Kept From You Thomas [tmr]

kept from you — thomas [tmr]

summary ; in which WICKED take y/n to experiment on her, and thomas loses his mind worrying about her. [040218]

warnings ; thomas x fem!reader, being drugged, unconciousness, violence, angry!thomas, angst.

word count ; 2.4k

masterlist

IT HURT YOUR head. The bleach white of the walls, the floors, the lights. The endless corridors of pale, blanch colourant glaring down at your weak figure. It made your fluttering eyes sting, a grimace contorting your features as you felt the thundering in your skull - like war drums pounding in a constant, ruthless beat.

A woman, dressed in a lab coat and a red veneer of lipstick painting her smirk sinister, had a grip on your arm so tight you were sure it would leave a bruise in the mark of her hand. Her long legs were paced fast, her heels clicking rapidly against the ground, one after the other in a gruelling pattern. Her swift walk had you stumbling on shaky legs in your hospital gown behind her, trying to keep up with her as she dragged you down the maze of corridors.

And although you distantly recognised the situation you were in to be cunningly evasive (something was definitely not right), your head was elsewhere. It was spinning.

Foggy were the memories of them sticking needles in the vein in your neck, in your arms, your wrists. You weren’t sure if you dreamt it or not, but by the way that you couldn’t stand up on your bare feet properly as you staggered behind this unknown woman, you had an idea that you had been injected with something. You had been drugged. It wasn’t a dream.

As you came to the dreaded conclusion, you tried to pull back. Your muscles felt feeble, all the energy in your body having seemingly dissipated up into the tense air and had you feeling unsteady, wobbly. The woman felt you meekly fight back, too drowsy to change your uncharted fate. She let out a chuckle, although void of any emotion it seemed. She barely glanced over her shoulder as you grunted lightly, your breath coming out choppy and your head lolling to the side with tiresome enervation. What had they done to you?

Alas, her iron grip on your aching arms only tightened as she tugged you sharply forward - as if she was silently telling you that you were being too slow. Inevitably, the yank had jolted your indolent body to a collapse, your knees giving way and smacking against the cold, tiled ground. The woman let out an irritated huff, stopping shortly to snatch the collar of your hospital gown and jerk your thin body back to your feet.

“We don’t have time for this.” She muttered, the gripe of her voice low and venomous in your ears.

“W-Where-” Your stuttered and hushed words quickly slammed into their demise when your chest heaved, sweat dripping down your forehead as the floor tipped. You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the world spun right before you. “Where am I- Where are you… Where are you taking me?”

She didn’t answer. Or she didn’t hear you, your panting words barely registering in your own ears through the high pitched screeching ringing in your head - like a shrill whistle.

The two of you turned yet another corner, you fully expecting it to be one more corridor in a never-ending compound of corridors. But then you passed a window stretched out to fit the entire length of the wall, and your dazed attention shifted to the variable.

Behind the glass, tables full of people that looked close to your age were situated, chatting with each other, eating peacefully from food trays. You wondered if that was where you were being taken, your empty stomach growling and your dry mouth and cracked lips begging for a drip of water.

But that hope was crushed when you noticed your attire was clearly different to their plain shirts and trousers and trainers, compared to your thin gown that hung limply from your malnourished figure and your bare feet that slapped against the floor.

Unbeknownst to you, in the bland room of teenagers, Thomas immediately noticed you stumbling down the hallway through a small window of glass. He straightened sharply, his dark eyes widening.

“(Y/N),” He breathed out, his heart racing so quick he thought it would burst from his chest.

When you had all arrived at this unknown building after escaping from the maze, his hand had been clutching yours with anticipation and the instinct to protect you from whatever came next had washed over him. Then, the people who saved them proved to be noble and considerate when they ran some tests of all of the Gladers, checking their vitals and making sure they were healthy.

A woman, dark-haired and smile sickly sweet, gently guided you away from the rest of the boys. You’d looked over your shoulder sceptically, peering over at Thomas with eyes clouded with dubious confusion. He’d held your gaze as you gingerly followed the woman, itching to jump up - from where some doctor was holding the chest piece of a stethoscope to his chest and monitoring the rhythm of his heart - and pull you away from the stranger who could potentially bring you harm.

