#have crack fluff and salty Graves BYE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

natecchi · 7 years

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Newt giving Percival massage using fancy oils from the other side of the world? Percival had a very long, tiring day at work and seeing how tense he is, Newt asked if Percival wouldn't like a massage - Percival simply melts under Newt's hands.

Oh, this is dangerously bordering on smut, but I’ll leave that for another time *winks*

A bit deviated, because they’re not in an established relationship there, oops. And second oops, have another one-shot lengthy thing.

Graves was dead tired. Not your usual type of tired. He simply had a torturing day at MACUSA’s headquarters that day, and he questioned himself: why didn’t Grindelwald use this type of torture instead of his plain Cruciatus? Because Graves was sure, if Grindelwald gave him tons of paperwork and told him that the American wizarding community depended on how he succeeds, then he’d exhaust himself to the point of dying.

And as if to torture him some more, Seraphina ordered him to check up on the junior aurors, who investigated a banal thievery case. Thing which resulted with a caught niffler, an injured junior, and with Graves’ back almost being broken. Because Cooper didn’t know if you point your wand at a desk and Accio it, then it will fly directly in your face. Even if it happened while trying to stop the niffler.

Graves, naturally, being responsible of his subordinates’ well-being, - Mercy Lewis, give him strength - rushed to get the unfortunate idiot from under the desk, which unceremoniously squashed the guy under itself. It was a massive desk, made of hard wood, and it was heavy as hell. He did try to use wandless magic, even a verbal spell with his wand, but as he will find out moments later, the surprises didn’t finish.

The desk was spelled, the magic didn’t work on it. Graves groaned and used all of his physical strength to get the poor guy out. He had at least three broken ribs and his chest was heavily raising and falling. Obviously he had difficulties with his respiration, so by the time the other newbies ran back and forth after the little thief, Graves took the guy in his hands and apparated them directly to MACUSA’s hospital.

Leaving junior auror Cooper in the care of experienced hands, he went back to his office, back to his new prison cell, back to the pile of never ending documents. He shrugged off his coat and just when he wanted to finally sit, to relax a goddamned second, Tina barged in and Graves let out a sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.

“What is it, Goldstein?“ he hissed at her.

“Mr. Graves, sir, Mr. Scamander wants to talk to you about one of his beasts-“

“Tell him to come in.“ he cut her blabbering by raising a hand.

“Sure.“ she disappeared through the door of his office and after a moment of stretched silence - while he still was standing - a hesitant knock on his door made him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Come in, Scamander.”

“Mr. Graves?“ A ginger head peeked inside and then a full body, wrapped in that blue coat with a case dragged after, made its appearance as well.

“Scamander,“ Graves started carefully, eyeing the slumped shoulders and ducked head of the Brit. He knew it. Somewhere, deep inside, he fucking knew it. “don’t tell me that bloody niffler is yours.“

Newt’s head snapped up “Did you find him? Where is he? You didn’t treat him badly, did you?“

Graves didn’t like that accusatory tone. Like he was evil, and killed or maltreated everyone- every magical beast he crossed paths with.

He clicked his tongue “Scamander, your niffler caused such a disaster, you’ll have to use Reparo over and over for some hours straight.“ Newt ducked his head again, but watched Graves intently from under that messy fringe of his. Graves could feel those eyes burning holes in his chest. “Your niffler was captured, and is safe.“

Newt relaxed visibly “Can I…?“ he asked uncertain.

“Yeah, of course you can. But-“ Graves stopped, eyeing the brown leather case “for Lewis’ sake, Scamander, repair those latches and make sure no one escapes anymore.“

“Oh, s-sure, Mr. Graves, thank you very much.“ Newt beamed, holding onto his case with both hands and ready to dash out any moment.

Graves waved a hand in a dismissing gesture and sat down on his chair.

All the bloody nifflers and spelled desks in the world, what the fuck.

A pain shot right through his spine and he growled. Or yelled. Or started cursing loudly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, because holy shit, the pain dulled all of other senses, shooting through him whenever he moved a goddamn muscle.

Perhaps he was older than he thought of himself.

