Newt Scamander x Reader One Shots

The Sparkling Diamond

This has female pronouns, but if anyone wants I can publish a version with male pronouns (nonbinary might be hard but I could do that too if anyone wants!). Also, the song mentioned is "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" from Moulin Rouge (the full film version). Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: slight mention of abuse

~~~

"Tina said that this was the best speakeasy in New York. I don't know how reliable that is, though, given the number of speakeasies Tina's been to..." Newt murmured, holding his glass of water close to his chest.

"Hey! Less talking, more walking. We're going to miss the show!" Queenie scolded, pushing her way through the smoke-filled bar to find a table.

Newt winced as he bumped into a small goblin. "Well, we have to wait for Jacob and Tina anyways-"

"I've heard their best performer is going to be playing tonight. They call her the Sparkling Diamond- so beautiful and talented it's been rumored that some men have gone mad trying to win her heart. We cannot miss this."

The lights flickered twice and the couples milling around the bar began to take seats at some of the tables placed throughout the space.

Queenie tugged Newt towards a table near the front. She looked up at the stage excitedly, head cocking as she listened to the thoughts around her drift through her head. "I don't hear Jacob or Tina yet; they must be running late. Oh, well."

"Queenie, I-I really think we should try and find them-"

"They're fine!" Queenie rolled her eyes. "Besides, you don't want to miss this. It took Tina and I three weeks to get tickets to see this show. If they miss it, it's on them!"

The lights flickered once and then dimmed completely, signaling the start of the show. Queenie shushed Newt, practically jumping in her seat. "It's starting!" She whisper-squealed.

Newt huffed, annoyance coursing through him. In truth, he was not one to frequent speakeasies; he loathed alcohol and he felt the atmosphere was always crushing him. He didn't really care that the bar was the "most exclusive club in New York-" he'd much rather be at his home, tending to his animals. He was about to voice this to Queenie when a voice rang out throughout the crowd, cutting him off:

"The French are glad to die for love..."

Light slowly illuminated the stage, revealing a woman standing before a microphone, and suddenly, all thoughts of leaving vanished from Newt's mind. Her dress, form-fitting and black, sparkled in the growing light. She grinned at the crowd as she came into view, one glove-tipped hand curling around the microphone as her red-lipped mouth crooned the next words:

"...they delight in fighting duels...

Her eyes were yet utterly inviting; they glittered with a mischief that drew the audience in. Her hair fell in soft ringlets over her shoulder, reflecting a soft caramel color in the warm spotlight. She was the most beautiful woman Newt had ever seen.

"...but I prefer a man who leaves..."

Her eyes drifted across the crowd, surveying the various faces that graced the chairs- until they landed on Newt's, and didn't move.

"...and gives expensive..."

Newt's breath hitched in his throat as she gazed down at him. His heart skipped a beat in his chest and it was as if he suddenly forgot how to speak; he was totally enraptured by the woman on the stage. Nothing existed except for her; and yet, he found he didn't mind a bit.

She smirked and the last word fell out of her mouth as a whisper, trickling from the microphone and into Newt's ear like a summoning.

"...jewels."