#Queenie Goldstein fanfic

[uefb]

New fic (2 chapters up!): Hope is the thing with feathers x

Summary: The month before the invasion of Normandy (D-Day), Newt Scamander is spotted working suspicious magic near a meeting of Muggle and Wizarding political leaders in London. The problem, of course, is that Newt Scamander is nowhere near London but, instead, over 14,000 kilometers away in the middle of the Pacific. But "desperate times call for desperate measures" (and even Tina and Theseus aren't entirely above scrutiny this go round), so Newt finds himself rather unsurprisingly compromised. // As usual, everyone else is dismayed to find Dumbledore may or may not have a plan at all, while the clock on Newt's life—-and the joint Muggle-Wizard military action years in the making—-begins to quickly tick.

Chapter 1 opening scene:

Wednesday, May 3, 1944 / Seatown, Dorset, England, UK

Porpentina Goldstein Scamander prided herself on being somewhat unflappable, but her brother-in-law grabbing her by the arm as she emerged from St. Mungo’s with her daughter before spinning them off in a whirl of apparition was certainly not on the list of things she had been expecting to encounter on her day off... A vomiting child, a misbehaving diricawl—even an absent husband or Muggle airstrike—she’d prepared for, but this?

Well, suffice it to say, she definitely blamed nearly bursting into tears after smacking Theseus upside the head upon their rematerialization in Dorset on the exhaustion inherent to solo-parenting an ill toddler.

“What the hell, Theseus?!”

But Theseus only shushed her, dragged her and Leora—who was understandably wailing in displeasure at the surprise apparition—up the back-steps of the Scamander Goldstein farmhouse, before gingerly disentangling her arms from Leora while shouting for Queenie and Jacob. It was, however, a broadly grinning, 9-year-old Gideon who came pounding into the room, before he took one look at his uncle’s face and immediately ran out the front door to the beach, screaming for his parents.

“I swear to high heaven, Theseus Scamander—what is going on?!”

Theseus bounced Leora on his hip and wordlessly summoned a plush toy from her room to distract her (a niffler made by Queenie for her birthday) as he focused on Tina intently. “You remember how we made that little emergency plan last year? After Newt was bitten by that kelpie—”

“Moira,” Tina supplied absently.

“Yes, Moira — and then he was criminally charged with all sorts of made-up things by that rat in his own department, which put our entire task force’s security at risk?”

“Yes,” said Tina with a suspicious frown, and she reached out to take Leora back from her uncle, crossing to the kitchen for the small refrigerator, where she pulled out a pyrex container of fruit Newt had chopped and charmed for freshness before he’d left to travel.

Theseus stared at her as if waiting for the other shoe to drop and—after a moment—it abruptly did.

“Now, wait a second—”

She summoned the pair of child-sized earmuffs Lally had made to silence adult voices and shoved them onto Leora’s head before settling her in a high chair and dumping the fruit out on its tray. Leora began talking to herself as she played with the fruit, and when Tina looked back to him, Theseus was grimacing.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Unfortunately not, sister mine…” he answered grimly.

“Is this all because of the thing last year, then?”

“More like the thing next month, but seeing as that’s also related… Yes.”

Tina peered out the window to check if Queenie and Jacob were responding to their son’s summons yet, but the only thing in sight was one of Newt’s half-trained half-kneazles innocently gamboling through the grasses (though a mildly predatory look flitted across its face). X

#my stuff #fic: hope is the thing with feathers #later in storyline of… #fic: with its head under one wing #please do consider telling me if you like it — my brain is so nervous abt this verse bc I’m stuck on a chapter of Head Under One Wing 😅😅 #newt scamander #tina goldstein #Theseus Scamander #autistic newt scamander #jewish tina goldstein #Queenie goldstein #Jacob Kowalski #albus Dumbledore #oc ch: leora evangeline goldstein scamander #Scamander brothers #newtina #dementors #magical creatures #fantastic beasts fanfic #fantastic beasts and where to find them

[afrenchaugurey]

"That's the first time she has an "us" that isn’t -only- herself and Queenie. She likes that."

(WIP - Return to Life)

#tina goldstein #newt scamander #fantastic beasts #newtina #fantastic beasts and where to find them #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #wip #fantastic beasts fanfic #AU #fic : return to life

[may-or-whatever]

"wtf this ship doesn't make any sense!" and then suddenly it's my favorite because i read the only fanfiction about it on ao3

#ships #rare pair #ao3 #fanfic #basically what happened with vinda rosier x queenie goldstein #and also joyce byers x karen wheeler #rosegold #joyren

[ravenclaws-eulchen]

AdA, Kapitel 81: Queenies Gabe

Es war lange her, dass Tina Queenie persönlich aufgesucht hatte. Sie tauschten ein, zweimal die Woche Briefe aus, Tina berichtete von den wichtigsten Neuigkeiten aus der magischen Gesellschaft und fragte Queenie pflichtbewusst, ob es etwas gab, was sie brauchte, woraufhin Queenie stets verneinte und mit belanglosen Anekdoten aus ihrem Leben antwortete. Tina hatte die Worte Newt hat mich gefragt, ob ich ihn heiraten möchte, und ich habe ja gesagt bereits auf ihr billiges Briefpapier geschrieben, hatte aber dann – mehr im Gedanken an Newt und ihr Versprechen als an Queenie – das Blatt zusammengeknüllt.

Weiterlesen hier: Kapitel 81: Queenies Gabe

#fantastic beasts #Phantastische Tierwesen #german fanfic #fantastic beasts fanfic #Aus der Asche #kapitel 81 #queenie goldstein #tina goldstein

[scentedwizardbookcollection]

Rewrite Fantastic Beasts

Darlings.

We get it. The writer sucks. Her world is problematic. But there are hints of a good story here and there.

I was rewatching the first movie (arrr, there do be pirates here) and couldn't help but think 'I can do this better'. I had many adorable ideas for Queenie and her relationship with Jacob, but also Tina and Queenie, and Tina and Newt--

Even the confrontation between Dumbledore and Grindelwalt already popped up in my head. (And yes, it will be gayer than it is now, which is not hard at all.)

I have a little preview written here (about 600 words) for those interested. I am going to try and make the world less problematic (more diversity, both in race and sexual and gender identities, no slavery, and any racism will be in line with the racism of the time). I will be making Newt trans because I want to and because fuck you to the writer. Be aware of this. Though there is no word of this in the first preview, it will come up later.

Basically. If this goes well, I'll continue writing. If not? We'll forget this ever happened, okay? Okay.

Travelling by boat was always an ordeal, Newt Scamander thought to himself. It would be so much easier to just use a portkey, but those were regulated and the entire point of getting to New York was to do it undetected. Well. As undetected as possible anyway. His hand hovered over towards his suitcase, mostly to check whether it was still closed since it had been causing some trouble recently. No creatures had gotten out, luckily, but he had a feeling that at some point some would escape. He’d just have to prevent that.

Once he was sure everything was still locked, he turned his attention back to his newspaper. The date read January 15th, 1926. Newt grimaced somewhat as he read through the articles, all of which were about Grindelwald.

‘GRINDELWALD STRIKES AGAIN IN EUROPE’

‘HOGWARTS SCHOOL INCREASES SECURITY’ (Pfft, as if they needed that with Dumbledore on the premises.)

‘WHERE IS GRINDELWALD?!’

Everything in the news was related to him nowadays. He folded the newspaper again, put it in one of his many pockets – there was a mild complaint from the bowtruckle who had currently taken up residence there (he really needed to return him to the rest of the colony sometime soon, but he needed to make sure that it was healthy first).

“Sorry,” he whispered. He checked once again on his suitcase, took it in his lap and closed the latch that had once again jumped open. “Dougal,” he whispered. “You settle down now, please. It won’t be long.”

He waited for a moment as the creature settled down somewhat – as requested – then looked up at the world around them. He spotted the Statue of Liberty and a smile spread across his face. He was almost there. Fifty days of sea travel were finally coming to an end. (At least he’d stopped feeling nauseous after a few days.)

He remained on his bench until the ship had safely docked and the captain had announced that it was time for debarkation. He didn’t need to go back to his cabin to collect everything, everything he owned could be found in his suitcase. Therefore, he was one of the first off of the boat and off towards customs. It was a long line – multiple boats must have arrived at the same time – but Newt had all the time in the world.

His time in America had not yet come to an end – and he definitely still hadn’t reached his destination.

“Next!”

Ah, turned out that it was his turn already. He handed over his passport – it looked like it could fall apart at any second now, and Newt was aware of this – and smiled nervously at the muggle in front of him. He always disliked fooling them, lying to them, but he understood why he had to.

“British, huh?” The customs official said eventually.

“Yes.”

“First trip to New York?”

“Yes,” answered Newt.

Then the official gestured towards his case. “Anything edible in there?”

Newt swallowed tightly and nervously. “No.” Subconsciously, a hand covered his breast pocket.

“Livestock?”

And of course that was when the latch flicked open again. “Must get that fixed,” Newt said quietly as he closed that again. (Just stay quiet a little longer, he thought to the animals in there.) “Ah, no.”

