was wondering if you could write about what newt would do when he gets jealous?? btw love you sm
this was another heavy request and i told myself id get it done so here we go lol
Newt being introduced to one of your friends with the well-wishes that he can develop and friendship with them as well. Newt can see how important they are to you.
Ultimately has the mindset that “a friend of (\Name)’s is a friend of mine”.
Newt thinks positively at first, knowing that it was alright for you to have friends outside of him. If anything, he encourages you to make friends, because he knows what it feels like to be friendless and doesn’t want you to feel the same.
Newt takes a deep breath in and reminds himself that you’re his and he’s yours, and he’s nothing to worry about. He trusts you.
Probably gives them too many chances. Oh, they’re leaning towards you while talking? Must be hard of hearing! Oh, they’re staring at you for minutes at a time? Yes, you’re quite beautiful and easy on the eyes. Newt knows this very well. Oh, they’re touching your arm while talking happily? I wonder what they’re talking about, they seem really excited!
But, things do take a sudden turn when Newt looks at the two of you and realizes that these actions are actually very subtle flirts.
When they start talking to Newt, the Brit raises his brows and starts talking in a rather quick and smart voice, leaving them a bit clueless as to why Newt talked to them as if they were going to understand what a “swooping evil” was.
A tactic used to perhaps intimidate them into backing off because they were getting a bit too close to you.
Though not typically insecure, Newt finds himself to be that way when jealous. It’s unintentional, and he tries to stop it but to very little effect.
Finds himself second guessing, and truly wonders why you were with him when there was obviously so many better people for you.
Though he seems unfamiliar with jealousy, he can admit to himself that he had been a bit jealous of his brother a few times. A reaction to living under his shadow for so long.
Newt probably distances himself in some sort of attempt to calm himself down, and to think things through rationally.
Spends more time in his case than he usually does. Working and studying has always been a good outlet for any sort of unwanted feelings he may have settled with.
Talking to his creatures as well, has been a good outlet. Newt expresses his worries to them, and though they can’t reply necessarily, it’s still nice to know that they listen to him.
This is surely something you notice, and you want to talk to him about it but when you find time to do so, he’s off doing something else.
Subsequently making you feel like you had done something wrong.
The moment you finally catch him and ask him what’s wrong, he tries to hide it because it was so illogical for him to even get jealous over something so trivial.
Newt eventually breaks down and has to tell you in a breaking voice, “I’m jealous, is that what you want to hear? I don’t know if you notice, but they’re quite chummy with you. Touching your arm when talking, staring at you like you’re a meal… But, you’re not. You’re… You’re (Name). You’re much better than a meager meal.” He sounds so ashamed, “I don’t want to control you, I didn’t mean to react like this it’s just… I do worry you’ll leave for someone better.” You look at him with wide eyes, completely oblivious to all of this. “They’re just a friend, Newt.” You whisper quietly, “You’ve nothing to worry about… Just, trust me, okay?” It gets a bit quiet between the two of you as he looks off to the side, still ashamed that he let this sort of negative emotion run into his mind. “There’s no one better for me than you.” Your voice broke the silence as you took a step forward and cupped his cheek. Newt looked at you through bright green eyes and sighed quietly. “I love you… And only you…”
Hope you liked :D reblogs&likes are appreciated! Thank you!
A mischievous, yet adorable creature that look like a cross between a mole and a duck-billed platypus who like to steal shiny things. These animals have a magical pouch that allows them to store their treasures.
Kissing Graves kissing Graves kissing Graves Pls pls pls I need to be fucked up by this
I told myself newt headcanons tonight but i really needed to get these done before i forgot about them LOL.
Undoubtedly, he’s a very tactile.
Also meaning that he relies and connects with his sense of touch — and it seems to be even more so while kissing. Intimacy, let alone kissing is very private thing for Percival. And so in those moments when he does let his wall down, he becomes hands on and tender.
Brushing his fingertips over your cheeks when kissing.
Grabbing your waist and pulling you closer when kissing, and feeling his fingers tangle in the fabric.
Ghosting his thumb over your bottom lip before diving in for an actual kiss.
Loves to feel the movement of your lips against his so he can more accordingly to deepen the kiss.
His fingers running through your hair before he grabs at it. Percival oddly enjoying the satisfying feeling of such silky hair being in the palm of his hand is.
Percival shutting his eyes during a kiss, which in turns, heightens his sense of touch.
You kissing the creases on his face.
And reminding him, “Frowning and scoffing are going to give you wrinkles.”
To which he rolls his eyes and continues his work, but this time, with a bit more pep because he finds it entertaining that you’re so concerned with his wrinkles.
Kissing the crease between his eyebrows, especially after he’s had a long day. Peppering your kisses down to his lips where you give him a very soft one.
Forehead kisses/hair kisses.
