Newt Scamander Smut Imagines

"Are you cheating on me?"

A/N: The words refuse to flow from fingertips to keyboard. How can one write when inspiration has run dry? And yet, my mind is full of stories I wish to share with you. Please be patient with me. UGLP.

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS AN EATING DISORDER. PLEASE ONLY READ IT IF YOU ARE COMFORTABLE AND SAFE TO DO SO.

At the first sign of reddened eyes and cascading tears, your feet moved of their own accord. Crossing the short distance to comfort the love of your life.

You recalled the first time you had noticed something amiss with your lover's behaviour. It had been something small, seemingly insignificant, in the grand scheme of your daily lives but it had been enough to peak your curiosity. Create an itch in the back of your mind, that grew and refused to quieten until you could determine what was wrong.

It had all started when he had returned home, exhausted from a difficult day of dealing with incompetent people. Normally on days like these, when his bones ached and he craved a soft surface to sink into, he would be absolutely ravenous after work. Desperate for a decent hot meal to soothe the rumble in his stomach. That night you had assumed would be no different. He had walked in through the front door, welcomed by not only your tender kisses but also the delicious smell of your cooking.

"I made your favourite!" you beamed, taking his coat and hanging it up on a hook. "You sounded equally stressed when I called at lunch, so I thought you deserved a nice surprise."

You were a sight to his sore and weary eyes. Despite also having had a tough work day, you had come home tired and yet, still prepared a freshly cooked meal for him. All because you thought he was worth it.

"Why don't you get changed and I'll get us a couple of plates ready? We can even eat in bed, if I can find a couple of trays."

How? How were you so cheery? When you had called him at lunch, your voice had sounded so forlorn and devoid of the joy that now laced your words. He knew that you were trying to turn a bad day into a nice evening. Even if the sunshine hours were cruel, your moonlit night together could be one of love and peace.

It had felt like chewing on glass when he had had to admit, "I...I'm not really all that hungry, babe." he had watched your expression carefully, analysing every twitch and change to your facial expression.

At first you had felt somewhat confused, it was not like him to turn down a meal, especially the dish you had cooked but while you did think it unusual, you had not thought anything more of it. Not immediately at least. You assumed he must have just been too tired to eat, which was understandable. Plus, the leftovers would keep, so he could still enjoy the food tomorrow.

It was after that exchange that the little voice in the back of your head had warned you to keep an eye on him.

While you both had your own anxieties and flaws, you were rather well-adjusted as a couple. Independent enough to survive without the other always needing to be present. While you both enjoyed the odd text throughout the day, it wasn't a requirement to constantly check in with one another.

When he started coming home later and turning down your meals more often, claiming he had already eaten, you could hardly help but start to feel a deep rooted concern build up like a stone in your stomach. It sat there heavy, weighing you down with each passing day. You felt on edge, nervous. Desperate forvsome clarification that everything was okay between you both. If felt so out of character for you but you needed to know.

When you asked him about it, he had calmly explained that his boss was asking him to stay later of late, to help with something or other. The details had not matter at the time. His words had sounded plausible. So you had offered to make him a double portion to take to work, to save him from having to eat out every night. While he had insisted it was not necessary, eventually he conceded, seeing how much you wanted to support him during his new shift pattern.