Newt hurried over, holding his head in those hands and Graves tried to blink the tears out of his eyes before focusing on the man in front of him.

“Mr. Graves, what happened? Mr. Graves, where hurts?“

Graves swatted his hands in annoyance “Scamander,“ he hissed and groaned as another wave of hellish pain washed over him “fuck you.“

He paid no attention to Newt’s baffled look, and continued cursing “You, your bloody niffler, Picquery, Cooper - that imbecile, the freaking spelled desk and my age. Fuck everything.“ he finished and tried to stand up, only to fall back into his chair and howl in pain, this time he was sure.

“Mr. Graves.“

Probably Scamander didn’t understand just how much he suffered, probably he wanted to make him suffer some more-

“Let’s get you home and I’ll take care of… everything.“ Newt said, and when Graves looked at him, glared at him, his glare was met with nothing but determination.

Scamander was determined to kill him completely.

Newt helped him up and Accio’ed his case before grabbing firmly onto his hand.

“Lead the way, Mr. Graves.“ Newt told him and Graves pondered for a moment there, that it was much better to die at home, on his comfortable bed than in this office, in this gigantic pile of papers.

Graves apparated both of them into his appartment and supported himself off a wall. Newt propped him up and dragged into his bedroom. Graves was kind of taken aback by the strength in those hands.

Newt put him carefully on the bed and easing himself out of his coat, vest and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he demanded “Take off your clothes, Mr. Graves.“

Graves sputtered and looked up at him as if Newt grew another head. What the fuck, Scamander?

“Scamander, if you want to kill me, I prefer to die clothed, thank you very much.“

“W-what?“ Newt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “What made you think so, h-how even-?“

“I don’t know.“ Graves said and winced. His body surely wanted him dead, for example.”Because we caught your niffler and all that.“

“That little bugger deserved to be caught, I wanted to catch him myself, but you were faster, I suppose.” Newt explained as his hand worked on Graves’ vest and only when he took it off and started unbuttoning Graves’ shirt, that snapped out of his haze.

“Scamander, what the hell. I’m capable of undressing myself.“ he said and tried to shrug off his shirt. Another wave of pain abused the muscles of his back. He shuddered and grimaced at the feeling.

“Mr. Graves, Percival, please.“ Newt said softly “Let me take care of it. Okay?“

Graves nodded absentminded, and let Newt push him gently onto his bed.

“I’ll be right back in a minute.“ Graves heard Newt say through the increasing pulse beating in his ears. The pain was insufferable. Not as that one caused by the Cruciatus curse, obviously, but really close.

In what seemed to be like eternity, - in fact only two or so minutes - Newt was back and holding a lot of small colorful bottles. He made Graves lie on his stomach, helping him to flip carefully, then poured something on Graves back and after that, Graves legit thought he died, because this was heaven, for sure.

The pain slowly was reduced and Graves could finally breathe properly and not suffocate because of it. He felt Newt’s hands roaming all over his back, rubbing oils into his skin, massaging his sore muscles using just the right amount of pressure.

Another bottle opened and the room was filled with a sweet scent. Graves found himself humming in contentment as his limbs became all mushy.

Newt chuckled and it was such a pretty sound, Graves wanted to hear more of it.

“These were a gift from a tribe in South Africa.“ A thumb traced up and down Graves’ vertebral column “They were really grateful when I treated their chimaera-” Newt stopped himself abruptly and slapped himself mentally for mentioning such a highly illegal and dangerous beast in the presence of an auror, the director of Magical Security himself.

But Graves didn’t really catch that, or better said, didn’t even want to, because thinking of something else while having those hands on him, was a crime itself.

Newt kept rubbing and massaging and Graves lost himself in sensations completely. He drifted off to sleep in the middle of it.

He woke up in the morning to a ginger head pressed closely to his side and Newt Scamander wrapped in a blanket next to him, on his bed, snoring lightly and mumbling something in his sleep.

What did Scamander do in his apartment? Hopefully, he was dressed under his own blanket, because if not, that meant- Graves carefully lifted the blanket off him and gaped. Oh, no.

