steve is staring at you, pleading, and you really don’t feel like dealing with his anxious monologues. “Interesting.”
He rubs his face. “It’s insane, I know, but I just… I really like this girl, you know? So if one of you could just–”
“I’m out.” Robin raises her hands and you shoot her an incredulous look. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I actually have plans this year and I really don’t feel like spending them with Steve.”
“And you think I don’t have plans?” You ask them, offended, and Steve looks at the ground and Robin suddenly finds the tile very interesting. “Okay. At least pretend that I have some dignity.”
“I’m sure you have a lot of dignity, angelface.” Steve tries to amend. “And you’d have even more dignity if you went on a double date with me and Sophia. I’ll even find someone to be your date!”
In theory, it sounds like your worst nightmare. Spending a night with a loved up Steve and Sophia while you’re with some guy you met only hours ago. All because Steve’s girlfriend doesn’t feel comfortable enough spending Valentine’s day alone with him.
But Steve has had to hold your hand through a nasty breakup and other horrific dating exploits since then. He’s held your hair up when you’ve been sick. Makes you your favorite snacks during busy exam seasons. He cleans your room when he knows you’re exhausted.
Steve is your best friend. The least you can do is this.
“Fine,” you finally give in. “But the guy better be hot.”
The guy Steve finds you is, in fact, incredibly hot. His name is Max and he meets you and Steve outside the restaurant dressed in a well tailored suit.
“Where’d you find this guy?” You whisper to Steve while Max isn’t looking.
“He knew Connor in high school.” He whispers back. “Makes a lot of money. Works in finance.”
Your mouth drops, but you quickly cover it up when Max opens the door for you and Steve. He’s a perfect gentleman and rests his hand on the small of your back. “You guys been to this restaurant before?”
“A few times together, but I don’t think my girlfriend Sophia has been here yet.” Steve sits down and grabs a menu before checking his watch. “Actually, she should be here by now.”
Max’s face twists slightly. “Her name is Sophia?”
“Max?” Sophia, rushing towards your table, stops and gasps out his name as if she’s been stabbed.
“Oh, dear.” You set down your menu. Something tells you that there won’t be any eating tonight.
“Sophia?” Max nearly falls to his knees in front of her, eyes shining at the girl as if she’s hung all the moon and stars with her delicate fingers.
They stare at one another, neither moving, and Steve looks between them with a bitter taste in his mouth. “So… you guys know each other?”
Sophia winces and Max coughs.
You grab your purse. “Steve, why don’t we head home–”
“What’s going on here?” His voice is strained. He looks at Sophia and you see the upset he tries to suppress. The clench of his jaw and the furrow of his brow. “Soph, who is this guy?”
“He’s no one, I promise–”
Max steps forward. “We dated for a few years.”
“Years?” Steve exclaims.
“Broke up on Valentine’s day last year, actually.” He looks at Sophia with a pained expression. “I… I missed you.”
Steve falls against his seat in disbelief. Sophia holds the base of her throat in a weak attempt to soothe herself.
“You’re really not helping, Max.” You glare at him, rubbing your friend’s shoulder as he sits at the table, mourning. Steve’s mouth doesn’t seem to be able to close and he’s looking at Sophia as if trying to silently plead with her to tell him that none of this is real.
Except is it, and Sophia closes her eyes. “I-I can’t do this, Steve.”
Her apology sends the chair flying back as he stands abruptly, desperately reaching for her in the crowded restaurant while you and Max remain silent. “Wait, can’t we just–”
“I should go.” She’s crying and the green of her eyes are a startling shade of brilliance. She really is quite lovely; the beauty breaks your heart. Steve calls after her as she leaves.
You hold him back. He screams at you to let him go, but you know that this time you have to be the one to break his fall. To catch him as he caught you the year Oliver broke your heart. There are tears in his eyes and his hoarse voice begs the girl to stay, but she’s long gone.
Max stands there in the wreckage. He doesn’t know what to do or who to follow.
“Just go,” you tell him, pulling Steve back down to sit. He collapses into your side, too ashamed to cry and too exhausted to care. He’s weak against you and your arms encase him. Max doesn’t move, and your voice raises before you can stop it. “Go!”
He listens, and the other patrons in the restaurant watch as yet another person runs from your table. A waitress gives you a pitying smile that you don’t reciprocate.
Steve hides his face in your neck and you gently cup his cheek to make him look at you. “Hey,” you say when his eyes finally focus on you. “Let’s get you a drink, okay?”
He drops his head on the table with a defeated sigh. “Give me whatever liquor they got.”
“The stronger the better?”
“Yes.”
“Coming right up.” You wave a waiter down and order four shots and two beers. Steve doesn’t say anything while you order, but he does shift closer to you once the waiter is gone.
The buzz of the restaurant is low, though full of laughter and conversation. You sit with Steve, fingers stroking through his hair as his head remains on the table. He lost all sense of pride the moment he begged Sophia to stay, so he allows your nails to scratch his scalp.
Drinks get set on the table and Steve throws both of his shots back before you can even pick one of yours up. He wipes his mouth and cringes at the taste. You stare at him, slightly concerned. “Alright over there?”
“Need more liquor.”
You stroke his cheek. “How cute. You think I’m going to let you drink your sorrows away.”
He bats your hand away. “I don’t know if you’re all caught up, but I just got dumped on Valentine’s day, Y/N.”
“And?” You laugh at him. “That happened to me too, buddy. You’re officially a part of the lonely hearts club. How’s it feel?”
Steve drops his head back onto the table. “It feels like we’re fucking cursed.”
“I’ll drink to that,” you clink your beer against his. “Cheers.”
It’s quiet for a while. You finish your shots and sip slowly at your beer. Steve remains hidden away at the table, refusing to sit up and face the reality of heartbreak. You allow him to take all the time he needs, replenishing his drinks when he runs low. He’s quiet, but he knocks his knee against yours every time you squeeze his hand.
I’m here.
Thank you.
The chatter in the restaurant dies down and you pay the tab and help carry Steve home. He’s significantly more drunk than you are, and you’re relieved that you chose to eat somewhere close enough to walk. He stumbles the entire way home and you have to cling onto his hand so that he doesn’t fall.
Steve drags your body onto the couch the second you open the apartment door. He collapses on top of you. His arms hold your waist and his nose presses against your neck. You bring your hands to his hair and sync your breathing with his.
“Think it’ll always be like this?” Steve murmurs after a while. “You and me and goddamn Valentine’s day?”
Six years of sharing the holiday together. Six years of being each other’s person to spend the day with and draw cheesy cards for. Six years of laughter and tears and secret glances and inside jokes.
Six years, and yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.
“We’re best friends, Steve.” You whisper into his ear, lips brushing skin. “Of course it’ll always be like this.”
He shivers at the sensation of your lips. Alcohol burns through his system. He finds himself upset that he drank tonight. He wonders what would’ve happened had he not met Sophia. If he had taken you to the restaurant alone and left sober.
Steve wonders if he would’ve kissed you then. If you would’ve let him.
But he had met Sophia. He’d taken you to the restaurant to have dinner with her. He got drunk tonight to forget the way she tasted. You walked him home because you couldn’t trust him to take care of himself. And now he’s too afraid to kiss you because he knows it could ruin everything he’s so carefully built with you.
He falls asleep to your heartbeat.
–
“Who gets married on Valentine’s day?” Robin tugs at her dress in disgust. “I mean, that should just be illegal.”
You help her fix her dress and shrug. “I don’t know. I think it’s sweet.”
“That’s because Steve’s walking you down the aisle tonight. You’re biased.”
“He’s the best man and I’m the maid of honor,” you poke her stomach. “It’s quite literally tradition to walk down the aisle as a pair.”
Kelly, who has been fixing her makeup the entire conversation, peeks her head from behind the mirror. “To be honest, Connor and I did intentionally plan for Steve to walk you down the aisle.”
Your jaw drops. “Kelly!”
“The two of you are just so cute!” She laughs. “You’re two of our closest friends. We want what’s best for you, so Connor and I figured we’d just give you guys a little push.”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Believe me. I’ve been trying to get them together for years now. What is this, your eighth year of being each other’s Valentine’s?”
Your head whips to her. “It’s only our seventh. And what do you mean you’ve been trying for years?”
“I’m practically the reason Steve moved in with you. He wanted to live with me months before you asked him to move in. Naturally, I’m a prophet, and I told him no. Now here you guys are, walking down the aisle together. Tada!”
“Oh my god.”
“I mean, it worked!” Robin frowns. “Well. Sort of.”
You’re speechless and Kelly takes pity on you. She walks over and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, I love you. Connor and Robin love you. Steve loves you. You know that, right?”
“I…” You’d be a liar if you said the thought never crossed your mind. Especially after the breakup with Sophia. You’ve always been close with Steve, but in the last year there’s been this shift that you haven’t been able to describe.
There’s coffee waiting for you every morning. He holds your hand and strokes his thumb against your palm. Steve ends up falling asleep in your bed most nights now, wrapped around you as his breath warms your skin. His own room has slowly been turned into a makeshift studio for his music.
Sometimes you catch Steve staring at you, and sometimes the heat of his gaze doesn’t scare you.
But sometimes it does.
“Why are we even talking about this?” You deflect, setting your eyes on Kelly and her gorgeous veil. “You’re getting married in less than an hour. Can’t we talk about that?”
“Babe, all I’ve done for the last year is talk about this goddamn wedding. I’m the bride and right now I demand that we gossip.”
Robin laughs at you and you’re about to make up some excuse about needing to go organize the roses again when the bride’s door opens. Kelly yelps and covers her dress as you and Robin step in front of her to block the intruder’s view.
“Relax,” Steve holds his hands up. “It’s just me. Unfortunately, I’m not the groom.”
Kelly shakes his head at him fondly. “What do you want, Steve?”
“Connor sent me here because apparently I lack the ability to shut the fuck up and it was stressing him out.”
You snort and Robin hunches over as she giggles. Kelly smirks. “Yeah. I believe that.”
Steve sticks his tongue out at the three of you, and the conversation from earlier gets dropped. He helps you and Robin with the rest of Kelly’s makeup. He irons her dress, showers her with compliments, and your heart constricts every time he touches the edge of your silk dress with childlike wonder.
“You look beautiful, Y/N.” He whispers when it’s just the two of you. The door to the aisle hasn’t opened yet. The rest of the wedding party stands behind you, waiting.
A blush coats your cheeks. You loop your arm through his and bask in his fondness. “Thank you,” your hand rests on his chest. “You look quite handsome yourself.”