Apparently his denial wasn’t convincing enough – lying had never been his strong suit – and the official immediately wanted to take a look. Newt placed the case on the desk and quickly flicked a switch that set ‘muggleworthy’. There was always a chance that magic could fail, but not today. As the case was opened, it revealed nothing but his pyjamas, maps, a journal, an alarm clock, a magnifying glass and his Hufflepuff scarf (he was never far from Hogwarts in his heart). The official seemed satisfied, because he closed it and grunted: “Welcome to New York.”

As Newt gathered his case and his passport, he muttered a ‘thank you’ and moved on, finally setting foot in New York City.

#Fantastic Beasts and where to find them #fbwtft #newt scamander #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #fanfic #I have not forgotten the Moulin Rouge idea #I know some people are interested and I really want to do it but I stared at the start for five hours and didn't find any further ideas

[icedeadpeople]

Acolhemos orgulhosamente SUSAN ANNE GRAYLING em nosso corpo estudantil! Ela é uma BRUXA matriculada na Casa ZEPHYR aos 24 anos. Ela pode passar a impressão de ser ROMÂNTICA e PRESUNÇOSA, e talvez você a confunda com a padrão LAURA HARRIER, mas garantimos que é apenas uma coincidência.

s t o r y .

Susan vem de uma antiga linhagem materna de bruxas com dons mediúnicos, muitas delas sendo famosas no círculo de excluídos britânicos e entusiastas do paranormal, algumas dizem que até mesmo a rainha Ana Bolena estaria inclusa na poderosa ancestralidade das Grayling. Não importava com quem elas se casassem, suas meninas sempre carregavam os poderes das mães. E assim Susan cresceu, em uma grande casa interiorana cheia de mulheres - e alguns poucos homens escolhidos para acompanhá-las - que a ensinaram tudo sobre magia e a vida após a morte enquanto não completava idade suficiente para estudar em Nevermore.

Por muito tempo as Greyling educaram as próprias crianças, até que a avó de Susan, uma médium famosa até mesmo entre os padrões, foi convidada a lecionar em Nevermore. Desde então, todas as jovens da família viajam para estudar na prestigiada escola americana, cheias de orgulho pelo legado. Susan, por outro lado, estava ansiosa para retornar à Inglaterra, queria parar de estudar e escrever romances de horror. As matriarcas deixaram que a jovem tentasse seguir seu sonho com uma condição: se não conseguisse se sustentar com a venda de livros em cinco anos, teria de voltar a Nevermore para um curso superior. Toda a pressão fez com que Susan entrasse em um bloqueio criativo, não gostava de nenhuma ideia e mal conseguia escrever. Bem, ao fim do prazo, ninguém se surpreendeu quando a enviaram de volta a Massachussets. Hoje estuda na Casa Zephyr com foco em parapsicologia, mas de muita má vontade, pois pensa já saber tudo para se tornar uma investigadora paranormal de sucesso.

i n f o .

MBTI: INFP-T.

Alinhamento: Caótica e Boa.

Astros: Sol em Libra, Ascendente em Peixes, Vênus em Câncer e Marte em Peixes.

Qualidades: Gentil, enérgica, romântica, aventureira, mente aberta, brincalhona.

Defeitos: Preguiçosa, inconsequente, avoada, prepotente, ingênua, insegura.

Excentricidade: A pele de Susan é bastante fina, frágil e translúcida. Quando estudava em uma escola padrão de Kent, Inglaterra, seu apelido era Noiva Cadáver. Por isso hoje em dia anda com os braços cobertos, o peito maquiado e meias calças para disfarçar a insegurança.

Familiar: O familiar de Susan é o espírito do falecido cachorro de seu pai, que o seguia há anos. Provavelmente por conta da forte ligação das Grayling com o que chamam de “outro lado do Véu”, a bruxinha foi ligada a algo que já não estava vivo. Quando era criança, assistiu ao filme Estranho Mundo de Jack e decidiu colocar uma fantasia em seu familiar e renomeá-lo como Zero.

Dom: Mediunidade. Susan consegue sentir a presença e o humor de espíritos passivamente apenas com sinais fracos de seus sentidos. Caso deseje invocar ou conversar com um espírito, precisa realizar um ritual de séance.

Extracurriculares: Presidente do Clube de Séance, Comitê de Eventos e Coral.

Inspirações: Gillian Owens, Mary Shelley, Janet Weiss, Queenie Goldstein, Sally Shock, Noiva Cadáver, Cher Horowitz.

t r i v i a .

Ainda escreve sem compromisso, publicando algumas histórias em sites de fanfic com um pseudônimo. Nenhuma delas é completa.

O coven Grayling já cruzou diversas linhas da magia, tendo se iniciado com magia pagã louvando a deusa Brigid e aos poucos perdendo a conexão com a religiosidade. Atualmente, praticam algo entre magia natural e magia tradicional, além de fazerem rituais de necromancia com espíritos.

w a n t e d .

Max e Susan se conhecem desde sempre, já que ambos são de famílias bruxas bastante conhecidas, e por isso suas mães tentam fazer com que engatem um relacionamento romântico. Nenhum dos dois parece convencido da ideia, e agem com certa timidez quando tocam no assunto. ( F/M/NB )

Benny  perdeu uma pessoa querida e tenta manter contato com ela por meio de Susan, que concorda relutantemente por saber que não é um hábito saudável. ( F/M/NB )

Muse C sabe que se precisar de um lanchinho ilícito dentro de Nevermore pode contar com Susan, que é fascinada pela ideia de ser mordida por um vampiro. ( F/M/NB, +1 )

Tommaso e Susan namoraram um tempo atrás, mas acabaram terminando (talvez até por iniciativa dela) porque ela não estava pronta para intimidade física. ( M )

Muse E também estuda na Casa Zephyr e está disposto a ajudar Susan a se formar, se esforçando para fazê-la prestar atenção às aulas e estudar corretamente para as provas. ( F/M/NB )

Zeppelin tem uma queda por Susan e ela sabe disso, gosta de provocar e alimentar as esperanças dele, mas não tem interesse em se envolver no momento. ( M ) 

Anastasia e Susan são colegas de quarto da Casa Zephyr, e ela precisa lidar com todos os dramas, imaginários ou não, que a fazem suspirar e reclamar dramaticamente tarde da noite. Também é a única pessoa que já a viu sem maquiagem na pele. ( F/M/NB )

Marlowe detesta o jeito com que Susan finge não ter uma preocupação no mundo e suspeita que ela esteja escondendo algo atrás da máscara de princesa que ela tenta vender. ( F/M/NB )

Nerissa e Susan adoram fofocar sobre os crushes, quem acham bonito, quem fariam no sigilo ou não, e às vezes ajudam um ao outro a conquistar alguém. ( F/M/NB ) 

#nvmr:bio #nvmr:about #??? #vamo plotarr

[delphiniumblooms]

For the fanfic asks K, M, & N! ❤️

K: do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

smut. it's just smut. it used to be like every time exam season came around i would write a smutfic something something stress relief. haven't kept track of when i read smut though. also idk if this counts but just super sappy self-indulgent stuff i feel really cringe every time i write 'im so lucky to have you' type dialogue i don't know why

M: what's the weirdest AU scenario you've ever come up with? did it turn into a story?

i have very few AU ideas so i may as well just list all of them idk which ones are weirder lol. one that i did actually write was a bbc sherlock-fantastic beasts crossover where sherlock gets captured by grindelwald's lackeys and is interrogated by queenie goldstein. there was also a fantastic beasts game of thrones AU that i wrote insane outlines for and i thought was so smart but never got around to writing properly (i think i have maybe one chapter that i never posted and i haven't touched the work since 2019/2020)

N: any fic ideas brewing that you'd care to share?

ikaris overdid his lasers and blinded himself (half written)

staticquake lincoln lives addiction recovery fic (working on it right now, 11k in but nowhere near finished)

marc layla and steven parenting gabriel (from my 'with you (both)' fic) while dealing w DID: how they explain it to gabey, marc feeling like he's the bad cop and steven is the good cop, etc. (not written at all)

a fic series about marc and layla's history together, based on renegade by taylor swift. (i actually have 2 works up in the series already. haven't started on any more though)

#thanks for asking!!

[ravenclawbiologist-blog]

Pls write for queenie goldstein 🤍

Hi love ❤ I'm sorry I didn't reply sooner, I was super busy with university.

What would you like to read about queenie? I'm mostly a smut writer and I've only wrote Female x Male fanfics because I'm scared I would make some mistakes that could piss other people off if I wrote something different.

#marta talks #fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #ao3 writer #fantastic beats the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beats and where to find them

[goldsteinsistersimagines]

Requested by Anonymous: “Those things you said yesterday…did you mean them?”

Pairing: Queenie Goldstein x reader

Warnings: None

A/N: I know this was requested like a lifetime ago, but here it is!

You felt the cold metal balcony beneath your palms when you held onto the railing, gripping onto it as if letting go would cause you to automatically fall three stories. As you looked out into the city that stretched for miles, you felt tiny raindrops prickling your skin. You took a deep breath. What was said couldn’t be taken back now. All you could do was wait for an answer.

