#fbawtfd fanfic

[sanguinescamander]

newt & his kisses

just a bit fluff, gn reader

it wasn't rare for newt to become so absorbed in his work that the rest of the world simply ceased to exist for him; there was only one thing that stood as the exception to that: you. it also wasn't rare for newt to avoid actively seeking out companionship and company during his day to day rituals and routines - most of which centred around his beloved beasts - and once again, the only exception: you. what was, however, a rarity, was newt's utter infatuation with you, an infatuation that had previously only been documented between himself and the menagerie of creatures that frequented his briefcase. everyone in newt's life agreed that you entering it opened up an entirely new side to the man, a side that only you were permitted to explore, and even newt struggled to comprehend and express the depths to which you had infiltrated him and his character. newt had spent many an hour mulling over his besotted vision of you and the importance he placed on his relationship with you, having come to the humble yet vital conclusion that the only way he could wordlessly demonstrate the extent of his love for you was through kissing; to newt, words took up too much space between people and muddled feelings to the point of confusion; with a kiss, he didn't have to painstakingly piece together a confession of love or a decent way on commenting on your beauty. with a kiss, he could approach you with an offering of love at any given time in the day, whether it be a fleeting brush of his lips as he passed you on his way to feed his scutch of mooncalves or kissing your forehead as he placed your plate of dinner down in front of you or in the small hours when his mouth roved languidly over your body, exploring already marked territory. documented are just a few of newt's favourite ways and occasions to kiss you:

newt was precious with the time he spent away from his beasts and yet he always found the time to spend an extra ten minutes in bed with you in the morning. he was the type to wake up instantly at the same time every morning feeling refreshed, never having to set an alarm or force his way out of the sleep-warmed sheets, and you, still caught in sleep, cheeks warm and eyes heavy, offered the most endearing sight newt had ever known. he took it upon himself to coax you from sleep each morning, running his palms up and down the length of your spine, trailing the tips of his fingers along your cheek bones, up your temples and across the plane of your forehead, and, of course, pressing as many kisses to your skin as he could fit. he often hummed lowly to himself as he did so, the mousy curls of his hair, tousled with sleep, offering your skin tiny kisses of its own as he worked. when you were awake enough to respond to his ministrations with kisses of your own, he knew his job was done, offering you a softly spoken 'good morning' with a languid curve of his lips.

on occasion you'd join him in tending to his creatures, trailing him with buckets of food mix or doing inventory to ensure that none of the magical animals had fled the safety of newt's menagerie. this was one of newt's favourite times, when he could watch you converse with his prized beasts and answer all your budding questions regarding them. his two favourite things coming together: you and his work. it opened up a newfound softness within him, not just for you, but for the animals he had become so used to tending to as he watched the delicate attention you gave each of them in turn. sometimes he'd let you take one of the creatures back to the main house with him or out of the case for the night, often the qilin, which had grown to a considerable size. during these days, he'd graze fleeting kisses to your temples whilst passing you a package of bedding or food for the animals, his hand settling briefly on your waist in a ghost's touch. he'd seek you out at the habitat he knew he'd find you in, approaching on light feet to secure his arms around your waist and kiss the back of your head while mumbling about nifflers and marmites. you'd turn around to meet his embrace, your own lips finding the tip of newt's nose and he'd smile bashfully, pulling you closer to him.

newt wasn't really one for pda. he'd rarely stray beyond casual handholding or wrapping his arm around your waist whilst the two of you explored the streets of london shoulder to shoulder. but, like so many other things in his life, you had unknowingly managed to encourage more confidence in the man that exceeded a sureness of magical creatures and their environments. you could recall the first time he had properly kissed you in public with extensive clarity: the way he had turned to you whilst in line at a small local bookshop, his long arm snaking across your lower back to draw you in close, your chest bumping against his and the warmth of his shaky exhale over your face. he was nervous and yet he still closed the distance between the two of you, his lips quickly yet passionately covering yours whilst his free hand located your own to hold in his. he had pulled away with a little smile, bringing your hand to his mouth now and replacing where your lips had been with the skin covering your knuckles. you had gazed at him in awe, stomach reduced to a knot of nervous butterflies as if it were the first kiss you'd ever shared with him. your reaction to it had encouraged him to kiss you brazenly in public a handful more times since that particular incident in the claustrophobic little book store and he would always pull away with a knowing smile, his cheeks as red as your own.

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