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luminis-infinite:

sssilkworms:

You cannot possess me for I belong to myself,
but while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give

You cannot command me, for I am a free person
but I shall serve you in those ways you require
and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.

I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night
and the eyes into which I smile in the morning.

I pledge to you the first bite from my meat,
and the first drink from my cup.

I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine,
No stranger shall hear our grievances,
for our marriage is sacred between us

This is my wedding vow to you.
This is a marriage of equals.

if you’ve followed my twitter, maybe you remember that LOTR-esque AU I was playing around with a few months ago. uh well I used those character designs for this :’) Came upon these vows (apparently Celtic, but I didn’t do much research) and promptly fell in love with them for Percival and Newt 

SQUEALING

@sparklecryptid

Oaths.
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richmafiason:

percival: my partner must be top of the line, organised, graceful-

newt: my name is ne— (trips over a plant and apologizes to it)

percival:

percival: I want that one.
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hamelin-born:

@hamelin-born​ asked: I feel like worldbuilding - would you be interested in giving me a gramander prompt to expand on?

@funkzpiel​: YES. Hmmmmmm… Newt is actually a Changling that copied Child!Newt’s form when said child died from becoming an Obscurial. Percy ends up in Wonderland and Newt is part of Wonderland in some way. Royalty AU where Character A is King to Be, but taken away/kidnapped/etc etc and Character B is either charged with retrieving them (or stumbles accidentally upon them). ASSASSINS AU. Oh Oh OH Angel AU. Ghost AU. Spy AU. (THROWS AUs AT YOU)

I didn’t expect such an enthusiastic response! But - well. The thing about angel AUs?

“Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.“ - Macbeth, William Shakespeare.

(Also, to anyone reading this, please don’t kill me for what’s probably going to be an extremely fictionalized interpretation of Christian Mythology. Warnings for - I dunno, blasphemy? Maybe torture?)

Keep reading

@aethelar
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I LOVE IT. Newt sensing Percival is his mate, somehow, and fussing all over him because he’s super protective of him and he wants to meet him but Percival won’t wake up. Newt curling into his animagus form - a wolf pup - and strumbling on Percival’s bed to curl up next to him and keep watch in his sleep. Newt, in human form, growling instinctively when humans try to touch Percival and heal him, even if he knows they’re only trying to help. Newt softly caressing Percival’s hair, wishing desperately his mate would return the gesture. Newt starting to build a nest in his case, for them to snuggle together once Percival feels better, hoping Percival will accept him. If only he’d wake up. 
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thegaypumpingthroughyourveins:

aethelar:

Allow me to introduce you to Newt Scamander. He’s tall, quite tall, and he’s a redhead - his hair is all curly and floppy, it’s really quite adorable. He has freckles, a lopsided half-smile, and a tendency to talk with his hands.

He is also, at this particular point in time, covered head to toe in icing sugar.

“Oh god.”

So is the rest of the kitchen.

“Oh god.”

I should also mention, perhaps, that this is day three of Newt’s new job at Kowalski’s Bakery, and up until now he thought it had been going pretty well. He’d mastered the army of cleaning products. He’d discovered that croissants are not, in fact, a half hour job. He’d worked out how to stack the trays in the oven so the bread browned evenly. He’d even produced a passable cup of coffee from the machine out front. What he had not done was to fully realise what would happen when he turned the giant stand mixer on high when it was full of icing sugar and butter.

He now knows that what happens is akin to a large, all encompassing, icing sugar explosion.

“Oh my actual god I’m fired, I’m dead, it’s on the ceiling oh god.”

“Newt?” Jacob called, pushing through the swing door to the kitchen. “How are you getting on with the - oh.”

Newt may or may not have whimpered. It was hard to say.

“Mr Kowalski sir I can - I mean, I’ll clear it up, I’ll - uh - ohgodi’msorryohgod.”