You heard Queenie beside you, taking in a shaky breath. “Those things you said yesterday... did you mean them?” 

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand. Why would-” 

“Because I love you, Queenie,” you blurted.Tears were brimming out of your eyes, but you couldn’t care less. This was something she needed to hear. “I love you,” you repeated, this time in almost a whisper. Your throat tightened itself, like it was bracing for the impact of what was to come. 

Queenie shook her head. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I think you’re deeply mistaken.” 

All you wanted to do was scream. To scream and say that you knew she was lying. That all those nights had to mean something to her. But she was right. 

It was your mistake for ever being involved. It was your mistake for letting her kiss you, sleep with you, and treat you like you were worth something to her. It was your mistake to naively think that she would even think to step out of her comfortable life just for you. It was your mistake for believing she wouldn’t throw it all away the moment things got too rough. Your mistake. 

Your jaw tightened. “I understand.” You pushed through the pain that was stabbing through your heart, wiping the tears away. “I’ll go now.” 

You walked back into the apartment, taking a final look around the room as you prepared to leave. The kitchen, where you and Queenie would bake and giggle at all the tiny silly things you did just to see her smile. The living room, where Queenie would put on a record and the two of you would slow dance. The couch, where you laughed and shared drunken kisses or would just spend a quiet evening together. And finally, the door. Queenie would usually kiss you goodbye at the door. But not tonight. Not ever again. 

As you reached for the doorknob, you heard a click and the door creaked open. 

“Oh. Hey, (Y/N)!” Jacob greeted, perfectly unaware of what had just unfolded. 

“Jacob, you’re home early!” Queenie said, quickly composing herself. 

The man set his suitcase down. “I know, but I got Fred to take the evening shift tonight.” Jacob kissed Queenie on the cheek, then studied the two of you. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” 

“Oh, no. (Y/N) was just leaving.” 

You nodded slightly. “Nice seeing you, Jacob.” 

Jacob grinned. “We’ll have to get together soon! It’s been too long!” 

You let out a tiny laugh. “Maybe in the future.” You looked at your watch, as if you had somewhere to be. “I should go.” 

“Take care, (Y/N),” Queenie said softly. 

You smiled, your eyes stinging with tears begging to come out. 

“You too.” 

#Queenie Goldstein x reader #Queenie Goldstein imagine #Queenie Goldstein fanfic #Fantastic Beasts imagine #Fantastic Beasts fanfic

[ivorydragoness44]

Percival Graves x Reader: Found

Summary: Prior to and during the events of FBAWTFT. The Reader returns to their Auror position in the MACUSA. They were on assignment elsewhere in the Wizarding World and had missed Percival Graves being taken hostage by Gellert Grindelwald.

Word Count: 4,459

Warnings: Angst, wizarding world drama and spells, and Percival Graves being captured and injured...I think that’s all of them...

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

There was a certain kind of spring in your step as your morning route took you through the chilled air of New York. As soon as the Woolworth building was in sight, you felt a flutter in your stomach. It had been well over three months since you had been at Headquarters, and going back into your usual place of work gave you a sense of excitement. Sure, you would have to likely spend the day, if not longer, making reports on your previous assignment, but you were not worried about that.

As you approached the entry door, you had to hold yourself back from running through it. Not that it would have helped. It was revolving at its own pace.

While leaving New York was exiting to help another division, you were glad to be back. Especially so to finally resume contact with your boyfriend, Percival Graves.

Back in routine, your legs walked you into the building and guided you up the stairs while your eyes drank in the familiar shine of the floor and enormous Magical Exposure Threat Level dial suspended above in the main lobby.

Nothing seemed to have changed during your absence. With the exception of the threat level, however. You were sure that Percival was going to catch you up on all of the happenings as well as he could.

You paired rather well together, in your opinion. If you did not, the two of you would not have been dating for the past few months prior to your departure. Most discreetly, of course. It was such a quiet relationship that you were positive that no one knew. Well, with the exclusion of maybe one other member of MACUSA.

As you made your way to your office, the flutter in your stomach ignited again with anticipation and hope of your reunion with Percival. What you did not expect, however, was to round a corner a little too fast and tightly that you accidentally ran into another well-suited figure.

The initial impact had you stumble for a brief moment. Collecting yourself quickly of course, you regained your balance with your footing and a hand to the wall.

A laugh escaped your lips as your eyes met the other wizard’s. “I’m so sorry.”

“Think nothing of it. It appears you’re very eager to get back to work,” Percival Graves smiled in amusement. “Welcome back.” With a nod, he excused himself as he stepped around you and went on his way.

Staring after him for a moment, you blinked. It was not quite the reunion that you had in mind.

It was a short walk to reach your office from that point. Walking through the threshold and closing the door, you were met with such a familiar space that it gave you a sense of security. However, the thought crept up again, and this time you held onto it. As happy as you were to have interacted, even briefly, with Percival, you were disheartened with the lack of intimacy to it. Even a whispered ‘I missed you,’ would have done wonders to your heart. It was not as if either of you had never whispered a few short words like that before.

As dismayed as you were, you thought you may have over-read the interaction. Then again, perhaps it was through distance and time that had taken its toll on what was a blooming relationship. It was still your first day back after all, and you did not want to bring up the matter with him just yet. It was Percival you were thinking about. Your Percival. He would discuss it whenever he was ready.

A week later and you found yourself heading down to the Major Investigation Department. It was nothing unusual. It was a part of your job as an Auror on the Investigative Team.

You were early as you would typically be. Your punctuality never went unnoticed by the Madame President and the Director of Magical Security. However, having the head of MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement as a now silent-in-the-romance-department-boyfriend made you feel more uncomfortable as the days passed. That is not to say that you were thinking about him at all times of the day. No, you were a professional and career oriented Auror and you were not about to have a little repairable bump in your personal life interfere with your job.

As you stepped into the room and around a storage compartment, you found Percival Graves leant over a table. His dark slicked back hair was one of his features that you were able to identify without a second’s hesitation.

Circling around him, you saw as he laid out the day’s newspaper; The New York Ghost. You were about to get a look at the stack of files when he acknowledged your presence.

“Afternoon,” he smiled gently.

“Afternoon,” you nodded with a small smile of your own. If he was not going to use your name, then neither were you.

“Your punctuality is impeccable.”

“So I’ve been told—sir.”

He smirked slightly, but did not comment on it.

“If the magical disturbances continue at this pace, will we be raising the threat level to severe within the month, if not sooner?”

“It appears so. Hopefully we can find what is causing these disturbances and put a stop to it.”

“Or who,” you added.

A smile tugged at his lips as your reply made an impression on him. “You’re very quick. Madame President should be very glad to have you as one of our highest-level Aurors.”

“Thank you, sir,” your voice lower than intended.

It was something that he had said to you before. This time, however, it felt different. As if he were saying it for the first time. Maybe this was his way of reconciliation. To start over. But there was something off. There was a lack of connection when you looked into his eyes. The want was not there. There was no depth of knowing more that you would usually see. You felt so lost.

Graves’s eyebrows knit together momentarily. “You need not be so modest, it’s true. I’ve read your latest reports. The other divisions were lucky to have you assist them.”

“I was only doing what was expected of me.” As you said this, your courage earlier in the day had diminished. It was the first time that you actually felt a nervous hesitation to ask him, even quietly, about what had transpired between the two of you while you were gone. For some odd reason, it now felt as if that would be overstepping some invisible barrier that the pair of you had swept away so many months ago. And as you heard the heels of the President’s shoes approach, you knew that another opportunity had passed you by.

Another day at the office turned into another week, and still Percival had yet to speak with you privately. Interactions between you felt as they did well over a year ago. Then again, even before you had begun to feel anything other than professionalism towards him, there was always this extra care in his eyes. But those eyes, when you looked into them now, that care was no where to be seen.

A total of three months had passed since your return, and things were still…different. You were occupying your office as per usual when a gentle knock came to your door. When you gave them permission to enter, you found yourself almost relieved at who it was.

“Good afternoon,” Queenie Goldstein chimed sweetly as she walked in, a small tray of food in her hands.

“Afternoon,” you smiled, leaning away from the files splayed out over your desk. “I guess time got away from me.”

“It certainly did,” she gave a laugh.

You noticed as her eyes traced over the papers before you pushed them aside, taking the tray from her as she handed it to you.

“You’re usually good at keeping track of time,” she acknowledged. Then she blinked, and her head made a small tilt in thought.

At first, you thought nothing of it as you took a sip of your drink.

“You’re busying yourself with more work to keep your mind off of him.”

You paused. Being away for so long, you had forgotten about blocking your mind. Not that you had anything to worry about with Queenie. She was good. One of your favorite co-workers, though you did not work closely with her.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” she said, responding to your quick thought. “Oh, Mister Graves taught you how to block your mind? He was so patient with you.”

You could not help the flood of memories racing through your mind as one thing reminded you of another. At least it was far better than your interactions with him, or lack there of, now.

