This was originally published on Ao3 on February 2, 2018 and is being included here for the sake of thoroughness.

Warnings: some very slight adult-ish content, and multiple pairings (Newt/Tina, Newt/Queenie, and Newt/Tina/Graves.) Bold titles contain pairing and prompt.

Queenewt: 14.) First kiss.

As far as first kisses went, Newt supposes that it wasn't…all bad.

Queenie giggles as if she knows something he isn't privy to, ducking her head with a bashful smile when he gapes at her before straightening his crooked bowtie, the light press of her fingers making him gulp. Her hand lands on his chest when she nuzzles the tip of his nose with her own, her smile slowly falling away.

"It wasn't–" she begins, only to cut herself off when Newt finally jerks into motion, winding his arm around her waist to pull her forward and in. Queenie bites her lip as he examines her face, seeking and finding permission for a second attempt before tipping their foreheads together.

"If at first, you don't succeed…" Newt mumbles, holding his breath when Queenie lifts her chin, their mouth's a hair's width apart.

"Try, try again," she finishes for him and grins when he nods before closing his eyes, swaying into her.

Queenie slides her arms around his shoulders to catch him, standing on tip-toes. Newt has a bare moment to think, No, not bad at all before she traces the roof of his mouth with her tongue and he can't think at all, his fingers making a mess of her perfect coiffe, her small hands clutching his arms as they sway together.

Queenewt: 2.) In the snow.

Newt isn't expecting an attack from his own quarter, which is why he shrieks like a banshee when snow is deposited down the back of his collar without warning, familiar laughter tinkling in his ears.

He whirls to find Queenie smirking at him, brandishing her wand in mock threat. Mr. Graves and Tina are gleefully washing each other's faces with snow a few feet away, while Theseus and Jacob have constructed a barricade and are using magic to send ice-laden snowballs whizzing through the air.

"You," Newt growls playfully and narrows his eyes.

"Me," Queenie confirms, undeniably smug, and inspects her fingernails through her gloves – at least until he lunges at her, causing her to burst into laughter while nimbly trotting away, the tails of her long skirt taunting him.

They give merry chase through the park, flinging spells, threats, and laughter at each other until a well-timed icing charm causes her to lose her footing. Newt realizes what's going to happen a fraction of a second before it does, and dives forward to catch her, tucking them into a neat roll until they land askew in a snowbank, arms and legs tangled together.

Queenie pops up while Newt is still trying to orient himself, digging a finger into his ear to clear it of snow. "That was fun!" she exclaims, and wiggles happily from her perch on his chest, causing his eyes to widen. He looks away quickly when her brow furrows, only to hold his breath as she leans over him to cup his face, murmuring a gentle warming charm.

"Come on," she breathes, lips tugging into a smile. "I can see what you're thinking, Mr. Scamander. I don't mind, really – but can you save it for later?" She drops a wink before pressing a slow kiss to his lips. "Maybe after our guests have left?"

Newt swallows hard before nodding, wondering precisely which activity he's imagining she wishes to explore while gently cradling her hips to roll them over. He kisses her again, a bit more lingeringly, before making his feet and helping her stand.

A tidy bit of wand-work Vanishes the snow and dries their damp clothing. Queenie blesses him with a radiant grin before tenderly pushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Let's go home," she suggests, and Newt nods agreement and takes her arm as they walk back to their friends.

He smiles over her shoulder when she gathers them together with the promise of hot cocoa and soup in front of the fire, and a breathless cheer goes up before the entire snow-encrusted, giggling lot of them makes the trek up the hill to the manor, holding hands companionably as the sunset colors the snowy landscape in pastel tones of purple and blue, and Queenie's blond halo seems to guide their way.

Newtina: 25.) Sunlight and 32.) Open your eyes.

"Tina."

Warmth behind her eyelids, a soft, diffused light shot through with red-gold.

"Tina."

The voice calls again, and she sighs before scrunching her face up, trying to burrow back into blessed darkness.

A calloused and familiar palm rasps over her shoulder to brush her cheek, forcing her back into the here and now, and this time she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Tina, darling, come on. Open your eyes for me."

Color fills her vision without warning: green and blue and yellow and brighter than it all, a freckled visage beaming down at her, gleaming white teeth on full display.

"There you are," Newt says warmly, and takes her arm to help her sit before rolling onto his haunches, dividing his attention between her and their verdant surroundings.