And he does. Steve is cruelly beautiful in his suit. His tie matches the lace of your dress and you want to pull the end of it and bring his lips to yours. He stares down at your lips and you wonder if he’s thinking about yours, before the music starts.
The door opens. Down the long, carpeted length of the church stands Connor. There are flowers everywhere and Steve grabs the hand that rests against his forearm. He squeezes it, takes a deep breath, and together you walk down the aisle.
During the wedding Robin cries. The vows are exchanged and she has to cover her mouth to contain the sobs that spill from her. Steve catches your eye from across the pew and the two of you smile at your friend, your love for her forming into one.
Sometime late into the night Steve finds you. He hands you a drink before promptly dragging you to the dancefloor. You protest, shy, but he doesn’t listen.
“I told myself I’d dance with the prettiest girl at this wedding, angelface. And it just so happens that that girl is you.”
You laugh at him, following his hands as he guides you through the motions of dancing. “Don’t let Kelly hear you, otherwise she’ll strangle you.”
“Let her,” Steve spins you, eliciting more giggles to fall from your pretty lips. “I’ll die a happy man now that I’ve danced with you.”
“That was disgusting.”
“And charming. Don’t forget charming.” He spins you again before bringing your bodies even closer together. “You know what this reminds me of?”
You gaze up at Steve. “What?”
“The Lonely Hearts dance.”
Exasperated laughter follows his confession. “You’re really thinking about our high school dance right now?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Every year I was dying to dance with you.” Steve’s thumbs stroke up and down the sides of your waist. His grip on you tightens. His voice lowers and you recognize the adoration that paints his brown eyes. The air between you stills. Steve dips his head, his forehead brushes yours. “And now I finally got that dance.”
You don’t breathe. If you do, you’re afraid that the exhale would shatter the fragility of this moment.
“Was it worth it?” You don’t recognize your own voice and the breathy way it comes out. Your hands move up Steve’s chest and snake around his neck. His head knocks against yours, your noses centimeters apart, lips separated by inches.
You feel Steve’s smile more than you really see it. “You tell me.”
He kisses you, cradling your body as if it were made to fit into the crevices of his palms. Lips move against lips and your skin hums at the sensation of finally welcoming him home. His skin greets you with a soft tenderness and your lips coat his mouth with sugary sweetness.
“Get a room!” Robin throws a napkin at the two of you, forcing you apart, and when you come up for air you see the biggest smile on her face.
You hide in Steve’s neck, embarrassed, though not enough to not leave small, fluttery kisses on every mole your lips can find. You’re already addicted to feeling him shiver beneath you.
“Seems we have a wedding to plan for next year!” Connor raises his beer and points at you and Steve, cackling loudly.
Kelly is next to him and she kisses her husband’s cheek and beams at him. “It took ‘em long enough!”
“Do you guys mind?” Steve pulls you away from the dancefloor, glaring at his closest friends who all love him endlessly and whom he loves even more, and basks in your giggling as he whisks you away. “I’m trying to kiss Y/N here!”
“Use protection!” Robin calls out while Connor and Kelly whistle and cat call.
Steve finds an empty closet and no one can find you for the rest of the night. Kelly never lets you live it down, Connor commends you for the bravery, and Robin has to wipe away her tears.
–
Your first semester of senior year, Steve and Robin’s band gets signed. The record label is apparently legendary because they collapse onto the ground screaming when they get the phone call. Twenty minutes later, Connor and Kelly are at your apartment screaming alongside them.
Two weeks later they book tickets to New York and you help Steve pack his bags. Everything happens so quickly and it’s almost nauseating trying to keep up.
“We’re in the studio from nine to five every weekday, so I’ll call you every day at six.” Steve folds a pair of jeans and hands them for you to place in his suitcase. “Weekends I’ll call you at five so that we can eat dinner together.”
You give him an odd look. “Don’t you want to go explore the city while you’re there?”
“I mean, sure. But I can do that during the day. The moment the clock strikes five or six, it’s my girl’s time.”
“Steve…” You’re so stupidly in love with him sometimes. “I don’t want you worrying about me while you’re there. This is a huge opportunity for you.”
“Who said anything about worrying about you?” Steve walks up behind you and kisses your neck. “Angelface, I’m worried I might die after the first week without you.”
Your hands brush through his hair. “You’ll be fine, Stevie. I guarantee that in five days tops you’ll be having too much fun to miss me.”
“Wrong. I will be talking everyone’s ears off about you and will probably get banned from a lot of bars because of it.”
Sighing, you turn and face him, pressing a soft kiss to his brow. “Steve, it’s only for a few months. Each day we’re apart will be one day closer to being together.”
“How about no days apart and every day together?”
You kiss him, slowly and drawn out, as if time is on your side and you’re in excess of it. Steve hums against you, tightening his arms in a lazy hug, and you know that you’ll miss him forever.
The first few weeks are hard without Steve. You’ve never lived on your own before and you’ve never really spent a day without him since you were eighteen. Now you’re twenty-one and there’s no one to kiss you awake or make faces in the mirror with you as you brush your teeth.
What’s worse is that Robin is gone, too. And Kelly. And Connor.
Their absence makes you realize that you direly need other friends who aren’t in a literal band together.
Steve keeps his promise and calls you every day. He always asks about how your day has been, he tells you every detail about his. He tells you that he’s started writing all his thoughts down in a notebook that he wants to tell you so that he doesn’t forget, and it makes you ache even more.
The months pass by slowly. December drips into January and then February greets you with her winter’s kiss. There’s snow in Chicago and even more to come, and you know Steve will be excited to see it when he gets back.
Which coincidentally happens to be Valentine’s day.
And also the day you get violent food poisoning.
After months of being apart, the first time Steve sees you again is with your head in the toilet bowl, hacking up your lungs and dying.
“Oh, Jesus.” He drops his bags and comes running over, immediately gathering your hair so that you don’t get it dirty as yet another wave of nausea hits you.
“Welcome home.” you say in between bouts of bile. Truly, you think this is a new low that you’ve reached. Here you are, deathly ill and incredibly sweaty, while your lovely boyfriend has just arrived home after months of missing each other. “Sorry that you have to see this.”
Steve rubs your back and sits with you on the ground. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even spilling your guts out I think you’re hot.”
“That’s sweet,” you throw up again. “Would you be a dear and kill me now?”
He laughs, massaging your tender body, and doesn’t once leave your side. He flushes the toilet for you when needed. He gets a rag and soaks it in cold water and rubs it across your forehead to help regulate your fever. He hums to you when your stomach twists in pain.
Eventually the nausea settles enough for you to ask Steve to carry you to bed. He does, and he sets you down gently before crawling in next to you. He fits your body against his, hand on your stomach as if he himself can ease its ache.
“I’m sorry,” your voice is raspy, the acidic bile still lingering. “I’m sure this isn’t the grand reunion and Valentine’s day that you had in mind.”
“I’m laying in bed with you and you love me.” Steve kisses your overheated forehead. “That’s all I ever want for Valentine’s day.”
Your eyes fall shut and you exhale shakily. “I just… I wanted our first Valentine’s to be special. I had it all planned out. I rented your favorite movie and bought all the ingredients to make the gnocchi you love so much, and then as I was folding the laundry I just-I died.”
“Food poisoning. America’s silent killer.” Your laugh rings in Steve’s ears and he smiles, kissing your face again and again and again. He runs his nose down your chin, brushes the hair out of your face. “Besides, this isn’t our first Valentine’s. I’m counting all the ones we spent together single and lonely whether you like it or not.”
“The fifth one wasn’t so bad,” you muse. You still remember the roar of the Vexture as Steve announced that you were his Valentine. “You were annoyingly charming that night.”
“That was me declaring my love for you, you know.”
You turn to him, startled. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” Steve clutches his chest. “There I was, telling the love of my life that I wanted her to be my Valentine forever, and then in the end she friendzones me. Truly brutal stuff.”
“But that was years ago! We were nineteen, there’s no way in hell you were actually in love with me.”
He grabs your hand and kisses it. “Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen. I was just waiting for you to like me back.”
The idea of Steve being in love with you since you were kids nearly sends you back to throwing up. You’re overwhelmed by it. By the idea that someone could’ve loved you for as long as he has. That he still loves you now. For nearly a decade.
“Y/N? You got all quiet over there. You alive?” Steve pokes your cheek and it’s then that you know that there was never anyone else for you. You were his from the moment he walked into student council and demanded cleaner mirrors in the men’s bathroom.
“I love you.” You tell him. They’re the only words created for what you have.
Steve scrunches his face in an endearing manner. “I love you, too.”
“Now tell me all about New York.”
And he does.
–
Robin tells you that tour life is romanticized and that within the first week you’ll strangle her and Steve to death, but you don’t believe her. When you see the size of the bus the five of you will be staying in for months on end, you start to second guess what she’s said.
“It’s… cozy?”
Connor huffs at you. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“It’ll be fun, guys!” You try again to make light of the situation, though really you also don’t believe what you’re saying. “I mean, think about how much closer we’ll be after this.”
“Weren’t you a philosophy major?” Connor looks at you skeptically. “Isn’t the whole schtick of those old white dudes pessimism?”
Steve throws an arm around you. “She graduated top of her class, actually. And yes. Those old white dudes loved being bitter bitches.”
“I think Y/N’s right.” Kelly joins in now. “We’re a family. It can’t be that bad.”
“Famous last words.” Robin mutters.
They are, in fact, famous last words.
Connor learns that he gets car sick easily on day two. Kelly learns that she has a fear of car sickness on day three. Robin leaves her keyboard at one of the venues they play at the second week and doesn’t realize it until you’re already at the next venue an entire state away. Steve loses his voice after the sixth show and spends the entire bus ride to the next venue sulking.
You, however, are honestly having a great time. You didn’t get to travel with the band last year due to school, and now that you’ve graduated, you’re enamored with seeing places that aren’t native to Illinois or Indiana.
“Steve, if you gargle salt water in my ear one more time, I will shave your head in your sleep.” Robin threatens during week four. Her eye is twitching and you truly do believe that she has a razor hidden somewhere.
“I have to protect my voice.” He argues, pouring more warm water into a cup before mixing salt in. “I can’t lose it again!”
“That was a pretty rough show.” Connor says from his bunk. Being nearly 6’4, he barely even fits in it. His legs hang off awkwardly and he’s been complaining about his back for weeks now.
