giraffes-are-my-favorite-animal

a few years ago I went with my ex and her mom and dad to meet her cousins and grandparents and I wore this shirt that had a smug looking giraffe on it. so we get there and her cousin natalie is this “white savior” type and was telling us all about her trip to africa to adopt this little girl and she ended up showing us a bunch of pics from when they were there and some of them were of her and her husband feeding different animals and one of them happened to be a giraffe. okay so giraffes are my favorite animal but im by no means obsessed or anything; I just happen to know a lot about a lot of different subjects. but my trivia packed stupid ass brain decided to pipe up and say “that’s really cool that you got to feed one. did you know that there’s like 9 subspecies of giraffe in Africa and they all have distinct patterns” and her smart ass brother goes “dude you sure know a lot about giraffes” and everyone burst into laughter and then I suddenly remembered what shirt I was wearing and my entire body froze in anxiety and I wanted nothing more than to hang myself from a giraffes neck

Nerves

Nerves: Newt x Reader Imagine

MASTERLIST

Summary: Based on this request:

More modern here. The reader is flying to London for grad school and is terrified to fly. She is mumbling to herself about how she could do this and the plane wouldn’t crash. Newt just happens to be sitting next to her. Fluff please!

Hope you like Anon :) <3

Word Count: 3539

Originally posted by loveviral

One of the most amazing summer vacations of your life was over. You were leaving Morocco now after an entire month of solo travel throughout Africa, much darker than before, quite exhausted, but wide-eyed and smiling. Freely roaming the world was likely all you would ever do, it it weren’t for money and for your degree.

You had started graduate school in London a year ago and your last trip had been the summer before it began - far too long ago. Yes, your time in Africa had given you back a spark of life you hadn’t known you had needed so badly; and yes, you lived for the times you could travel.

It was unfortunate, however, that the thing you loved most in the entire world had to be preceded by and end with the thing you hated the absolute most: flying on a plane.

Oh, how you hated it. How you wished there was another way to fulfill your passion, another quick way to get around the world you so desired to see.

It made you dizzy and it made your lungs constrict with fear. Most of the time, a shot or two of something very strong before flying was necessary in order to prevent a full scale panic attack. It had happened to you before, and it was so embarrassing. You whined and gasped for air and cried while you felt as if the space around you kept constricting, further and further. Your seat mates and the flight attendants had tried to calm you down while everyone stared, disconcerted at the crazy woman who couldn’t get through something as simple as a plane ride.

People always tried to comfort you with chances and statistics, particularly your family. “Oh honey, you are far safer in a car than a plane! The chances of something happening are one in a million…”

It didn’t help; irrationality doesn’t care about statistics. All you had to do was be that one out of a million. It happened sometimes; so it could certainly happen to you. And then there was no chance of survival. The screaming and primal fear of the inhabitants as the plane took a nosedive due to mechanical failure or whatever scenario you had cooked up was something you couldn’t get out of your head, as hard as you tried. You had a very vivid imagination. Especially when the plane hit turbulence.

So here you were, sitting in your gate at the airport, trying to hold onto this perfect trip and focus on your overwhelming joy from the past month, tell yourself it was so worth the stress and fear. You avoided looking out the window to see your plane - you would only over analyze everything.

You practiced deep breathing as you sat there in the terminal. You practiced focusing on your trip as you stood in line to board. You tried to breathe even deeper as you packed your luggage in the overhead bin and got settled into your seat, legs scrunched up - already feeling constricted. You kept breathing and you kept trying to shift your focus as best you could, desperately fumbling with the magazine in the seat in front of you as the plane started to taxi.

It stopped at the beginning of the runway and you knew it was about to begin. Your least favorite part - besides landing - was here. Take off. You stared at the page blankly, not able to read a thing. Shaking, you shut the magazine and leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breathe and clasping your hands together in your lap. So much for magazine distractions.

You held back the desire to curse and tried to regulate your breathing, which was already becoming faster. You told yourself it was a short flight, that it would all be over soon. And then you heard the jets. The plane sprang to life, roaring loudly as it picked up speed down the runway. You felt the familiar tipping of the plane as the nose began to tilt up.

You hated it. You hated seeing the aisle tilted upward like a ramp and the feeling of climbing upward. You focused on your breathing again; don’t panic, you thought to yourself. Don’t. Just breathe. In and out, in and out…

The plane isn’t going to crash.

The plane isn’t going to crash.

The plane isn’t going to crash…

“Are you all right?”

