fantasticbeasts_kinkmeme | Prompt Post #1

v. Graves

He wanted to believe that he hadn’t changed at all.

He held the same job at MACUSA. He read the same newspapers, drank the same coffee, tied his shoelaces in the same zigzag pattern he’d used since he was a child. But the eyes that stared, the voices that whispered, were new. He sometimes wondered who gave people on the street the right to know him better than he knew himself. Who issued them a warrant to search his soul for the villain who had worn his face? Is that really him?

Queenie had barely known Graves before the incident, but in the year that followed he became a close friend to Newt and Credence, and by extension a friend of Queenie’s. He did not trust easily, but he trusted her to bring him coffee when his body burned from the curses that had been hurled at him and his office spun and shrank to the size of a matchbox.

Graves hid himself so well, that when Queenie discovered a pair of pastel pink stockings stuffed behind his wastepaper basket, she could be forgiven for thinking he had found himself a mistress. But there were things he couldn’t hide from her, such as the corset he wore under his shirt squeezing the air from his lungs like the arms of an insistent lover. Or the way the lace of his crimson undergarments caressed his cock until he grew wet like a girl. So he angled his mirror so that his face was out of the reflection and gazed at the work of art he had moulded his body into, one hand rolling a nipple, the other reaching between his thighs to fuck himself with a fountain pen.

Queenie leaned against the oak door, taking a second to bask in his pleasure. She was glad he was finding time to relax.

He grew bolder with each day. He bought a sleeveless silver dress and a pair of heels to match. They hurt his feet, but he relished every blister. Makeup kits took up residence in his desk drawers. They were laced with enchantments to correct facial flaws, softening his jawline, lifting all signs of age and torment from his skin. Freed from the confines of Percival Graves, his heart soared. Back in his cage at work, his thoughts rushed to clubs and speakeasies where he danced on silver feet, drunk on love and giggle water, lustful eyes crawling over his body not because of what he had done but because he was beautiful. Faceless men slid their hands up his thighs, tugged the flimsy straps of his dress down his arms, pushed aside his panties to shove their fingers up his...

Cunt, he said aloud, working the filthy word over his tongue and liking the way it tasted. He fell asleep at his desk for the first time in a decade, carried away on a tide of writhing bodies, fingers and cocks and tongues all worshipping the disguise he had created.

Graves was lining his eyes when Queenie brought him his coffee. He flung the brush away as though it had stung him and cowered with his hands over his one finished eye and plump red lips. “You mustn’t tell,” he babbled. “Please, Miss Goldstein, please, I’ll be ruined…”

“Darling,” she said, stepping closer and putting a hand on his twitching shoulder. “You look absolutely stunning!”

“I swear I’ll never do this again!” He reached for his handkerchief, but she pinned his wrist to the desk.

“You’d murder this beautiful, helpless young lady?” she cried, fanning herself in mock horror. "Percival Graves, don't you dare bring that nasty cloth an inch closer to her face!"

“I’m in no mood for theatrics,” he grumbled, but lowered his hands anyway. He’d made an impressive smoky eye.

“Oh, but you are! You’ve been working too hard. When was the last time you drank something sweeter than coffee? Or listened to some jazz?”

“I don’t know,” Graves admitted, picking up the brush and tucking it into its container.

“Well then,” Queenie leaned in, whispering. “What say you to a girls’ night out?”

oh but this is a TOP contender for my favorite fill on the whole meme and each and every part just makes it better and better!!

Lovely as always! You are excellent at assigning kinks to characters, and this is just overall a fantastic fill - probably my favorite! Everyone is very IC, and Queenie is a complete sweetheart. As for Graves, I think a night out with Queenie might be exactly what he (she? I actually kept wondering if your Graves would rather be a she, or if it really was just a kink) needs. <3 I'm looking forward to the next part, though I'll be sad to see it end.

I just love how you write Queenie so much, I don't want it to end!

OP here - this is beautiful, just like all the others, and I love the exploration of having your identity stolen and being forced into the spotlight versus claiming a wanted identity for your own. I'm also really loving your Queenie's warmth and kindness, and the thought of her and Graves befriending each other in the aftermath of the movie's events. I don't feel like I'm quite as good at expressing how much I love these as I want to be, but they really are amazing.

This continues to be absolutely delightful. Queenie is the fairy godmother of kinks and I love what you did with Graves here.

(I was in the land of no Internet for a while, and coming back to see all your comments really made my day. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. Anyway I meant to write Jacob/Queenie smut but it turned into fluff and h/c whoops idk)

v + i: Queenie

They were lying in that syrupy-sweet zone between lovemaking and sleep, when Queenie nuzzled Jacob's neck and whispered, “I want to put a baby in your belly…”

“Whoa,” he whistled, taking her seriously. “I don’t think we’re ready for a baby yet!”

“I’m just playing, silly!” She batted him on the nose with her finger and he chuckled and caught her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips and crowning it with a chivalrous kiss. His moustache tickled, so she giggled too and nestled against him, the crook of his elbow softer than any pillow and his sleepy thoughts more comforting than any lullaby.