“You’re afraid to ask him what’s changed. I’m so sorry—Oh, no, sweetie, I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

“Distance,” you shook your head, trying to at least converse consciously out loud with her. “And time, I suppose.”

“But he was such a gentleman with you. He—aw, he used to walk you home from work. Surely he has a good explanation.”

“He better,” you grumbled into a bite of your food.

Queenie put a reassuring hand to your shoulder as you consciously allowed the memory of your last visit with Percival before your assignment to play out it your mind. It was comforting at the time, but now with the present circumstances, it hurt.

“Perhaps, you both can start anew. Start over. I remember catching those looks you gave each other. Hearing your thoughts as he held your hand in the elevator,” she smiled, coaxing your own lips to curve up.

Maybe with time and courage, you could find the right moment to speak with Percival. Especially since it seemed as though he was not going to utter a single word to you first about it.

Time continued to pass. An unseen threat to the wizarding community was literally wrecking havoc through New York. As the Magical Exposure Threat Level rose, so did tensions and anxiety of the inevitable and unforeseen future.

Nearly six months later, and you were down in the subway tunnel with the other top Aurors accompanying President Picquery when you all came upon the scene. Now you had seen some interesting scenes in your line of work, but never one that made you feel so uneasy and confused.

It had been quite an interesting past few days at MACUSA.

There was the British wizard, Newt Scamander and Tina Goldstein, fellow co-worker of MACUSA yet ex-Auror, who appeared to be talking gently with the large smokey black mass suspended near the ceiling. The Obscurial.

“Shhh! Don’t, you’ll frighten him.” Tina instructed of your group whose wands were raised.

The Obscurus made the most awful sounds, as if moaning when it began to grow in size. The intensity was greater than you could have imagined. The creature, or being, for which you were not certain, began to affect the tunnel around it; collapsing it steadily.

You were always one to take orders, but you were not expecting Scamander and Goldstein to stand in front of the Obscurus so protectively. The entire day had been a cluster of panic swirled with confusion.

Why would they want to protect something that had been raging through the city, killing, and by the scene of No-Majs outside, exposed the wizarding community.

It was then that Graves finally faced the Aurors. His wand was raised, and you were even more alarmed. What on Earth had gotten into him?

“Wands down! Anyone harms him—they’ll answer to me—” he called out before looking back at the swirling mass. “Credence!”

Following your orders to protect against a possible war with the No-Majs, you did what was expected of you. What you believed was right. You did as what your companions also sworn to do.

Spells flew out of each Auror’s wand as the group shot upon the Obscurus.

“NO!” Graves cried out between the crackles and numerous sounds of the spells being cast.

The single word hurt you and for a moment you thought the screaming of pain from the Obscurus was coming from your own heart. However dreadful, the spells continued with unrelenting determination.

But just as quickly as the wands of your fellow Aurors fired upon the swirling mass, it changed. The suddenness of its burst forcing all present to push back from the unseen wave of power. Then, there were only a few fluttering traces left. It truly appeared to have been destroyed.

Regaining your footing, you eyed the other Aurors around you. With a few nods here and there, your attention went back onto the platform, seeing movement.

It was Graves. He looked as though he was inspecting the leftover fragments from the Obscurus. And when you looked at him, you no longer saw your Percival. This was Mister Graves. A far different Graves than you had remembered. And it was when the closest of the Aurors advanced toward him, that so did you.

“You fools,” Graves began, his face twisted with anger. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

It was the President who walked out from amidst the ranks to question him as the rest of you looked on.

“The Obscurial was killed on my orders, Mr. Graves.”

“Yes. And history will surely note that, Madam President.” Such a dark tone that laced his words. Still up on the platform, he stalked closer. “What was done here tonight was not right!”

“He was responsible for the death of a No-Maj.” She reasoned. “He risked the exposure of our community. He has broken one of our most sacred laws—“

What struck at your heart with such a pain was the words that came from Percival’s mouth so scornfully. That, and the bitter laughter that rang out of his mouth.

“A law that has us scuttling like rats in the gutter! A law that demands that we conceal our true nature! A law that directs those under its dominion to cower in fear lest we risk discovery! I ask you, Madam President—” His dark eyes glimmered with something that you dare not read as he looked over the individuals within the tunnel. “—I ask all of you—who does this law protect? Us? Or them?” He asked, indicating to the No-Majs outside.

Your grip tightened on your wand, your chest nearly heaving with your intake of controlled breaths. What has he become?

“I refuse to bow down any longer,” Graves smiled resentfully at the President. With his angered confidence, he turned away, leaving the scene.

“Aurors,” Madam Picquery declared of the group beside her, “I’d like you to relieve Mr. Graves of his wand and escort him back to—”

An Auror was all too ready. With a quick spell they blocked Graves path with a wall of white light. The very same barrier that was keeping all No-Majs out of the subway station.

After a moment’s thought, Graves pivoted and strode back. Arm raised, he aimed spells at both your group and the other set of Aurors. And yet no matter how many of you there were, or how many spells you yourself cast, he parried them all.

It was unbelievable, and yet it was happening right in front of your eyes. Who was once your kind Percival was now raining down upon MACUSA’s top Aurors. Quite a number flew off of the tracks and against the Art Deco walls.

Then, within a breath’s time, a colorful creature swooped over Graves. In doing so, yourself and the other Aurors were shielded from Graves’s battering spells. It was peculiar and in a way, beautiful. However, your thoughts on the creature were swept away as a spell from Scamander wrapped around Graves. The white strand coiled tighter around him as he tried to fight it off, struggling until his knees hit the floor; his wand falling from his grasp.

“Accio,” Tina Goldstein called upon Graves’s wand and into her hand.

The man you had once knew now held such a darkness in his eyes. The hatred etched on his face made him look like a completely different person to you. It made you wonder if this was the man truly behind the one that you had once shared time with. Or, did something happen during your absence.

Both Scamander and Goldstein approached him slowly, as one might with such a dangerous being.

“Revelio.” Uttered Mister Scamander as he stepped around Graves carefully.

A spell to reveal. One that would be used to reveal the true appearance of something or someone who would transfigure—

Your jaw dropped.

His physical appearance did in fact begin to change. The once dark hair on his head became white and all that you once knew fell apart.

There was a stunned silence as you all stared at Gellert Grindelwald.

He was Graves? You thought. He…that explains the difference in our interactions.

Your astonishment morphed back to one of anger and worry. Grindelwald. Graves. Where’s my Percival, you foul wizard?

President Picquery approached him.

“Do you think you can hold me?” Grindelwald peered at her scornfully.

“We’ll do our best, Mr. Grindelwald.”

You could not properly see his expression from where you stood, but appeared as if he was smiling. Even as two Aurors forced him upright and toward the entrance, ready to imprison him in the depths of MACUSA.

A rage like you’ve never felt consumed your senses as you glared at the wizard when other Aurors took him away. Thankfully, it embed when he was out of your sight.

Soon after, the other Goldstein, Queenie and a No-Maj that you had heard about, worked their way past the group of Aurors to get to her sister and Mister Scamander.

You could not watch the exchange as you and other Aurors were overlooking the scene of destruction.

With all that had happened this night, all that the No-Majs had seen, how could the secrecy of the magical world possibly remain hidden? Or be restored, for that matter.

Madam Picquery then took to the group of four. “We owe you an apology, Mr. Scamander. But the magical community is exposed! We cannot Obliviate an entire city.”

That much was true. And you were not willing to let in another disturbing amount of stress into your system on that note.

“Actually,” Mister Scamander replied after a few moments, “I think we can.”

The next thing you knew, Mister Scamander was opening his case of magical creatures just under the broken opening of the subway roof. He had a plan to use the venom of a Swooping Evil to Obliviate the No-Majs around the city. You supposed it was one of those occurrences that you had to see to believe.

A large feathery creature, one that looked like a four-winged golden eagle, flew out of the case. It was impossibly large for that case, but that was magic. It was magnificent, and yet completely abrupt; yourself and the rest of the Aurors backing away. It was not every day that you got the chance to see such a magical creature.

The creature flapped its wings to remain in front of Mister Scamander. The words uttered from his mouth were that for the magical bird, and unreachable to your ears.

You were not alone in your awe. The two exchanged a sort of nuzzle of affection, a clear sign of trust and an established friendship. It was sweet. It also made you wonder of what other magical creatures were in that case of his.

Mister Scamander then threw the vial of what you supposed was Swooping Evil venom up above the bird who caught it in its beak easily, crying out. Within the same moment, it flew up out of the subway tunnel.

It was dawn as the thunderbird flew up to the sky and created a storm. Yourself and the rest of the Aurors were tasked with repairing the city from the destruction caused by the Obscurus.

You marveled at the genius of giving the magical creature the vial to Obliviate the No-Majs of the past magical occurrences; to which all were terrifying to them.

So as you passed by the No-Majs and onto empty streets, you felt a sense of freedom in using your magic to fix the torn cityscape. It hardly took long at all using Repairing Charms, at least with the added benefit of the number of Aurors present.