Jacob shakes his head at him with a calming smile, already unbuttoning his cuffs to roll his sleeves. “Don’t worry yourself,” he says, because Jacob is a genuine saint. “You should see some of things I do when my mind wanders. Here, pass us the cloth, would you? I’ll handle this, you watch the counter for a bit. It’s pretty quiet out there at the moment, but let me know if you need anything.”

Newt nods frantically, scrambling for the cleaning cloth and passing it over with perhaps more haste than a terry cloth deserved. He’s halfway out the door to the front before Jacob throws a tea towel at the back of his head, waving a hand at Newt’s sugar-covered face with a meaningful raised eyebrow.

Six minutes later, a mostly sugar-free Newt stands behind the counter. His badge is clipped on (backwards, but on), his hair is at roughly normal levels of disaster, and he has successfully served one of the regulars a cup of tea and a chocolate muffin. Navigated getting change from the till and everything. Whatever it is Jacob went into the kitchen to deal is now being dealt with and glorious baking smells are once again filling the room, and maybe, maybe Newt’s third day will not be the day he gets fired. Maybe.

It’s at this point that Holy Fuck He’s Hot walks into the bakery.

“Morning,” Genuinely Are You Seeing This, He’s Divine says distractedly. “Black coffee please.”

“Would you like a blowjob with that,” Newt says, demonstrating yet again how his brain-to-mouth filter was out to kill him and why he should not be allowed out of the house by himself.

Those Eyebrows Will Kill Me I Swear To God blinks in confusion. “What?”

And Newt, in what is possibly the most embarrassing moment of his entire life, gives a single high pitched laugh, shoves the nearest piece of cake at the man, babbles out: “No coffee, cake on the house, thankyoubye!” and hides under the counter.

Under. The counter.

He can still see Good Grief He Shines His Shoes standing literally three feet away from him, and even his neatly tied shoe laces somehow manage to look perplexed. After a full two minutes and seventeen seconds (Newt counted) The Reason Newt Was Going To Get Fired, For Real This Time shuffles around and leaves. He stops once at the door, maybe looking back, maybe not, maybe if Newt weren’t still wedged under the counter in terror he’d know, then the bell over the door jangles merrily and he leaves.

Newt wriggles out from his hiding place. A quick check that Jacob is still in the kitchen, a tug to resettle his crooked apron, and he’s good to go again. Because that never happened. No sir. Never.



Shame, though. The blowjob would have been spectacular.

I’m fucking crying I can’t stop laughing
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astralgabriel:

gramander & at the beginning by richard marx

unexpected, what you did to my heart
when i lose hope
you were there to remind me
this is the start

click here for a character/ship + song edit

@funkzpiel
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I’m crying tag yourself I’m the Aurors of my god thank you for blessing my night with this 😍😍😍
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baffiet:

Newton never meant to become some type of animal crusader. At first, he was satisfied with just having his newt (wonderful creatures, he swears by it) Pickett. And Titus. And Finn- Oh, and Poppy and Marlow! And Tom! He wouldn’t dare forget Tom. They all were enough of a family for him to be happy. But then he’d ended up finding more, like Norris the Magpie and a couple of stray, malnourished wolves- all wonderful creatures he would rather not bring attention to.

It was about the fifteen animals down the road did he decide that maybe he was just meant to help animals rather than just be an underground chemist with no regard to boundaries.

Which was probably why he was here, at the wealthiest man in the world’s party, trying to scout out the host of the party just to flirt his way upstairs. Not for inapt purposes, of course, but rather to see if it was true that the man had a pet lynx locked away.

Keep reading
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ladyoftheshrimp:

Seraphina: Are you sure?

Percival: Yes.

Seraphina: Are you certain?

Percival: Yes.

Seraphina: Are you of sound mind?

Percival: Yes!

Seraphina: Very well. By the powers vested in me I now pronounce you married.