“I thought Robin sang pretty well.” Nancy, the band’s tour photographer, says quietly from the makeshift kitchenette. She joined during the third show and you think Robin’s been in love with her since the fourth one.
“Uh, thanks. I guess.” She squeaks out, hiding behind you in a not so subtle manner. You pat her hand, sympathetic.
Steve gargles and spits the water into the sink. “Robin has an incredible voice, I agree. But that’s besides the point. We’re on the clock full time, even if we don’t have a show tonight.”
“And tell me, my dear wife, why we don’t have a show tonight?” Connor sings to Kelly.
“Why, my dear husband, I do believe it’s because it’s Valentine’s day and Stevie over here demanded the night off so that he can court our beloved Y/N.”
Steve rolls his eyes at them and you laugh. “In our defense, we haven’t exactly had a normal Valentine’s day together. We’re in dire need of one normal night.”
Nancy tilts her head at you. “But aren’t you guys together?”
“Yeah, but we weren’t for a while.”
“One Valentine’s day Y/N found out her boyfriend was cheating on her, who also just so happened to be my roommate.”
Robin throws her head back and shouts, “Fuck Oliver!” And Connor and Kelly join.
“Thanks, guys.” Steve turns back to Nancy. “Another year I made Y/N go on a blind double date with me and a girl I was dating at the time. Turns out, the guy I brought for Y/N was also the ex boyfriend of my girlfriend. So that was fun.”
“One year we actually walked down the aisle together. Before we were even dating.” Nancy’s eyes widen and you shrug at her. “We were in the same wedding party.”
“Happy anniversary, babe.” Connor blows a kiss to Kelly and she catches it, blowing him one back.
“And last year I got horrendous food poisoning and Steve had to drive me to the hospital since I was so dehydrated. He cried filling out my paperwork.”
“I did.”
Nancy looks between you and Steve. “And this year, you guys will…?”
“I’m taking Y/N out to a nice, totally normal and totally romantic dinner. I’m going to wine and dine my girl and then we’re going to cuddle in our way too small bunk bed and sleep.”
You beam at everyone. “It’s a pretty good plan.”
Except you and Steve don’t even make it to your reservation. Later that night, right before you call a taxi, Nancy bursts through the bus door with a frantic look in her eyes. You drop the phone and rush to her. “Woah, hey. What’s going on?”
“Have you seen Robin?” There are tear stains on her delicate face.
Steve’s body tenses. “Last time we saw her was when she left with you guys, why?”
“I–” A broken sob prevents Nancy from telling him anything else, and you take her into your arms.
You soothe her, your own worry for your friend setting your body on edge. Steve shares a look with you, both wondering what the hell is happening. Robin left with Nancy and the others hours ago to go check out some local bar, and now here Nancy is, crying in your arms, with Robin nowhere to be found.
“Nance,” drying the girl’s tears, you try to get her to calm down enough to speak. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Take a deep breath and then let it out slowly.”
You inhale, so does she, and after several seconds you exhale long and slow. Nancy’s breath stutters and her tears soak the white blouse she looks so delicate in, but still she breathes.
Steve stands over the two of you, arms crossed with his eyebrows pinched together in worry. He taps his foot and you know it’s taking everything within him not to tear down the entire town to find his best friend.
“What happened with Robin, Nance?” Steve gently asks her, crouching down to her eye level. “Is she okay? Are you okay?”
Nancy wipes her face and sniffs. She can’t look at you or Steve. Her eyes face only the ground as she picks at her nails. “We… We kissed.”
“That’s…” Steve looks at you, silently asking if he should be elated or concerned, and all you can do is shrug helplessly at him. “That’s-that’s great, right? I mean, you two were totally love at first sight. Like, Romeo and Juliet but without the, you know. Death. I mean, at least I hope there’s no death, but seeing as you’re currently crying I’m a little nervous–”
“What my boyfriend is trying to say is that we’re happy for you guys, but also a little concerned.” You interrupt Steve’s ramble. “What happened after the kiss?”
Nancy continues picking at her nails. Her crying has subsided but her face remains broken and anguished. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth draws into a thin line. “I-I kissed her, and then she just… She ran.”
“Shit,” you sigh, dropping your head.
Steve throws his own head back and curses as well. “Another category five.”
“Yup.”
Nancy turns to you. “Category five? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
You wince, grabbing her hand in hopes of quelling her sudden anger. “Look, Robin is…”
“A gem.” Steve finishes for you, and you nod at him.
“She’s my best friend, and she’s incredibly brave and charismatic and bold. I’ve seen her punch men five times her size. She always speaks her mind and never takes no for an answer, but she’s also vulnerable. She hides a lot behind her humor.”
“When I first met Robin, she was going through a pretty rough breakup.” Steve sits next to you and Nancy now. “And since then she’s become the worst person imaginable when it comes to dating. She always freaks out and leaves the relationship before they can leave her. And a category five freakout is… bad.”
“We’ve only seen it once before with some girl she met at a gig a few years back. They kissed and Robin locked herself in the bathroom and refused to leave until the girl was gone.” You tuck Nancy’s hair behind her ear. “We aren’t telling you this to scare you, we’re telling you this because you clearly love Robin, and she loves you. She’s just… she’s been hurt before.”
Nancy slouches on the couch. “But I don’t want to hurt her! I didn’t even mean to kiss her, but she looked so pretty under the purple lighting and was laughing at some stupid joke I made and-and suddenly we were kissing and it was incredible and then–”
“Category five.” Steve mimes an explosion with his hands. You glare at him.
“How about this, we’ll find Robin for you and bring her back here. I think the two of you just really need to talk about this.”
Steve raises his hand. “I personally think they just need to makeout.” You elbow his side and he groans in pain. “Yeah, okay. That was fair.”
“I can’t ask you guys to do that.” Nancy sniffs. “You were so excited for your date tonight and you’ve already done enough.”
You kiss her forehead and pull Steve up from the couch, putting your jacket on and tossing him his. “Our Valentine’s day wouldn’t be the same without someone crying or throwing up. We’re going. Dinner can wait.”
Steve wraps an arm around your waist. “She’s right. This is just tradition for us. A sacred thing we look forward to every year.”
“You two confuse me so much.” Nancy laughs wetly, overwhelmed by your kindness.
“We get that a lot.” Steve kisses your temple. “C’mon, angelface. The lesbians need us.”
Nancy nearly chokes on her laughter and you giggle as well. The bus door closes and it’s just open road before you. You’re in the middle of Wisconsin with nothing but grass and dirt for miles ahead. Wherever Robin ended up running off to, you sincerely hope it’s close.
In the end, you and Steve end up walking nearly two miles to a nearby gas station and find Robin face deep in a pint of ice cream. Her cheeks are smeared in chocolate and her puffy eyes are red. The moment you find her, Steve throws himself into her arms and you hold them both as she starts to cry.
It takes several conversations, many tissues, and a few threats before you’re able to convince Robin to walk back to the bus with you. She freaks out the entire two miles and Steve has to fully pick her up at one point to prevent her from fleeing, but eventually you’re standing in front of the bus door with Robin’s iron grip on your hand.
“I-I can’t do this.” She chokes out, short of breath as panic sets in again. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“You can,” Steve pokes her cheek, though his hand rubs her shoulder with affection. “And you will.”
“What if she hates me now?”
You hook your chin over Robin’s shoulder, butting your head with hers. “Then we’ll be here to catch you, dummy. But we won’t need to, because Nancy is currently pacing the bus waiting to kiss your pretty face again.”
Robin’s body tenses and she gets ready to run, but Steve swoops her into his arms and you yank the door open so that he can throw her inside. She screams, but you slam the door shut and Steve helps you keep it closed as her fists pound against it.
“Let me out!” Robin screeches, throwing her body against the door.
“Kiss and make up! Those are the rules!” You scream back, clenching your teeth to keep your footing.
Robin screams again and Steve has to throw his entire body weight back to keep her inside, but eventually her anger exhausts her and soon there’s only silence within the bus. You and Steve press your ears to the door, breaths held so as not to miss anything, and faintly, very faintly, you hear Nancy’s soft voice mixing with Robin’s embarrassed tears.
Stepping back, Steve holds his hand for you to high five, which you gladly accept. “God, we’re great.”
“The best matchmakers this town has ever seen.”
Steve tugs you against him and holds you close to his chest, inhaling your scent and humming in content. You melt into him and he holds you for a while, just the two of you, swaying softly together as the gentle February wind dances around you.
“I think year nine went pretty well.” You murmur into Steve’s skin.
He buries his face in your hair. “I have a feeling year ten will be even better.”
–
The band’s breakout album, Angelface, becomes an instant success. It tops every chart, critics praise it, fans scream along to all the songs, and Steve claims that you’re the reason for it.
“I name an album after you and suddenly it sells a million copies overnight.” He nips at your neck, humming when you writhe beneath him. “You’re my good luck charm, angelface.”
You want to tease him and call him crazy, but when his hand comes up to massage your breast through its thin fabric, your moans drown out the noise in your mind.
Connor and Kelly buy a house with a studio built inside of it. The band rehearses there every day in preparation for their next album. Robin brings Nancy along, the two of them always giggling quietly to themselves in between sessions. Nancy becomes the band’s official photographer. All the photos are of Robin.
Steve surprises you one day with the keys to your own home. He tells you that the second the money from Angelface was his, he went out and bought the house the next day. The home is much bigger than the apartment you once shared together, though small enough to still feel intimate. There are mahogany floors and a bay window in your bedroom and you couldn’t be more in love with it.
February comes and Steve sits you down at the kitchen table with a pen and paper in front of him.
“Alright,” he says, setting his hands on the table with an air of authority to him. “Valentine’s day is approaching. We know what that means.”
“That disaster is ahead.” You nod solemnly, following along.
“Exactly, so here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to make you a fancy dinner without anything that can possibly get you sick. No eggs. No meat. No dairy. Nothing prone to yacking.”
“Not sure what that leaves you with, but I’m listening.”
Steve writes everything down. “There will be only electric candles because I’m now terrified that the only disaster left is a house fire, and I spent a concerning amount of money on this house.”
“I fear the same.”
“Perfect. I’ll get us some wine and a movie to rent. Our landline will be turned off so that absolutely no one can contact us. We’re going AWOL here, Y/N. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
You lean forward and place your head in your hand. “What if Robin tries calling, though?”
“I love her, but we landed her a girlfriend last year. She owes us this Valentine’s day.”
“Touché.”
Steve looks down at his list. “Okay. Am I missing anything?”