Tina scrubs her hands over her face, dimly recalling flashes of blue, yellow and green light, the scent of blood and the pain of loss, before–

Nothing. There's nothing there, and she squints at him confusedly while reaching for his hand, threading their fingers together. "Where are we?"

Newt absently strokes the back of her hand. "I'm not sure," he murmurs, but something in his face gives away the lie: his eyes wince momentarily before finding the ground, and he presses his lips together as his grip tighten.

She bites her lips while watching him, something about the memory of green flashes of light making her tense. "Are we dead?" she asks, only half-joking.

He goes very still, the fingers on his other hand clenching around too-perfect strands of grass before he finally looks at her. "I…I think so," he admits and squeezes where they are joined when she holds her breath.

Tina looks around, at the grass and the trees and the seemingly eternal bowl of the sky overhead, and sighs. "It figures," she mumbles, avoiding his eyes. "We die, and we end up in a field. This is all your fault."

Newt snorts, and she looks up sharply to find him smirking, his eyes alight. "Not necessarily a field," he argues. "I would say this looks more like a…a garden. A proper English garden, at that."

She laughs at the quip, feeling suddenly light and carefree. "Maybe it's the Garden of Eden," she muses and stands to dust off her slacks before reclaiming his hand, squeezing reassuringly. "Well, no sense in sitting around here. What is it you always say? That unknown territory should be charted?"

"Something like that," Newt agrees easily and stares off into the distance, his eyes as blue as the sky. "Looks as though there's a horizon just that way. What do you say we walk there?"

Tina rests her head on his shoulder for a moment, basking in his presence, before smiling. "I'm willing to walk anywhere, for as long as it takes," she murmurs and kisses his cheek. "So long as it's with you."

"There may come a time when you regret those words," Newt teases before leaning in for a proper kiss, drawing it out until they part to grin at each other. "Now come on, we've got a lot of ground to cover. Let's get moving, love."

The familiar thrill of adventure fills her chest, and Tina nods eagerly before bouncing on her toes. "Lead the way," she tells him and matches him step-for-step as they walk into the blue beyond.

Goldgramander: 1.) Chocolate and 2.) In the snow.

(Note: this is set in the same Goldgramander AU universe as "The Sator Square.")

"Do you want a Kiss?"

Percival looks up to find Newt watching him, laughter lines bracketing his eyes as he offers a distinctively shaped, foil-wrapped chocolate. Between them, Tina cranes her neck to catch a snowflake on her tongue before laying her head on Newt's chest.

"That was such a lousy pun," she smirks, laying a finger on Newt's lips when he predictably opens his mouth to correct her. Abashed, he smiles and lowers his eyes, only to hum into her forgiving kiss.

Percival turns onto his side to slide an arm around Tina's waist while threading his hand through Newt's birds-nest hair. "Bad jokes aside," he murmurs, twining a coarse curl around his finger and marveling at the snowflakes stuck in the other man's eyelashes, "I wouldn't mind a kiss – but I want the real thing. No substitutes."

"American chocolate is shit, anyway," Newt sniffs, only to hastily peel off the foil wrapper when Tina voices an affronted squawk, shoving it into her mouth to muffle her protests and earning a laughing eye roll.

Percival chuckles before going to his elbow, bracing against the dusting of snow and leaning over Tina's head. Newt meets him halfway and they kiss until nature interjects in the form of a gust of wind, tossing snow into their faces.

They part with a sigh to find Tina watching them both, a high, speculative gleam in her eyes.

"We don't have to pick up the kids for a few hours–" she begins, sounding distinctly eager.

"–and the snow has pretty much stopped–" Newt adds, climbing to his feet in a hurried tangle of limbs before helping Tina up.

"–so we really should take advantage of it," Percival finishes, and puts his arms around their shoulders to lead them toward the house on the hill, a delighted skip in his step.

Newtina: 14.) First kiss and 45.) Under the influence.

Newt is drunk.

He knows he's drunk because he can no longer feel his toes, or most of his body, really, and his vision has been reduced to a colorful, fuzzy blur. His ears roar, his tongue feels too thick for his mouth and tastes like dragon dung, and the cloying scent of the MACUSA ballroom is enough to make his head spin worse than it already is, causing his stomach to churn–

–all of which ceases to matter when suddenly, there's a Tina in his arms, the Tina, his Tina, and she's smiling up at him in the way only she can: as if he is her light and life, the center of her universe, her everything.