Usually it’s Graves giving these to you. They’re very simple means of affection, something that he’s not greatly exceptional at showing sometimes.
Imagine him looking down at you, smoothing back some of your hair and placing a delicate kiss on your hairline. His lips linger, he almost digs his face into your hair and pulls you close but he pushes himself to pull away. Looking up at him after this happens with a small bit of a frown because you wanted him to stay close.
Knuckle kisses, especially when he knows he’s about to leave for an investigation.
Percival slowly picking up your hand with both of his and raising it to his lips. He pressed a hard kiss there and tells you, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Literally doesn’t make it an easier, especially if it’s an investigation in another state, sometimes country.
Those early morning sort of kisses.
You digging your face into his neck, kissing his neck softly and breathing in. He smells clean and sharp.
Peppering your lips all over his face when he’s finally waking up. Usually ends with you on your back, Percival hovering over you while asking what you were doing. You sass back, “You’re the investigator. What does it appear like I’m doing?”
Unintentional coffee tasting kisses. You know, those ones where Percival kisses you right after his cup of coffee in the morning, and you can still taste it on his lips.
When you first started dating, you expected him to be the sort of man to enjoy black coffee, but he likes it with sugar and a lot of creamer.
On the lip kisses.
Tend to be very rough around the edges when he kisses you, but the longer he does so, and the more he remembers that he doesn’t need to be so stiff and stern around you, he finally lets loose a little bit.
First, in his shoulders as you wrap your arms around him, then the rest of his body follows.
Soon enough, Percival’s fingers are holding at your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses your lips with pent up want and love.
Peck on the lips before he heads off for work. Sometimes more than one. (Okay, sometimes it’s a little heated in the doorway, but it never gets passed a kiss). You straighten his vest, then his tie to make sure he’s suitable for work.
Those sort that leave you completely breathless, because at times, you forget that Percival can feel outside of the realm of emotions he chooses to portray to the outside world.
Tying into the knuckle kisses, when he returns from a high risked, dangerous case and he makes it home to you, there are literally no words spoken. Percival dives straight in for a kiss, and thankfully the instances that this has happened, you were pushed against the wall behind you. His hands reach up, he cups your face and doesn’t let himself relax against you. He pulls away, his eyes shut. He needed this. Needed you close to him and needed the reminder that there was still some sort of good in the world.
UIhm, I hope you guys enjoyed. ;u; Reblogs & likes mean a lot! Thank you!
Please can we talk about CREEDENCE BAREBONE and PERCIVAL GRAVES?????
So after seeing the movie and reading the script (it was on sale and I’m a weak, weak person) I am in love with Credence (and I want Graves to do filthy horrible things to him).
I’m not sure what specifically you would like me to talk about, but I did just think of a fun alternate ending where Credence does attack and kill Graves/Grindelwald while in his Obscurus form, which reveals Graves is actually Grindelwald post mortem.
Credence lives in the end. He’s taken in by Tina and Queenie because they’re good witches, but mainly because their home is near the MACUSA headquarters (where he would be staying if not for Tina and Newt persuading President Picquery and also for the fact that Credence did technically kill the most wanted/dangerous dark wizard, so she can give him a bit of wiggle room).
Tina is in charge of looking after him while they figure out what to do with him and they look for the original Graves.
Who they find a week later because Graves, without Grindelwald holding him captive with his magic, has escaped and managed to travel back to New York via no-maj transportation (Graves is so gaunt and looks beat up as hell, but so happy too, he’s a tough son of a bitch). Graves gets the story of what happened from Picquery. Is pretty insulted that no one noticed (he’s reevaluating some things about himself now).
Learning about Credence he goes to meet the no-maj turned squib turned Obscurus turned world famous wizard overnight (because even the real Graves, who is admittedly a bit of an asshole, thinks he should congratulate the kid and apologize for the person who wore his face and the fact that if he had been stronger/quicker/better they could have all avoided this mess in the first place).
(Self esteem issues are dangerously high at the moment)
He doesn’t say any of that though (so much pride, just so goddamn much okay).
When Credence and the real Graves come face to face Credence, who has been on edge this whole time (everything is happening too much) breaks down and cries and Graves not used to having to deal with emotions, his or other people’s, does what his mother would have done and hugs the poor guy, patting his back in the most awkward way a wizard ever has.
Tina and Queenie are watching from inside, eyes huge because THE Graves is being a human being and it’s a once in a lifetime moment.
Credence gets tears and snot all over Graves (Graves doesn’t really mind he totally does and magics it all away with the obligatory flick of his fingers and tells Credence ‘You’re all right’, which then makes Credence cry even more, the exact opposite of what Graves was aiming for).
