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fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme) wrote2016-11-23 07:27 am
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Prompt Post #1
ROUND 1
FUCK IT WE'LL FIGURE OUT SPECIFICS LATER
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2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-04 04:04 pm (UTC)(link)Queenie knows that it’s him, even before she steps out of the dingy pub into the chill of pine-scented air, before she follows the trail of his scent into the dark depth of the woods.
She finds him in a snow-draped clearing, standing at the centre like a stone statue, cold and still and exactly the same as he was years ago when he roamed the halls of MACUSA. Even his suit and coat are the same ones Queenie remembers from memory, black and white with a swirl of grey from the scarf slung loosely around his neck. She almost flinches. This, here, has nothing to do with those glittering fragments of the past that she now hoards like a treasure.
He isn’t looking at her, his face tilted slightly toward the pale December sun, as if scenting the horizon. Queenie steps closes, into the clearing.
“It’s really you,” she whispers, breath misting in the biting cold.
He turns slowly towards her, like a ghost, like a distant memory. “Hello, Queenie,” he says, and it too is a wraith of a voice, all smokes and shadows. It’s as if he’s talking to her from beyond the veil.
The thought sends a cold shiver down her spine, but fear is an old companion by now, tired and stale like regret. She pulls her coat—Tina’s coat—more tightly around her thin frame, and then takes another step, close enough to reach the tangled webs of his mind.
Instead, she finds a fortress of walls, not a crack visible on the smooth granite surface. There is no tendrils of thought, no wisps of memories. He stands there, a corporeal presence, and yet she cannot read him.
Graves watches her, a thin smile on the curve of his lips.
“You couldn’t do that to me ten years ago. What makes you think you’ll be able to now?”
His words carry a taunt, a jibe, but her armour is so thick now, layer upon layer of grief sticking to her skin that she barely feels the sting. Instead, she asks, “How did you know I’m here?”
“You’re an Omega,” he replies, brisk and matter-of-fact. That part of him, at least, has not changed. “No matter how you tried to mask your scent, I could still smell it.”
Queenie tightens her grip around her wand. “Is he here?”
“Close.”
“Are you his puppet now?” She is the armed one, but Percival Graves has never allowed the absence of a wand to encumber him before. Queenie cannot imagine he will now.
“Is that what everyone’s saying?” he asks dryly, sounding almost amused.
“I saw you.” Her voice shakes with emotions, the memory nailed to the insides of her mind, framed by dread. “Three years ago, in Warsaw. I knew it was you. The papers said that Grindelwald liked wearing your face. That he got a kick out of it. That he had your corpse stashed away somewhere for a lifetime supply of Polyjuice potion. But I knew it was you.”
Warsaw was a massacre: almost a hundred dead, the Poland Ministry of Magic left in tatters, No-Majs weeping in front of the city they once had known, now no more than smoking ruins. Eyewitnesses mentioned the presence of a dark-haired wizard, wearing a black coat and a grey scarf, leading Grindelwald’s ruthlessly efficient army. An old picture of Percival Graves earned a nod, every single time.
Not that she needs any confirmation. She was there, under the disguise of a war journalist while in truth she was chasing ghosts, not news. With all her friends either dead or missing, Queenie has little to stop her. (She doesn’t think about Jacob. He’s not a part of her world, and for this, at least, she is grateful, even if she still watches him sometimes, opening his shop every morning. She can almost taste his pastries, crisp layers and sweet peaches and sprinkles of cinnamon sugar.)
And there, in Warsaw, under the falling eaves of a wrecked post office, she saw him, with her own eyes, snuffing the life out of a young, terrified witch with a single flick of his hand.
“Warsaw is unavoidable,” he says quietly, and it’s the lack of everything in his voice, the total disinterest, that breaks the frozen chain of doubt around her. Queenie goes from numb to enraged in the span of one heartbeat. She almost Apparates to where he’s standing, a ghost and an abomination, to claw his face until he bleeds and screams or reveals that he is in fact Grindelwald, playing with her.
She does not. She knows that she will never reach him. Above all, she knows what she will find. This is not Grindelwald.
“Tina’s dead.” Her rage curls into bitterness. Even now, the word still rips a new wound inside her. She doesn’t think that she will ever stop bleeding for her sister. Everyone said that it was an honourable death. An Auror’s death, in the line of duty, a shining example of courage and loyalty. But death is death and at the end of the day, Queenie is still a girl who has lost everyone and everything.
“I heard.” Perhaps his face softens, or his voice, but she cannot bring herself to care. “I’m really sorry.”
“Grindelwald killed her.”
“I know,” he says, and the eyes holding her gaze are steady, dark and unreadable. “But there’s nothing you can do about it now. If you show your face, he’ll only kill you. Or worse.”
“I don’t think I care anymore.”
“Tina wouldn’t want you to do this.”
“Don’t you dare say her–”
Her angry burst is interrupted by a third presence, swirling black smoke condensing into a person. She stares, stunned, as the familiar figure of Newt Scamander materialises next to Graves.
“Percival, he’s coming back. I can sense–”
That is when he notices her, a hurried glance that quickly turns into shock and fright. Queenie can only stare at him, reeling from the slap of betrayal—because this is Newt; Newt who went missing ten years ago; Newt who’s supposed to be dead; Newt whom her sister had never stopped searching for, until the moment of her death. Her ears are ringing, and it takes her a while to notice that it’s the screams of another person’s thoughts, burning in her mind.