You think for a moment. “No, I think that’s all, just don’t forget I have a doctor’s appointment that day so I won’t be home until a bit later.”
“Already accounted for that. I’ll be buying undisclosed decorations for the house to surprise you with.”
“Undisclosed? How many spy movies did you watch before this?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
True to his word, Steve does decorate the house while you’re gone. You get back from your appointment and your home is an explosion of pinks and reds. There are streamers everywhere and a small disco ball hangs from your living room ceiling. Music from your high school years plays softly in the background and the house smells of acidic tomato and garlic.
“Steve?” You call out, breathless as you walk towards the kitchen. He’s spared no expense. The floor is littered with roses and there’s wine waiting for you on the table with small electric candles flickering in the darkness.
“Do you like it?” You turn around and find Steve holding a bouquet of roses, dressed in a familiar tuxedo. It’s all black and his ribbed vest has the same rose pinned to it that it did back when you were in high school trying to stop him from pouring gin into the punch.
Your heart beats wildly and an overwhelming mix of emotions simmer in your stomach. “You’re…”
“The best boyfriend in the world? I know.” Steve grabs the wine and pops it open, pouring you a glass. He hands it to you with a wink, but you don’t accept the drink. He tilts his head in confusion. “I thought you loved red wine?”
“I-I do.” You’re quick to reassure him. “But after my doctor’s appointment today, I’m not so sure I should have any.”
Your heartbeat spikes again and Steve sets the glasses down immediately. He’s at your side a second later, worry for you written all over his handsome face. “You said it was just a regular checkup. Are you alright? Are you sick again? I-I can drive you to the hospital, just let me turn off the stove before we actually do have a house fire–”
“Steve,” your voice cracks with love and warmth. He looks up at you, pink lips parted in a small frown that you want to kiss better. “I can’t have wine for nine months.”
“Nine..? That’s an oddly specific number.” His lips turn downwards. “Is it like, some type of allergy now, or–?”
“No, Stevie.” You cup his face with a smile. Grabbing his hands, you bring them to your stomach. His palms lay flush against your abdomen, warm, and something in his face shifts. His eyes widen slightly, soft air escapes him, and your face burns from how wide you smile. “It isn’t an allergy.”
“You’re–?” He doesn’t want to say it, afraid that if he does, that if he’s wrong, his heart would be broken in an irrevocable way.
You nod, brushing his hair back. “I’m about ten weeks along.”
Steve sinks to his knees, dropping his head to your stomach and staring at it with an innocent gaze of love. His eyes fill with wonder, with tears. “Y/N.”
He whispers your name like a sacred prayer, lips pressing to the flesh over and over again as your fingers tangle in his hair and your joy coats his skin.
“I know we’re young, but…” You whisper down to him. “I want this. I really, really want this.”
“I want this, too.” Steve slides his hands up your body and stands, cradling you in his arms while his face buries itself into your neck. You can feel his tears wet your skin, the slight trembling of his body. “God, I want this.”
Your lips ghost the shell of his ear, down the veins in his neck, the crest of his collarbones and the lines of his jaw. Steve pulls you, closer and closer and closer, until your skin is his and his breath is yours.
“Happy Valentine’s day, Stevie.”
Steve smiles down at you. His face has changed since you first met ten years ago. The lines around his eyes have deepened slightly, his boyish smile is now more charming than endearing, and his jaw has become more defined.
His eyes, however, are the same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago. The toffee brown still reminiscent of the student council meetings you always bickered in. They’re still soft when he looks at you, open and lovely as they were at the Lonely Hearts dance.
There is still so much love that is embedded in Steve’s hand woven features for you. His hands stroke your stomach and your lips are against his. The excess of love is syrupy thick.
All it took was ten Valentine’s days.
-
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader
[3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before?
“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you.
You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”
There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.
“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”
“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”
The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly.
“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”
You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.
You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”
You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette.
Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown.
Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”
You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing.
“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”
“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”
“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”
Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend.
“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”
You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something.
You wondered if he’d find it.
“Not everyone?” You whispered.
“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”
Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be.
“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”
Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact.
The silence was too loud now.
“I could show you, if you wanted.”
Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes.
He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”
The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not.
“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”
You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air.
“Show me.”
You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour.
He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle.
He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls.
A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out.
You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him.
He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.
Dizzy. You felt dizzy.
“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer.
You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough.
“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?”
You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too.
“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”
“Wait.”
Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”
“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”
You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”
Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again.
I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason.
He simply pressed his lips to yours.
It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own.
He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar.
You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper.
After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”
“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”
You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—”
Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own.
He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning.
“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself.
“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”
Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”
“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”
“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”
Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position.
“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”
‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”
You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”
Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin.
“Kiss me.”
So you did.
You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own.
It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise.
“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak.
“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”
He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else.
“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower.
You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you.
“Yeah?” Was all you asked.
“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”
You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours.
“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question.
Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control.
You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch.
You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder.
And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home.
You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed.
You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before.
Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.
And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.
“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 8 - Emotions are heavy in the half-drunken atmosphere, and Newt wakes up to a small problem. warning: Little spicy but nothing really happens 1.7k
~`~`~
“This is some practical joke isn’t it? You’re telling me things you don’t mean because you’re drunk and-”
“Oh, be serious for a moment. What do you mean ’what letters’?”
Her mind whirled. He had to be lying, surely.
“I mean what letters, Newt. I mean what responses? What have you responded with, because all I’ve been met with for ages is silence. Radio static Newt, that’s all I’ve been hearing from you.”
“Don’t act like I haven’t written pages and pages to you. Merlin, I’ve missed you so much that all I could do was write to you. I wanted to visit but I was worried that you would turn away from me, that you would finally realise how good you are and find someone who you deserve. I was an idiot for being jealous of the man you were with, and the way he could make you laugh in a way I never have. You should have so much more than you already have, and I’m scared I can’t give all of that to you.” he nearly yelled at the end, emotions finally crashing down on him with no barrier of alcohol to stop him feeling what he didn’t want to feel. If he didn’t love her it’d all be so much easier than this, so much more simple to just turn away, but she has him in a chokehold and he can’t back out of it now. He had stood up during his outburst, the feet he had planted so firmly on the ground not feeling so strongly secure anymore.
His words were met with silence, and his tongue felt heavy as he struggled to find what else to say. His eyes met hers, and he realised the tears that had fallen from his eyes in his outburst, feeling them drop past his chin. She slowly walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest to conceal the tears falling from her own eyes too. There were so many unspoken words hanging in the air, but neither of them tried to break the silence, afraid of the outcome if they said anything wrong. So they both stood there in each other’s arms, the warmth from their embrace stilling the unease and hurt in their hearts, even if just for a moment.
~`~`~
Newt slept sweetly that night, his alcohol infused brain concocting scenes he longed to happen. He dreamt that he had run his hands down her back, tightening his embrace so she fell with him when he moved to sit back on her sofa. She had landed on top of him, legs either side of his torso as she looked up at him, eyes full of life and warmth.
He was about to lift his arm up to cup the side of her face when she shifted, the small movement against his groin causing him to groan quietly. Her interest in his reaction suddenly piqued, and she shifted again, but this time with more force. She smirked when he let out a breathy whine, the hand he had on her hip tightening and gathering the fabric of her nightwear into his palm. She rocked her hips against his, taking delight in the way his face flushed under her touch.
Their eyes met in a lust-filled haze, pupils blown in the dim light. Her hand trailed up from where it was laying on his chest up to his jaw, tracing the outline of it as he shyly smiles before his face contorts into one of pleasure as she continues moving against him. She grins as he grips the plush of her thighs, his face falling forward into the crook of her neck as he tries to hide how good she’s making him feel. He let out noises he didn’t know he could make as thousands of thoughts raced through his mind.
The last thing he remembered before he woke up was her leaning in to try and connect her lips with his.
~`~`~
He woke up in a room he didn’t quite recognise, before all the memories from the previous night came crashing down on him in strong waves. He remembered the way she teased any knots out of his hair as she massaged his scalp, staying with him as he tried to get to sleep. She was with him now, head lolled back to rest on the back of the sofa as she slept. Light was peaking through the curtains, sending a bright sliver of light streaming across the room. He turned to look at her again, admiring how real her beauty was; how real she was, thanking everything good and mighty that he had a chance to see her again.
His trousers felt strangely uncomfortable, so he shifted to try and make them looser in places where he felt too tight. He groaned when he realised why, his ears turning red when he remembered the dream he had the night before. The girl beside him was still sound asleep, completely unaware of the situation Newt had found himself in.
He carefully moved the blanket off of him, slowly rolling off of the sofa so he could creep around the house in effort to find the bathroom. He was halfway through executing his plan, hand on the doorknob before he heard a voice call to him from behind.
“Newt? Up so early?” the voice asked. Newt turned his head, careful to not turn his body and bring attention to his problem. He nervously laughed in response, mumbling an excuse about needing the bathroom before quickly exiting the room, leaving a girl blinking in confusion in his wake.
~`~`~
When Newt exited the bathroom, flushed with embarrassment, he smelt an enticing warmth coming from the other end of the hall. He walked slowly towards the smell, finding himself in the kitchen at the end of the corridor, with her mixing something in a large bowl at the counter. Some batter was already cooking in the pan on the stove beside her, revealing a golden brown side when flipped. Surely he hadn’t taken that long to relieve himself?
“Oh Newt, there you are! I was going to knock on the bathroom door to see whether you were alright,” she grinned, eyes gleaming in the morning sun. The image was so domestic it made his heart ache a little. He returned her smile with his own, cheeks aching from how wide it was. “I made some pancakes, if you want some. Thought you might need something to fill your stomach with after last night.”
He nodded quickly, and maybe he would've been embarrassed if she didn't return his nod with a small laugh, before she turned back to the pan to slide the contents onto a plate. “Start with this one,” she said, placing the plate on a table in the middle of the dining area, which was a larger room connected to the kitchen. He thanked her, spreading a small pad of butter onto the warm food before drizzling it with a syrup of some kind.
She slipped into the chair across from him as she put her own plate in front of her, a grin still on her lips. The sun was filling the room with a warm glow as it shone through the window, and a cozy atmosphere wrapped the two into relaxed conversation, and for a few moments it almost felt as if the night before hadn’t happened.
But of course, their dreams that float high in the air must come back to the ground eventually.
She cleared her throat lightly as Newt finished off the last of the contents on his plate. He looked up and met her eyes, which he could see were brimming with worry; worry for him and everything they were yet to overcome. “About last night, Newt…” she began, gaze now dropping to her hands which were fidgeting in her lap. His face flushed; surely she didn’t know about his dream?