At some point Tina and Queenie finally manage to persuade Credence to move back inside (he won’t let go of Graves and Graves is kind of okay with it he’s loving it after months holed up alone and it doesn’t hurt that Credence is pretty goddamn adorable)
Queenie makes them lunch, Tina has to bite her cheek to not ask the millions of questions building up in her head, Credence has finally unclung himself from Graves and is now hunched over the table, blushing so hard he might burn a hole straight through the foundation of the building and avoiding all eye contact while making himself as small as possible, and Graves is balancing eating literally everything and trying to subtly look at Credence (he is starving, hungry for steak and making out with cute men and he’s already got a plate full of steak)
By the time Graves leaves to head back for MACUSA, Credence manages to get his tongue under control and holds his hand out, “Nice to meet you, Mister Graves.” And maybe it’s because he’s had lots of time on his own and he’s got a belly full of good food and the sky is blue and he can actually see the sky after so long without, Graves shakes Credence’s hand with both of his and tells him to “Call me Percy.”
Credence is blushing so hard Tina is actually worried and is tempted to pick him up and lay him on the sofa
Graves is on the street and half way to MACUSA when he lets himself grin, so light on his feet he might fly away, and thinks, ‘oh yeah, I’ve still got it’.
Alrighty! This is the third and final part of First Impressions! I spent a long-ass time writing this and went to bed at like 5 AM and then had a bunch of weird dreams about the plot so you’RE WELCOME
Btw I listened to the FBAWTFT soundtrack while I edited this and it may or may not have inspired the last bit. I had a lot of fun with this, and I’m so glad that you guys enjoyed the first two parts! I hope you like the third part too!!
Warnings: This one is fluffy, but there is a LOT of angst. Also, conflict and adult themes. Nothing explicit by any means, just brief references, but if that makes you uncomfortable please proceed with caution!
Prompt: Reader isn’t really the sort of person who believes in romance. She sees marriage as something necessary, practical, but not a matter of the heart. She doesn’t really see the big deal people seem to make over “soulmates” and “true love”, so she plans to marry a reliable man, have a few children, and live in security for the rest of her life with a good job and a sturdy husband. She’s engaged to a dull yet financially secure man, and she’s perfectly comfortable following through with the rest of her plan until she moves into an apartment next to Newt Scamander and her entire world is shifted completely.
Over the next few months, you visited him weekly at least, always with muffins in tow (as they were the only things you seemed to be able to bake properly). More often, you visited him three times a week and the two of you then had dinner together. You had grown used to simply entering his apartment and knocking on his suitcase, and he would open it to invite you down. A lot of the time, the two of you didn’t even converse. You would just wordlessly help him care for the beasts, feeding them and showing them patient affection even when they were being difficult. You were bitten and scratched a few times, especially initially when the creatures were still getting used to an unfamiliar individual in the case. Newt always pulled you over to the shack and sat you down, looking you over like a concerned parent. He would bandage your wounds and rub whatever poultice was necessary on the bite, and then let you go back to caring for the animals. He’d follow you around for a little bit, trying to be inconspicuous but failing magnificently. He felt responsible when he saw you hurt, but after a while both of you learned how to handle it more properly. He got used to having something like an assistant, and you got used to the beasts. He still had a frustrating habit of hovering over you after you were injured, but he stopped fussing so much after a month or so when he realized that you could handle yourself.
You had noticed very early on that he was an extremely introverted individual, and you respected that completely. Comfortable silence was more common than conversation, and you could tell that he appreciated your presence just as much as he appreciated your assistance. Another plus was that you were skilled in writing and grammar, and you proofread his manuscript the best you could so it would look a little better when submitted. He grew more and more accustomed to your company, and you to his. You hadn’t realized how lonely you were, how lonely you had been your entire life. You had associated with a group of friends in school, but genuine friendship and human connection was alien to you. Your friends had been chosen for you, your fiance had been chosen for you, and it was starting to feel like your entire life had been chosen without your input. Newt was the one thing you had that was yours, and it was refreshing. Your father hadn’t chosen for Newt to be your friend, and you didn’t intend to mention Newt to him at all. You knew he would just discourage you, and you were happy. Newt’s friendship made you happy. You had a secret from your father, and that was incredibly thrilling to you: wild, dangerous, and new.
Sometimes, people at work would question you when you slacked at your job. You would often come in exhausted, half awake and running completely on coffee after a long night of poring over Newt’s manuscript. You tended to lose track of time when you were visiting him, but you never really minded. Your fiance showed concern when he came to visit you in your office and caught you napping with your face planted right on your desk, the sticky lipstick you wore to look more professional smudging onto an important document as you snored away. “Are you alright, love?” he had inquired, jolting you out of your slumber. You had snorted in a startled breath as your head snapped up, the document stuck to your lipstick. He had blinked at you, looking surprised. He’d never seen you in such a state, you realized. One of your hands was bandaged from an unpleasant altercation with a beast the night before, your eyes were surely surrounded by dark shadows, and your hair was falling out of its hastily pinned style.