You stood on the roof of one building, overlooking the city. The rain continued to fall and trail down your coat. It was like a moment of clarity that you had not felt for quite some time.

Taking a breath, you turned to an Auror as they walked up beside you.

“Maybe there are some good things that can come from these beasts,” they said.

“Yes, but for now I have something else that I must do,” you said conclusively.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to Mister Graves’ home. Hopefully, he is there.”

“All right,” they nodded. “I’ll take a team with me to meet you there. Let me check over this area first.”

“See you then.” You nodded and Disapparated in the next moment.

The next thing you saw was the front of Graves’s apartment building. The sheer sight of the familiar structure nearly overwhelmed you, but you kept your calm. You hurried up the stairs, your wand still in hand as you quickly and accurately checked for unseen traps as you entered the building and quietly went into Graves’s home.

It was dark, and you dared not touch a single item. With a flick of your wrist, you drew open the curtains to better light your way, though the clouds in the sky dampened the light. Thankfully, to the best of your ability, you did not find a single trap.

Then you stood motionless, observing the living space. It had been a long while since you were last there. With your magic and your own eyes you searched for anything out of the ordinary. There were shoe-prints and traces of the past hours of Grindelwald that you dispersed away, not wanting to see that horrid wizard.

“Percival,” you breathed out, your voice coming out a lot quieter than you initially thought.

You did not know if he would even be there, much less alive.

Walking deeper into the apartment, you called out a little louder, nearly at an average talking voice level.

You were hoping that your senses would not play tricks on you, especially when you swore you heard a faint voice from the other room.

Slowly, you wrapped your hand around the knob of the closed door. You hesitated. Something you only ever done on your first assignment. Gripping the metal much more tightly, you turned the fixture and opened the door.

“Lumos.” The word softly filled the small space.

There, curled up in the far end of the room was the true Percival Graves.

He shielded his eyes from the bright light as you gawked at the sight of him.

“Percival!” You called out to him. Your heart leap and fell all at once.

Your name hardly reached your ears as he dared look beyond his hand.

“I’ll get you out in just a moment!”

Scrambling over to him, you knelt by his side. You were about to use your wand to rid him of his shackles, but his voice stopped you.

“Don’t. He’s spelled them much too greatly,” he warned, trying to prop himself up on the cold floor. “You must leave here.”

Frowning, it was obvious from what you had witnessed of Grindelwald earlier that he would not let such a simple spell undo his wickedness. But perhaps, just maybe, a No-Maj trick might.

“I will be right back, I promise,” you whispered, running back out of the room.

You tore through his house toward the closet in his bedroom. There, you threw open the doors and filed through his clothes on the rack until you came upon an empty hanger. As you grabbed it, you held an eye roll. You could have just as easily took a shirt off of a hanger.

With your wand, you broke off a few pieces bits of the wire hanger and ran back to Percival.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you poked the wires into the keyhole of his bindings.

“Getting you out of this,” you said, scowling at the metal with all of your focus.

A low and sharp click sounded and Percival sighed as the shackles fell off of his wrists.

Finally out of his entrapment, he gently rubbed his wrists while his eyes darted around the room. His hair was disheveled and what clothes he wore were well-worn from who knows how long of a time. It was even the first time that you had seen him unshaven.

Brushing aside his hair from his forehead, you coaxed him to relax.

“No,” he pushed to get himself off of the floor, his feet squeaking on the wood. “We have to leave. He’ll return. And he’s too powerful for us to take on.”

“Shh, shh. It’s all right. We’ve got him. Grindelwald’s been caught. It was Newt Scamander who found him out. Some Aurors took him back to MACUSA.”

Those dark eyebrows struggled to knit together. “What?”

“The point is, you’re safe now,” you said, letting yourself smile.

Finally, you were reunited with your Percival. As battered as he was, you were all too glad to see him.

“You’re sure?” He asked, tired eyes looking into yours.

“Absolutely.”

He stared at you for a moment and then off elsewhere in thought. Finally, he sighed and allowed himself to slump against the wall behind him.

“Are you injured?”

“Nothing too terrible, as strange as that sounds,” he said, failing to hide a wince as you touched his shoulder.

“And by terrible, I suppose you mean, life-threatening?”

Percival let out a laugh, but his body jerked in an opposing direction before settling back down. “I really did miss you.” His watery eyes held your gaze.

“Hmm, to think all this time that I’ve been back at Headquarters I thought you were upset with me.”

His hand reached up to caress your face. The touch was delicate and sincere. “I would not be upset with you. I was waiting for your return.”

Holding his hand against your cheek, you leant closer. “And you, sir, need to check into a hospital.”

#percival graves #ivorydragoness44 #percival graves x reader #fantastic beasts #percival graves fanfiction #percival graves fanfic #percival graves x you #percival graves x y/n #gellert grindleward #newt scamander #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #macusa #fbawtft #fantastic beasts fanfiction #fantastic beasts x reader #percival graves insert reader #wizarding world x reader #wizarding world fanfiction

[nondbamesnond]

smells mmmmm

newt: dirt (in a good way?), caramel candies

theseus: aftershave, gin, sandalwood, giorgio armani cologne

tina: black coffee, clean sheets, a new bar of soap

queenie: lemons, spring air, coco mademoiselle eau de parfum

jacob: freshly-baked cookies, toast, endless confusion

leta: cocoa butter, vanilla essential oil

#fantastic beats and where to find them #imagines #fanfic #newt scamander #theseus scamander #tina goldstein #queenie goldstein #jacob kowalski #leta lestrange #crimes of grindelwald #secrets of dumbledore #I meant to say newt's scent resembles earthy tones

[uefb]

Legilimens!Queenie and semispeaking-autistic!Newt live RENT FREE in my head right now

🛑 Minor minor spoilers for about 9 (10??? idk) chapters down the line of With It’s Head Under One Wing. But this part is referenced multiple times in the most recent chapter of Head Full of Fairies, anyway.

I LOVE HER OKAY

#I’m falling in love with Queenie but I study mental health & memory so are we really surprised #she’s a gold mine #they’re all gold mines ugh I love these characters so much #queenie goldstein #legilimens queenie #newt Scamander #autistic newt scamander #tina goldstein #my stuff #fic: with its head under one wing #current wip #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts fanfic

[afrenchaugurey]

I wrote a very short birthday fic' for Queenie, occuring in 1914.

As usual, I wrote it in French and attempted to translate it into English.

🇫🇷

🇬🇧

#fantastic beasts #queenie goldstein #tina goldstein #sisterhood #birthday fic #fantastic beasts fanfic

[ravenclaws-eulchen]

AdA: Kapitel 43: Böses Erwachen

Queenie war gerade zu Bett gegangen, als sie plötzlich einen jähen Kopfschmerz verspürte. Mit einem überraschten Schmerzenslaut griff sie sich an die Stirn, aber der Schmerz verschwand nicht. Einige Minuten lag sie mit gerunzelter Stirn und besorgt in der Dunkelheit, als der Schmerz plötzlich abebbte. Was blieb, war eine tiefe, innere Unruhe. Sie brauchte einige Minuten, bis ihr bewusstwurde, dass es nicht ihre eigenen Gefühle waren, die sie wachhielten. Seit einigen Monaten hatte sie die Empfindungen eines anderen nicht mehr auf diese Weise wahrgenommen. Grindelwald war ein so professioneller Okklumentiker, dass sie höchstens den Hauch einer Grundstimmung von ihm erahnte, und die meisten seiner Anhänger waren ebenfalls geübt in der Kunst, ihre Gedanken abzuschirmen. Wenn sie Aurelius‘ Gedanken las – oder vorhin Newts – lagen die einzelnen Gedankenstränge meist klar vor ihr. Dass sich die Grundstimmung eines Menschen, zu dem sie keinen Sichtkontakt hatte, sich ihr mit einer solchen Intensität aufdrängte, war ungewöhnlich – und konnte nichts Gutes bedeuten.

Weiterlesen hier: Kapitel 43: Böses Erwachen

#Aus der Asche #Kapitel 43 #Phantastische Tierwesen #fanfics #german fanfic #fantastic beasts #newt scamander #queenie goldstein

[annuities]

Schilderwald ; ten

the day is new, my blog is changed. i come into the new age with an update. *formerly jyaiin

pairing: theseus scamander x reader

notes: click here for the masterlist

“They’re meeting at the Mauleseom tomorrow night,” you report. “I heard something through one of my mother’s underground networks.”

Tina seems to pipe up in interest immediately — ah yes, the legend, fame and the lure of your mother runs far and wide. However, Graves, on the other hand, seems to share many of your worries.

“Two more days,” he murmurs, voice still a bit hoarse. “We have all of today and a quarter of tomorrow to find Credence and to establish a plan.” 

Your group falls into silence for a few short moments before Newt proposes a plan. “Why don’t we look for the circus you found first? If we find him, then at least, we know how to start.”

That seemed like a reasonable enough suggestion. 

x

“All injured personnel are required to stick together,” you snicker as the two of your limp out of the house.

“Or,” Graves refutes dryly. “I’m the only one who’ll be held responsible if you die. Theseus will kill me.”