Newt has the fleeting desire to fall to his knees in supplication, convinced he is unworthy of her benediction until she lays a cool hand on his chest and he realizes she's almost as bad off as he is.

"I think somebody spiked the punch," she slurs, and Newt begins to giggle at her words, delighting in the softness of her s, the way she drops her u's and rolls the p.

"Stop that," she admonishes but Tina's laughing too, nearly bent double until she abruptly straightens to slide unsteady arms around his neck, squinting at his face.

"Newt, how come your eyes are never the same color?"

He swallows his nerves and fumbles for a coherent answer, only to gasp when Tina sways into him, her eyes drifting closed.

The static in Newt's head coalesces into stars bursting behind his eyes, shivering in delight with their first kiss – at least until he's forced to steady Tina when she lurches to the side, breaking off contact as she slumps in his arms.

Her head rolls heavily against his shoulder when he catches her on instinct, his shoddy equilibrium nearly causing them to fall until he shakes his head clear and stumbles back a few steps to slide down the wall, allowing a groaning Tina to crumple over his lap.

"Bugger," he says with feeling, and scrubs a hand over his face before signaling to a wobbly-looking Percival Graves and gathering Tina close to soothingly stroke her hair.

Newtina: 14.) First kiss and 20.) Breaking the rules.

"This is against the rules, you know."

Newt looks down at her, eyes alight as he runs an intentionally teasing hand the length of her thigh.

"Is it?" he asks, as blandly as if he were commenting on the weather.

Tina catches his wrist, intending to put a halt to his goading. Instead, she finds herself urging his hand toward the inner curve of her thigh, breath hitching when he instinctively sways toward her.

"Oh yes," she manages, catching his eyes as she slides her fingers into his hair. The smirk slips off his face, watching her intently. "Definitely against the rules."

"I've never held much regard to rules," Newt muses, and leans in – close enough for her to smell the anise on his breath, to count the freckles on his cheeks. "I find that they rather put a damper on things. Don't you agree?"

"I have no idea," Tina breathes, mind going blank when the hard line of his body meets hers. "I just – I think – um."

"Take, for instance, this unspoken rule between us," Newt continues implacably, pressing his nose into her hair, just behind her ear. She clutches at his shoulders with a little whine, closing her eyes when his lips curl against her skin. "We haven't even shared a kiss, and yet…you've bewitched me. Body and soul."

Tina shivers, an atavistic response to his heady tone. Newt lifts his head to look at her, his eyes gently amazed when he sweeps his thumb along her bottom lip. "Seems I've rendered you speechless," he murmurs with a fond smile. "I think I shall have to note this day on the calendar."

"You really want to talk about calendars right now?" Tina gasps incredulously.

"No," Newt breathes and cradles her face in both hands before closing the gap between them.

Newtina: 102.) "You're the only person I wanted to be with tonight" and 73.) "I can tell you're lying."

"I can tell you're lying."

Newt looks up from his battered copy of Seeker Weekly, feigning ignorance when Tina leans against the mantle, her wand held loosely between her fingers. "Excuse me?"

"You give yourself away when you pick at your knuckles," she says, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "Also, your voice changes. Gets deeper, which is unusual for men. They tend to get squeakier when they're not being truthful."

"So, do women's voices get lower then?" he asks drolly, and Tina allows herself a laugh.

"Something like that," she concedes after a moment, chewing her lip before crossing the room and depositing herself at his side. "Now. Do you want to try telling me what's on your mind again, without lying?"

Newt grimaces at her from over his magazine and looks away. "The evening was going so well, too," he mumbles before puffing out his cheeks and exhaling loudly. Tina waits patiently, watching as he visibly gathers his resolve before saying, all in a rush, "I wanted to ask you to stay with me. Tonight, I mean."

Tina feels her eyebrows climb over her forehead. "You want me to spend the night with you?"

Newt's wide eyes meet her own as a flush infuses his cheeks. "Yes," he says, voice cracking when he sets aside the periodical to take her hand. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

She squeezes his fingers before covering his hand with her own, feeling him tense at the contact. "Are you ready for that?" she asks softly. "Spending the night together is a pretty big step. I don't mind, but won't the neighbors gossip when they see a woman leaving your apartment in the morning?" Newt sucks in a quick breath, preparing to argue, and Tina smirks. "Besides, I'm sure you have women lining up at your door now — wouldn't you rather ask one of them?"