“I’m fine,” you reassured him with a tired smile, pulling the document hastily from your lip and slapping it back onto the desk quickly. “Just had trouble sleeping last night,” it wasn’t a complete lie, as the night before Newt had entrusted you with ten pages of his manuscript for you to bring back to your apartment. you had had SIGNIFICANT trouble putting the manuscript aside and getting to sleep.
His brow had furrowed. “You should talk to one of the mediwizards about that,” he had told you, serious concern etched into his features.
“I might,” you mumbled, offering him an appreciative smile. He had given you a tight nod in response, and then disappeared back to his own office. The more you saw him, the more upsetting the ring on your finger became, and you grew more and more unsure of your–or, more accurately, your father’s–decisions.
You received an owl from your fiance later that night. You opened the tiny parcel it carried and found a potion to help you sleep and a very formal little letter. It was the first proper gift he had ever given you, save the engagement ring.
Each day at the office creeped by slowly, and you had to constantly remind yourself that you were doing an important job for an important organization. Each letter you wrote, each document you previewed, each case you evaluated, that reminder became less and less effective. You spent your days longing to pet the Demiguise, or to read another page of the manuscript. It was all you thought about. You ate lunch with your coworkers and socialized politely, and they seemed to like you well enough, but the conversations were mind-numbingly dull. You started to curse yourself for ever asking to visit the creatures in Newt Scamander’s magical case; If you hadn’t done that, you would have been content in your new job and in your betrothal, but now all you could do was wonder what life would be like if you traveled, if you looked for beasts across the globe, or if you did more than just read papers all day. You wanted to hate Newt for changing your life so drastically, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate your only good friend.
You found yourself exhausted one Friday evening, spilling all your frustrations about your job to Newt on your couch in the odd hours of the night. You were the specific sort of tired where you started to behave as though you were slightly intoxicated, and hot tears started to pour down your cheeks. Newt was unsure what to do at first, but when he offered you an awkward pat on the back you leaned into him, throwing your arms around his waist for a hug as you continued to cry and apologize at the same time into the collar of his jacket. “This is so stupid,” you had muttered, face fixed on your lap as you pulled away, red-eyed and blubbering slightly with each word. “I have a good job, and a loyal fiance, and a very kind best friend,” you glanced at him shyly, and his face flushed. Your ears felt hot. You hadn’t meant to vocalize to him that he was the best friend you had, and you buried your red face in your hands. You felt clingy all of a sudden, bothersome, and you immediately were completely sure that he only kept you around because he pitied you.
Your sudden fears evaporated as he spoke. “It’s not stupid at all,” you peeked through your fingers to see a very serious Newt looking you steadily in the eye, something that you knew to be difficult for him. “You’re unhappy. If you could change how you felt, you would,” his words were slow and the tone seemed to convey that he was thinking very carefully, contemplating each word before he said it. “These things are good things, but maybe they aren’t good for you,” he studied your face for a moment before his gaze dropped back to his lap. “Maybe you need different things to be happy,”
You looked at him thoughtfully, sniffling and fighting back the tears that pricked at your eyes. They weren’t sad this time, rather touched and overwhelmed. He was so kind, and it was startling to see that someone had taken such a genuine interest in your well-being. Was this how friends were supposed to be? Your friends had always been polite and asked if you were alright or listened to you when you were sad or frustrated, but you had never opened up this much to anyone before. You were at a loss for words, and you hoped fervently that your gratitude was conveyed in your watery (e/c) eyes.
One evening, the two of you sat together on the floor of the case, your legs draped across his lap and you each reading a novel in silence. Your back was propped up against the bottom of the Bowtruckle tree, and you smiled as one of the little creatures climbed down onto your shoulder. You stayed as still as you possibly could, watching him out of the corner of your eye. Much to your amusement, he moved out of sight but you could feel the poke of his little legs as he made his way up your ear and settled on your head with a chirp. You didn’t notice Newt’s eyes lingering on you as you chuckled quietly, your novel forgotten as you put your hand up to your head and invited your tiny friend to climb on. You lowered him to eye level with you and studied him thoughtfully, mesmerized by his movements and expressions.
“(y/n)?” Newt spoke softly, and you tore your eyes from to Bowtruckle to look at your friend.
“Hm?” The creature seemed content, and scrambled down your arm to rest on your shoulder. You made a serious effort not to move too suddenly, as you didn’t want to harm or scare the little fellow.
“My novel will be finished soon. Only about a month before I can send it in to the publishers,” he explained, and you beamed.
“Newt, that’s wonderful! All your hard work will finally be published! I’m so proud of you!” you gushed, eyes bright.