However, not long after, realisation dawned on him. “Ah, right” he mumbled, eyes flickering down to the empty plate in front of him.
She started to speak again, “You can take all of it back if you want, I know you were drunk and tired and probably a bit out of your mind but-”
“No, angel. I meant every word.”
This time, it was her turn for her face to flush, his words weighing down the silence that followed as the both of them sat, afraid to speak.
“About the letters, Newt,” she said, breaking the frightened quiet, “I sent plenty too.”
He nodded slowly in response, mind still reeling slightly from the confession he hung in the air just minutes before. “I missed you too,” she whispered afterwards, half hoping he hadn’t heard her.
Suddenly, it occurred to him. “If we both sent so many letters, where did they all go?” he wondered aloud. It did seem strange, how they had both written to each other endlessly while neither of them received anything. Perhaps the owls? But surely it would’ve been easy to figure that one out; if the letters had been dropped they would be littered on streets all over town, so surely someone would find them eventually. No, it had to be a person. But who would do such a thing?
“Do you have anyone particularly wishing for your downfall?” Newt joked, before his mind wandered to Tina, how upset she had been the day that now felt so long ago. It was a thought, and not entirely out of the question, but she was supposed to be back in America, comforted by Queenie and everyone else who would surely hate him by now.
“Not really,” she replied, consumed by her own thoughts. She dug through her memories, but nothing particularly stood out, she had thought of Tina too, and given how broken she seemed she wouldn’t be surprised, but something felt missing. Who else was magical in this muggle town?
Ah. Of course, how could she forget?
“There was a man, Newt, from a while ago. Maybe you remember him? He was tall, around me constantly. I haven’t spoken to him in a while after something that happened but-”
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-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 7 - The letters that were once regular decrease suddenly in amount, and the two are left confused and hurt, until one fateful evening. 1.4k
~`~`~
Days turned into months and the steady flow of letters that once came pecking at her windows quietened to a lonely dribble. She wrote consistently, her dignity shed every time she scrawled a word she knew he would never answer. She didn’t want him to stop talking to her, or maybe this was for the best. Maybe he had finally given in to Tina and left her for good. Maybe he never cared about her at all, and was just simply entertaining her. The possibilities were endless, and they wouldn't stop rattling through her mind as she tapped an ink loaded quill to new parchment.
There was a growing pile of crumpled paper on the far end of her table, blotted with ink and sentences she would never make known to him. Endless nights where she couldn't think of anything but him became common and she felt pathetic. She wished she never became so attached to the man, and that she left the handkerchief on the table he used to occupy so often. She wished she didn't realise that the little booth that was usually reserved for him had been lacking his company lately, and she wished she could finally forget his past orders of tea and coffee that she used to determine his personality by. She wished that she knew less about him than she did, the paragraphs of his messy writing filling her mind. Yet she didn't want all of this truly.
She just wanted him back, even if she hadn't had him in the first place.
~`~`~
Newt’s mind wouldn’t stop whirling. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways it could’ve gone differently. All the things he could’ve said that would’ve made her his. Letter after letter of her neat writing tightened its grip around his mind, and the parchment she used to write to him on filled the walls. He loved writing back, page after page being tied to his owl and being sent off to the woman he admired so much.
Slowly his memories have started catching up to him again, those silhouettes of a single girl that ran through his mind as the true identity of her eluded him finally starting to make sense. He knew you all those years ago, back when you attended hogwarts. How could he forget the sound of your laugh…
Everything started coming back to him, looping around and around until he could almost hear your footsteps echoing the corridors in his apartment. He was going mad, and the fact he hadn’t received any of your letters in a while sent him losing his grip on reality further. He decided to take a walk to clear his mind, the stifling lukewarm of the room suddenly becoming too much for him.
He set out with his usual awkward stride, keeping the top of his coat close to his face in case he saw anyone he might recognise. He didn’t want to be seen in this state by anyone. He passed street after street, until he could no longer recognise where he was. The day had gradually softened into twilight while he had been lost in his own thoughts, and the night life had slowly come back to the streets of London. The smell of alcohol started to dribble out to the passing public, and it was all just so tempting. His thoughts were just all so loud, so maybe a couple just to coax the girl in said thoughts back to the dark of his mind, long enough for him to rest for a little while. He never drank, but she had consumed his mind too much for him to be able to hear his morals over his deafening desire for her, her, her. So he gave in.
~`~`~
Her shift had recently ended at the cafe, so it made sense that she was walking back to her house. It was normal that she saw people who lived near her stumbling in and out of bars, so why did she see a drunken Newt tripping over his own feet as she made her commute back home? His cheeks had a pink-ish tint to them, and his eyes were glazed over as they wandered aimlessly. He clumsily walked into her by accident, mumbling a half hearted apology as he tried to brush past her, but she instead held the sleeve of his coat and made him face her.
“Oh Helga, Newt what have you done?” she muttered as she tried to slightly flatten out his curls in vain. Even through all the booze, he smelt unmistakably warm and of something nostalgic. The state he was in frustrated her, but no matter how mad she was she couldn’t just leave him stranded there alone on the pavement.
He tripped into her and held fast onto her jacket for support, nearly taking her down with him in the process. She propped him up with her own body, and started to carefully travel back to her house.
“Oh?” he hiccuped. “I thought you were ignoring me; what’s with the sudden change of heart?”
She sighed as she continued to walk with him at her side. “I was never ignoring you, Newt.”
“Oh…”
Neither of them said anything on the rest of the way back home.
~`~`~
He had just about fallen asleep when she exited her living room. When they got back he had been a mess, feet all over the place as he struggled to manoeuvre himself anywhere. Eventually, she finally got him to rest on the sofa with blankets and pillows she retrieved from around the house.
A couple hours passed and she herself decided to turn in for the night, but as she walked past the room Newt was residing in, whispered curses and loud shuffling could be heard.
“Newt, are you alright?”
Silence followed. “Newt?” she called out again. More silence. She swung the door open and her eyes met a clump of blanket with Newt cramped in the middle.
“Newt?” she whispered as she slowly approached the figure. The cover was wrapped around him in such a way that looked like he was almost being strangled, so she moved it slightly so it wasn’t gagging his mouth as much as it was. This made him stir and murmur slightly, so she reached forward and touched his arm. He flinched at the sudden touch, and she let out a breathy chuckle.
“Newt get up, you look wildly uncomfortable.” she said as she folded her arms. He shifted so that he was lying on his side, and she saw his eyes glisten in the dim lights. “What are you still doing up?” she asked him, walking close enough so she could crouch and look at him face to face as he lay.
He hesitated about giving her a reason for a moment, before he finally said “I can’t fall asleep.”
She could see that his eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and that the last few dregs of alcohol were rattling around his system. She reached her hand up and started combing her fingers through his hair.
Her mother used to do it to her as a child to help her fall asleep, so she thought that it could also help the man in front of her, and like clockwork, his eyes seemed to close and his breathing started to even.
“Is this fine?” she asked him under her breath. He muttered something unintelligible, before resuming his calm state.
This carried on for a while, until his chest rose and fell the same rhythm as her hands unknotting his messy hair.
She stood, ready to go to bed as she walked to the door, but a voice behind her urged her to stop.
“You know I thought you hated me,” he said. “Yet here you are, rescuing a drunkard and keeping him in a living room.” His voice went up at the end, making it clear he was smiling as he spoke.
“How could I hate you Newt? You make it so hard to…
In fact, I thought that you hated me.”
“Hate you? How could that have happened, you’re the one who won’t answer any of my letters.”
~‘ won’t answer any of my letters.’
‘She wrote consistently’~
Her heart dropped to below the floor at his words.
“Newt. you sent me letters?”
“Well yeah, lots of them because of course I did-”
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 6 - Newt is finally forced to face what he hadn't wanted to before. 1.3k
~`~`~
“What do you mean, no?” Tina let out finally, clearly shocked.
“I mean no, I’m not going to stay away from him.”
Tina walked back a couple steps, unsure what to do with this response.
“Unless you can think of a reasonable reason why I should?” the other girl offered, her stance still strong against the wall.
“Because…because I love him?” Tina said, unsure whether the answer was enough to convince the girl.
“Because you love him?”
The reiteration of the sentence made Tina more sure of her at first half-hearted answer, widening her stance to appear more confident. “Yes. Because I love him.”
The other girl simply stared, taking a few moments before she spoke again.
“Is it reciprocated?”
Tina was silent. “Well… I haven’t asked him yet…”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It answers it well enough.” Tina huffed, aggravated with the girl’s questions.
“Does he love you?”
She waited for a response, yet all she could hear was the smooth sound of Tina apparating back to the cafe.
~`~`~
“Tina what did you do?” Newt demanded in a sterner tone than she had ever heard before.
“Nothing of your concern, Newt. Let’s go back home.”
“What did you do to her Tina?” He followed the woman as she strode out of the teashop, making sure to obliviate members of the crowd who had seen the apparition. His strides were wider than hers as his anger quietly rose to the surface of his words.
“Newt please. You’re being childish, you barely know the woman. What I did to her shouldn’t matter to you-”
“Of course it matters to me.” Newt whispered. In his agitation he had grabbed onto Tina’s wrist, his grip tightening as the hurt he felt increased.
“Newt let go of me-”
“She matters way more than you could know. Tell me what you did.” he growled, voice full of a baritone he didn’t know he could achieve.
“What? Don’t tell me you care for this woman-” Tina began.
“You have no right telling me whether I can or can’t care for her. I have longed for her longer than you could imagine, and I refuse to allow you to put her at any kind of risk for a reason I cannot fathom. Why won’t you tell me where she is Tina-”
“Because you’re supposed to love me!” Tina cut Newt off, her head whipping around to face him. She watched as his eyes widened at her words, and she felt the hold around her wrist loosen.
“What?” he let out with a deep breath, his body shaking with an emotion he couldn’t recognise. A small crowd around them started to form, the whispers increasing as small tears started to drip down Tina’s face.
“You aren’t supposed to love her, Newt. That should be me instead; I’m the one who you should be smiling at every time you see, and not be the one who waits awkwardly as your face brightens when you lock eyes with her. Everyone expects it, so why won’t you. I think I love you, Newt. Don’t you love me too?”
He couldn’t speak; how could he?