A kind, quiet voice came from beside you, the seat nearest to the aisle. You had only glanced at your window seat mate as you had sat down, and after that you hadn’t bothered looking around. You had been to focused on distracting yourself, trying to forget you were on a plane in the first place.

You also hadn’t realized you had been speaking out loud.

You also didn’t know that your eyes had been squeezed very tightly shut until you opened them to see who the voice belonged to. Next to you was a man - a very, very cute man. He was blonde, his hair slightly messy and longer in the front, draping over his forehead. His eyes were a brilliant green color - or were they blue? His face was dotted with freckles. He was gazing at you a bit shyly, but also with a bit of concern. If you had to take a guess, you would assume he was a few years older than you. Your heart did a strange flutter in your chest.

Momentarily, you had actually been distracted for the very first time from the fact that you were on a plane, distracted from the fact that the plane was tilted dangerously backwards as it climbed into the sky. The horrible reality came back, however, when the plane shook.

A spike of raw fear rushed through you and unwittingly, you clutched at your seat arm rests and let out a strange, strangled whine. Too embarrassed to look at him, you simply nod your head as best you can, eyes shut tight again. The plane was still shaking and you had to work very hard not to cry; your face was screwed up with the effort of it.

“Don’t be afraid. It’ll be over in a moment,” he said quietly, and you looked back up at him. His eyes were taking you in, looking gentle and curious as he gave you a small and tentative smile.

The plane was starting to level out more and more, and gradually, so were your nerves. You tried to concentrate on the conversation and not the fact that you were dangling in midair or that the turbulence could start again at any moment. “I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I always feel bad for my seat mates. Flying has always been this very irrational fear of mine. I try to distract myself, but…” You trailed off, sighing.

The plane was definitely more level now as it reached elevation, and you let out a long, shuddering exhale, fingers loosening slightly on the arm rests. This part of the flight never bothered you as much as takeoff and landing, as long as turbulence wasn’t too heavy. You hoped fervently that it wouldn’t be.

After a long moment, he just asked, “What were you doing in Morocco?”

You glanced at him again. He was giving you an encouraging, albeit shy smile. He was certainly a bit awkward, but you found it quite adorable. And it was obvious that he wanted to talk to you. “Just traveling between semesters,” you told him. “I was there for a month.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s quite a long time.”

You smiled. “Um, well…I really like seeing the world.”

“Me too,” he told you, and he was looking at you even more curiously now. “You really must enjoy it if you have to do something that scares you so terribly in order to do it.”

“Terrible, isn’t it? It’s just a stupid plane,” you said sadly. You heard the ding as the seat belt sign flicked off and felt even better.

“Actually, I think it’s very admirable that you push through your fear to do what you love,” he told you seriously. His face was very kind, his eyes still holding yours every once in a while but also darting down, off to the sides, meeting yours once in a while to hold a soft gaze. You felt your cheeks flush a little. He hadn’t told you your fear was stupid or irrational, and he hadn’t tried to comfort you the same way everyone else always did - with statistics and fussing over you. You found that you were already liking this man quite a bit, and that this conversation was a very successful distraction.

“So, what were you doing in Morocco?” you asked curiously.

“Also just traveling.” His mouth quirked up into a half smile. There was something in his eyes that gave you the feeling that there was more to his trip than what he was telling you. He was friendly and yet, you couldn’t help but think there was something a bit…different about him.

“For how long?”

“Oh…a couple of weeks. I was in Africa for a few months overall.”

“A few months? How do you do that?” You were gaping at him, astonished.

“Erm…well, I write and do research, you see. I was commissioned to write a book about creatures. So I spent a few years traveling the world.”

“Oh my gosh!” you exclaim in a hushed shout. “That is…seriously, that is amazing. I am so jealous of you. What kind of creatures did you see in Africa? Lions, giraffes…elephants!? Elephants might be my favorite animal on the planet. Except for maybe dolphins.”

His smile became wider, his eyes brighter at your very obvious enthusiasm. He seemed pleasantly surprised. “Oh yes, yes…lions and giraffes and elephants,” he told you, a bit vaguely. “Erm…I’m sorry, I just realized I don’t know your name. I’m Newt Scamander, by the way.”

He reached out his hand over the arm rest to shake yours and you took his hand to shake it. It was warm and a little rough. You had to fight from blushing again. What was your deal? “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure, Y/N.”

You were surprised by the drink cart ten minutes later. Normally you watched for the drink cart and the flight attendants attentively. It helped you to see them so calm. While talking to Newt, you hadn’t even needed to.