The exchange milled about in Jacob’s head the next morning as he laid out croissants with butter and preserves for their special Sunday breakfast. Queenie made the coffee, looking up to admire the red leather band peeking out from beneath his dressing gown. It had to be the most successful gift she’d ever given him – after taking it for a few spins in the bedroom, he’d taken it to wearing it whenever he was alone with her. It made his thoughts fuzzy and warm.

“Babe,” he finally said as he spread strawberry preserves on his croissant. “You can tell me, you know. If you really want kids. I don’t know how the… the magic part of this works, and I don’t think I’d make a very good mom anyway, but--”

“Aw, sweetie!” Queenie put her hand over his, stroking the burn scar he carried from his very first foray into baking. “I don’t think we’re ready either. I really was just playing around.”

“Playing around?” He lowered his voice, as if people with delicate sensibilities might be listening. “You mean, like we play around with the collar?”

“Yeah, baby. Just like that.” Queenie realised, with a shiver, that she had never before loved another mind enough to reveal her own. Now, in the clear light of day with her thinking properly, this was difficult. This had to be handled properly, precisely, or he’d… he’d…

“You know I like taking care of people.” She felt her face heat up, suddenly feeling small and ridiculous. “So I guess I’ve been thinking, there’s no better way of caring for others than being a dad, you know? I mean of course that ain’t true, moms care just as much, I’m getting all muddled up here…”

“Hey,” Jacob was staring at her as if hooked on every word, his croissant untouched. “You don’t have to try so hard, babe. I just wanna understand, that’s all.”

Deep breath. Queenie grappled for his mind to see what he really thought of her, but her hold slipped and she was left in darkness.

“I-I just think you’d be so pretty and helpless if you were an-- an expecting mom,” she stuttered, her voice breaking as she struggled in a peat bog of embarrassment. “I just wanna do everything for you. Make sure you’re warm and full and well-rested, and rip apart anyone who tries to lay a finger on you.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she dashed them away furiously. “And you’ll be mine, mine forever with my baby inside you, so you can never, ever--”

Leave. The word choked her, burning her throat like hot black tar.

“Oh no, baby.” He was on one knee beside her, wrapping his arms around her, dabbing at her eyes with his handkerchief. “Don’t you cry! I’m such a big ol’ nosy puppy!” She smiled in spite of herself as he tugged on his collar and stuck out his tongue. “I gotta ask questions all the time. That’s just the trouble with me, and I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” She sniffed, feeling like an utter idiot. His golden warmth was back, drying up her tears like the sun after a thunderstorm. “I was just scared, sweetie. Scared you wouldn’t understand, and you’d think I was messed up.”

“Oh, you’re messed up all right. Look, your makeup’s running everywhere. You look like a real wicked witch!” Jacob giggled, suddenly leaning in to rub his nose against hers. how Eskimos kiss, he’d told her the first time he’d done it. “But the thing is, I’m messed up too. So’s Tina, and Newt, and Credence and Mr. Graves. And you hold all of us together. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to any of us, Queenie Goldstein!”

Queenie began to cry properly, but these were a different kind of tears. She cried, washing herself clean in Jacob’s endless love and devotion, cried until she choked and began to laugh like Jacob's wicked witch, and he was laughing too, kissing her everywhere until she was sure she would melt away.

After she had washed her face and they had returned to the abandoned croissants, Jacob pouted at her with an odd glint in his eye.

“I’m hungry,” he whined. “But I’m too tired to move. Junior’s been kicking all night and I couldn’t sleep. Won’t you please feed me, babe?”

She giggled like a little girl, then put on a mask of seriousness.

“Of course I will, darling. I’m here to take care of you forever and ever.” And she picked up his croissant and brought it to his lips, then kissed a strawberry line from his cheek.

Ahhhh this is adorable! Thanks so much for sharing this lovely fic with us :)

OP here.

Anon, you are glorious! I love how Queenie, despite being so confident and open when helping other people and reading their thoughts, finds herself struggling with vulnerability and fear of rejection when it's her turn to share something private and sensitive. That felt very real. And I love how it's Jacob's turn to be the reassuring one, and to take care of her by letting himself be taken care of. All in all, this is a wonderful conclusion to a wonderful series, and you've got a great eye for what makes all these characters tick on a psychological level. Thanks for writing!

This is perfect. <3

Queenie is so sweet, Jacob is so sweet, and Queenie having this link makes so much sense. I love everything about this fic.

A beautiful ending to a beautiful fic. If you post it to AO3, come back and link so I can go and kudos it all over again?

(Cross-dressing!Graves is still my favorite part, but it's a tie with this now - you had me all teary-eyed by the time they ate the friggin' croissants!)

Hey everybody, I'm seriously tickled pink by all your comments. If you want to read it at AO3, here's the link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8829916/chapters/20243950

Prompt Post #1

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