Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could request a newtxreader where they are traveling for his book and the reader encounters a boggart? And the boggart is of Newt dying/severely injured/leaving her, etc.? And then he takes care of the boggart and comforts the reader? Really angsty but then all fluff? Thank you so much!!<3 AND Hi i love your writing and was wondering if you could do a Newt x reader where they’re both in the case and newt is in his workshop and his boggart gets loose while the reader is in the fields and readers worst fear is newt being tortured so she cant use the riddikulus charm and then newt comes and sees her worst fear and then captures the boggart again and comforts her (lots of fluff please) :))) (sorry if its long)
The diricawls at your feet freeze. Their food, forgotten. Their hunger, ignored. Each and every one of their eyes is focused on the grove of trees behind you, a miniature forest Newt grew to give the bowtruckles more space to live. Yet as you turn to peer into the shadows of the trees, not a single bowtruckle is present.
Unsettled, you turn back to the diricawls and throw more seeds on the dirt, hoping to break them of their trance. A few blink when seeds bounce off their neck and beaks, but none turn from the forest.
The second scream terrifies you. It’s not quite human, but not quite beast; a weird combination that turns into a moaning howl halfway through its long serenade. The diricawls disappear in small pops, vanishing before your eyes. Hands shaking, you slowly crouch and lift your wand from where you placed it in the dirt.
The third scream, the worst one, sends you into motion. It’s loud, carrying over the treetops, breaking from the shadows, a noise that would horrify even the most experienced of aurors. What’s worst, though, what sends you into a dead sprint, heart slamming against your ribs, terror pulsing with every fast heartbeat, is the familiarity of the voice.
“Newt.” You try to shout, but your voice is just a whisper, strangled by the fear that has taken a hold on your movements. You’re slow, think you may very well be running through honey as you force your feet forward. Your hands are shaking, your legs are wobbling, but Newt screams again. It tapers off into loud sobs, wails, and a few curses.
“Newt!” You shriek successfully this time as you reach the grove. You trip over a root, hardly noticing the lack of bowtruckles on the trees as you stumble into the shadows, eyes anxiously scanning the area. You turn into stone at the sight. Every limb freezes, you can’t even think about moving as you process what’s happening.
Request: Hello! I simply adore your imagines. Could you do a NewtxReader where the reader has severe anxiety but Newt doesn’t know until he finds her in the middle of a panic attack. And he calms her down and loads of fluffy moments. (Ps. I love your angst imagines. They make my heart ache, which apparently I like. Who knew?)
The world works in facts, standards. X + Y = Z. Multiply 5 by itself and you’ll earn 25, no matter the circumstances. Throw something solid in the air and it will come back down regardless of its weight.
It’s comforting, this certainty, to know that if X happens, Y will follow without fault.
You wish as you sink to your knees that humans worked the same way. That every situation resulted in only one outcome, one feeling. You know it’s impossible – emotions are messy – yet as you land on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, your last coherent thought is about how nice it would have been to know that watching seven strangers and three friends walk in that door would be the terror’s invitation, that only minutes later some unseen antagonist would waltz on up from its nest in your gut and take over everything.
You lie down, the cool tiles a welcome break from the sweat beading up on your face, ordering yourself to breathe.
Merlin’s sake, just breathe.
A knock at the locked door interrupts you. “Love, did you want me to put the chicken in the oven now or in a few minutes?”
You suck in air and muster the last of your strength. “Now.” A lie. It’s not supposed to cook for ten more minutes, but saying that takes far more breath than you can draw in.
You drop your head onto the ground, gulping in breaths as the world spins around you, a whirling mess. “Yes.” The word’s quiet, little more than a whisper, as you shut your eyes.
Do you know any where jily live and find out about Harry and Ginnys relationship??
Try searching hinny, we’ll link the posts here. These are what you’re looking for:
Title: Season Ticket
Word Count: 1,632
Summary: Children grow up, the
giddy excitement of youth fades, and some traditions don’t last forever.
Title: You Wish! Author:ginnydear Rating: T Genre(s): Family Chapters: 14 [WIP] Word Count: 58,654 Summary: “There’s an old legend,
about souls…” Harry Potter has lived his entire life knowing the legend of half
souls, and when he wakes up on his seventeenth birthday with a cryptic two word
message on his arm, he becomes part of the legend as well.
Title: Of Weddings and Pranks Author:museme87 Rating: K Genre(s): Family Chapters: 1 Word Count: 551 Summary: It may be Harry’s big day,
but some things never change.