You let him have it, let him have that sense that . That sense of responsibility — and last night. You thinking about what he said. I love you. You want to laugh — the corner of your mouth tugging up sharply in response. 

Why now?

Why not before?

Why not at Christmas?

Why not before Leta?

No, but he was yours before Leta, wasn’t he? This is a problem you have, of never knowing what you want, of never wanting enough, never trying enough. You knew, before Leta. Before Christmas. If Theseus didn’t think you were special, he wouldn’t do those things for you. The flowers, the scarf, the arctic cold and the hours he spent (wasted) resources looking for you. 

If you tried, if you even said something, Theseus would’ve said yes. 

But you didn’t, because one night you looked in the mirror and you thought about your mother, her marriage. How much your parents loved each other and how in the end, that didn’t really mean anything, either. Love isn’t enough. And, you didn’t want that sort of life for yourself.

Always waiting, always wondering, if he’d come back. If someone else like Grindelwald, worse than Grindelwald would come and one day you’d look at the Manila envelope and know, word by word, what was written on it. 

You don’t want that life. You wouldn’t choose to live it. Not for anything, not for anyone. You’re not your mother, you’re not Theseus, or his brother. You’re not willing to sacrifice those things. 

“He loves you,” Graves says, looking away from you. You recognize that look. 

You couldn’t accept it then. 

And you can’t accept it now. It’s a soft thrumming in your chest, the chiming of wind bells that sound like war drums, a steady rushing in your blood—

“Shut up, Graves,” you say. 

You can’t. Not even if you wanted to. This is the end of it.

It has to be. 

x

Is it?

Of course not. You were prepared to die before he said that. You were prepared to fight to the death before he said that — and if you don’t give you all, there’s no way. No way you’ll be able to win.

Damn him for making you want to live.

You look at the gold and the red ribbons in the air, the fire and the wonders, the faces alight with awe and amusement. You wanted to be one of them, more than that, you wanted your mother, you wanted your father, wanted your Aurelia, you wanted your office in the Department of Records and Notation, you wanted your illegally obtained notes and files. You missed that house scarf, you missed your little apartment—

And you missed Theseus. You missed his hands, easily able to dwarf yours, you missed his suits — you missed how he looked, in his rumpled shirt and tie askew. You missed his silhouette and the roughness of his voice after disuse. 

You sniffle, warmth pulling at your eyelids. 

“Miss, are you lost?” A soft, hesitating asks you. But you freeze, because that gentle New Yorker lilt is bare, but still detectable. 

Credence.

You freeze and hastily wipes your eyes as you offer him a shaky smile. What happened to taking things slow and regrouping? 

“I, I’m fine,” you stutter, fingers still brushing at the straying droplets on your cheeks as you sniffle again. 

Credence pauses in front of you, looking like a deer in headlights. “W-Would you like a glass of water?” His eyes dart and before you answer, he holds up a pair of scarred hands. “Please wait here, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

He’s off and back again in a single second. There’s a mildly-grimy glass in his hands and you accept it with a grateful nod. 

“Thank you,” you say, smiling. Taking a sip and making sure not to wince at the taste.

“Y-You’re welcome,” he stutters and there’s something in his eyes— The light, the feeling of being wanted, being welcomed. You offer him a tiny smile as you feel something sticky on your palm. Looking down, you’re horrified to see they’re stained red—

“I’m so sorry!” Credence’s exclamation almost shocks you into spilling your glass, his cheeks are bright and there’s something like despair in his eyes as he tries to take the glass from you.

It’s then you see the fresh wounds that litter his hands.

“Your hands!” you say, as he retreats from you, instinctively. He looks again like a flower bending in the leaf-wiliting wind. Desperate to help, you lower your voice. “Please, let me help you back. Let me heal them.” You offer him a soothing smile as you hold out his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” you say. “I promise.”

Slowly, he inches closer, eyes on yours — scared, but trusting. Trusting. As he places his hands in yours.

Your medical spells aren’t good. But they’re just enough for you to heal the wounds — from whips — of the boy in front of you. He marvels at the spells, at your wound and the soundless spells as they began to close on his skin, and heal, and smooth over. 

It’s then, that a bond truly forms between the two of you — and in the back of your mind, you know what he needs. Time, love, patience. To be happy, to be human. To feel human. 

But Credence, no matter who he is (scared little boy, he didn’t choose this), no matter what he is (human, not a monster, a boy), he matters little against the lives of your parents, of your friends. Of Theseus.

He is the only thing that might be able to stop Grindelwald.

Tomorrow night.

You don’t have time. 

He needs to be ready, no matter what. 

“I know what happened, Credence. What they say.” You pitch your voice low, the way your mother used to. Credence is not surprised when you say his name. The thing children do best is waiting, you think. You, in front of the flume gate. Waiting, waiting, waiting. “But they’re wrong.”

Tick tock, the clock chimes, both future-past. Desperation makes people unrecognizable. Credence can’t see it in you, but you can. His eyes, molten and gold but also darker than the ocean floor. Wanting, hungry, so hungry. For so many things. And beneath it all, is a mass of writhing, rippling magic. Powerful enough to change the Wizarding World as you know it, to bend the matters of the world, to change reality. 

“Are they—” His voice breaks. His eyes, you think, there’s nothing of a little boy in them. More beast than man. “Am I really...?”

You don’t tell him that there is a place for you, or that people are waiting for him and willing to love and protect him. Children know lies too well. Especially children like him, and you’re too tired to lie. So you tell him the thing closest to the truth. “You’re one of us. Nothing can change that. And no one, will ever be able to take it from you.”

You reach forward, for his hands. The link of his magic to yours, the roots of the world. And there, you think about all the choices you made and wonder how you ended up here, in the dark, the mud, even after all the things you gave up to leave. 

“Magic is in your bones, Credence,” you say, and his eyes shine gold. 

x

“Hey guys.” You open the door and smile like the piece of shit you are. “Look who I found.”

“Where the hell have you—”

Graves’ mouth opens and closes as Credence makes a noise of horrified surprise behind you. Ah, right. You’d forgotten about that. Oops. That’s another problem you need to solve.

You clap, mostly in self congratulation. Goldstein is not amused. Goldstein can go— Fill in the blank as required. 

“Alright,” you say. “This is Credence. Don’t be creepy, or else.” You lead the boy into 

He looks at you, his eyes manic. You smile. “It’s alright.” You’re not sure if you’re saying it for your sake or his. 

You give Graves a sharp look, and he nods back, imperceptibly. Flamel told you, before you left that the International Wizarding Confederation was closing in on France. The timing for the Lestrange Mausoleum is confirmed. 

This has to work. It must. 

Credence introduces himself, awkwardly to Newt and the others, reintroduces himself to Tina before returning to your side like a loyal hen, shying away from Graves nearly pointedly. 

Graves rolls his eyes. You snicker. 

The truth is this: there is a very very bad wizard trying to kill many people. He may come after Credence to take advantage of him, therefore, everyone is trying very hard to hide him away.

Dumbledore, if he knows what’s good for him, will continue to be useless and unreachable at large. If not... You’ll do something drastic. 

When the atmosphere is beginning to chill again, you assign good, Newt of a heart of gold to give Credence some talk-therapy and control training. 

Graves, you, and Goldstein leave to another room.

You set the a silencing charm, and Graves is immediately on you like a rabid animal.

“I thought I knew the definition of recklessness. I was wrong. What were you thinking?” You’re normally a nice person, you swear—

“Ah yes, the man who’s spent sixteen months being absolutely useless is mad at me for doing something.” 

He doesn’t flinch. It’s a near thing, though. 

“That was uncalled for,” Goldstein says, on instinct. 

You turn to face her. “And you, the person who kidnapped someone for their own completely insane vigilant mission. Neither of you, have any ground to be telling me off. I did everything I needed to do and everything that you asked for. I found Credence Barebone and now, we need to figure out how to stop him from killing everyone.” 

Graves, nods, finally, looking constipated, even more so than usual. “Alright. While you were gone, we obtained a rough plan of the Mausoleum. Let’s start with deciding which of us will go and which of us will stay behind with the Obscurial boy.” 

“Credence,” Tina corrects.

“Credence,” Graves repeats. 

x

Four hours later, Graves has been sent off to bed like a particularly childish six-foot-two toddler. Tina is on patrol-cum-gossiping-complaining to Queenie. You open the door to Nicolas Flamel’s impressively protected laboratory to the sight of magic that no novice should be learning. 

Credence’s eyes are glowing, and New Scamander—

You take a sharp breath. Every heartbeat feels like a open wound. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a gravely voice asks from behind you. 

“It is,” you say as you watch the Patronus in the air, the silvery threads conjoining, a phoenix in flight, in fire, in ashes. It is. It’s so beautiful.

“Magic is a wondrous thing,” Flamel says. “Capable of doing almost anything.”

Anything. Almost. 

Death, power, immortality. Nicolas Flame, the man who did the impossible. 

