adorable pests

A welcome apology

Newt’s niffler plays cupid

Newt x reader

Master list


You rifled through your jewellery box, trying desperately to find your grandmothers necklace, that she had given to you when you were a child.

Your panic stricken eyes, caught sight of something oily black, scurrying into the gap between the wardrobe and the wall, a shiny silver something clutched in its thieving little paws.

Stealthily drawing your wand, and silently summoning the little minx, it reluctantly floated to your open hands, as though it had been subjected to this humiliation once or twice before.


You had an inkling as to where he had come from, your next door neighbour had an affiliation with magical beasts, hippogriffs often roamed his back gardens, which you rather enjoyed watching from time to time.


Having made your decision, you began to make your way down the narrow lane to Mr Scamander’s cottage, chattering away to the irritating if adorable little pest.


Knocking sharply on the yellow painted door, the squirming creature still in your hand.


A rather tall gentleman with wild auburn curls, pulled open the door, and froze when he realized what was in your hands.


“I think this little ray of sunshine might be yours Mr Scamander.’ Your voice dripping with sarcasm.  His freckled cheeks flushed slightly, an embarrassed look on his handsome face.


As he took the niffler from your gentle grip, ‘thank you, I’m so sorry, I do hope he hasn’t caused you any trouble.’ He apologized earnestly, You couldn’t bear to stay annoyed at this sweet gentleman, nor the creature now his expert grasp. A smile twitched at your lips, as you watched him scold the innocent looking beast, as if it were his child, before his expression softened once more, his annoyance giving way to relief that his friend was safe once more.


“I think he might have something of mine in his little pouch there, I didn’t want to hurt him retrieving it.’ He gave you a surprised but grateful smile before tipping the creature upside down, shaking him out like a bed sheet. You were about to stop him, appalled by his cruelty, until you noticed the beast squirming and omitting an almost giggle like sound, as Mr Scamander tickled its rotund belly, a handsome grin etched on his freckle sprinkled cheeks, as all of the shiny trinkets poured out of its pouch like a tap.


Finally satisfied, Mr Scamander rummaged through the sizable pile of items, until he came across your necklace. He picked it up gently, ‘is this what you were looking for?’ he offered, handing you the beautiful piece of jewellery, after he set the creature down in its pile of treasure.


“oh yes thank you.’ Relief clear in your voice, his long rough fingers brushing against yours, as you took the necklace from him, your heart fluttering in your chest.


“would you perhaps like to take tea with me? As an apology for my nifflers appalling behaviour.’ There was a mischievous twinkle in his sea green eyes, that was dissolving what little resolve you had left.


Have a great day and be safe


hosts-of-the-ember  asked:


++ Death gets bored with making out pretty quickly tbh, and ends up with a wandering mouth and harsh bites (please watch out for his teeth those fangs of his a p sharp, he likes biting until you bleed but only the mouth)

Famine likes curling in close, straddles laps and needs hands on him at all times (the back of his neck especially).  he’s the one that twists his hands into hair and kisses until he can barely breathe.  likes licking at the top lip before he pulls away and sucks his own bottom lip during the break.

War doesn’t actually like making out?  She’d rather just skip to the sex part.  She does bite a lot though when she kisses. 

Pest adores it, like Fam he’ll curl in really close.  he nibbles, tiny bites that don’t hurt but give you that thoroughly kissed look by the time he’s done with you.  Likes stroking people’s ears while he’s kissing them.

anonymous asked:

For Holly.Cooking together.
Y/N decided to cook Christmas dinner for the TFW+Gabe. Winchesters went on hunting. Y/N were alone in the kitchen, suddenly the objects in the room began to change places. She knew immediately that it was done by Gabriel.

~In Which Gabriel Is An Adorable Little Pest~

“Deck the halls with salt and hunters, Impa-la-la-la, la-la-la-la,” you sang your parody and then giggled a little bit, checking the oven temperature and turning on the electric mixer. “‘Tis the season to wear jumpers, Impa-la-la-la, la-la-la-la!”

You had the bunker to yourself for the first time in months, and the timing couldn’t have been better. It was only Christmas Eve, but the boys were on their way back home so they would be on time for the dinner they didn’t realize they were returning to. Once they arrived, you would call for your finely-feathered friends.

You dumped some eggs into the mix as the beater continued to stir. Normally you did it by hand, but you wanted the cookie batter to be extra fluffy and blended. The song on the radio changed and you sang the correct lyrics while you skittered around, dramatically drawing an imaginary bow across the strings of an air-violin.

“Greeting cards have all been sent,” you sang, seeking out the flour. You had altered the recipe to make more than one batch at once, and you felt a little more flour would go a long way.

You opened up the thick bag of powdery white and turned your back to it to get a measuring cup. With a quarter cup, you thoughtlessly dipped behind you to scoop up the flour, but when you were about to pour it into the bowl…

You threw it across the kitchen with a screech. Someone was trying to mess up your cookies.

“Watch it, Wings,” you snapped at seemingly thin air. There was only one feasible culprit, and you knew exactly who to blame. “I’ve been sweating my rear off over this stove for the last three hours and I will not hesitate to drown you in raspberry pie filling!”

No response.

Tentatively, you started to sing again, casting wary glares at the utensils while the mixer continued to innocently beat the dough.

“On this Christmas Eve, I wish I were with you…”

Right as you were letting up your paranoia, you reached to pick up a mixing spatula to make sure all of the ingredients were blended. Instead, you picked up a meat thermometer that you knew hadn’t been there. You sighed at the dial and opened the drawer where the thermometer had been. Sure enough, there was the rubber spatula.

“Although right about now I’m not sure I agree with these lyrics,” you grumbled, standing up straight with the spatula in hand.

Warm hands landed on your hips and tugged you back into a warm and solid chest, smelling strongly of mints and caramel.

“I love you, too,” he cooed teasingly.

“This is why I don’t cook with you. You always make it harder than it has to be.”

“Says you,” he retorted. Gabe’s voice was soft and gentle in your ear. “You don’t have to do any of this. I could just-” he mimed snapping his fingers.

“No!” You stubbornly denied. “This is Christmas, and Sam and Dean haven’t relaxed in who knows how long, and Cas has never experienced a real family holiday before, and you have such an ego about Christmas and the Jesus thing that you’re gonna suck it up and like my way of celebrating whether it’s easy for you or not.”

He laughed and pressed his chin down on your shoulder. “Okay, okay,” he relented with amusement. “Show me your tedious human ways, Chef Ramsay.”

“Don’t make me slap you with this spatula.”

~ Holly