The woman who he previously thought he was in love with finally confessed to him, and everyone was watching; everyone expected him to fall to his knees at some point and devote himself to this lady, especially Queenie and Jacob. He felt his emotions waver within him. Mere days ago he was so sure that he felt for Tina, a proper, formal kind of love that you could measure on a ruler. The kind that you could follow in a rule book, each step of the relationship carefully written out in ink that dried millennials ago. He almost followed through with the requested entry to his heart Tina had asked of him, his mouth starting to form the words “Of course I do,” but when he turned he felt his breath stop.
Down the street was a girl running as fast as her legs could carry her, her loafers slapping against the paved ground. Her breathing was uneven and her cheeks were slightly rosy from exertion, as she refused to apparate back in case people in the cafe saw and questioned her. She didn’t trust her ability to obliviate enough, and besides, she wished to keep everyone’s memory intact; why bother the poor crowd in her tea shop when she could just run back instead, given she recognised the area she was in.
Newt saw as she gave him a small smile and proceeded to run back into her cafe, scratching her head sheepishly when her boss scolded her for disappearing so abruptly. She rattled off a few apologies, before returning to work while nimbly turning on her feet to answer every call a customer gave her. She laughed at some remarks her coworker said, and she positively glowed every time someone new would walk in. Newt’s heart swelled, a fiery feeling in the bottom of his stomach growing as if his internals were made of paper. He couldn’t help but smile at her antics, allowing himself to nearly completely immerse himself in the warm feeling she gave him. This kind of feeling he couldn’t measure on a simple scale from one to ten. How could he, when he felt it brought him so far from touch with the real world? This type of love was wilder, scrapping any book of rules as it wrote what it pleased in obsessive, lovesick sentences that scrawl off the page and transfer to walls when there wasn’t enough room. For the first time in a long time, he knew what he wanted. It was quite easy really, and nothing complex or beyond reasoning.
He wanted to hold her.
He wanted to be able to press his lips against hers until neither of them could breathe. He wanted to know her mannerisms beyond what he could view from the cafe, because he would count every star in the sky for her if he knew she wanted to know the number. He would plant fields of flowers in his lungs if he knew she liked bouquets. He would drain every inch of his body of his blood if she simply told him she liked the colour red, and he would follow her every beck and call if he knew it pleased her.
Time seemed to still, and he felt his legs nearly give out beneath him every time she so much as glanced to where he was standing on the street. A constant clicking brought him back to reality.
“Newt? Answer me. Please…” Tina’s voice wavered beside him. He looked back to her in silence, and Tina herself could see how empty they looked. She knew he didn’t love her. Did he ever? She almost thought she didn’t love him herself, so why did it hurt so much?
“I-” Newt began. His voice rasped in his throat, the power he once held in his anger non-existent. “I’m sorry.”
What a sad excuse for an apology.
~`~`~
The woman in the cafe watched as the pair walked off separate ways, curious but also having an unmatchable feeling of regret for Tina. She hadn’t meant to be as harsh as she was when asking whether Newt and her shared feelings…
She just hoped that the yelling she heard outside had nothing to do with her.
~`~`~
Newt didn’t know what he could do other than walk somewhere else other than back to his apartment. Tina had threatened that she was going to leave England and go back to America to tell Queenie what had happened, and Newt couldn’t find it in himself to worry too much about it. He didn’t want to lose his friends, but if it meant that feeling how he felt would lead to such a thing, so be it.
All he could do at this point was pray that the woman he so wished to be with felt the same way.
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 5 - The two write consistently, annoying Tina, and provokes a confrontation. 1.4k
~`~`~
Newt took the cloth from the bird’s waiting beak, smoothing out the crumpled fabric as a bit of paper fluttered out from inside the folds. He held it up to the moonlight, fishing out some seeds from his pocket for the owl as he read the letter.
“Dearest Newt,
With this letter, you will find a handkerchief you left at our café the other day. I meant to return it to you sooner, but unfortunately, due to the fact you ceased to visit for a while, I had been unable to. I'm glad to see that you are visiting us again, and wish you the best with the partner you brought today. I eagerly await your next arrival.
Forever yours ”
A smile widened across Newt’s face as he read the neat scrawl of the person he so adored, eyes lingering on the way she had signed her name in a way which was so painfully her.
“Could you wait here? I’ll nearly be done with a response.” he asked of the owl, before quickly jumping up to sit at his desk. Time passed, all of which seemed like seconds as he rapidly jotted down a new letter to her, thoughts only full of the new ways he could find an excuse to talk to her once more.
He signed his note off with a flourish of his initials, folding the letter hastily to pass it back to the owl that still perched patiently by his case. The bird opened its beak readily, snatching the paper as it got close and beating their wings to send themself out the window in a flurry of feathers. Newt watched as the owl eventually distanced to a lonely speck above the buildings, and then finally shut the window to keep the cold air out. Where mere minutes earlier the room had been filled with the excited buzz of his heightened excitement, the fizz had worn down, leaving a drabber air or dampened emotion. Steadily, he walked back down the ladder to get back to his still open journal sitting on his table, quill still dripping with unused ink. He sat back on the chair, his eyes already aching with sleep but wanting to finish the passage he had begun.
‘I see no point in comparing character such as hers to the scorch of the sun, or the thorny touch of roses, when she’s instead the moonlight that slips through silk curtains, and the illuminating beauty of orchids as they gently bend in the wind. Why look at her as if she’s strung the moon and stars when she’s instead looped my heart in a tight knot of want that no skill will let me untie. This young woman has enraptured me beyond meaning, and I fully intend to get to the bottom of whatever never-ending pit of longing she has thrown me into.’
With those last lines scribbled out in a tired scrawl of words, Newt felt his eyelids grow heavier, and his breathing steadied into a slow pace. The last memories he had of that night was promptly shutting the drawer the journal hid in, before stumbling to a messy pillow-hammock structure he collapsed onto, finally succumbing to the numbness of sleep.
The next week brought him tight discomfort within his own feelings, the constant cling of Tina on his arm never loosening as he strolled his local streets. The only break from this was when he entered the café that had come to be his second home, the familiar scent of coffee mixed with the warmth of the laughter of the person behind the counter letting him settle his unsteadiness to stable ground.
Through this period of time, letter writing between the two magicals had grown increasingly frequent, the exchange escalating to even 3 letters a day from each end. This persistence of interruption that Tina needed to endure annoyed her more than she’d like to admit, her time with Newt constantly being cut short by a woman he supposedly only interacted with in person for short periods of time per day. Any point she wanted to communicate with the bronze haired man, it would be stopped by the repeated pecking of an owl on the window. After a week of this, she soon became fed up, deciding to confront the young woman stealing all of Newt’s time herself.
~`~`~
Her oddly specific habit of humming as she made the drinks and distributed them never ceased, the tune providing a sense of comfort in her everyday life. The usual tapping she got from her pen-pals owl hadn’t yet arrived that morning, but she was certain it soon would, and the sentences he crafted so carefully on the other end could fill her mind once again.
The bell rang, despite the earliness of the morning. It was still only 7 in the morning, so early that not even the morning rush of customers had filed in yet. The crisp air flowed in from the outside, rolling in waves of cold and breaking the fragile warmth of the café. A woman with short, carefully waved hair stood by the door, cheeks rosy from the weather. The young woman gave Tina a wide smile, recognising her as the woman that had accompanied Newt’s trips to her workplace all week. Her fondness for the woman who stood before her had grown, counting her as a regular customer now, going to the trouble of memorising her order in hopes that it would please her.
“Good morning!” she beamed. “Coffee, a touch of cream and two sugars?”
Tina was mildly stunned by the warm greeting, thinking it was only reserved as a form of flirting with Newt. She gave an uncertain nod, finding a place to sit by the counter to watch in the same way Newt always did. The waitress gained happiness from knowing the correct answer, and set to making it, returning to murmuring her tune as she worked.
The morning lot arrived, sending the shop into a state of comfortable and idle chatter between those on their commute to work. The lady that seemed to always be whirring with the same song stuck in her joints was evidently a popular person, always surrounded by those who laughed at her jokes or grinned at her stories. All through this, Tina felt increasingly guilty at her jealousy, the intent of confronting her disappearing steadily, before the bell rang to signal a new customer walking in. The man caught both women’s eyes at the same time, yet while Tina slowly broke into a smile, the latter’s face immediately brightened, greeting him before Tina could even make a move to stand up.
Those eyes. The minute they were full of that look that was undoubtedly only used for Newt, even if subconsciously, Tina knew she was finished. The reason was the way Newt looked back at her, eyes full of something she couldn’t recognise. She knew the reason she didn’t recognise it was because he had never looked at her that way, and the closest she’ll get to receiving that love she knew he looked at the other lady with was by turning back time so they never met. Even then, there was nothing else she could do to make her feelings be reciprocated, and somehow, that hurt even more than she thought it could.
Tina couldn’t deny that this waitress was indeed a sweet girl, and yet, she had never felt more intimidated. She knew that alone doesn’t justify how quickly she leapt up, or how hard she grabbed the other woman’s wrist. Nor the way she had apparated them to a nearby alley she had spotted while walking to the café, or how she had slammed her counterpart to the wall and whispered in her ear.
“Stay away from him.”
Only the storm of emotion in Tina’s stomach that leapt up to her brain in half a beat could explain how she wanted to leave the girl in that alley. She didn’t feel good afterwards, and more expected the sadistic part of her to emerge at the tears she expected to appear after the provocation. Yet the young woman didn’t cry.
She just looked at Tina with a strange mix of sadness and pity.
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 4 - Newt decides to face Tina rather than his feelings, but plans go sideways when he rereads his journal 1.3k
~`~`~
Most good things come to an end, yet here Newt was, trying to rekindle a relationship he knew was already dead. Yet when the woman who had had newly developed unmatchable feelings found herself involved with another man, there wasn’t much he could do but attempt to move on while picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.
Cross continental apparition was known to be excruciating, even more uncomfortable than the firsthand nausea you developed from doing it shorter distances. Tina found this a mild hiccup in her planned reunion with Newt, chest already filled with the beating excitement developed from waiting to see him for so long. She made it, standing in the middle of the carpet as Newt paced with anticipation. Before properly registering the woman standing directly in his line of vision, arms had wrapped around his neck, chin resting on his shoulder. Yet…and yet.
There were no sparks.
There was nothing.
And yet…yet.
He had to follow through. To mend himself, and allow himself to take a reasonable step back from the circle of fantasies he had swirling through his head. He greeted Tina with a warm smile that he usually reserved for the girl he thought he couldn’t have, hands on her hips as she gazed into his eyes lovingly. Newt couldn’t shake the slight discomfort that came with the meeting, and couldn’t help the ache in his chest as she wished it were different arms wrapped around his neck instead.