He smiled, but dropped his gaze. “I’ll be leaving to continue my research after all of the publishing business is through,” he said gently, and your face fell.
“Oh.” Truthfully, you hadn’t been expecting him to stay forever, but you hadn’t really let it sink in that he would have to leave. Your heart felt heavy. “I’ll miss you.”
His eyes glowed for a moment, and he peeked shyly at you through the messy tassel of hair that hung in his eyes. “I’ll miss you too,” he echoed, and there was silence for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but hesitated, looking incredibly nervous and fidgeting slightly. He shook his hair from his eyes and looked back at his book.
“You’ll write, won’t you?” You ventured hopefully, looking at him expectantly. “Keep me updated on all your fantastic adventures? I’ll be awfully bored without you to bother,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood a little and banish the lump forming in your throat.
“You’re not a bother,” he said quickly, cheeks dusted pink as he glanced back up from his book.
You grinned. “So does that mean you’ll write?”
“Perhaps,” he said, half-teasingly, and your smile faltered.
“The newspapers will probably update me on your adventures before you can, anyway,” you nudged him gently. “You’re an interesting man, Newt Scamander, and I’m sure the press will catch on to that soon,”
The corners of his lips tugged upward at your flattery, but he was quiet for a moment. “I’d prefer to share my stories with you in person. Traveling can get a little lonely, even with all these beasts to keep me company.”
You were suddenly very nervous. You realized what he was implying, and you ducked your head, pretending to be intensely interested in the way the Bowtruckle was climbing back down your arm. You felt Newt’s eyes on your face and your skin grew hot. You couldn’t accompany him on his travels! Why not? a little voice nagged, and you swatted it away mentally. Because I’ve got a stable job and a commitment to my fiance. My father would most certainly not approve, and on top of all that I’d probably just get in Newt’s way. You snapped at the voice, swallowing hard. “You’ll have to come visit, then! Just let me know in advance so I’ll have time to bake some muffins,” you mumbled, struggling to keep your tone even and light-hearted.
“Of course,” he said, and you could hear the disappointment in his tone, but you knew he couldn’t have been surprised at your response. You got to your feet and held the Bowtruckle back up so he could return to his tree.
“I should probably get to bed. I need to rest up for an important meeting tomorrow,” you lied quietly. “Goodnight, Newt,”
“Goodnight,” Newt replied; he didn’t look up from his book as you left the case.
A few weeks later, you and the magizooligist had spent the gloomy Saturday tending to a sick and very grumpy Occamy. You had been too tired to go out for dinner, so you had quickly cooked up another pasta dinner (the wizard way, not the muggle way). You had noticed that Newt was uncomfortable eating meat, and as a result you stuck entirely to preparing vegetarian meals. The easiest of these meals was pasta, and you were in no mood to cook something more complicated. You had spent so much time with the creatures that eating meat felt wrong anyway, so you didn’t mind at all.
To the surprise of you both, there was a knock at the door. You froze for a moment, then got up to answer it, praying to yourself that it was just a confused muggle postman with the wrong address. You swung open the door and blinked up at your fiance in disbelief. You started to panic slightly, but forced a cheery smile and got on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Come in!” you chirped, moving aside to let him through. “I made pasta! I’ll go fetch you a chair,” you said, scurrying over to the living room area to drag over an armchair. You waved your wand to summon a plate, and he smiled at you, sitting down. Newt shrunk down slightly in his seat, looking flustered. Your fiance’s eyes were boring holes in his skin, and Newt smiled awkwardly without making eye contact.
“Who’s this?” Your fiance asked, his tone wavering, forcefully polite.
Newt said nothing, so you cleared your throat and rested your hand on your fiance’s arm. “This is Newt. I mean, Mr. Scamander. He’s my neighbor,” you said nervously, doing your best to gauge his reaction. “Newt, this is my fiance, James,” you said in the most cheerful tone you could muster, and you swore you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife.
Your fiance extended his hand, and Newt took it, looking him briefly in the eyes before dropping his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Scamander,” James said. His voice was dangerously even, and he gave you a quick look of disapproval and confusion.
“Pleasure,” Newt replied. “I’ve heard a lot about you, sir,” he dropped James’s hand, pulling his own back swiftly.
“Really?” your fiance glanced at you again with a tight smile. “I’ve heard nothing about you,”
You fidgeted uncomfortably, refusing to look at either of them. You knew what James must be thinking, and your ears burned with shame even though you hadn’t really done anything wrong. “So, James?” you looked up at him. “What are you here for? A visit, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”
James tore his gaze from Newt and looked at you. His eyes softened a bit, but both men still looked incredibly tense. “I’m here to discuss the dates of the wedding with you,” he said. You adjusted your ring and smiled up at him.
“I can leave if you’re-” Newt mumbled.