The word dissolves into a blur of silvers and blues. Before you know it, you’re blinking back the tears. You hoped—

You hoped. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly, tenderly, as your father once did, at the footsteps of the manor, his suitcase in hand after you refused to go with him. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

Death has never scared you. All of the people you love are some of the strongest wizards and witches there is in this world. They’ll be fine. And in the end, you’ll be fine, too.

Where do I go from here? You think. But there isn’t books or people to tell you, a multitude of ways for you to pursue this, not this time. 

You know the answer, the way you know your own name. It hums in your blood. The magic that isn’t yours. 

I love you, so many voices say. 

Yeah, you think. Me too. 

x

so, in case it was unclear, reader is still under the imperius by grindelwald. i always thought canon wrote it off a bit easily. though then again, harry potter is a very special boy. still, our reader is not so special and i am believer of the philosophy that things should have consequences, so therefore, we have more angst. 

that said, there is no major character death in this fic, if you were worried. 

i know this taglist is so so old, if any of you are no longer interested in being tagged, please let me know!

@maggiekelly51 @kinkyspellman @can-i-say-something-please @sanya-gryff @lotr-th-hp @gawabby @thatkidofwarandpeace@lindsay-got-lost-in-the-tardis@dinopowa @fem-oid  @somepiesmothertrucker @replay-music @living-in-an-alternate-universe @azx-re @malamutelord  @city-of-fae @miraculouslysupernaturalladybugs @ere-the-sun@notexactlythatgirl @elishamoon13 @rubylovesnewt @love-too-much-thoughts @brooklymw @livalovelylife @nxwtscxmander @mayakblack @jihyunsphotos @accio-roses  @imaginovator  @toastedside @mrkrychek @hennigcrossing @klmpun @bxckybxrnxs

#theseus x reader #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander #romance #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #fantastic beasts #fantastic beats and where to find them #newt scamander #tina goldstein #Queenie Goldstein #jakob kowalski #leta lestrange #original percival graves

[iridecsense]

𝘯𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦

                                     𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

⤷ summary: Proceeding the encounter with Grindelwald in Paris, Newt goes seaward on a secret mission for Dumbledore when his ship is caught in a storm...

✧ word count: 3k ✧ pairing: newt scamander | siren!reader ✧ genre: romance, slow burn, angst, adventure ✧ warnings: none ✧ author’s note: Feel free to comment or send me feedback via my ask box, I love hearing from you all. That being said, I hope you enjoy!

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

The floor boards wheezed and sank under Newt’s weight as he carefully stepped down the stairs and into the hatch. The hull of the ship was dark and cluttered with crates and other various items. He could hear the hushed voices of Jacob and Niris, and followed the sound farther back into the ship. He wove himself through the maze of boxes until he came upon a door left ajar, a flickering orange glow emitting from the opening. He pushed the door open to find Jacob helping Niris hang a large scrap of jute to fashion a hammock.

“Mr. Scamander!” Niris smiled upon seeing him. Newt gave him a small nod as a greeting.

Jacob turned around to face Newt. “Niris was just telling me about that fancy wizard’s school you and Queenie was talking about. Hogwarts, I think?”

“You attend Hogwarts?” Newt asked Niris.

“This coming year will be my last,” said Niris as he tightened a knot around a beam.

“What’s your house?”

“Gryffindor,” he says proudly. “What was yours?”

“Hufflepuff,” Newt simpers.

“My girl’s a Hufflepuff,” Niris noted. “She’s great! She makes the best pumpkin patsies.”  

Newt nervously shifted to Jacob. He thought the mention of a Niris’s girlfriend would bring up memories of Queenie and sour his mood. But Jacob’s smile barely faltered.

“Your girl cooks?” Jacob asks. “My girl likes to cook too.”

“No way!” Jacob and Niris continued to talk about their common interest while Newt went to make his place in the room’s corner. He was fashioning himself a makeshift bed when Niris called for his attention again.

“What about you, Mr. Scamander? Do you have someone special as well?”

Newt blushed. Only one person came to mind. Newt admits that he had grown very fond of the older Goldstein sister. She was beautiful. Not like Queenie in the sense that she was very obviously an attractive woman, but in a simpler sense. It was the little things Newt found so attractive about Tina Goldstein. He liked her short brown hair. He liked that she was tall, and that she wore heels. He liked her swan-like neck and her smile. He also liked the line that formed in the middle of her forehead when she was scolding him. Most importantly, he liked her eyes. She had big brown eyes, like a salamander’s.

He’d told her that the last time they’d seen each other. It seemed so long ago now. She hadn’t talked to him since. He didn’t blame her, of course. She’d lost a sister. And there is no doubt the MACUSA have her working extensively to fight against Grindelwald, so he understood why she had returned none of his letters. Still, he couldn’t help the pang in his heart whenever he thought of her.

“No,” Newt finally answered, ignoring Jacob’s stare.

It was relatively quiet after that. Any other conversation was engaged between Niris and Jacob. When they each formed their own makeshift sleeping spaces, they returned to the deck. Uluras was there, hauling a crate of bread. Floating behind him were several other crates of food.

“Come an’ help me put these downstairs,” he called to nobody in particular.

Niris rushed to his father’s side and took the crate of bread in his hands. He made his way back down the stairs, the other crates of food following him. Jacob dodged a floating crate of fish, scrunching his nose when the smell hit his nostrils.

They followed Uluras to the center of the ship. He lifted his arms in the air and flicked his hand downwards. The white sails unfurled on their own and tightened perfectly. The sudden action caused a strong gust of wind to blow down on them. He then brought his hands down to his hips and turned them in circular clockwise motions.  

Jacob and Newt watched closely as he did this. His eyes were focused, and it seemed like the very simple action was taking a lot of strength.

“What’s he doing?” Jacob whispered.

“Magic,” said Newt.

“Doesn’t he need a wand to do that?”

“No, actually. While most wizards use wands, there is such a thing as wandless magic. Though, it is very hard to master, wandless magic is common in certain areas such as Africa,” Newt explains. “In fact, the Native Americans also perfected wandless magic and didn’t use wands until the colonization era.”

“Can you do that?” Jacob pointed to Uluras.

“I tried to learn awhile ago during my trip to Sudan, but I never had the talent for it.”

The ship trembled beneath their feet. Moving in unison with Uluras’s clockwise gestures, the ship rocked and swayed, gradually turning in the turquoise pool. It rotated ninety degrees until the bow faced the gaping cavern tunnel that led out to sea. Uluras raised his hands over his head and a howling gust of wind swept the sails. With a powerful jolt, the ship lurched forward, sailing into the underpass.

Niris had returned from the hold and climbed up to the crow’s nest, where he stood proudly with the wind swirling in his hair. Newt followed Uluras to the helm. Jacob stayed on deck, peering his head over the railing into the water.

“How long will it take to get to Italy,” Newt asked.

“Not as long as you would think,” said Uluras. “Zanj Lanmé can take you across the world two times over on Christmas Day an’ have you back where you started on New Year’s eve.”

It wasn’t clear whether it was an exaggeration or fact, but Newt would soon find out. The ship cruised through the dark overarching passage. In the distance, a speck of light continued to grow as they ventured on. The closer they got to the speck of light, Newt could hear the distinct sound of rushing water.

Ahead, the overhang of a rushing waterfall separated them from the open sea. Jacob, still leaning over the ship’s edge, caught sight of the pouring torrent drawing near and backed from the railing.  

“Uh, Newt?” His voice tremors.

“Baaba, let me do it!” Niris looked from the crow’s nest down to the three men.

Uluras craned his neck up to his son. “Aye!”

From where they stood on deck, they could just make out Niris pulling a ten-inch wand from his jacket pocket. The fall grew nearer, the stream carrying them closer to the edge. Jacob inched to Newt’s side and braced himself with a stray hanging rope.

“You ought ta do the same, Mr. Scamander,” suggested Uluras, as he himself gripped two of the pegs sticking up from the ship’s wheel.

Newt heeded his warning, grabbing a hold of the same rope Jacob clasped tightly. Golden light cast over them as they approached the opening at unrelenting speed. The gaping exit framed the rising sun and sky made it clear just how far the waterfall plunged.

“What’s he gonna do?” Jacob pondered, his eyes anxiously jumping between Niris and the overhang.

They all watched as the front of the ship tipped dangerously. Gravity pulled the wooden mass downward. The stream that once carried them disappeared from underneath the ship and fell into the sea. It was a steep drop, having them dive eight hundred feet towards the ground. Jacob screamed as the ship plummeted towards the ocean. Wind whipped around the vessel, lashing at the sails and howling in their ears. Jacob’s and Newt’s feet slid from under them. Both of their hands flew to the steady rope to keep themselves from falling.

Beside them, Uluras was steady, his feet planted on the wood floor and hands locked around the wheel’s pegs. Atop the crow’s nest, Niris wrapped his arm around the protruding pole. He raised his wand and swung his arm upwards in a U-shape motion. Water from the waterfall swept under the ship’s hull and around the sides. The water’s force pushed the ship forward and straightened it back into its horizontal position just before they collided with the sea.