Title: Untitled Author:fanfic-tastic Rating: Not rated Genre(s): Family Chapters: 1 Word Count: ~ Summary: Lily walks in on Harry and
Title: Untitled Author:jamesstruttingpotter Rating: Not rated Genre(s): Family Chapters: 1 Word Count: ~ Summary: The Potters live and Harry
takes Ginny to visit his parents as his girlfriend for the first time and James
and Lily pretend to be surprised.
Title: If They Lived Author:Brightly Bound Rating: M Genre(s): Family Chapters: 5 [WIP] Word Count: 8,582 Summary: 10 unrelated drabbles of
Harry’s life if his parents had lived.
Title: Something Flowery Author:CaptainMercy Rating: Unrated Genre(s): Romance, Family Chapters: 80 Word Count: ~ Summary: “Love wasn’t the way you
felt as you looked at someone. The stirring in your stomach. It was the
complete willingness to throw yourself in front of a knife to save them. And it
was having the nerve to accept this, because you’d rather die a thousand times
than to see them get hurt.“ A Soul Bonded Hinny fanfiction. Jily lived too.
Romione at a slightly younger age, more pronounced than in the books at least.
I do not own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. Harry James Potter was always a
different boy. Whether because he was a marked man, or because of his family,
he never realized just how strange he was. That is until the Bond started to
The best way to make your morning beautiful is food,
sunlight and the love of your life.
Minho takes care of his clumsy girlfriend.
best way to learn you love somebody; it’s when you see the beauty in them even
in the simplest of times. The morning had been as usual; the birds singing
their melodies outside her window as the little strikes of sunshine made their
appearance through the curtains; however, her hands reach for the other side of
the bed, and a part of her expected to see her boyfriend by her side, his feet
a little bit out of the bed as he has an arm sprawled over his face. Instead,
she just feels the coldness of the other side of the bed, and surely, it was pleasing to feel her
tired limbs getting that refreshment from the bed, but she was worried. Had Minho come home last night?
yawn leaves her lips as she sits up on the bed, running her hands through her
hair as she makes her way out of the bedroom. Last night, she had gone to sleep
wearing one of Minho’s shirts, instantly missing him when he sent her a text
indicating that he was going to arrive late, if not at midnight because of
practice. The material was a lot softer and it seemed to linger with his usual
cologne, hence why she adored to steal some of his clothing from time to time.
she stops walking towards the kitchen when she hears a soft snore.
“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” Newt looks at you with a hand paused in his messy hair, bloodshot eyes focused wearily on you as you back toward the front door.
Your eyes burn with tears – from despair or anger or plain exhaustion, you’re not sure. Perhaps it’s a combination. You are, after all, horrible at containing your emotions when it comes to Newt.
“What am I missing?” The words are a pathetic whimper you instantly wish you could take back, remove from the silent room between you.
He drops his hand onto the back of a kitchen chair you helped him pick out from the store. Hand carved, oak, sturdy but fashioned so a cushion could easily fit in the seat. Perfect for someone prone to falling asleep over his supper. “Sorry?”
“What am I missing? What the hell have I not seen that proves that you love me?”
“You don’t, then.”
“Don’t what?” You can’t help the exasperation seeping into your tone. How hard is it to just be straightforward about how you feel?
“Don’t think I love you.” His voice is quiet, controlled, the exact opposite of what you need right now.
The room’s still as he watches you, shadows creeping under his eyes as somewhere far away, the bells for midnight mass ring. “More than anything.” His voice cracks, eyes shutting slowly after the words break the still air.
You can feel your own tears begin to well up, forming a wall that threatens to tip at any moment as you stare at him. “Then why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you say a damn thing?”
His lips quirk up the slightest, though no other feature on his face betrays any sort of amusement. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“You want this to remain the way it is. You don’t want it to change.” His gaze wavers to the ground for only a moment before returning to your eyes. “But it has to. Because I do care for you.”
Your hand drifts to the doorknob, curling around the cool metal. Newt can’t mean this, he can’t. He buys Tina gifts constantly, talks about Leta as though she’s still in his life, meets interesting women every way he turns. He’s lying. He must be.
Newt notices your grip, and his eyes soften. “Please, don’t leave. Not over this.”
You stare at him, grip tightening. It’s too much. All too much. Newt doesn’t love you, can’t.
Before he can say another word, you swing the door open and storm out.