But then he had reminded himself that these people had saved them, they’d been nothing but nice to them and caring of their well-being. So, instead of pulling you into his arms and away from the lady, he’d sent you a small, reassuring nod. To that, you’d reluctantly nodded back, following the doctor out the room and into another - one more closed off and desolate. You trusted Thomas, with everything you had and more. If he believed you’d be okay in the hands of these people then you would believe it too.

It had been a week since then. Thomas hadn’t seen you since that very day, and each passing day that he spent not seeing you had his heart spiralling further and further into an abyss of worriment and distress. Nobody would tell him where you were, how you were, what you were doing. Nobody would answer his questions, and it infuriated him to no end.

The other boys were concerned too, troubled by the fact that you had seemingly disappeared from the face of the dying earth. So when they vaguely heard Thomas call your name through the faintest of whispers of disbelief - they too perked up.

“What?” Newt asked sharply, his eyes trying to find where Thomas’ were glued to.

“It’s (Y/N),” He muttered again, swiftly jumping up from his place at the table. “(Y/N)!” Your name fell from his lips in a rush, his legs carrying him to the window. His palm banged against the glass, wide eyes watching as you passed - the same woman he’d seen guide you away on their first day there forcefully wrenching you along.

Your hair staggered in front of your face when you head dropped forward sluggishly, as if it were too heavy for you to be able to hold up on your shoulders. Your feet stumbled over themselves, your body’s vitals failing as your head spun with whatever serum was rushing through your veins. You looked like you were about to pass out. Thomas’ fleeting thoughts told him once again that something wasn’t right with this place. It had seemed too good to be true when they’d first arrived, but now seeing you in the condition that you were in, he knew it was too good to be true.

Running along the window to keep up with you, your name echoed up into the now eerily silent room of teenagers by his will, “(Y/N)!”

Your head lifted at the muffled sound. Your tired eyes locked with a pair of familiar dark ones and your heart jumped, “T-Thomas?” To you, the sound left your lips in a hushed breath. But the boy read your lips perfectly, his worry only increasing when your eyebrows tugged inwards and your eyes glazed over, welling with glimmering tears.

You struggled to draw back from the woman once more, wanting to prolong the glimpse of hope that coiled in the pit of your stomach when you saw the boy that you loved - even if it was through a barrier of glass that made it sound like the words he called were said from underwater.

The wall of window was quickly running out, the end of the corridor nearing with a dread that curled around your bones like vines. At the very end, a door. You shuddered at the thought of what was behind the steel, and fought harder to release yourself.

The woman noticed you trying to make your escape, digging your heels into the ground in an attempt to try and stay in the eye-line of your boyfriend’s tormented gaze. Her tug was sharper than the first time you revolted from her grip; it sent you lurching to the ground almost immediately with a pained groan, your body screaming - courtesy of the burden of aching affliction put upon you.

Weakly, you wrung your arm from her fingers and shuffled back on the tiles as quick as you could. Regardless of your infeasible attempts, you weren’t quick enough - your lack of desired energy costing your life as she trapped you like a caged, hopeless animal and pulled a syringe from the pocket of her doctors coat.

The needle looked salient and treacherous, taunting you as she cornered you against the wall. Her bony fingers grasping grimly at your jaw and keeping you locked in place as she shook her head, almost in disappointment. “I told you,” She seethed, her eyes dark and menacing and her tone marred with unmerciful malice, “We don’t have time for this.”

“Hey!” Thomas’ voice boomed, his fist repeatedly smacking against the unbreakable glass in his burst of fury as he watched you struggle away from her. “Let her go!”

The woman blatantly blanked the racket that Thomas was making behind her, the pad of her thumb pressing down on the syringe and injecting the unidentifiable liquid into your bloodstream anyway. A gasp slipped from your lips in the shape of Thomas’ name, fear coursing through your being like a tidal wave as your body reacted instantly to the haunting inoculation.

The lights seemed more blinding than ever, the walls closing in on your helpless figure, the inky darkness creeping up into your eyesight - until you saw nothing, until you felt nothing, until you were nothing. Your body slumped over in the desolate corridor, and the woman wound her arm around your waist like a python suffocating its victim. She lugged your unconscious body to the door, her emotion stolid.