Newt: Finally.
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gudegudeland:

hamelin-born:

gudegudeland:

I lost the source post that inspired this, has to do with playing off the stereotype of America being the sort of black sheep child of the world and being the one country not under the International Statute of Secrecy

No-majes freely co-existing with full awareness of magicfolk so please consider:

After the big witch hunt, somehow they decided to educate one another and work towards a harmonious society, and so already this removes the biggest cause and motivation for Second Salemers who’d be more of an underground radical hate group rather than the hidden-in-plain-sight operation trying to maliciously expose magicfolk like in canon

This already changes Credence’s role and character since with MACUSA at full liberty to keep a closer eye on the Salemers as they please, he would’ve been rescued much earlier and his magic healed and cultivated before he became an obscurial (yeah, I still orphaned the poor thing)

Percival adopts him, raises him as a protégé of sorts and Seraphina becomes his godmother/Aunt Phina

Legislation-wise, a completely different set of laws that require a little more finesse and cooperation in terms of both political powers deciding limitations as to how involved magic can be and what applies to both or one of them

Taking the Unforgivable Curses for example—would the punishment of getting caught for using them depend on whether the target is no-maj or not? Is it harsher if casted on a no-maj because they are more vulnerable by default of having no magic and would squibs fall under that category as well?

Is Beatrice’s dead mother allowed to live with/haunt her no-maj daughter?

To prevent unfortunate accidents, they enforce a no-magic policy outside of school like Hogwarts to protect minors

With law enforcement, they generally keep their issues separate and deal with them respectively but there exists a special council consisting of both no-maj and wizardfolk to act like judges and juries to handle overlapping cases or particularly heinous crimes

Anyway lots of grey areas, moving on

So, the war—they fight together but discreetly since the other countries aren’t ‘out’ so to speak and wizards/witches don’t explicitly help the no-maj side of the battles but they’d occasionally check up on them to see how they’re doing. When they’re spotted together, the others shrug it off, operating under the collective unspoken agreement not to expose one another (also it’s the middle war, things hardly make sense anymore)

Percival especially does so Jacob, one of his best friends whose bakery he frequents back at home, who joins him for drinks after work, who he introduced to a Miss Queenie Goldstein under his employment. Percival is determined to bring him back to her, alive if not well

Grindelwald can happen or not and if yes, he’d have to come for a different reason since an obscurial no longer exists. Or it does, but as another child. Maybe Modesty can actually be one, slipping under the radar of MACUSA and an unexpected success for the Salemers

Fun part of this would be that thanks to their collaborative newspapers (New York Ghostly Times or whatever), the no-maj would know when he lands on American soil and he’d be too flabbergasted to put up a fight when actual muggles give him wide-eyed looks of recognition before ringing a charmed bell that works sort of like a 911-call to summon aurors

So how about Newt Scamander? Seeing as we already have a canon divergence since even before Grindelwald, he’d honestly just visit to find the puffskein breeder (magical beasts laws may differ in this AU as well)

Cue the introduction scene with a creature causing suspicious unlatching of the suitcase, security guy eyeing it as Newt hands over his passport

But then he reads the ID and face lights up much to Newt’s confusion, only increasing when the man jovially says, “‘Scamander’, is it? Related to War Hero Scamander by any chance?”

“Oh, um, he’s. He’s my brother,” Newt stutters out in shock before he can think then bites his cheek as his mind starts racing Merlin’s beard, I need to obliviate him—

“Great, nice to meet you! Welcome to America, sir. Alright then, you’re good to go. Just head on over to MACUSA and they’ll give you proper accommodations as an honoured guest,” the man says, handing back his passport after making some kind of note. Newt’s mind completely blanks. “Make sure you keep that thing locked up, though; wouldn’t want to be causing trouble your first visit here, right?”