“It’s fine,” James insisted quickly. “Finish your spaghetti. (y/n) makes fantastic spaghetti,” he said, patting your hand in an affectionate gesture. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. It was a lie. He’d never had any of your cooking before, and he rarely visited your flat at all, so he’d never really had the opportunity to. He turned back toward you. “(y/n), I know we haven’t set a fixed date yet, but my mother will be in town in a month,” your eyes widened. His mother lived very far away, and you had never communicated with her before aside from a few letters introducing yourself.
“Wow,” was all you could muster.
“She’s staying for a week only, and I’ve asked her to bring my grandmother’s wedding rings. It would be wonderful to have her there for the ceremony, but I wanted to discuss it with you first. You know, just to make sure it isn’t too soon.” He squeezed your hand, and Newt appeared to almost choke on a forkful of spaghetti.
“Oh. Oh my,” you stammered, stomach churning nervously. You didn’t want this, and your heart was racing.
“I really must be going,” Newt stood up and made a quick scramble for the door. He was gone in a moment, and your fiance looked at you, his gaze troubled.
“I don’t think it’s appropriate for a man to be hanging about in young ladies’ apartments at this time of the evening,” he commented, voice low and tone accusatory.
“Newt isn’t trouble, nor is he inappropriate!” you spluttered, taken aback. “He’s just my friend, honestly,”
“Is he the reason you’ve been so tired at work lately?”
Your eyes grew wide and your heart leapt to your throat. “What are you implying?” you snapped, wrenching your hand from his. “James, Newt is my best friend. Do you really think I’d sleep with him behind your back? We’re engaged, for God’s sake!” you fumed. you were hurt, and your tone conveyed that quite effectively. Your vision swam as tears of anger pricked at the corners of your eyes.
To your surprise, James’s eyes softened again and he dropped his gaze, suddenly looking very tired. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I trust you. You aren’t that sort of person, it was…uncalled for of me to accuse you of something so serious,” he sounded genuinely apologetic and your rage melted. Ashamed at your outburst, you set your hand back on the table, but he didn’t make any movement to take it again. “(y/n), are you happy?”
The question caught you completely off guard, and you furrowed your brows, lifting your gaze inquisitively to his. His was steady and somewhat sad, and you felt a pang of guilt. You put your face into your trembling hands.
“I know we don’t talk as often as you’d like, and I won’t pretend we’re close. Regardless, I can tell something’s wrong, (y/n). I admire you, and I think you’d make a fantastic wife, but I don’t want you to marry me if you just feel obligated. I want you to want this too.”
You were surprised. Looking back on it, you hadn’t exactly been good at hiding your stress from him. Walking around the office like a zombie, zoning out all the time, being uninvested in conversations, you hadn’t been subtle by any definition of the word. Your heart sank. You hadn’t intended to hurt him. You realized with a bit of hope that nowhere in that little speech had he said ‘I love you’. Thinking back on it, he had never told you that he loved you. Love had never been a part of your relationship, just mutual respect. You thought he would make a fine husband, and you were convinced for a long time that ‘fine’ was all you needed.
“Listen,” he leaned in, gently coaxing your hands away from your face. “I really hadn’t been expecting you to agree to marry me in a month. I needed to see if my suspicions were right, or if your mood was unrelated to our arrangement,” he explained. “You danced around my questions, (y/n), and if I’m not mistaken you looked terrified. If you want to break our engagement, I understand. It’s alright. There’s no benefit for either of us if we’re trapped in a marriage that you detest. Nothing good can come of that. I don’t fault you for not wanting to commit to this,” he reasoned, making it sound so simple and so obvious that you felt stupid for not telling him sooner.
Tears were spilling from your eyes now, and your bottom lip was trembling violently. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “You are a good man. You just aren’t good for me,” you said quietly, quoting Newt without realizing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, I was so scared,” you murmured, and he traced the side of your face comfortingly with his thumb.
“I forgive you,” he said evenly, and you looked down at your trembling left hand. You pulled the ring off and handed it back to him, and he accepted it, tucking it into his pocket. You couldn’t look away from your hand, which was blissfully bare for the first time since…since the night you met Newt. He got up to leave, but you called after him.
“No matter how I felt about our betrothal, I promise I wasn’t…I wasn’t involved with Mr. Scamander,” you emphasized truthfully. You had never attempted to the boundary of friendship with Newt, and Newt had been a complete gentleman. He turned back to you, looking a little curious but not arguing.
“You’re a good woman, (y/n). You apparently just weren’t good for me.” he echoed your earlier phrase simply. He pressed a kiss to your hair, and then you were alone in your apartment, crying and shaking with complete relief. It washed through your body like a wave, and you sobbed into your hands, feeling bittersweet.