Thomas felt frantic as he watched the woman swipe her ID through the monitor and carry your limp body through the door, unable to do anything from his side of the glass. His darting eyes saw the guards standing in the doorway of the cafeteria and he immediately took off running - needing to get out and find you. He tried to get past, his chest heaving and panic shrouding his rational thoughts. The two guards, a lot taller than him and armed, shoved him back with ease.

“This is a restricted area, kid.” One of them spoke. Thomas would’ve scoffed at the term ‘kid’, but he was too panicked to care. Nobody else saw what that woman did. Nobody else saw the condition you looked to be in.

“Where is she going? Where are they taking her?!” He bellowed, trying to look over the guards’ shoulders and catch a glimpse of your dark head of hair being hauled away against your will. The guards didn’t answer, acting impassive and as if Thomas hadn’t said anything at all.

“Tell me where they’re taking her!” He shoved the guard back as hard as he could, his frenzied worry for you forging all of his actions. The rest of the boys were instantly by his side, trying to hold him back from causing more of a scene and getting in trouble.

“She’s fine.” The other said, grave and inscrutable and dodging the question easily.

The sudden hot temper that adorned Thomas was only fired up further at the guard’s uncaring response. His heart pounded in his chest, so fast that the iambic rhythm became utterly lost between the waves of chaotic, choleric rage. “She’s not fine!” He all but roared, struggling against the hands of his friends attempting to hold him back.

“Why won’t you let me see her?! What are they doing to her?!” The spat of alarmed questions erupted, his dark eyes wide and glowering as the guards continued to refuse his entry.

He wasn’t getting anywhere. The distant sound of his friends trying to tell him to calm down, that you’ll be fine, that they’ll find you skimmed over his head completely. The only thing ringing in his ears where the echoed sounds of you calling his name, panic and despair etched in your sunken features as you looked to him through the glass. The only haunting image in his head was the one of you hanging unconscious in the woman’s cruel grip.

He couldn’t give up on you, he would never. The two of you had been together since being in the Glade, unable to deny the feelings that had been mutual before your memories got wiped. When Thomas had gotten himself stung, he’d seen you. You and him, together. You’d been by his side since the two of you had first been taking in by WICKED when you were young, and after, when he’d come up in the box - despite not recalling the memories you shared with him.

You were what got him through being trapped in the Maze. The thought of you, of seeing you again, of holding you in his arms once more, had got him to strive to survive the night he, Minho and Alby had been stuck out there in the depths of the deadly night. You were what got him through defeating the Maze, through Chuck’s death, through everything. He needed you.

That was when he decided. He will get you back, he will find you, even if it’s the last thing he does.

part II

feedback? // tags; @virgincreek @writing-in-riverdale 

woes of a prefect — cedric diggory

prompt: cedric diggory x female!reader

request: do u mind writing a cedric x reader where they’re both prefects and they bump into eachother when leading the first years - the kids are surprised to find out that dating someone from a seperate house is fine

please refrain from plagiarizing my work. requests are always open!

“Follow me, please—excuse me, that’s the wrong way!”

[Y/N] sighs to herself for what must have been the hundredth time since the opening feast ended. This year’s first-years are proving to be especially difficult—even more so than usual. The tiny eleven-year-old Gryffindors keep trying to go down different corridors despite [Y/N] leading them at the very front of the pack.

She grits her teeth before forcing a painful-looking smile. “Everybody,” she says in as patient a tone as she can muster, fighting the urge to throttle the mischievous first-year at the back who keeps trying to leave the group. “If you don’t follow me, you’ll end up getting lost inside the castle—and we have trolls and vampires and ogres who will not hesitate to eat any lost first year they stumble upon.”

The first-years gasp in fear simultaneously. One of them starts crying, but [Y/N] only briefly pats the bawling little girl on the shoulder before ushering them up the stairs. “That’s it, come on—excuse me!”

One of them—the same particularly devious boy from before—breaks away from the group and bounds down the stairs they had just ascended. A domino effect ensues; the other first-year Gryffindors catch sight of him, and apparently the sight of his defying the rules has given the others the courage to follow suit, because the rest of the first-years—save for the teary-eyed girl—bound down the stairs after him.