You had discussed your plans after graduate school and travels throughout Africa. But you couldn’t help but notice that he was a bit strange. He would stop in the middle of his sentences, as if remembering something and stutter out certain words with an uncertain tone or wasn’t quite sure he was using them correctly. Simple things, like “pounds” in reference to money - you knew by his accent that he too was British, but it was almost as if he didn’t even know the currency. And despite his obvious love for animals, he seemed a bit reluctant to talk about them specifically, or his time in Africa, always bringing the conversation back to you.

Puzzled, you watched him order a juice after you had ordered a gin and tonic of your own. Your nerves hadn’t stopped fluttering. Some of them were still from the plane, but you guessed the other were from a new source; specifically, the freckled man sitting next to you. You were smitten already - he was funny, interesting, quirky, and easy to talk to.

Plus, he was easy on the eyes. You hoped he didn’t notice your staring, the way you couldn’t help but smile more often when you spoke to him.

Despite the fact that you felt he was holding something back, the both of you had a wonderful conversation about a variety of topics for the next couple of hours of the flight, from favorite foods to the antics of your crazy cats - which he really seemed to enjoy - and how excited you were to see them again.

The gin and tonic was making you more relaxed and you found yourself giggling at a particularly funny story of his travels when you felt a swooping sensation in your stomach, brought about by the plane beginning to gradually loose altitude. It was beginning the descent.

You glanced out the window and you could still only see clouds. However, the pilot came over the intercom and announced that the plane was indeed descending and that there was a storm over the destination - to prepare for a bit of a bumpy landing.

“Oh no,” you moaned out, covering your face with your hands. It was too late for another drink, and that probably wouldn’t help much anyway.

“It’ll be over soon. And then you can see your cats,” he reminded you kindly.

You smiled at him, still a bit mesmerized by his lovely bone structure. “How old are you?” you suddenly blurted out without thinking. You saw surprise in his eyes and immediately backtracked. “Oh gosh, I’m sorry. That was rude, I was just…curious,” you finished lamely.

“I’m 29,” he said, not seeming to mind. “And you?”

“25. I started graduate school a bit late. I wanted to travel first.”

“Perfectly understandable,” he said, giving you a smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Where exactly did you go?”

And you were off, explaining all about your backpacking trip, your eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. He seemed interested, much more interested than most people that you talked to about this sort of thing. And he understood; he was able to add to your stories about a place with stories of his own, though you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was…off about him. That his stories were careful, somehow…different than yours.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, and you tried to brush it out of your mind. He was so kind and wonderful - it was hard for you to imagine that he was some sort of shady liar. It was just very confusing.

Twenty minutes later, the plane was descending through the clouds faster than before, almost breaking free of them. It was indeed stormy outside - the clouds were dark and forbidding, making the inside of the plane seem much more menacing than before.

Faster and faster, it seemed, the plane was hurtling toward the ground, shaking violently. You could see the wings tilting back and forth dangerously and the plane seemed like it was hopping around in the air beneath you and you gasped, feeling suddenly nauseous with fear.

The person in the window seat was peering out the window excitedly, one of those people that seemed to love this kind of thing. You wished they would close the window, but you didn’t want to ask, so you just leaned back and took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to study the steady rise of panic bubbling into your chest. Whatever you and Newt had just been talking about was long gone from your mind, the conversation with him not distraction enough for this.

Your hands were clenched in your lap, trembling, and you flinched every time that the plane rattled violently. You had shut your eyes again unconsciously, hoping it would stop horrified tears from spilling down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you felt Newt’s fingers brushing against your hand from your right. They danced gently across your skin very gently, and yet also assuredly pulling your hand into his grasp. His hand was warm and rough; his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hand.

You opened your eyes to look over at him, heart thumping at the intimate contact and tingles spreading through your arm. He had a slight blush on his cheeks as you met his eyes - his were filled with shyness, but also warmth and concern. He was really beautiful, and you now knew just how much of a crush on him you had as you both gazed at each other. Your heart picked up again, nearly doubling it’s rhythm. You felt a bit sorry for everything you were putting it through today.

He gave your hand a tight squeeze before resuming rubbing your hand with his thumb. “It’s almost done, love,” he said to you gently. “It will be fine. I promise.”

You knew the nickname didn’t really mean anything, but you couldn’t help the blush that spread over your cheeks. You smiled at him gratefully, nodding, unable to speak as the plane continued to shake with tremors. You tried to focus on his hand wrapped in yours, the feelings that he gave you, as the plane got closer and closer to landing.