If Graves’ mind is an empty stretch of wall, then Newt’s is a riot of sounds and images. Queenie stumbles backward, overwhelmed by the flood of thoughts and memories. With her focus in tatters, she can only make sense of little—but it’s enough.
She raises her eyes, horrified, meeting his wild, distraught gaze.
“Don’t.”
His voice is soft, pleading, but she cannot stop. She is living the last ten years of his life, with Grindelwald, under Grindelwald. She watches through his eyes everything he did, everything he let happen. She sees his reasons (always, for the sake of his loved ones, humans and creatures alike), feels his agony, suffers his torture and pain and anguish like they’re carved into her own flesh.
“Oh Merlin, Newt…”
“I have no choice.” His voice is high and tight, like skirting the edge of hysteria. “He has my creatures. All my children. I can’t leave them in–”
“Newt.” Graves’ tone is an anchor, quiet, grounding. He’s quick to step in between them, an arm around Newt’s waist, a hand on his lower back. Newt is breathing hard but Graves holds him close, protective, foreheads pressed against each other, noses touching.
Queenie doesn’t understand what she sees. Not at first. But when they kiss, mouths finding each other’s as if by instinct, she knows then.
“The two of you,” she chokes out, disbelief and rage blinding her for a moment. Newt was Tina’s, supposed to be, almost, before his sudden disappearance. It almost drove her sister mad with grief. And now, this betrayal.
Newt laughs, a brittle, jagged sound. “The three of us, actually.”
Queenie freezes but her mind lashes out, hungrily reaching out for Newt’s terrifyingly open vault. What she finds make her feel sick to her bones. The hunger. The touches. The fucking. The mind-fucking. The three-way bond. The life bursting with poison and thorns, and none of them can leave.
In some ways, she understands why he looks the way he looks now. More beautiful than she has ever seen, but also colder, harder, like something inside him has forever crystallised. There is a tight, pinched look that wasn’t there before, and the way he carries himself is so different that what’s left of Queenie’s heart aches. Now he knows that mistakes can, will, kill.
“I’m really sorry about Tina.” He sounds lost, miserable, for a moment so much like the old Newt that she almost crosses the distance and takes him into her arms. “I tried my best, but I couldn’t– he wanted me to do something that I– I never thought that he would do this. But he knew that we were close. He knew what Tina meant to me, and then he found her and– I swear I tried to stop him. I promised him everything. I would’ve done anything, but he– she was already dead.”
Queenie thought she knew horror before, but it isn’t until that moment that she knows. She cannot even look at him anymore, let alone into his mind. She would go mad.
“We should go.” Graves breaks the spell, pulling them both back to the stark present. She watches, as if across a great distance, as Newt slowly looks at him. Smiles. Nods.
“Wait.” Queenie hears the word burst out of her throat. She wills her feet to move, if slowly, until her progress is checked by the devastating presence of their bound magic. “Newt,” she tries, the words heavy on her tongue, “you can’t go back to that madman. You can’t keep doing this.”
“I’ve told you why,” he replies softly, almost kindly.
“There must be another way.”
He gives her a small, sad smile. She feels a gentle caress on her cheek, from an unseen hand, and the next moment, he no longer stands in front of her.
She stares at Graves, who is watching her with the same cool disinterest, hands deep in the pockets of his coat.
“You must stop him.”
Something flickers in his expression and it’s ugly and painful and deadly. For a moment, she thinks he will snuff her out, just like he did to that witch in Warsaw. But his hands remain where they are and his face smooths over, back to its stony inscrutability.
“Right now, he’s the only thing that stands between Gellert Grindelwald and the rest of the world,” Graves tells her, “and he knows that.”
And she does too. She saw it in Newt’s mind, but tears spring to her eyes all the same.
“But this is too cruel.”
He doesn’t respond. He looks up instead, at the grey sky, heavy with snow.
“I must go. You too, leave at once. You don’t want him catching your scent.”
Queenie approaches him then; this time, she knows she can reach him. “Promise me at least,” she says fiercely, her fingers digging into his arm, as if desperately seeking for his warmth. “Take care of him. Take care of each other.”
He gives her a long, pointed look, then a quiet snort, before disappearing in wisps of smoke. She can still feel his warmth on her hand, in the valley of her palm, lingering for a moment before it, too, scatters with the next gust of wind.
Queenie turns around and leaves.
Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-04 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-06 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-04 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)I was surprised to get this little bit of history; my home country isn't something people write about in the fics, haha.My hearts is bleeding for Queenie, Graves, and Newt. This story hurts in all good places: Tina is dead, Queenie is without Jacob, Newt and Graves are blackmailed to be with a madman... Perfect. You did amazing job, Anon. Now excuse me, I'm going to cry.
Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-06 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)Thank you for your kind words <3 /sends all the tissue paper
Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-06 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-07 03:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2016-12-31 05:53 am (UTC)(link)Re: 2nd Fill: Grindelwald/Newt/Graves - ABO, dub-con
(Anonymous) 2017-02-01 12:37 am (UTC)(link)So intense and heartbreaking..
I'm curious to know how it all started, it would be a fantastic long fanfic.
Well done