Frazzled, frustrated, and incredibly bewildered, [Y/N] stands at the top of the staircase for a moment, stunned as she stares down at the first-year Gryffindors now back in the Great Hall corridor. She wonders, briefly, if her prefect badge will be taken away if she uses the incarcerating charm on all of them so she can levitate them up to Gryffindor tower herself.

But then, as though the heavens have taken pity on her, help comes in the form of her boyfriend.

A group of baffled-looking first-year Hufflepuffs have arrived at the scene. At the very front of the pack stands Hufflepuff prefect Cedric Diggory, looking just as bewildered as the seemingly better disciplined young Hufflepuffs behind him. [Y/N] can’t blame them; the sight of eleven-year-olds prancing around the Great Hall corridor after the opening banquet when they’re supposed to be in their common room is certainly one to behold.

Slowly, Cedric pries his gaze away from the rather comical scene to look at [Y/N], who has now regained control of her senses and is rushing down the steps down into the Great Hall corridor in pursuit of the rampaging first-years.

Admittedly a little amused, Cedric approaches [Y/N], his own group of first-year Hufflepuffs trailing after him obediently. [Y/N]’s Gryffindors thankfully haven’t gone very far; at present, they’re currently clustered around a large painting of Godric Gryffindor, eyes wide with childish mirth as they poke at the canvas, much to the bafflement of Godric Gryffindor himself.

“Blimey!” exclaims one of them. “That’s one old-looking bloke!”

“That’s Gryffindor, stupid. He founded our house!”

Bewildered, Godric Gryffindor stares down at the group of eleven-year-olds clustered around his portrait. “How may I assist you, young—ow!” One of the first-years had taken out their wand and jabbed his belly.

[Y/N] rushes forward and places herself between the first-years and the portrait, effectively blocking the enraged Godric Gryffindor from view. “Alright, that’s enough!” she announces, giving each of them a stern look. “If any of you lot keep this behavior up, I will physically—”

“Oookay!” Cedric says loudly, cutting her off before she says anything she might regret. Mumbling “hold on a second, you guys” over his shoulder to his group of Hufflepuffs, he walks over to [Y/N] and the rowdy first-year Gryffindors.

“Woah!” one of the Gryffindors cries out. “You look like my uncle!”

They all start giggling. Cedric meets [Y/N]’s gaze and she grimaces, mouthing “get me out of here”.

Cedric’s lips tug up into an amused grin as he nods. Turning to address the Gryffindors, he says in a playful tone, “What do we have here?”

A flurry of excited chatter bursts from the group as they all try to reply to Cedric. The closest one to him exclaims, “We were looking at all the portraits! We don’t have ones as big as those at home!”

Cedric peers down at the enthusiastic little girl who had chimed in. “Really?” he says, smiling. “Well, me neither. Wicked, aren’t they?”

Another burst of eager assent from the tiny Gryffindors.

“But you’ll have plenty of time to look at them everyday,” Cedric says, nodding solemnly at them. “For now, you lot have to go into your common rooms—and rest assured there are more fascinating things to look at there. Alright?”

There is a momentary lull as they seem to consider this, but eventually, they all shrug and nod, turning back to face their own Gryffindor prefect. [Y/N] gapes at Cedric incredulously as though saying how? Cedric merely shrugs, although he looks smug.

“Okay,” she huffs, shoulders slumping in relief. “Let’s get going!”

Thankfully, this time, they all trail after her. She pauses when she passes by Cedric to swoop in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Ced,” she whispers to him, offering him a smile of gratitude.

“Don’t stress yourself too much, love.”

“WHAT!” the first-year Gryffindors exclaim in unison. One of them blubbers, “You two are.. together?”

Taken aback, [Y/N] and Cedric turn to face them. The looks on their childish faces give off the impression that someone has insulted their mothers. “Yes?” [Y/N] replies uncertainly, looking at Cedric out of the corner of her eye. He looks like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She nods slowly, wondering where this is going and dreading it.

“But you can’t!” another tiny Gryffindor boy with auburn hair says. “You’re from different houses—you’re enemies!” [Y/N] stares at him, looking genuinely baffled. This is not how she imagined her first day back at Hogwarts.

Mouth opening and closing as she struggles to find words, Cedric once more comes to her rescue. “Just because we’re from different houses doesn’t mean we have to be enemies,” he says gently. [Y/N] is surprised at how much self-control he has; personally, she feels like tugging her hair out. “Aside from the competition for the house cup—”

“And the Quidditch cup!” pipes up the same auburn-haired boy.