About half an hour later, the plane had landed and the passengers had filed off through the gate, heading toward the baggage claim. Newt stayed with you the entire time, waiting for your bags to come off the carousel together. You both didn’t speak much; you were unsure exactly what to say to him. You didn’t want to say goodbye.

You almost wished your baggage would be lost, so that maybe you could stay together longer, and then you chided yourself. He had no obligation to help you any further, and that was selfish.

And of course the bags came eventually, and the two of you walked to the doors and exited the airport together to where the taxis were waiting. Other people were hailing them, or standing outside greeting family that they were meeting. You both turned to face each other slightly awkwardly. The rain was still pouring on the street and the air smelled like it. Now that you weren’t in the air, you could appreciate it.

“Well…” you began slowly, peeking up at his face. You had figured he was quite tall when he was sitting next to you on the plane, but now that you were standing here, face to face, you saw that he towered over you. “Um, listen, Newt…in those circumstances I normally would have done a lot worse. So, you know…thank you. For being the best seat mate I’ve ever had.”

He grinned at you affectionately and your breath caught in your throat at the sight. “It was my pleasure,” he said sincerely.

“Good luck with your book,” you told him. “I’ll look out for it with great anticipation.” You gave him an encouraging smile.

He looked very conflicted for a moment, nodding distractedly and giving you another small smile. He cleared his throat. “Erm…yes, thank you. Good luck with graduate school.”

You wanted to ask where he was going, whether you could see him again. Whether there was room in his life for you in it.

But you didn’t want to. You were in school, he was older with an established career. He was beautiful, and you were…well, you. The hand holding had meant nothing to him, you were sure of it, a sign of comfort from an angelically kind man. Despite this, you couldn’t help but to very quickly, cheeks burning, stand up on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek as a final thank you.

You saw color on his cheeks when you pulled back, and he looked slightly dazed, looking at you as if he had not seen you properly before. “Good luck, Newt Scamander,” you whispered.

With one last shy smile, you pulled out the handle on your suitcase, gave a small wave, and began to walk away, wheeling your luggage behind you. A few seconds passed, until you heard his voice shout out behind you over the sound of the wheels rolling on the pavement. “Y/N! Wait!”

You stop, heart inflating like a balloon as it began to flutter in your chest. You turned to see him hurrying toward you. He stopped in front of you, his eyes charged as he gazed down at you through the curtain of his adorable, messy hair. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Erm…do you want to maybe…meet up sometime? Soon? We can get coffee or…whatever you like.” His eyes were darting between you and the ground, scanning your face apprehensively as he tried to judge your reaction to his offer.

Your heart swelled even further at his cute, awkward rambling and you smiled widely. “I would love that,” you told him sincerely. “We could go tomorrow morning,” you continue. “We could go to this cute little cafe on my street, if you wanted? It’s called Cafe Luisa and it’s on Park Street.”

His smile was huge, contagious, full of relief. He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Cafe Luisa, Park Street. Shall we say…at ten?”

“Sounds good.” You nodded, a bit breathless, and for a moment you both stood there, staring at each other with emotions swirling in both of your faces and the tension between the two of you now palpable in the chilly, damp air.

Tentatively, he reached for one of your hands and squeezed it one last time. “I look forward to it.” With that, he gave you one last smile and began to walk away in the other direction, with one more peek over his shoulder at you.

He wanted to see you again. He had just asked to see you…a date. You could hardly believe your luck. 

And as you began to search for a taxi, smiling to yourself, you decided that maybe flying wasn’t always so bad after all.


a/n: Hope you liked, babes! This request resonated with me so hard because this is literally how I feel when I fly, lol.

Despite the crappiness of world right now, I hope this (and Newt) brought you joy :) ALL are welcome in my blogosphere. Much peace and love <3

~Belle

@rishlo @jilyfish @izadorablog @inhumanwithanimpala @newts-lost-panda @hagridsrubeus

I’m still healing, but
quite honestly
I’ve been better since you left.
Sure, it hurt.
It hurt a lot.
But it was the best thing you could’ve done for me.
Because the truth is-
I would’ve of never left and you’d still be hurting me continuously and I’d still be fighting for your love that wasn’t mine to begin with.
I’ve began writing again.
Writing and photography.
And I keep finding these pieces of myself I thought were forever lost.
And I’m happy again.
Genuinely and completely happy.
And maybe I’m not ready to love again. But
today, this cute boy passed me this note with his number and a drawing of a giraffe.
Little did he know, giraffes are my favorite animal.
And like I said, maybe I’m not ready to love again.
But I think it’s time to at least open myself up to the idea of letting someone in again and loving them.