Newt dips his head modestly, his fingers calloused but gentle against hers. "You're the only woman I want to be with tonight," he admits in a low voice before kissing her knuckles. "You're the only woman I want to be with ever."

Tina's breath sticks in her throat, sudden emotion pricking her eyes. "Oh," she manages weakly. Newt wordlessly passes over his handkerchief, focusing on the intricately patterned rug as she dabs away her tears and fans her overheated face until she is composed.

"Well, when you put it that way, I really don't want to refuse!" Tina says once she's feeling better, gaining her feet with a watery smile when Newt scrambles after her. "I'll stay, as long as you don't mind loaning me some pajamas. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I left the hotel this morning."

Newt's answering smile is bright enough to light up the room. "Yes, of course," he murmurs and kisses her lightly before steering them toward the stairs that lead to the upper level of the cottage.

Newtina: 8.) "But your mom hates me!"

Tina shifts to alleviate the uncomfortable ache in her back before lacing her fingers over her stomach.

"Tell me again why you have to be the one to go?" she asks his reflection, not really expecting an answer.

Newt meets her eye in the mirror where he's combing his overlong hair, face arranged into a sympathetic expression. "Because they don't trust anyone else to handle this situation with the delicacy it requires," he says before turning to her. "Except for the world's foremost expert in draconology and magizoology, which happens to be me."

He sighs and starts across the room, perching on the edge of their bed. "Believe me, I don't want to go either."

His hands are as warm and calloused as ever when he brushes them over her shoulders before pulling her into a one-armed hug. Tina goes willingly, inhaling his spicy scent and closing her eyes to memorizing the feel of his pulse against her forehead.

"If you leave, who's gonna bring me pickled herring when I'm craving it?"

Newt chuckles low in her ear before nuzzling her hair. "My mother is on her way here now, Tina. I'm sure she'll be more than willing to take care of you and fetch whatever you need." He touches the proud island of her stomach through her thin nightgown, smiling a little when his tentative query is met with a flurry of excited movement. "Especially now that we've secured her a grandchild to spoil."

"But your mom hates me," Tina tells him with flat certainty, frowning when he snorted a laugh before kissing her cheek.

"My mother hates many people and many things," Newt reassures her as he stands, "but you, my love, are not one of them. She loves you, she's just not always good at expressing it." He tips his head to the side to smile at her softly before cupping her cheek. "I'm going to miss you, but it's only for a few days, and that dragon isn't going to relocate itself. I'll be back before you even know I'm gone."

Tina wrinkles her nose at him. "Doubtful," she grumbles, only to laugh against his lips when he kisses her before sliding her fingers through his hair, musing up his careful work. "Hurry back to us. Otherwise, little Squid here may want to put in an appearance without you."

"Release the Kraken!" Newt intones in a somber voice before stroking her belly with infinite gentleness. "Be good to your Mummy," he tells it, kissing her protruding navel with a twinkle in his eye. "Otherwise, I'm quite certain I'll never hear the end of it."

Tina giggles again, only to groan when a warning tingle goes through her midsection. "Oh, don't make me laugh," she laments, clutching her stomach when a tiny foot digs into her bladder. "I only just got comfortable, I don't want to have to visit the toilet again."

Newt straightens to his full height before dropping her a wink. "Right," he intones crisply and shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm off, then." She looks up at him and he meets her eyes before saying, softer but with an unmistakable depth of meaning: "I love you, Tina."

She reaches for his arm and squeezes it before letting go, pouring every ounce of confidence she can muster into her answering smile. "I love you too," she promises. "Now go get the job done and hurry home to us. We're on a timer, here!"

Her husband sketches off a smart salute before turning on his heel and marching from the room. Tina watches him go with a proud smile, listening to him murmur soothingly to his case before opening the door at a brisk knock, admitting her mother-in-law.

"Newton!" the venerable Mrs. Scamander cries, and Tina winces before fluffing the pillows and wishing, not for the first time, that she had taken Newt up on his half-joking offer of a chamber pot.

It was sure to be a long few days.

Queenewt: 44.) Puppy Love.

Newt returns to New York in the full flush of summer, bearing a book for Tina, a single white rose for Queenie, and a mind full of turmoil.