Newt stirred and opened an eye to look at him. Graves stopped moving.

“Morning, Percival.“

P-Percival??? Since when???

“How is your back? Does it hurt?“

Bloody hell. He wasn’t drunk the previous day, was he?

“N-no.“ Graves stuttered. “Scamander, I mean, Newt.“ he started, clearing his throat. “Did we…?“ he said and gestured suggestively between them.

Newt’s reaction was immediate. His blush expanded up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

“O-of course n-not!“ Newt mumbled, looking away, hiding his eyes “Your back. You hurt your back and I gave you a massage.“

Graves’ eyebrow shot up at that “But how the hell I ended up naked then?“

“Well,“ Newt chewed on his bottom lip “it didn’t limit only to your back?“

“I just hope you didn’t massage my…“ Graves hid his face in an open palm and sighed heavily.

“No, but that can be fixed!“ Completely misunderstanding his words, Newt reached to tug at Graves’ blanket. Holy fuck.

Graves looked up, catching the blanket and threw his pillow at him.

“Get the fuck out, Scamander!“

#gramander #otp: we were inevitable #newt scamander #percival graves #fbawtft #fantastic beasts and where to find them #drabble #firebyfire #have crack fluff and salty Graves BYE

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yelenasdog · 4 years

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bonnie and clyde (billy/4 x fem reader)

genre: angst

summary: there were five people at the funeral of billy jones. why did two, more specifically one, of them leave?

words: 1.3k

warnings: just vv sad my guy. literally no fluff i hate it here </3 mentions of death, billy’s funeral, and crying.

a/n: yo so idk if billy’s last name is jones but i saw someone on here refer to him as billy jones and i think it’s just bc of ben’s last name but anyway LMFAO. i for some reason couldn’t stop thinking abt this and so i wrote it (as one does fkefnkerjn). also y/n was not used so if u wanted to read this as an x another character or x an oc it would work as well. enjoy :)

🌃🌃🌃

There were five people at the funeral of Billy Jones.

This was common knowledge who would listen long enough to hear the vigilante talk about the experience he had only seen from afar, his own heart growing tender during, or at any mention of, the moment.

But Billy always failed to explain the situation with a full grip, to its entire truth. As to why, most anyone could figure out.

He was afraid.

Afraid of getting her hurt, afraid of thinking of her for just a moment too long, afraid of his impulse driving him to get his ass right back up and go say he still loved her.

Four was afraid of a plethora of horrible scenarios that could occur if he let the truth about his funeral slide to anyone except One (which was bad enough that he had to know by default as it was).

And the irony of it all, was how miniscule and ineffective something like who had left his funeral early and as to why, would be to anyone else on the team.

Sure they all had their secrets that would seep into the pool that was their little family, Three’s mother, One’s lover, Two and Three’s infatuation with each other (though, that one wasn’t really a secret).

Not to mention, Four despised painting her in a bad light, allowing others to think for a fraction of a second that she didn’t leave because her already frail heart couldn’t handle to see her beloved’s name etched onto a gray stone in a patchy field of a horrible green, couldn’t handle the idea that their Bonnie and Clyde reminiscent days (minus the killing of 13 people, that is) had come to an end.

There were two people at the funeral of Billy Jones who left early.

The first? An old friend from his hometown.

He was a wealthy businessman now, having abandoned the life of pretty crime and rush of his youth. He showed up to Four’s not-so-celebration of life in an ashen tux with an obsidian tie and shiny oxfords, and barely a minute into the service he had begun checking his shiny Rolex, probably counting down the seconds until he would be considered late to some important meeting for whatever corporate hoax he was a part of to be able to stay afloat. How ironic.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock

The sound was like nails on a chalkboard to her, while the action itself felt like somewhat of a betrayal, even though Billy and the businessman hadn’t talked in years. It was a kind enough gesture that he had even come to begin with.

But she didn’t care.

Because before the service had even started, salty droplets were rolling down her reddened cheeks, dampening her hoodie, his hoodie, that she had coiled so tightly around herself and her limbs, almost like a corset.