“Yes, the Quidditch cup—aside from those, there’s really not much rivalry between the houses,” the Gryffindors stare up at Cedric in awe. “You’ll find that there’s a whole lot of inter-house friendships going on around here.”

“And relationships,” [Y/N] mutters, pressing a palm to her forehead.

“Wicked!”

“Do you guys kiss?”

“Yuck!”

Before the Gryffindors can get any more invested in the topic, [Y/N] claps her hands together and ushers them up the stone steps. “I’ll tell you all about inter-house relationships and friendships when we get to the common room, okay?”

Grinning excitedly to themselves, the Gryffindors finally, finally skip up the staircase with [Y/N] in the lead. Cedric goes back to his own group of calm Hufflepuffs, amused as he stares after his girlfriend.

“Alright, let’s go,” says Cedric, leading the first-year Hufflepuffs towards the kitchen corridor, where their common room is.

But when he glances over his shoulder already a few feet away, he sees that the first-year Hufflepuffs are still standing there, rooted to the spot.

Cedric’s brows arch.

One of the Hufflepuffs at the front row says in a timid voice, “Was that your girlfriend?”

Gaping at them momentarily, Cedric lets out an incredulous laugh as he nods and beckons for them to follow him.

But they stay unmoving. The same timid Hufflepuff boy opens his mouth, and with his forehead creased, says slowly, “But she’s in Gryffindor.”

Masterlist

Smut*

Matthew Gray Gubler

Matthew Gray Gubler

One of Your French Boys* - Y/n is a struggling artist, and Matthew tries to get her inspired.

Character Work* - Y/n and Matthew need more tension on screen, and it gets hard for her to hide her crush.

Won’t Say I’m in Love - Y/n is in denial of the intense things Matthew makes her feel.

Too Good to Be True* - Working together after a one night stand makes Y/n and Matthew question what they really want.

The Real Thing* - Matthew learns about his girlfriends attraction to one of his characters.

Chip Taylor (68 Kill)

If You Still Want Me - Chip and the girl from the bar have an unexpected sleepover.

Spencer Reid

Physical - While on an undercover date, Y/n and Spencer seem to forget its fake.

Time Difference  - Y/n picks her boyfriend up from the airport after he’s been gone for weeks.

Never Be Alone - Spencer leaves early on a case to visit Y/n again.

Any Semblance of Touch - Spencer takes care of an injured Y/n, who begins to question her feelings.

Story Time* - Y/n feels neglected by her boyfriend, so she takes matters into her own hands.

Aphrodite* - Spencer reminds his insecure girlfriend of the goddess that she is.

Just My Friend* - Spencer is jealous of Y/n’s bond with Morgan, so he shows her who she belongs to.

Cat and Mouse* - Spencer’s focus is solely on a case, so Y/n makes a game out of distracting him.

Different Circles* - Spencer’s dating the lead singer of a band, and Emily struggles to understand how they ended up together.

Playing With Fire* - When Spencer talks about his hidden personalities, Y/n asks about his ‘dominant’ one.

Phantasmagoria* - Y/n is made aware of her feelings for Spencer after a dream.

Dress - Y/n’s feelings for Spencer come out when she has a little too much to drink at JJ’s wedding.

Rose Blooms* - Spencer and Y/n have a complicated relationship. When they meet again, they pick up where they left off.

Pregame Drinking* - After Y/n gets a little playful at the club, she and Spencer go for a ride.

The Whole Story - Spencer comforts his crying girlfriend, but she doesn’t tell him the whole reason why.

Homemade Banana Bread - The team finds out about Spencer’s crush on a local barista and they can’t help but tease.

Reconciliation* - Spencer and Y/n don’t get along, until one night they get together and… resolve their differences.

Heather (1) (2) (3)Y/n biggest secret is revealed when she’s kidnapped and forced to live stream her diary.

Umbrella Academy

Klaus Hargreeves

This Years Love* - Klaus meets someone at Grief Counselling and he feels guilty about how fast he’s moved on from his last love. He just hopes this one lasts.

Diego Hargreeves

Release The Kraken* - After Y/n gets hurt on a mission, Diego (and his knife) teach her how to listen.