Queenie doesn't sense these emotional upheavals until later, of course, because Newt is easier to read the longer she's around him. So when he presents the rose to her, cheeks flushed and lips pressed into a solemn line, Queenie thanks him with a coy giggle before squeezing his arm, thinking nothing of it.

He flushes an even deeper shade of red at the contact, and she catches the first hint of doubt from him before he turns to Tina, haltingly telling her how wonderful it is to see her again.

Queenie watches them over dinner, noting happily that her sister is positively radiant beneath his attention. Newt is almost as bright when he looks at Tina, the downcast turn of his eyes barely concealing their warmth — a warmth that is only diminished slightly when he flashes Queenie a nervous smile and looks away.

Intrigued, Queenie digs very carefully through his frustrating accent, keeping a familiar finger on the pulse of Tina's emotions, and has a much better understanding of things by the time they are cleaning up dessert. Newt bids them a rather stilted farewell, and thanks to her digging, she is prepared for it when Tina finally confronts her, dark eyes in stark contrast to her strained, too-pale face as she tells Queenie that she won't get in their way.

"Oh, honey — no," Queenie sighs, setting aside her pattern book to take Tina into her arms. Tina resists at first, stiffly clinging to her bruised pride until Queenie runs her fingers through her hair, humming soothingly. Then her sister folds into the embrace, a few tears squeezing out from beneath her eyelashes.

"You didn't see the way he was looking at you," Tina says — a rather stupid comment in Queenie's opinion since she could see past the exterior and straight through to the heart of the matter.

"I think it's you who wasn't really seein'," she argues gently, releasing Tina and talking over her when she stiffens and opens her mouth to argue. "He was watching us both but Teenie, it's you he wants. He hasn't figured it all out yet, but I know it's true."

Tina sniffles and scrubs her cheek with her sleeve. "Then why the Mooncalf eyes?" she asks bitterly. "I'm sorry, but I really don't think he'd look at you like that if he was only interested in me."

Queenie sighs and drops her hands. "You're only seein' what you want to see," she points out gently, but the words fall on deaf ears when Tina scoffs and retreats into the bedroom, the door snapping shut between.

Newt seeks Queenie out at work a few days later, stiffly inviting her to lunch. He asks her to choose a place by dint of his ignorance to New York in general, so they go to her favorite deli, claiming a corner table and casting a discreet Notice-Me-Not charm before tucking into their food.

"I'm sorry," Newt says abruptly after he's made short work of his stuffed cabbage, shredding his napkin and looking anywhere but at her.

Queenie sets down her fork and pushes aside her salad before looking at him "You're gonna have to be a lot more specific than that, honey. You know I can't read you very well."

"I think you can read me better than you let on," Newt says, meeting her eyes for the first time before looking away. "But if you insist, I'll say it aloud: I'm sorry for causing you and Tina to have a row. That wasn't my intention."

His hands curl into helpless fists, and he frowns at them before admitting in a hoarse whisper, "I truly thought coming back here would be easier. I had no idea that it would…"

"It all kinda got away from you, didn't it?" Queenie muses, reaching across the table to take his hands. He stares at where they are connected with wide eyes before nodding, a flush crawling over his neck.

She squeezes his fingers before letting them go to cross her arms, fixing him with a pointed but gentle look. "You and I would never be happy together, Newt," she says softly, and knows he has taken her meeting when his face pales and he closes his eyes. She pats his scarred knuckles in forgiveness, smiling when the whirl of his thoughts settle into a familiar, pragmatic pattern. "Not like you and Tina will. You like me because you like the thought of me, but Newt… you love her. I don't need to be able to read your mind to see that."

"Is it really that easy?" he asks ironically before opening his eyes. I've been a terrible fool, haven't I?

His distress comes through loud and true, and Queenie offers him an indulgent smile. "Nah. You've just been in love and love makes fools of us all. Now go get your girl, she's waitin' for ya."

Newt jumps to his feet with a clatter, holding his case in a white-knuckled grip as he looks down at her. "I — thank you, Queenie." He moves to her side before ducking his head to quickly kiss her cheek, the ticklish brush of his stubble making her giggle. She waves him away, turning to watch him dip and weave his way through the tables before nearly running down the street, leaving a happy glow in his wake.

Queenie squares the bill without complaint and takes off for MACUSA with a renewed skip in her step.

Newtina: "Well, that was unexpected!"

"What on earth is going on?!"