That night, he didn’t go to the café, breaking the pattern he had so carefully constructed off of his reckless feelings.
That night, he stayed with Tina, listening with a plastered grin as she chatted with him about everything and nothing at all.
That night, the girl who expected a man to walk through the door every time the bell rang kept waiting for something she didn’t know she needed, pulling at the corners of the fabric as she stood idly behind the counter.
And that night, something inside the two of them broke as hope flickered in their darkened hearts. The stitching that tried to mend their relationship was as wobbly as Newt’s penmanship, their relationship built on the now unstable foundations of these common visits. The smile on her face dimmed with every customer that walked through, almost completely gone by the time the café closed, and his thoughts became completely clear with unwavering emotion as Tina bid him a goodnight.
He wanted her.
And she wanted him.
They just had to realise that before it was too late to tell the other.
A full week passed before Newt worked up the courage to enter the café once again, accompanied by Tina who hung onto the crook of his arm. The girl who was working behind the counter didn’t think to turn when someone came in, but instead yelled a hasty greeting over her shoulder. The whirr of the coffee machine filled her ears as she grabbed a small jug of milk to pour into the drink. Newt waited patiently in front of the till, mumbling occasional responses to Tina’s constant conversation starters. The girl twirled half way around, jogging up to the counter to serve the next customer.
The sight of Newt broke her into a wide smile despite herself; she had resolved determinedly that she was going to be mad at him. She couldn’t quite find it in herself to remain irritated with the freckled boy in front of her, especially since she didn’t attempt to send him any owls or such. Her heart dimmed slightly when she saw the woman beside him, arm hooking his.
“What can I get you today?”
She spoke with unwavering confidence, not trusting herself to say anything but the lines that had been drilled into her mind for so long.
“I’ll have a white coffee please.” the woman said, order rolling off of her tongue easily. You smiled and nodded, before looking and locking eyes with Newt.
“And you, sir?” you asked him. He froze at the sound of your voice for a few seconds, before finally stuttering out his usual order of tea. You gave them both a polite grin before swivelling on your heel to prepare their orders.
Newt led Tina over to a different space, somehow subconsciously deciding that he didn’t want to contaminate the private space he had created for himself there. No matter where the conversation led him, he would find himself drifting his eyes over to the person who swayed lightly on her feet as she swept, or hummed as she wiped down tables.
About 5 minutes later, she brought the drinks over to a booth where the unexpected couple sat opposite each other. Tina gave a small smile as thanks, while Newt couldn’t make eye contact, looking at his hands instead as they reached out to take his drink. He muttered an intelligible phrase of gratitude, before facing his body back to the table. He felt a small pang at not being able to meet her eyes, but masked it with the scalding flavour of the tea on his tongue. She waited for a moment longer than she needed to, before walking away, body full of an ache she didn’t know she could really feel before.
~`~`~
Tina and Newt both said their goodnights, her retreating to the guest room, while he instead climbed back into his suitcase. He sat at his desk, space clogged with immeasurable amounts of loose paper and random mixtures of beast feed. He opened a smaller pocket book, rather than the large one he used for notes on new beasts. No, this one was reserved for other, more personal matters.
‘Never have I been to a café where it seems a solitary waitress does so much work herself. That, or only I seemed to notice her presence more than I may have the others.’
‘When I accidentally met eyes with her this evening, I felt something different move within me. Surely this isn’t normal…after all, I have Tina. I must write back to her many letters at some point.’
‘Her hugging another man shouldn’t affect me the way it did, not make me jealous the way it did. I’ve lost all dignity within myself if that’s the case. No, I must be resilient, and understand it’s something else.’
‘Tina arrived today. She certainly is…something. She’s not (y/n) though. I’m pleased that she was able to visit on such short notice.’
The last time Newt wrote in this journal, he scribbled it out immediately after. What he wrote was the following:
‘I miss her. More than I knew I could. I shouldn’t but I do. Perhaps I’m just starved of human contact, just like Bunty said. I don’t mean to sound like I’m letting something I don’t know lead me by my tie, dragging me around rather than letting my head think rationally, but I do know that I miss her. I miss her so much my stomach feels it’s been scooped out with a blunt spade. I miss her even if it’ll lead me somewhere it shouldn't, even if it means I’ll get hurt. If I get hurt, it means that I at least felt something in the first place.’
He dipped the quill in an ink-pot, setting it to paper.
‘I take back my lies, and I take back every insult I’ve ever thrown anyone’s way. Just let me talk to her comfortably again. Just let me be able to let our hands brush as she hands me my drink one more time. Just let me, and I will.’
Newt stopped briefly as he heard a short, tart tapping sound on the top of his suitcase. He opened it cautiously, hearing the startled flapping of wings, before finding himself eye to eye with an owl.
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 3 - Charles' persistent nature causes emotions within Newt he didn't know he had. warning: reader is kissed against her will. 1.5k
~`~`~
Days passed, and every night, at around 7pm, he would visit the café. Every evening, without fail, he would find himself turning the pages of his work, attempting to read his messy penmanship while occasionally slipping a glance your way. 7pm was reserved for him sitting in that booth in the corner, which he had now become so accustomed to, with only what he ordered changing every other time he went. He would’ve been fairly content this way, thinking that he would somehow remember her himself without her help, yet this method was getting him nowhere.
Newt heard the gentle ring of the bell above his head as he entered the shop. As always, she was gliding about the back of the counter, tipping her head back slightly when she laughed, making the surrounding people follow suit and smile with her. Even from metres away, he let a small grin slip onto his tired face. As usual, he sailed over to his seat, setting his bag down before reaching into it for work. This time however, he paused, and instead looked at the girl that plagued his thoughts. Yet there she was already glancing up at him. Newt felt the urge to pull away at being caught, but instead maintained eye contact as she grinned, and all of a sudden it felt like it was just the two of them in the room. Another ring from the bell shattered the fragile atmosphere that they had built, and she looked over to the door. Her smile dimmed slightly, but Newt didn’t see, because as soon as she had looked away, Newt’s heart fell as he turned back to his work.
“Charles!” she smiled. He sauntered over with that cocky smirk plastered on his face that she had never grown used to. She preferred Newt’s smile. She felt safer with Newt’s smile. “You want the usual?”
“You know me so well, doll.”
She frowned at the nickname, but made no comment on it.
Newt would never grow tired of the tea he always ordered, or the way she knew what he wanted as soon as he walked in, unless he told her otherwise. He would never roll his eyes as she danced to the café tunes as she worked, spinning nimbly on her toes as she swept. He would never feel more high with longing as she floated by like an ethereal being, the smell of coffee and unmistakable warmth sending a numbing feeling down Newt’s spine. And he never failed to notice the growing knot of jealousy in his gut every time that man walked in.
She stood by the coffee machine, the steam entangling itself in her hair. Her eyes flickered between her hands as they retrieved a cup and the general vicinity of Newt. Pouring the readily made coffee into the mug, her thoughts wandered, before a droning voice set her back from her fantasies. “Doll? You alright? You keep spacing out recently…” She nodded, mild annoyance creeping up on her before she placed the coffee cup in front of the disturbance. “Completely fine.”
Soon enough, the evening got late, and the last dregs of customers were starting to dribble out of the mostly empty café. As usual, Newt stayed until closing time, hands still full of parchment and covered in smudges of ink. He peered at his writing through his fringe, and she wanted nothing more than to push it back.
She would never tire of wanting to hold his hand to stop his constant picking at his nails. She couldn’t help but want to brush fingers as she helped him pack up, using needing to close up as an excuse to do so. She could help but feel her eyes drawn to the way he walks, or the particular way his mouth quirks up when he smiles. And the pit of a feeling, close to hurt but not quite, grew deeper every time he turned to leave.
She walked over to his booth to wipe down the table. As always, her shoulder briefly touched his as he stood up to go, a current of sparks shooting between their skin. This time however, he pushed a small note into her hand, and leaned in close to her ear.
“You’re a witch, yes? I trust you know to concept of owling”
She stood in stunned silence, heart giddy slightly as she whipped her head around to look him in the eye. He was still leaning in.
She heard his breath hitch as it fanned across her face. She had never been this close to him before…he smelled like cinnamon, and another smell she couldn't quite place.
Provoked by the sudden turn of her head, Newt jumped back and stumbled, and she saw the tell-tale heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck and starting to flush his face. she nodded, and he responded with another bob of his head, before turning on his heel. She watched his back as he walked, sighing as she felt the familiar pit digging its way into her gut. He stopped, and turned until she saw the side of his head. He winked, lips turning into the half-grin she loved so much. This time she felt her face heat, and waved, knowing he was still watching.
She walked back to where Charles was looking at her with a disapproving snarl. “Doll? Don’t talk to him anymore.” He was already jealous enough of every man who looked in your direction; he didn’t want to deal with any more petty men seeking your attention.
“Why? He’s a good man, Charles. I’ll talk to whoever I want.”
He sighed, before pulling her into a hug.
“Charles? What’s this for?”
“Nothing much…just telling you how lovely you are.”
She reciprocated, wrapping his arms around his body uneasily. She felt his hand slowly come to her cheek, tilting her head up and bringing it closer to his.
Her mouth started to form the words “Don’t, Charles,” but his lips were already on hers.
~`~`~
Newt was filled with a hot feeling as he tripped over his feet walking out the café. A smile slipped across his now beaming face, growing wider at the exhilaration of what he just did. The weather outside was still freezing, making his nose drip with water. He reached into his pocket to find his handkerchief, only to find he must’ve dropped it in the café. Walking back with a skip in his step, the window of the café once came back into view.
He searched for her before he even entered, only for his eyes to see that the man constantly surrounding her was kissing her. Newt knew he wasn’t allowed to feel hurt, or fickle, or anything other than supportive of a relationship his acquaintance had seemingly gotten herself into. However, that didn’t stop the sick feeling of sorrow tying his stomach, making him sick. He met eyes with the man after you pulled back, the kiss over as quickly as it started, and saw him smirk over her head, and watched as he mouthed something.
‘I win’
~`~`~
“Charles what was that” she asked quietly, pushing him so he stood at an arm's length away.
“C’mon doll you know you love me, why not date me already? You don’t have to play hard to get anymore” he replied, a smirk on his face.