They splashed into the ocean, seawater spraying onto the ship, dousing them. The ship swayed and rocked until it finally settled to its resting state. Jacob was displaced, having lost his grip and fell to the floor, now soaking wet. Newt stayed gripping tight to the rope, blinking the stinging water from his eyes. He whipped his neck back to see that they had fallen from a hole inside the cliff the crooked shack rested on.

A hearty laugh came from beside him, where Uluras stood with a wide grin on his face. Niris hastily claimed down the mast, jumping on deck.

“Is everyone alright?” He asked.

Newt nodded. He turned to his friend, to find that he was no longer by his side. The poor man had half his body hanging over the ship’s railing, heaving his breakfast into the water.

Newt smirked. Perhaps Jacob had seasickness too.

                                     ⁎ ⊹                                    ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂                                     ⊹ ＊

Uluras was a genuinely kind person, interesting too. He may have came off as stand-offish, but in many ways he reminded Newt of Dumbledore. They shared the same cryptic humor and wise aura.

“How do you know Dumbledore?” Newt asked while he was helping Uluras rig the sails. The early November chill was nothing compared to the constant spray of cold seawater that dampened their skin and clothes and the steady wind that glided them across the sea.

Uluras hoisted a small triangular sail up a short mast. “I met him twenty years ago in Paris,” he said. “Him and his mentor, Nicolas Flamel. I had recently immigrated to France from Haiti with my wife. Shortly after our arrival, my wife had caught a nasty illness. I was sure she’d die.”

Uluras motioned for Newt to help him bound the rope around a peg. Newt rushed to his side, grasping the rope to aide him.

“I was seeking healers all over Paris,” Uluras heaved as they pulled. “But none of them knew how to help mon ange. I had almost given up hope, when I came across skinny Albus Dumbledore. He led me to Flamel, who could procure a potion to save my wife. I was able to spend fifteen more years with her because of their kindness. Since then, Albus has remained one of my most dearest friends.”

Apparently, Dumbledore and Uluras were so close that he was Niris’s godfather. Niris differed greatly from his father, it became increasingly obvious. While Uluras was more mild-tempered and quiet, Niris was everything a seventeen-year-old should be: wild and full of life. He was the main entertainer on the boring ship, telling silly stories and cracking jokes. He and Jacob got a long well, both sharing a similar taste in hobbies.

The day was long and uneventful. The sea was calm, and the skies were clear. Now it was dusk, and the sky was a speckled with pinks, reds, purples, and oranges. Jacob and Niris were below in the galley, preparing food for everyone. The two had a shared bond over food, and Niris promised to teach Jacob how to make fish patties.

Uluras kept busy in his cabin navigating, Newt suspected. Newt himself was left alone. He didn’t mind it. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with. Besides, it gave him plenty of time to think. Newt leaned against the railing of the ship, his back pressed against the wood with legs crossed. Dumbledore is sending him to Italy, but for what he did not know. Many witches and wizards across Europe have either been recruited by The Alliance or have been prosecuted by the Ministry. Those haven’t were in hiding, making themselves scarce from both Grindelwald’s acolytes and the dementors. Most of wizarding world was in a state of purgatory in which wizards took neither side. The Ministry’s relentless hunt for traitors didn’t gain the support it might have hoped. Newt supposed Dumbledore hoped that he could somehow raise moral to those who have lost the will to fight.

But how the hell could he do that?

“It could only be you.” Dumbledore had told him. Why did it have to be him? He didn’t even know what to do. Newt rubbed the sides of his temple with one hand. He was doing this task completely blind and, like the ninny he is, he’d agreed to do it. And to add to his predicament, he’d promised Jacob he would help him find Queenie. He cursed to himself for making a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

Jacob appeared from the hatch wearing a messy white apron. When he saw his friend leaning against the ship railing in a sulking fashion, he emerged from the hole and walked to his side.

“Is everything okay, buddy?” He asked. 

Newt lifted his head from his hand. “Yes, just a bit tired, is all.”

“You sure? You look like you’re deep in thought about something.”

“Promise.” Newt smiled softly to reassure him. “How’s your stomach?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Jacob straightened his back, placing a hand on his round belly. “Oh, it’s fine now,” he said, chuckling. “Thank you, by the way, for the... uh... the—”

“Mugwort,” Newt reminded him. 

“Yeah, the mugwort. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A small silence befell them. Jacob looked at Newt closely, who had his eyes set on the horizon. He cleared his throat, hesitant to speak. “Listen, Newt, about Tina—”

“Tina?” Newt lifted his head to face Jacob, suddenly alert. 

“Yeah.” Jacob sighed through his nose and shifted in place, turning to face the setting sun. “I ain’t been a very good friend to you, Newt. I was so stuck in my own head I didn’t even think to ask how you felt after everything. About things between you and Tina... ”

“I feel fine.” Newt said quickly, though Jacob wasn’t fully convinced.

“Yeah, alright,” he relented, deciding not to probe him any further. “Well, if you ever want to talk bout—well, about anything—just let me know, okay?”

“I’ll do that, Jacob.”

Jacob shook Newt’s shoulder, shaking it softly before moving towards the hatch. “Food’s ready, if you’re hungry,” he informed him. “I gotta hand it to the kid, he’s one mean cook. The fish patties are really good. Of course, they’re better because I taught him the best way to make the dough.”

He descended the steps, leaving Newt above deck. Newt stayed watching the sunset for a moment longer. The sky faded to a dull blue as the sun gave the illusion of being dipped into the ocean. When the increasing cold of the night became too much for his thin shirt and trousers, he too left the deck and descended the hatch to join Niris and Jacob for a helping of fish patties.

                                    ⁎ ⊹                                   ⁂ ˚ ✧ ⁂                                    ⊹ ＊

At night, the ship rocked restlessly. Jacob had no trouble sleeping in his hammock. He snored peacefully, swinging between two poles with one of his arms dangling to the floor. Niris was sound asleep as well in his own setup. It was Newt who was restless. He had a terrible case of insomnia. It wasn’t the ships stirring or Jacob’s snoring that kept him up, but his own mind. 

Newt, having failed to drift off to sleep for the fourth time that night, rolled from the makeshift bed he made himself and opened his suitcase. He quietly stepped inside, climbing down the latter and closing the case behind him. The room Newt fashioned himself in the case was a simple shed. Inside was a small cot pushed against a wall, a workbench wedged in the corner between a door and a window, a lounge chair, two bookshelves, and various plants and trinkets that hung from the ceiling and walls. 

Outside of the shed were remnants of enclosures he made for the beasts he rehabilitated. All the creatures that once filled them now resided in the basement of his apartment under his assistant’s care. Well, almost all of them.

Newt crouched down to swiftly snatch a baby niffler from the ground. “You’re a relentless lot, aren’t you?” The pesky creature was clinging a silver spoon two times its size. 

Newt caught its other pesky siblings that infested his shed, pick-pocketing shiny objects from his desk and drawers. With all of the funny creatures in hand, he opened the door to the rest of the case. He walked down a dirt path to a small section that was made up of grass and a singular dirt wall. Carved in the dirt wall was a burrow glittering with silky fabrics, gold, jewels and other shiny things that had been stuffed inside. Sleeping soundly in the burrowed hole was the father of the troublesome kits. 

“Some babysitter you are,” he mumbled begrudgingly. 

Surrounding the giant hole reserved for his adult niffler, were four smaller holes reserved for each of the babies. One by one he placed each of the kits in their respectful burrows, keeping them tame by gifting them each one Knut to suckle in their sleep. 

Newt left the nifflers and returned to his shed. Waiting for him on his cot, was none other than his loyal bowtruckle, Pickett. The twiggy creature crawled up to the edge of the bed as Newt neared, trilling excitedly. 

“You were meant to stay with Bunty and the others, Pick,” Newt scolded half-heartedly as he lowered his hand for the little thing to climb onto.

Pickett squeaked his case, somehow explaining to the wizard why him being there was perfectly reasonable. Newt smiled and took a seat on the bed. 

“For some reason, I’m actually glad you’re here, Pick,” he confesses.

This seemed to please the leafy bug, and he trilled lowly, crawling up Newt’s arm to nuzzle his cheek. Suddenly, feeling very tired, Newt laid on his cot facing the ceiling. Pickett jumped from Newt’s shoulder and sat next to his head on the pillow. 

Newt stared at the dangling trinkets that hung from the ceiling, thinking deeply as his eyes grew heavy and his vision blurred. What adventures await in Italy, and why did Dumbledore seem so adamant on sending him there? 

              ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

⊰ 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴                    ❦ 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘺                       𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 ⊱

             ──── ⋅ ⍤ ⋅⊰⋅∘ 〄 ∘⋅⊱⋅ ⍤ ⋅ ────

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x you #newt scamander smut #newt scamander imagine #newt scamander fluff #newt scamander x y/n #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts movie #fantastic beasts 2 #fantastic beasts imagine #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #jacob kowalski #Queenie Goldstein #Jacob x Queenie #tina goldstein #Newtina #Newton Scamander #Porpentina Goldstein #newt x porpentina #Albus Dumbledore #Gellert Grindleward #albus x gellert #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #credence barebone