Newt blinks at Tina before lowering his wand, looking around at the shambles of his shed with stunned survivors eyes. Noxious-looking pink slime is splattered all over his clothing and in his hair, a product of the twisted and charred remains of the cauldron belching smoke behind him.

Tina steps further into the shed while drawing her wand, carefully keeping an eye out for signs of injury or shock.

"Well. That was unexpected," Newt comments while flicking slime off the tips of his fingers. "I knew I should have halved the quantity of runespoor venom!" His voice has a peculiar echoey quality as if his ears are ringing when he cuffs them with a frown before turning to scribble a note.

Discerning no immediate threat, Tina snorts a laugh while Vanishing the smoke and setting the room to rights. She warily eyes the cauldron, which is slowly slumping into itself, before Summoning a change of clothing for Newt, smoothly slipping into the facade of an Auror. "Do you want to tell me what happened in here?"

"Er — a potions experiment gone wrong, I suppose you could say," Newt explains meekly, nodding his thanks while accepting the bundle from her. He lowers his braces with no hint of self-consciousness and shrugs out of his soiled shirt before using it to scrub the ichor from his hair, pulling a face at the texture. "It's one of the hazards of the job."

"And here I thought I'd only have to worry about you getting eaten, stung, bitten or trampled," Tina reflects dryly, trying very hard not to stare at the lean, long figure he cuts when he strips to the skin and casts a series of cleaning charms before pulling on fresh clothes. "You didn't tell me that you could possibly blow yourself up!"

"Um. I'm sorry?" Newt offers, only to grin when Tina charms away the ringing in his ears before sliding her arms around him, fingering the lacey pattern of scars dotting his shoulders.

"You are forgiven," she tells him with a small kiss. "Just don't let it happen again."

"I'll try my best," he agrees softly before leaning his forehead against hers.

Newtina, 10.) "Not wearing that!"

Newt looks at the garment clutched in Tina's hand before shaking his head.

"I'm not wearing that," he tells her, jaw set obstinately.

Tina takes a deep breath to restrain the urge to wrestle him into the hospital gown. "You have to wear it, though," she says as gently as she can manage. He snorts, and she strives to modulate her tone as irritation rises, clogging her throat. "You need to have this done, Newt, and they need access to all of you to do it. The easiest way to accomplish that is to put on the gown." The last bit comes out harsher than she intended, but she refuses to apologize for it even when he looks at her with wide, hurt eyes.

"I could just—" he begins, obviously floundering.

"Your casual attitude about nudity doesn't apply here," Tina cuts him off flatly while shoving the wad of fabric toward him. "This is a hospital, Newt. It's not your case."

Newt is still watching her with wounded eyes, a defeated slouch to his posture. Empathy for his obvious distress curls in her chest, almost against her will, and Tina touches his shoulder — ignoring his slight wince of pain — before taking his hand.

"I just want you to get better," she says softly.

He presses out a slow sigh through his nose before closing his eyes. "I don't like the way they feel against my skin," he admits in a hoarse voice, and Tina is alarmed to see tears gathering beneath his eyelashes. "It's like wearing sandpaper."

Oh.

Sudden understanding makes Tina wilt, the impact of her persistence on him rocking her like a physical blow. She puts her head in her hands before scrubbing them over her face, cheeks heating in pained self-reproach.

"I am so sorry," she says in a low voice. "I didn't realize. I forgot—"

Newt reclaims her hand while showing a watery smile. "It's alright," he says, always willing to forgive even when her impulsive nature renders her blind to the fact that he is different in small but profound ways.

"It's not," she argues softly and kisses the edge of his jaw before flinging the unsuitable hospital gown onto a corner, already formulating a tactical plan of action. "I should have realized sooner but at least now, I think I can help you."

He ducks his head bashfully, restless fingers twisting in the flat seam of his waistcoat. "What are you thinking?"

"Strip," she says simply, and offers him an impish smile when he gulps before reaching for his buttons. "We can transfigure your shirt into a gown," she explains while taking his bowtie and folding it neatly. "That way, they can reach all of you but it'll still feel familiar so you won't be uncomfortable."

Newt unsnaps his braces before pausing and leaning in, brushing his lips against her cheek. "You clever witch," he murmurs. "I knew there was a reason I married you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Tina says dryly, but can't quite suppress the pleased thrill she gets when he gestures for her to help him peel off his layers before pointing her wand at his wash-softened shirt.

Want one of your own? Come find me on Tumblr at katiehavok, if that's your thing.