“Right,” he mutters absently, snaps the latch back on his case, realizes as he’s walking away that he even forgot to flick on the muggle switch for it

He tries to remember that he should let MACUSA know they have an unobliviated muggle handling their security at the ports, but his brain is too scrambled by the time he arrives due to too many ‘what did I just see’ moments on the way there

@gudegudeland @auroargraves @fantastikobskurials @thegaypumpingthroughyourveins @funkzpiel

This is AWESOME. Newt’s brain is going to be broken so hard until he gets an explanation - and then he’ll be over the moon. This is everything he never even dreamed of! Magicals and non-magicals living together peacefully; no hiding, no lies, no one lording anything over another, it’s - everything he never knew he could have.

And just think of the American Magical Creatures.

Newt would almost - no, scratch that. Newt literally would cry at the thought of it. His creatures, in nature preserves. With no need to hide. With everyone loving them for the miracles that they are, with laws protecting them, with children growing up dreaming of seeing unicorns and dragons and - Thunderbirds flying freely above cities, feathered serpents coiling peacefully in major rivers, merfolk coming to barter over the morning’s catch with fishermen, this is a beautiful dream and he never never wants to wake up.

Newt has - something like culture shock, at least at first, with everyone treating him as a ‘country cousin’ - understanding that he’s from a different culture, but so damn baffled at why the British Magicals enforce such a ridiculous separation. Newt would be offended, but he’s too flabberghasted and - I think that Graves might fall in love when he watches Newt dare to cast his first tentative spells in public, and sees the smile growing like the rising dawn on the magizoologist’s face.

(On a side note, Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them is a best-seller in the USA. Pretty much every household - no-maj and wizard and any permutation thereof - has a copy.)

WOW THIS IS SUPER CUTE this movie would basically be Newt Scamander in wonderland and it’d be one feel-good scene after another and the audience learns with him how this whole co-existence thing works and it’s just massive world-building while introducing the various creatures as Newt imparts his wisdom and knowledge about them.

And yeah, maybe Percival Graves is his tour guide because he remembers Theseus and the stories about his amazing, creature-loving brother the man told to him who served in the dragon corps. And he tries to be a proper host but every other word that comes out of Newt’s mouth is about how amazing everything is accompanied by the brightest smiles and Percival catches himself smiling back. Newt’s enthusiasm is more contagious than he wants to admit.

The day is long yet short and they need to eat so, Percival also introduces good food as well and it’s just him being nice. But then they talk as they eat and Percival is helplessly drawn by this man’s liveliness and passion, and if his eyes shine that much more, it’s the lighting inside the restaurant. As for Newt, he needs to see more so please, if it’s alright, can Percival spare some more hours in the next week to guide him?

No, Percival should say, because he’s a busy man and he can spare an auror to do that, someone who’d be better at it than him.

“Of course,” he says instead, hiding his own smile behind a cough when Newt beams at him.

@auroargraves @elenothar @gudegudeland @coffeesugarcream

In this scenario, it’s a reciprocal introduction to entirely new aspects of existence - Graves is introducing Newt into a world where he can stand and work magic in the open sun, with no thought or care to whomever might be watching. And Newt - Newt is hesitant at first, caught by the habits of a lifetime.

But then a flock of no-maj children playing nearby recognize him as a wizard (or, at the very least, recognize Director Graves and come running over to say hello) and, upon learning that this man with the funny accent is a foreign wizard, they beg him to do ‘something magical!’. …Newt is helpless to their big, wide eyes and pleading expressions, and - slowly, hesitantly, he gingerly conjures a swarm of glimmering bubbles - 

And Newt’s disbelieving smile lights up his face like the sunrise as the children laugh and scatter, trying to catch the bobbing constructs, and Graves can’t tear his gaze away from that smile.

But Newt - Newt, in turn, helps Graves see - not only the beauty of his creatures, but the beauty of his country all over again. Percival has been - inured, over the years, to a world where the wizards and the non-magicals stride side by side; it’s not a perfect world, but when you tend to see six impossible things before breakfast each day, it’s easy to - to overlook the sheer wonder of it all. And - it’s in Newt’s disbelieving joy that Percival once again realizes how amazing, how incredible his home is.