The Best Care

Na Jaemin – Fluff

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 500

Ceo!au

Request: Requested by anon – Jaemin taking care of his sick girlfriend.

 Laying in the silky sheets of your shared bed was probably one of the most comfortable things you could think of. Even if it did sadden you that you were alone, when usually Jaemin was beside you. But it was 2pm, so Jaemin was currently at his office building, running his company and bringing home the money he used to give you both the best life possible. You usually weren’t in bed at this time, but your body was burning up and your head felt like you’d been kicked in the head by a horse. So the bed didn’t feel as comfortable as it usually did.

You were in the middle of feeling sorry for yourself when the bedroom door clicked open. Your eyes were half shut, so you heard Jaemin before you saw him. Your eyes flicked open fully just as Jaemin approached you. He was carrying a tupperware box and perched himself on the edge of the bed.

“Do you still not feel well my angel?” Jaemin set the box on the bed, leaning over and placing a kiss on your warm forehead.

“No.” You whined, pouting up at him as he pouted back. “You should be at work!”

“I’d rather take care of my princess.” He opened up the box and pulled a spoon out of one of the compartments. “My mum made you some soup, open.” You opened your mouth and accepted the lukewarm soup, almost letting out a moan at how good it tasted on your tongue.

“You told your mum that I’m sick?” You raised an eyebrow, watching as he spooned a mouthful of the soup into his own mouth, clearly not worried about your sick germs.

“She asked me how you were doing, and then she scolded me for being at work and not taking care of my fiancée.” He chuckled as he spooned you more soup. “As I was finishing up mu meeting, my assistant told me that my mum was waiting for me in my office. She’d made you soup and went all the way to my office to give me it and scold me some more.” You laughed softly as he told you his story, a fond look on his face as he talked about his mother.

“I’ll call her later to thank her.” Jaemin smiled at your words, continuously feeding you the soup.

“She’ll love that, honestly I’m surprised that she didn’t come here and take care of you herself.” He placed the now empty contained on the bedside table.

“Jaemin haven’t you got another meeting today?” You asked, vaguely remembering him talking about having a meeting at 4pm. He shrugged, stroking your hair off of your face and laying a gently kiss to your hot forehead.

“I postponed it, you’re more important to me than some silly meeting.” He spoke softly, the sincerity in his tone and the words that he’d used making you fall even deeper with him.

Running, Freedom, Salvation (1/19)

Prompt: “Run, run, run. That’s all we ever do. All we’ve ever done.” You paused, feeling the wind brush through your hair. Taking a deep breath, steadied yourself and met his eyes. “Do you think it’ll finally stop?”

Maze Runner: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

Scorch Trials: one - two - three - four - five - six

Death Cure: one - two - three - four - five

A/N (2019/10/20): As of today, I will be editing and adding to each chapter weekly. Just overall trying to make the series better and more engaging. 

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Word Count (before): 2,132 Word Count (now): 4,334

Based off of: The first three minutes of The Maze Runner (this was mainly made up on my part, to get the story started. Further parts will be more based off the movie and actual canon scenes).

-

You feel like you’re drowning.

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Wrong Houses

part two

Pairing:  Draco x weasley!reader

Warnings: Ron being a little bi- okay but like I guess arguing if that counts

A/N: I guess readers age also implies being Ron’s twin so rip Molly

Summary: The Weasleys had always been put into Gryffindor… until you

———————————–

You had never been like your other family members, so your first day at Hogwarts was nerve wracking. You could remember it like it was yesterday, riding on the train with your brother and meeting Harry. You’d even remembered the argument you had with Draco when he started talking bad about your family. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have hit him if it weren’t for Ron pulling you back.

You sat down on the chair after Ron, and you squeezed your eyes shut hoping you’d get Gryffindor. Everyone in your family was a Gryffindor and you didn’t know what you’d do if you broke that cycle. 

“Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor.” You mumbled over and over again, the hat seeming to take the longest on you than anyone else. Deep down you knew there was no chance you’d get Gryffindor, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t beg to be put there anyway. The sorting hat teased you, going over all your thoughts, taking your true feelings into consideration instead of your need to be the same as your family. You could tell the hat was about to speak, and you held your breath. 

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