fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

Think about it. A case full of magical creatures, Eddies amazing singing voice and his good looks. So imagine the Newts friends or maybe some MACUSA aurors getting in trouble alongside Newt and suddenly he starts singing. Everyone is questioning the British guy's sanity at this point but boom. Suddenly small magical helper creatures start swooping in and saving the day because their mummy/friend Newt is in trouble and he is calling out to them for help!

Honestly I don't know but I would love a fic in which Newt needs to sing in order to get aid from some magical creature/s

+ for OG!Graves/Newt
++ for people being in awe at Newts singing voice

This. Needs. To. Happen.

yes. to everything.

So, this is an old prompt. But, hey, better late than never!
(Btw, english is not my first language. I'm sorry if something sounds weird)

As they were none-too-gently escorted down a creaking flight of stairs, Percival cursed himself for letting Scamander take part in this raid.

Sure, it was solely because of his expertise that they found the smugglers in the first place, but it should've stopped there. If the 'magizoologist' hadn't been present, his aurors and himself could've razed the hideout and cuffed those criminals already. However, they had no choice but to take a more subtle and risky approach lest Scamander turned against them. The man was fully prepared to throw himself in front of their wands if it spared some animal the risk of being hit by an errant spell or a random piece of debris. They were discovered while trying to get the darned beasts out of the way, of course, which led to their present situation.

They were pushed againt the wall of what seemed to be an old, dusty cellar and ordered to sit down. One smuggler tied together the hands and feet of each prisoner with a flick of her wand. Percival's fingers itched for his own, not knowing where it was taken after it was ripped from his unwilling hand. He glared at the criminals until they went up and closed the door, unnerving most of them. It was obvious they were not prepared for the capture of a high-ranking MACUSA officer and were at a loss to know what to do with their impromptu hostages. They were left in the dark, the only light coming from a rather large and uneven gap under the door. Percival tried to look around for something to cut their bindings but, as far as he could see, the cellar was mostly empty.

Against his right arm, he felt Scamander squirm strangely. A look at the man only confused him. He seemed to be scratching the ground with the heels of his boots, only to declare in a delighted whisper meant for himself : « Dirt! Perfect. ».

Perfect was not the word Percival would've used to describe the ground whose moisture was currently seeping through the seat of his pants. It was not a word he would've used to describe any part of their currant situation.

Before he could ask for an explanation, or at least quietude while he tried to find a way to get them all out of there in one piece, Scamander did something even more incomprehensible. He began to sing. The clear and melodious voice took them all by surprise.

« Scamander? » Percival tried to get his attention. He was ignored completely as the man continued his song, some kind of lamentation about chairs, tables and dead people, and squirmed some more at his side. Judging by their whispering, his aurors seemed as perplexed as he was by their ally suddenly bursting into song.

« What is he doing? »
« You think he's gone mad? »
« Wasn't he a bit already? »
« Well, if it means he'll continue to sing like that, I don't mind. »
« I know! His voice is like- »
« Perfect. Yeah. »

Percival couldn't argue that but, as impressive as Scamander's high notes were, they still risked to attract their captors' attention and complicate an escape attempt. « Scamander, stop that right... » The auror never finished this sentence, interrupted by a soft scratching sound and the ground by his feet moving. A tiny, furry, eyeless head erupted. It was then followed by another and both creatures froze, off-white noses just outside of the ground.

« Mr. Graves, I will require your assistance. », Scamander, having stop singing for a second, murmured close to his ear.

« I am not singing. »

« Of course not. False notes would offend them. » the magizoologist answered naturally. « They have an incredible hearing and a love for melody. Their whole communication system is fascinating, really. Did you know that, some times ago, members of the nobility used to train them into recognizing the exact intonations of their entourage in case an assassin- »

« Scamander, get to the point. »

« Oh, yes. They can cut though the ropes. They're quite shy, however. I have dried crickets in my trousers pocket to serve as an encouragement but I can't seem to reach them. »

With no saner alternative, Percival could only sigh and cooperate. He shifted to face away from the other wizard and tried to locate the pocket with his bound hands. Peering over his shoulder didn't help much and it took what would have been in any other situation an immensely inappropriate amount of groping, but he managed. Scamander didn't seem to mind much, too focused on cooing the creatures with what sounded like a lullaby. Pressed together as they were, the man was singing directly into his ear. He hated to admit it to himself, but the soft voice made the experience almost pleasant.

As it turns out there weren't only dried crickets in Scamander's pocket. The auror's fingers were foraging through various stuff the nature of which he could only guess. One of them slipped in a pouch and touched something with a texture eerily similar to raw meat.

« What, in Merlin's name, do you keep in those pants? »

Percival heard the magizoologist sputter and at least one of his aurors snicker.

«Hum. S-snacks, mostly... Well, f-for the creatures, I mean. » explained Scamander who had gone stiff behind him. He didn't pick up the singing again, staying silent as Percival's hand moved against his thigh.

« Ah, got them. » declared the auror a few seconds later. He removed his hand and the crickets from Scamander's possibly salmonella infested pocket. « What now? »

« Just present the crickets to them and... try to look non-threatening. »

« And how exactly am I supposed to look non-threatening? »

« Stay very still an try to look less tall. Actually, lie down close to me. »

That got an actual chuckle out of his men. Percival glared at them, his eyes promising hell if they dared comment anything. He then considered how to best position himself and his crickets. There wasn't a vast array of options. Sighing, he gave up and plopped his head and shoulder on Scamander's lap.

The magizoologist jumped a bit, but was soon all over the little ferret-like tings, trying to befriend them. The others, of course, were madly giggling. Let them laugh now, Percival had enough paperwork on his desk to give them all nightmares. As he waited for the creatures to nibble the crickets, then the ropes, he searched his memory for the worst he could give his still chortling employees. He swore he had somewhere a form to fill with the names of all no-majs obliviated this year, which meant painfully combing through all of the cases records. Perfect.

(I wrote two fics in my life and they were both about guys singing. One more and I'll begin to think I'm developing a fetish...)

I was giggling so hard, your writing is excellent! Newt is Snow White and no one can convince me otherwise.

Adorbs! Bless!

Awesome!

Latecomer to the fill, so I hope you will check the thread again, because I have all the applause for you - this was a delightful read, and I loved the slashy subtext.

I just happened to check it now. Thank you for the kind words!
(Slashy subtext is my jam)

Prompt Post #1

Newt is basically a Disney Princess

Re: Newt is basically a Disney Princess

Re: Newt is basically a Disney Princess

Fill: Perfect

Re: Fill: Perfect

Re: Fill: Perfect

Re: Fill: Perfect

Re: Fill: Perfect

Re: Fill: Perfect