Newt would have so many questions. And Graves would be happy to answer each and every one of them in turn. And arrange a trip for Newt to visit the dragon reserves with him, he thinks that Newt might like to see them…?
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Dinner Date

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skip-is-tired:

Percival: You’re late.

Newt: You’re stunning.

Percival:

Percival: *Smiles* You’re forgiven.
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funkzpiel:

hamelin-born:

funkzpiel:

acarima:

Young Percival Graves, anyone?  (*ノωノ)

Or Percival Graves with a ‘Benjamin Button’ sort of curse. It’s fine in the beginning. He’s not going to become a child over night, after all. But it’s hard to feel pressure to solve something that makes him feel and look younger every day. And if they solved the issue when he’s at his peak? Oh lord help the aurors, their boss is competent, confident and sizzlingly hot. 

*snicker* @funkzpiel I have the sudden mental image of Percival finding out the cure within the first *month* of being cursed - and deliberately refraining from casting the counter-curse until he’s - well, Newt’s age. They can grow old together.

That is precious and also I think fits his vanity well too, haha.

@funkzpiel

In the meantime, the aurors have to put up with a lot of cold showers and chanting ‘he’s in a committed relationship, he’s in a committed relationship’ to themselves as they adjust to having a smokin’ hot boss.
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funkzpiel:

acarima:

Young Percival Graves, anyone?  (*ノωノ)

Or Percival Graves with a ‘Benjamin Button’ sort of curse. It’s fine in the beginning. He’s not going to become a child over night, after all. But it’s hard to feel pressure to solve something that makes him feel and look younger every day. And if they solved the issue when he’s at his peak? Oh lord help the aurors, their boss is competent, confident and sizzlingly hot. 

*snicker* @funkzpiel I have the sudden mental image of Percival finding out the cure within the first *month* of being cursed - and deliberately refraining from casting the counter-curse until he’s - well, Newt’s age. They can grow old together.
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I had a lot of fun with this prompt! Thanks Nori <3

“Winston! Philip! Barnaby! Enough is enough!” Newt shouts through the room as he walks into the meeting Percival is currently holding with his team regarding the process of securing a specific upcoming event Picquery is going to get part of. “Leave your father alone! He’s working!”

The three teenage dragons look behind them curiously at that, eyeing Newt with happy faces and glints of absolute tenderness. They start squealing a little and curling more into Percival’s lap, whose face is split in such a stellar smile Newt melts right on the spot.

“Look at you, all grown up and shiny and gorgeous,” the older man coos softly. His hand rubs up and down their heads and backs. Their claws thump against his chest as soft squeals burst from them yet again. “But I can’t play now, my loves. Go back with your dad, please?”

Percival pulls himself up as gently as he can, but he still staggers as the dragons try to keep piling up on him. Newt grins a little, comes forward and caresses his husband’s face gently, his golden ring glinting in the low friday sun.

Percival pulls Newt toward him and kisses him long and proper; his fingers find his chest, brush the expanse of tissue stretching over the skin all over it. “You sound like a jackrabbit,” he says, closing his eyes, and Newt chuckles.

“I was worried they made a mess and disturbed the meeting,” the mazoologist murmurs, nuzzling into the other man’s chest, “which is why my heartbeat is a little high.”

He’s so lost in thought — thinking this man is my husband, he is gorgeous, I love him, how did I get so lucky? — that it takes the Director a minute to realize Newton is staring at him; Percival smiles back softly, kisses him briefly before they part.

“Boys, we’re leaving Dad to work,” and Newt reaches out and takes Percival’s hand, interlaces their fingers; the dragons follow, and they exit the room with their teenagers.

“See you tonight,” Percival whispers, and can’t help stopping Newt as he walks out, pressing him quietly against the wall to press kisses to his neck, his nose, his eyelids, his lips. “Love you.”

At the table, Johnson narrows his eyes and a grin blossoms along his mouth. “Do you think Scamander calls him Daddy?”