“I told you I don’t like you already-” she started, but was cut off by him pulling her close again. She shoved him harder this time, the force causing him to stumble slightly. “Get AWAY from me Charles.” she said with more force. He reached for her wrist but she snatched it back.
“Can you not take a hint? I said leave. Me. Alone ”
“What, do you really want to go back to that twig of a man? He doesn’t even know your name, and you think he has feelings for you? Get a grip.” He tried to step closer to her, but he felt his feet almost root to the ground as she stared him down.
“I don’t care. Get out of the cafe, Charles. You’ve been crossing boundaries for a while now but this is too far. Leave.”
“You can’t be serious, doll.”
“I said leave, Charles.”
He scoffed, and turned to leave the cafe slowly, the bell ringing indicating when he had left. She blinked back tears as she continued to clear the separate booths; her eyes caught something on the floor. A square of cloth? She picked it up, searching for any sign of who the owner might be. She was familiar with regulars, after all. Some initials were sewn into the corner with a messy hand, letter wavering slightly, but adding character to the wobbly swoop of the letters.
N.S
Before she knew it, she had lit up with the knowledge that she had an excuse to talk directly to him. What she didn’t know however, was what her counterpart was doing at home.
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- Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 2 - Newt's memories are just out of reach, but there's just something that he can't quite forget. 1k
~`~`~
It was weird, almost. How did nobody else go mad with desire as she moved about, her hair waving and perfectly framing her face? How could anyone not fall for those eyes as they wandered, possibly daydreaming or looking at someone? He hoped she was looking at him.
Newt had not yet driven himself into that corner, unsure where his feelings were placed at that moment, yet he undeniably felt an attraction towards her. She was helplessly charismatic, and her nature gave off a calming glow, almost lulling onlookers into a sense of security. He gazed at her occasionally, out of the corner of his eye, and he saw her laugh. He unknowingly slipped a smile as well, so small only he could catch himself doing it.
Charmed by her laugh, he directed his attention to what caused such a sound to come out of her mouth. A man.
Even Newt could see that the older boy’s confidence was unwavering, as he chuckled lightly at her giggles. His eyes were filled with warmth as he looked at her, chin tilted up to look squarely at her smiling face. Newt felt his chest tighten. He knew that he was an awkward mess, and of course had only spoken to you once, so he was sure that he would be unable to break the apparent bond between her and the man at the counter.
Newt thumbed at the papers on the table in front of him, occasionally turning to see the man watching her and grinning. As the evening went on, it turned into night. By this time, everyone had already left, leaving only the workers, Newt, and that man inside.
“It’s closing time now. If you’ve finished up, I apologise, but you have to leave.”
Sighing, Newt stood up and collected his work, upset that he was unable to talk to the girl more. Just as he was about to leave, a voice called after him. “Thanks for coming, Newt. I hope I’ll see you here again.” Newt looked up confused, only to see the girl he was thinking about smiling back at him.
“How do you know my name, may I ask?”
“I saw it on the papers on your desk.” she answered sheepishly. “I’m sorry for looking, but I thought you looked familiar, Mr Scamander. Perhaps later you’ll be able to tell me why.”
“And maybe someday I will.” Newt smirked slightly, hearing the small ring of the bell of the door above his head, and he left.
She watched Newt as he left, a small feeling deep in her gut yearning for him to turn back and wave her goodbye. She thought he did look back at her just before he turned the corner, or maybe that was wishful thinking on her behalf. Fingers snapped in front of her eyes before she realised she was staring. “Hey, are you listening?” the man beside her asked. Her head snapped towards him.
“Of course I was, Charles. Just slightly preoccupied.” she grinned before continuing the conversation.
Charles was a man whom she had grown up with, and had come to love like a brother as they grew up. She had noticed the desire growing behind his eyes whenever she talked to him, but ignored it in hopes of it dying down over time. Unfortunately, it hadn’t, so he still followed her around, but she was glad for the extra company.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You were staring…did he do something to you?”
“No no I’m fine. Completely fine…” you trailed off. That man from earlier…he had definitely seemed familiar. Yet that didn’t stop her from admiring him in a way one would with a stranger. She had noticed him after he walked in, and immediately felt an air of magic about him. The way he carried himself slightly nervously made her curious as she continued to work. She tried in vain to concentrate, but she couldn’t help but occasionally glance at the man, once or twice catching eyes.
The said man had coppery-bronze hair, falling over the right side of his forehead in an uncontrollable swoop. His eyes glistened a grey-ish green hue as they danced along his papers, pausing every now and then to scribble something on the worn sheet. Even after only a few moments together, he was already making her feel compelled to talk to him; get to know him more. It was too crazy, is what she told herself, being so attracted to someone she had just met. Yet he felt familiar somehow, almost suspiciously so. The faded scarf he had worn around his neck, striped yellow and grey-
“Are you sure you’re fine? Are you feeling sick or something?”
His voice shook you out of your trance, until only the faint trace of the man’s lips printed in your mind as they slanted into a lopsided smirk.
“Yeah…I’m fine”
~`~`~
Newt slumped onto a chair as soon as he got home, exhausted yet pumping with an unusual feeling. That girl…
Memories were just out of his grasp, fingers barely grazing the edges. Laughs as two teenagers ran across a meadow lit by fireflies. The girl was shivering slightly, so the boy took one sleeve off of his shoulder and draped the robe’s half around her. They huddled under the stars, sneaking whispers bathed by moonlight. Her.
Newt sat up, posture straight all of a sudden.
Don’t forget me, Newt. I promise I’ll try as long as I can not to forget you, but don’t fret if you can’t remember. We’ll meet again. I know we will.
Newt knew that they would meet again. Fate hadn't been kind to Newt in his life, with losing friends to unrequited feelings. Maybe the promise he'd made all those years ago; perhaps fate wasn't as unkind as he thought after all.
-Post battle, Newt lives a quiet life, continuing to be a bundle of social anxiety. He goes back to Britain, and the lack of human friends hits him. He missed Queenie, and Jacob, but especially Tina. His life had finally taken a turn to being more private, as he continued his care for magical beasts alongside his assistant Bunty. One day, a new café opens down the road, and he takes a chance. Then, he saw her. masterlist
part 1 - what was supposed to be an experimental trip to a new cafe has Newt intrigued to know more about the peculiar witch that works there. 1k
~`~`~
He missed them; all three of them. They've probably forgotten him by now.
Ever since after the battle against Grindelwald, Newt had been keeping his interactions on an all time low. Noone but his brother and Bunty spoke to him in person, and his friends from New York had not yet bothered to send any letters. Was he hurt by this? Not really. For years prior, he had gone with little to no relation with anyone, so what was a few years more? The care for his beasts that he carried in his suitcase, as well as those injured and roaming free within the confines of the world was enough to keep him occupied. At least occupied long enough to briefly take his mind off of her. Tina.
Tina was one of the first women in his life to make him feel something; anything even remotely close to a romantic attraction. Her slightly waved locks chopped to just above her jaw-line, to the stern gaze she held with Newt as she spoke. She had captivated him.
He smiled to himself slightly, mixing herbs and sweet smelling liquids together, before Bunty suddenly came in, his surprise causing him to drop the vials. “Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Scamander” Bunty apologised, hurriedly skittering over to the colourful mess spreading on the floor.
“Oh no, it’s quite alright Bunty. No harm done. I was bound to drop them sooner or later anyway, not a great deal of good comes from daydreaming.” Newt smiled, before he started to kneel down and help clean the mess.
“I just wanted to let you know that a new café has just opened down the street. How about you head over and do your paperwork there instead?” Bunty continued to clear up the shards of glass scattered on the floor, careful not to cut herself. “You can’t just stay in here to write all the time, and besides,getting out might do you good.”
“But I do get out Bunty”
Bunty sighed. “Newt, your definition of getting out consists of poking your head out of the window to see whether Tina’s owled you.”
“Hey how do you know about-” Newt started to complain, before seeing Bunty’s angry glare.
“Fine, fine. Since you deem me so incapable of making my own decisions, I’ll head down there at some point and give it a shot.” he said while rubbing the back of his neck.
“Good, and oh” she started, “be careful with who sees your writing. If you need any favours regarding magic, there’s a witch who works there who might be able to help”
“Thanks. How will I know who she is, though?”
“She’s around our age. You’ll know her when you see her.” With a wink, Bunty headed out the door, taking a bag full of the broken glass and mixtures with her.
~`~`~
It was a couple hours into the evening before Newt woke from his brief nap. Having worked late the night before, he was drained, and had accidentally fallen asleep while writing at his desk earlier. He yawned, hearing the soft pop of joints as he stretched. Feeling slightly revived, he walked over to his door, carrying a thick stack of paper under his arm. He put on his jacket, placing his work into a shoulder bag. He shrunk his suitcase, and put it in gently just afterwards. Finally, wrapping his yellow and grey border scarf around his neck, he braced the cold of the outside.
The snow from the outside swirled in little storms beside his feet as he settled for a light jog. His heart pulsated through his chest as his lukewarm breath blew plumes of smoke-coloured air into the snowflakes. Just one cup of coffee or tea, and he would be on his way, he told himself. A large sign up ahead reading ‘your little teapot’. The corners of his mouth pulled into a small grin at the name, and he pushed the door of the café to go in.
The warm smell of the interior overwhelmed him as he inhaled. The heat enveloped him in a hug, and he looked around, for his eyes to be met with a girl.
She was laughing with the people behind the counter as she got a cup of coffee ready. Her hair was clipped back, and her eyes glowed vividly. This was unmistakably the girl that Bunty was talking about; her aura radiated and passed through him, making him shiver. His breath quickened slightly as she looked over. Meeting her gentle glance, she smiled and got back to what she was doing. Newt took a seat in a booth slightly off to the side, but close enough to the register so he could still see her as she moved across the floor, almost gliding as she was clearly in her element. Newt raised his hand slightly, signalling that he was ready to take an order. She spotted him and grinned, walking over with a note-pad and pen. After Newt rattled off his short order, she leant forward slightly.
“You aren’t a muggle, are you?” she whispered. He slowly shook his head.
“Stop having private conversations with customers.” a voice yelled from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder and huffed slightly, before turning back to Newt. “Well, I’ll be right back with your drink then.”
She turned on her heel, and strolled back behind the counter, making the drink Newt had ordered seconds before. Newt let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
He was captivated by Tina, some months ago, but he realised it wasn’t quite in the way either of them may have hoped it was. The girl he had only spent a brief moment with, had already enraptured him. He wasn’t even close to knowing however, how glad he would be that he knew her.