For at least a week, you couldn’t bring yourself to visit Newt after the terribly awkward encounter he had endured with your fiance. Former fiance, you reminded yourself, feeling nervous and pleased at the same time. You quit your job at the Ministry on a whim, and you had absolutely no idea where to go from there. Rent had to be payed, and now you didn’t have a job to supply the necessary funds. You needed something more than the Ministry, but what? You were anxious, you were alone, and you were a little happier, but not much.
You could feel the inevitable panic brewing slowly in your chest, and you decided to do the one thing that never failed to calm you down and help you organize your thoughts: good old fashioned muggle-style baking. You had the pumpkin muffin recipe memorized by now, and you got to work quickly, mixing the dry ingredients and then combining them gradually with the wet. It was calming and it smelled wonderful, and you felt your thoughts wander as you stirred. You felt a pang of unidentifiable emotion as your mind settled on Newt, and you stirred a little more harshly. Soon, the muffins were all baked and ready to be cooled off. You pulled them out of the oven and turned around, dropping the pan with a start as you noticed a familiar figure in the doorway. You were at a complete loss for words, and you hurriedly crouched to pick up the pan. The muffins were, to your relief, completely unharmed.
“What do you have against muffins? You seem awfully determined to maim them, whether by dropping them or tearing them apart,” Newt commented playfully, and you smiled as you set them on the table.
“I’m their god, Newt. I can create and destroy if I so desire,” you joked back, but the air was tense and an awkward silence hung between you. You didn’t care. You were just happy to see Newt again.
He pulled his signature quirked smile, and walked toward you, a novel in hand. “They agreed to publish it,” he explained, rubbing his fingers over the deep red cover. Excitement flickered in your stomach.
“That’s wonderful!” you cried, rushing forward. You held your hand out to touch it, but withdrew cautiously. “May I…?”
“Please do!” He held it out and you took it carefully, handling it as though it was incredibly valuable. “This is only the first copy they bound for me. The rest will be a little better-printed,” he said hastily, but you didn’t hear. You were too busy staring at the pages. Each of his illustrations danced playfully across its respective page, and you grinned. The drawings looked just like the creatures did in person, you observed fondly.
“It’s beautiful,” you gushed, taking your time to study each page before carefully turning to the next.
“I came to give you this copy,” he said, clearing his throat slightly and fussing with his messy hair. “As a thank-you gift for all the muffins you baked me,” his eyes gleamed. “oh, and for helping out with my creatures.”
Tears brimmed in your eyes, but you were careful not to let them fall. You didn’t want to smudge the ink on any of the pages. You looked up at him, unsure how to adequately express your gratitude. This was the best gift you’d ever received. “Newt, this is the first copy, are you sure…? I mean, I…I couldn’t, not after all the hard work you put into this, and all the time you spent going through your notes…” you protested incoherently, incredibly flattered (and flustered as hell). He smiled, but didn’t argue, and you trailed off, clutching the precious gift to your chest.
“I also came to say goodbye,” he admitted gently, not meeting your gaze. Your shoulders drooped, and you felt a heavy weight settling in your stomach. “I don’t need to supervise any more of the publishing process, and my contract with the landlord ends tomorrow.”
You blinked at him, and your hands started to tremble. “Newt…”
“I’ll write, I promise, and I’ll even come to visit you once in a while. I’m terribly sorry I can’t attend your wedding, but congratulations anyway,” he mumbled, still not looking you in the eye.
“Take me with you,” you heard yourself blurt out. The words were off your lips before you’d even processed them, and for once, you didn’t regret what you’d said at all. You had nothing to lose.
He looked up at you, surprised. “(y/n), I-”
“I mean it,” you insisted hastily. “I love… I love the creatures almost as much as you do, Newt, and I’d like nothing better than to go with them. With you,”
“(y/n), your wedding, your job, they’re-”
You set the book down reluctantly. “Gone. They’re out of the picture. James realized I wasn’t happy, we ended on good terms, and I quit my job the day after.” you declared excitedly, wiggling your fingers to display the obvious vacancy where your ring used to glitter. “Newt, I want you. I mean, I want to go with you. If…if you’ll have me,” you finished, straightening your shoulders and standing as tall as you could.
He looked bewildered. “Of course I’ll have you. I’d love to…have you,”
You were both too overwhelmed with information and emotion to take notice of the awkward wording, and you flung yourself forward. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed yourself up on your toes, planting a sloppy, affectionate kiss on his cheek. So that’s what stubble feels like on my cheek! you observed, pulling back slightly but leaving your hands clasped behind his neck. His eyes studied your face for a moment, the proximity almost suffocating as you stared at each other.