“I heard you, Johnson!” Percival calls from the other end of the conference room. “You don’t want to know what my husband calls me in private, I assure you!”
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gudegudeland:

trensu:

#but imagine newt#riding a bike through the park with his dog#maybe he’s going work#volunteer or something#maybe he wears jeans and t-shirt another day#imagine percival graves#just moved to the neighbourhood?#just recovered from being kidnapped?#he went to park for a breather#or he takes up jogging#or that bench is a nice reading spot just off the road#imagine him randomly looking up just as newt pedals by#sun shining off his gorgeous hair and face#his smile as bright as the sun itself#it’s an image that stays in his mind long after he goes home#when he’s alone in the dark#in a bed in a room that suffocates him rather than protects#imagine me not going crazy in my tags for once#sigh

@gudegudeland dude your tags!! Percival maybe sort of timed his jogs to coincide with the Beautiful Ginger Bicyclist in a totally not creepy stalker-ish way (like seriously, he’s worked in law enforcement for years, okay, he knows exactly what kind of people exist in the world; His jog coincides e with BGB’s route for only a minute or so and he makes sure never to follow any farther than that). One day, he gets so distracted by him that he stumbles and falls right as BGB rides past him. 

To make matters worse, instead of falling onto the springy soft grass on the side of the path, he manages to trip and fall into the one bench along the whole damn path. He hits his head against the bench hard enough to see stars. At least Beautiful Ginger  Bicyclist didn’t see, he thinks mournfully as he valiantly tries not to pass out from the pain and dizziness. He doesn’t notice the clatter of a bicycle being hastily left behind, nor the playful barks of a dog getting closer.

“Oh dear,” a soft British voice says worriedly, “are you alright, sir? That was a terrible fall!”

Oh, Beautiful Ginger Bicyclist is British, Percival thinks dazedly as he squints through the pain to see the face that has plagued him for weeks. Beautiful British Ginger Bicyclist…
The worried frown grew more pronounced and Graves wanted to say something to make it go away (because such a beautiful face should always be smiling) but while his mouth spit out some words, they didn’t quite sound right to his ears.

“Well that’s not good at all,“ BBGB murmured to himself and Graves wanted to find whatever thing that wasn’t good and shoot it for worrying BBGB. “Sir, I’m afraid my medical expertise is limited to animals only. I believe we should go to see a proper doctor to take care of this.”

No, Percival thinks, no more hospitals. He was finally released just a month ago and he doesn’t want to have to step foot in one for at least a year. And really, at this point, he’s totally fine be left alone to bleed out and die just to save himself from the embarrassment of this encounter. 

“You’ll hardly bleed out, but I can’t in good conscience just leave you here!” BBGB looked at him thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming beautifully in the light. Percival started to get palpitations. Maybe he did need to see a doctor. “Oh, I know! My friend Queenie is an ER nurse. I’m sure she’d take much better care of you than I could and you won’t have to go to a hospital.”

Percival was going to say that he’d much rather stay with him but before he could try to use words again (he’s been having mixed success so far) he gets a lap-ful of squirmy smelly dog.

“Pickett, no! Leave the poor man alone,” BBGB pulls the small dog off of him. Unfortunately, it jostled him enough to exacerbate the headache and dizziness. He sees BBGB fumble a phone before he decided that now would be a good time to rest his eyes, just a moment.

So Percival doesn’t hear his crush call his friend, frantically, “Queenie!! Handsome Jogger is injured! I fix animals, Queenie, I’m not qualified for this!”

OH MY GOSH this got 1000 times better?? So many things I love: Newt is Beautiful Ginger Bicyclist (BGB) later Beautiful British Ginger Bicyclist (BBGB) and Percival is Handsome Jogger (HJ) oh GEEZ they were already eyeing each other and imagining one another, special names and all. This was so cute and such a tease, hinting at Percival’s job and his dislike for hospitals, Newt’s medical expertise limited to animals and his ER nurse friend Queenie. And ahhh Newt’s dog is named Pickett slkdjga;sldk THANK YOU BLESS

“When we suggested that you bravely tackle this infatuation problem of yours, we didn’t mean it literally,” Queenie sighs as Handsome Jogger’s breathing deepens.