So when the businessman turned to go after what could maybe have been a measly few minutes, she could barely control her anger.

But she did, for Billy. She sucked it up and stayed put, keeping her eyes trained to his mother who was now speaking, her striking emerald eyes also obviously wet. But in reality, Billy had wanted his former lover to turn around and smack that prick square in the face.

But then 4 took some time and realized that if it were the other way around and she had been dead, he could conjure in his mind how distressed he would be to where he would prefer to focus on wallowing in his sadness for her and her only, not be consumed by anger for some random fellow.

Billy truly wanted to leave One where he stood, wanted to run to where her shaking was escalating from ever so slightly to violently as could be, wrapping her in his strong arms she already missed. The strong arms that she believed should have kept him safe when he was dangling from that damned building with that damned necklace in his mouth.

The image could have been some renaissance painting with how beautiful he looked, even then, on the brink of what the world would know as the death of Billy Jones.

In fact, most of Billy’s and the girl’s adventures could be different renaissance paintings. Alive and free, bursting with vibrant colors and emotions that weren’t able to be captured with words, so rather, they were thrown on a canvas in what was somehow a meticulously put together flurry.

On that rainy day, the weather so fitting to what she had been feeling, she wished for nothing more than to somehow place herself back into those non-existent paintings, to even for a fraction of a second bask in his never ending love like some sort of oasis.

She wanted to run her fingers through his golden curls one last time, kiss his forehead goodnight one last time, to tell him she loved him more than anything in this universe, one last time.

But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t ever get to.

And her one final chance to say what she wanted him to hear, she had missed out on, as that’s when she had left.

It was long after the uptight man in the fitted suit, long after his crying mother had gone from where she was speaking up front, back to the shadows of her baby’s grim event that she should never have had been alive to see.

She had managed to drag herself halfway up to where his casket was sitting just above the ground, trying to not look at the box a second too long.

Rather, she pretended there was a pair of rose colored glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose, helping her pretend that this was all some big misunderstanding, that Billy was just pulling one of his infamous pranks.

He would pop out from behind the tent covering the few who stood with their feet shifting on the damp soil, or perhaps from the headstone of his very own grave. She would gasp or shriek and then smack his arm, lecturing him as he grabbed his chest, doubling over in laughter, the sound like music to her ears.

God, what she would do to hear that sound one more time.

Nevertheless, in the end he would stand up, and wipe her tears from her sweet face, pressing gentle kisses on either of her cheeks to rid her of that pout he hated to admit he loved. She would crack a small smile and he would punch a celebratory fist in the air at the gesture, leaving her to only shake her head at his antics. He would sling an arm around her shoulders, nustling close to her as they would exit the graveyard, never coming back until the inevitable day they both had lived their happiest and fullest lives together.

He would say “You know you love me.” And without a doubt, every time, she would say “Yeah, I do.”

But not this time.

This time, she would let her eyes wander to a tall tree just over the hill, slimming her puffy eyes. She rubbed them and did a double take, and swore that for a moment she had seen what looked like his figure next to one of someone she had never seen before.

And that’s when she left.

She let out an ugly sob, running as fast as her feet could take her to wherever that wasn’t there, the sound of her shoes against the cold ground muted, but the sound of her uneven breathing was anything but.

As for all she knew, it was her mind playing a cruel, cruel, trick on her. Or even her mind trying to give her some sort of closure to move on.

Whatever it was, though, was simply too much for her to process, too much to handle. So she had left, given up on what she didn’t know was her only chance to give a proper goodbye.

“You think she saw you?”

“I hope so.”

🌃🌃🌃

we vibing w this?? i hope so hehe. WAIT PUN NOT INTENDED LMFAO I DID THAT PERIODT! anyway, have a wonderful day/night, and go drink water and eat protein, it’s all abt intention!! i love u! also if u have any questions abt this fic pls do lmk bc ik some of it was kinda weird!

p.s., pls pls pls reblog this! this is my first ben related fic and ik when it’s ur first fic for a fandom they can flop so it would be very cool if y’all could help me out a lil bit :) either way ily, thank u! kk bye

xx hj

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