You couldn’t tell who initiated it, and to be honest it was probably a team effort, but your lips pressed firmly to his and his hands found the small of your back, pulling you closer, holding you firmly but with care, as though you might break if he held you too tight, but disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough. You pulled away, breathless, and your eyes locked with his. “That was long overdue,” you murmured, breath ghosting across his skin and sending a shiver through his body. “I’m sorry, Newt. You changed my life, honestly, and if I hadn’t met you I’d still be bored out of my mind with every aspect of my life, but I would have had no idea,” You tangled a hand in his hair, and a sharp exhale slipped past his lips, still flushed from the kiss. “I owe you…so much, and you deserved a thousand times better than I have given you these last few months. I’m sorry,” you ducked your head into the collar of his jacket. “I love you,” you mumbled into the scratchy fabric, and as you said it, you realized for the first time how absolutely true it was. You loved Newt Scamander with all of your heart, and for the first time in your life you didn’t give a damn what your father or anyone else would have to say about it. “They say that ignorance is bliss, but they’re so wrong. I didn’t know I was unhappy, but I was unhappy nonetheless, and without you, I never would have known. I never would have…” you trailed off, voice cracking with emotion.
His breath tickled your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I love you too.”
You pulled back to look at him, awe sparkling in your wide eyes and your chest glowing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? It would have made things so much simpler,” you mused, pulling one of your hands back to brush your fingertips over his collar.
He let out a shuddering sigh as you traced his jawline, your gaze trapping him where he was. He couldn’t look away. “Enough of your decisions had been made for you. If you were going to choose to be with me…” his lips tugged upward in a small, amused smile. “that decision needed to be yours, and yours alone,” he cupped your cheek with his trembling hand, his face filled with relief.
You buried your face in his neck and your hands in his hair and he gripped you firmly to his chest as if he was content staying like that forever, closer than you had ever been. For the first time since your very early childhood, you felt secure and happy, at the same time. The happy was pure, undiluted, legitemate, and the security settled around you in the form of his warm embrace. You had, after all this time, found something that was good for you.
The house was comfortably large, and Mr. (l/n) was reclined in his study, reading carefully through a fascinating novel that had just been released. He had never known that there were so many different types of magical beasts out there, and he studied each page with interest. He wondered who in the world would had that much free time on his hands (the answer was Newton Scamander, apparently, he noted as he checked the cover for the author’s name), and why they would feel the need to write it all down. He couldn’t deny that it was fascinating, and he made a mental note to send a copy to his daughter for her upcoming birthday. This novel could be useful information for her to know. Beasts information wasn’t exactly common knowledge, and he reasoned that it could make her appear to be intelligent and cultured to her peers.
He hadn’t heard much from her lately. Her last few letters had been a confusing, rushed mess, and he was sure he must have read them wrong. He knew she had broken the engagement with James, as he had spoken with James himself about that, but he was convinced that she hadn’t ‘quit her job’ and ‘run off to adventure with her new employer’. That was so unlike her, he had reasoned, and she was probably just doing some sort of traveling assignment for her job at the Ministry. Who knew what sort of assignments your line of work might demand.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and he drew his eyes from the novel as his wife opened the door a crack. Her face was aglow and her eyes gleamed, a grin adorning her familiar features. “Oh, (f/f/n), we have some visitors!” She chirped, looking mischievous and excited all at once.
He looked at her expectantly. “Invite them in!”
She opened the door a little wider, and his daughter’s nervous face appeared beside her mother’s.
“(y/n)!” He exclaimed, setting his book down to greet her. She leaped forward to trap him in a bone-crushing hug.
“Hello, father!” She cried, and as she pulled away, he took notice of the changes in her appearance.
Her hair was no longer professionally pinned, and the uncomfortably sticky lipstick was gone. Her face was smudged with dirt, one of her hands was wrapped up in a bandage, and another bandage peeked out of the collar of her white button-up shirt. She wore dusty brown pants, rather than her usual blouse and ankle-length skirt. He was taken aback, but one thing he noticed above all else was that her face was radiant. She was beaming, and her eyes glowed. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was much messier than he had ever seen it, but she looked ecstatic. He had never seen her look so thrilled in all of the years he had known her, which was every year she had been alive.
She kept her hands on his shoulders, studying his face for a reaction, and she bit her lip slightly as his gaze flickered to a man who slouched nervously behind her.
“Father, I’d like you to meet Newt. Newt Scamander.”
Thank you for all the requests! You guys have some really incredible ideas, and I’ve already gotten started on a few of those!
And thank you so much to all of the people who supported this fic! I really appreciate it. This was enormous fun for me to write, and I hope you like reading this as much as I loved writing it. xoxo -Rory
“I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,“ said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They’re working to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a mixture of dark magic and gum disease.”
look i’m not saying voldemort would’ve actually WON if he’d tried seducing harry instead of killing him, but i am saying we have 100% definitive proof that grindelwald was not above using his own sex appeal to entice powerful teenage wizards to the dark side and look how much further that got him