The man woke briefly a few minutes ago and seemed alright except for the headache he mentioned. After a quick treatment to stop the bleeding, they prevented him from trying to leave and currently, he has just fallen asleep on the sofa they put him on.

Newt can’t help blushing a little. “It wasn’t me! I would never.”

“Just teasing, honey,” his friend smiles at him. “Anyway, it’s hardly a concussion. A bit of rest will do, maybe something for the headache he’ll likely still have afterwards.”

“Thank you, Queenie,” Newt says sincerely, lightly kissing her cheek. “I owe you one.”

“Not at all. Take all the time you need,” Queenie replies kindly, rising from the floor. She gives Handsome Jogger a considering look. “I can see why you drooled every time you spoke of–”

“Queenie.”

“Alright, alright,” she relents. “Tina won’t be home tonight because she has a night shift. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

“Thank you again,” and he waves as she leaves the room.

Newt sighs, gazing down at the sleeping occupant of the sofa. Indeed, this wasn’t quite how he imagined introducing himself, but he supposes he might never have otherwise. The brief conversation he managed to have with the man only intrigued him further and now that he finally has this opportunity, the wait is almost too much. He unconsciously catalogues the man’s features, noting again how handsome he is.

Newt blinks once, twice, then brings up a finger to swipe under his lip. It’s dry.

See, he doesn’t drool.
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Welp, weekend is nearly over so happy belated St. Patrick’s Day! This became less about the holiday and more about getting together. Sorry! Percival is drunk for some part and you can probably tell by his simplified thoughts but anyway, heads up for drunken antics.

Not that he forgot his Irish roots, but Percival Graves isn’t one for traditions, especially since he has been living alone for some time – birthdays and certain holidays are remembered mainly since someone else will remind him, but ones like St. Patrick’s day make no difference.

Except this year. Four-hundred and seventy-one days after his rescue, his aurors who have worked hard to regain his trust and respect invite him for a night of drinking and what better day than the one for celebrations with alcohol? They reserved a wizarding pub for the department in advance and vow whatever happens this night will stay amongst themselves.

Percival joins them after some thought, and is pleasantly surprised to find his friends from England there as well.

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The bar was dimly lit, lights flickered as the storm raged on. If Percival strained his ears he could just about hear the roar of the waves over the patter of rain. As far as holidays went this was an abysmal one. It had been Seraphina’s idea that he go to the shores of Ireland for a break from everything and everyone. At least she could have organised a portkey to some sunny beach or adventurous jungle, Percival groused to himself as he emptied his glass. The rain was never ending and showed no signs of letting up. There was nothing for it, Percival was going to have to brave the elements to get home. Rising from his stool he nodded to the barkeep and grabbed his coat from the rack.

It was a warm coat, snug and seemed to repel water as he stepped out into the dark. He shifted, the cloth pulled at his shoulder while the bottom dusted his ankles. The rain came thick and heavy so Percival paid no heed to the coat and hurried back to his hotel. Only once in the dry and light of his room did he realise his mistake.

The coat was beautiful but it was a mottled grey rather than his usual black. No wonder the arms felt so tight, it was obviously tailor made for someone taller but more slender than Percival. He wanted to return it but the weather (and a little humiliation at his mistake) made his hesitate. Understandably the owner of the coat would be annoyed by his mistake and perhaps the next day Percival would be able to return it when the weather may have had a sudden change of heart.

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auroargraves:

Percival: Any advice on kissing Newt without resorting to carrying a box around to step on it?

Queenie: Punch him in the gut and when he doubles over, kiss him.

Percival: That’s actually a good idea.

Newt: YOU CAN JUST ASK ME TO LEAN DOWN, PERCIVAL!
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