#ironbellies

[ofsalamandereyes]

@ironbellies is here for me

Tina stepped down into the basement where they kept Newt’s creatures, ducking a flying beast of some sort as it swooped from its nest high up in the rafters. She eventually found her husband sat with some of his creatures, examining a minor injury. “How are they?” She asked as she sat down beside him, trying to look and see. “So, I need to talk you about something.” 

[aresborrn]

        @ironbellies hit that heart. 

                                    “It doesn’t hurt.” 

The distress in Newts eyes and posture is so blaringly obvious that Murphy actually feels guilty over the fact he’s injured. It’s not like it’s anything he could help, but he doesn’t bring that up. The scent of blood must have been particularly strong to bring the wolf from his run in the surrounding woods. 

       “Easy. M’alright.”

[aresborrn]

very fuckable /anon DON'T PUBLISH THIS I'M JUST BEING TRASH

PUBLISHES ANYWAY BC IT MADE ME LAUGH

[aresborrn]

❛ There is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn’t have your number in it. ❜

       Okay, that was smooth. Very, in fact. John can’t help the twitch of his lips, the brightening of his eyes as he looks the ginger over. You wouldn’t expect someone who looks so meek to be so outgoing in their flirtations. 

                            “Well lucky for you, I’m pretty good at fixing these things.”

[aresborrn]

19

19. Middle name

My middle name is Faith.

[aresborrn]

🎉

New Years Kiss

Royalty. Lies. Scandal. Their lives have been a mess the last few days. The guilt and fear clear as day in those eyes he adores so much. Murphys been trying. There are few things that anger him, that bring about this sort of silent grudge. It’s not Newts fault, being born into the family he was. Murphy knows that. 

It is Newts fault that he felt he couldn’t tell John. Though with each passing day, the tension between them weighs heavier on his favorite gingers shoulders, and guilt settles on Johns. It’s New Years, and John has decided - enough is enough. He can’t hold on to this poisonous grudge. He can’t hold on to his offense. His heart hurts, knowing he’s hurting Newt, and he can’t do this on a night that signals rebirth. 

He finds him. In their own little apartment, they’d been in separate rooms. Wherever Newt is, John steps in. Vaguely, he can hear the count down on the tv in the other room. He doesn’t think, doesn’t stop. A hand on lovers arm, getting his attention. Only to grasp his jaw instead, and they meet in a kiss. Perhaps a bit rougher than intended, if only for the need that lies beneath it. 

“No more secrets.” A demand, hushed between one kiss and the next. His body craves him, misses him like an addict, and he hates that he’d done this to himself. He couldn’t even tell you why it bothered him so much, but it did. 

But it’s a New Year, and it’s time to let go.

[aresborrn]

“I didn’t tell you because I was afraid I was going to lose you.”

“You think that lowly of me?” 

In the depths of him, he knows that’s not true. But here’s the thing: Murphy doesn’t like surprises. Especially ones this big. Royalty? He’s dating royalty? For someone who likes his privacy, that’s kind of huge. But that’s not even the problem. The problem is that Newt didn’t tell him. He found out when he was randomly stalked by paparazzi on his way out of work, for fucks sake. 

“I don’t care that you were born into some rich, noble family. I don’t give a fuck about the politics or the paparazzi. I don’t care if I’m tabloids or if your family likes me.” 

Because he doesn’t. Is it gonna get annoying? Probably. But that isn’t going to change how he feels about Newt. 

“I care that you felt like you couldn’t tell me.” 

Because that stings.

[aresborrn]

📕 - Read to my muse

It had taken a while. John is an expert in avoiding reading, using pictures as cues, and figuring a way around the embarrassing disorder. Now was no exception, Newt was no exception. The unfortunate part is that Newt is smart -- he’s observant, and he’d noticed far earlier than John had hoped. 

He’d noticed the way John couldn’t read more than a paragraph at a time. The way he learned and understood far better if there was no reading involved. How he had to rub his eyes and close them as he felt a headache coming on every time he was forced to read more than he preferred. 

Newt, for all his kindness and observation skills, didn’t call him out on it. Rather, he simply tugged the cookbook over and took over reading the instructions. John had hesitated at first, offense raised. 

But Newt didn’t make anything seem out of the norm. He just kept reading, even making a light joke here and there. So John kept cooking, and as he diced, stirred, sauteed and measured, his shoulders loosened. Shame and guilt lifted from his chest and a tentative warmth and acceptance took their place.