present book

Secret (Newt Scamander x Reader)

A/N: So sorry for the lack of activity guys, just have no ideas. Enjoy and i’m literally begging you can you please give feedback? XOXOXOXO

Based on Little Mix’s Secret Love Song.

Y/N’s waist was soon touched by Newt’s hand. She smiled, as he pulled her close to her and continued walking down the street. He placed a big kiss to her head as they kept moving forward.

Sadly, that was not real life. Newt never held your hand in the streets, never kissed you in restaurants and never said “I love you” if others were present

Newt’s book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them had blown up the markets and his newly acquired agents wanted to keep it like that. They thought that his attire and look of “single cute beast-lover” definitely increased sales. And so, this was why your relationship was secret. Behind closed doors. Only Queenie, Tina and Jacob knew of your love.

It also didn’t help that you were also an author, a quite successful one. Your (book genre) books had sold thousands of copies, and your agents have also agreed that your image of “single accomplished writer” was to be kept.

Frankly, you were growing sick of it. You wanted people to know. People to know how you were each other’s, how you found each other, how you brought each other happiness. You were tired of it. Tired of touching pinkies under the table. Tired of stolen glances from across the room. Tired of feigning feelings for him in front of other people. Tired of smiling for photographers that asked for pictures of “Newt Scamander’s friend.”

“Y/N? You coming?”

“Hmm, oh yeah.”

There was a book convention going on Diagon Alley, in Flourish and Blotts and you and Newt were both invited there to sign copies.

People were in fact making a big deal out of this, the Ministry promoting the event for weeks beforehand.

“Y/N.” Queenie came in your room, catching you staring at your palms, sitting on your bed all glammed up.

“Are you thinking about Newt?”

“No.” You lied.

“It’ll happen. You won’t remain secret forever. Trust me.”

“You’re a Legilimens, but any chance you also got some Seer blood in you?” You asked Queenie, who chuckled.

She took a seat beside you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“Stop thinking about it. Everything’ll fall in place. C’mon have a bit of fun today, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You cheered up. Today was all about your amazing career.

+

“Ah and dare I say I spot Y/N Y/L/N at the entrance?” Melissa Skeeter, the main editor of many newspapers and magazines said.

You walked up to the bookstore, arm in arm with Tina and Queenie following close beside with Jacob.

The whole day was a whole lot of fun. You signed books, took pictures with readers. You haven’t spent a day without thinking about Newt in so long.

NEWT’S POV

He watched her throughout the whole day. How she would smile genuinely at each person. How she would hug each reader, making them feel at home right away. How she would blush each time complimented. How she would laugh at stupid journalists questions.

Oh how he wanted to call her his. How he longed to proudly call her his girlfriend. How he wished to take her on romantic dates in the city. How he prayed to wrap his arm around her waist at events.

Suddenly, he spotted Skeeter asking her a question. Knowing her reputation, he listened intently.

“So Y/N, you are close friends with Newt Scamander right?”

Y/N nodded loosely.

“Any er more than friendly feelings present between you two?” Skeeter grinned.

Newt watched Y/N swallow hard and force a smile. She took a long sip from her water before answering.

“Our relationship is purely platonic.” She said robotically.

A couple people in line frowned, and some even exclaimed: “They’d make such a nice couple!”

Newt stared at his palms. Then at her. Then at his agent. Then at the photographers.

He stood up and walked very carefully to her booth. He approached her. People around stared weirdly, and people called out his name but he had eyes only for her.

“Y/N can I speak to you?” He asked.

Y/N looked perplexed and stood up.

Once she did, he took her hand and pulled her into him. He leaned down and kissed her.

He felt Y/N smile as she started to kiss him back.

fantasy book with witches and wizards and magical people but all magic has a price, like

main character, in awe and slightly terrified: what did you have to give up to be able to control storms with your mind?

powerful enchanter, fighting back tears as they pull down the hood of their cloak to reveal a knotted oily mess: my beautiful luscious hair….no matter how many times i wash or brush it, it always looks like this

main character: [horrified gasp]

4

Early Christmas present from my lovely (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧roommate ( @letiziajoi )
Look at this Chibi Korra. She’s so tiny and sassy.

i hope you like soft dex and awkward nursey cause Oh Boy 

(”quit it or i’ll bite")

“Shitty I swear to God if you don’t give me that cute ginger librarian’s deets I will kick your ass in the Annie’s parking lot until you do,” Nursey hisses. They’re tucked into the corner of the nonfiction section, unopened binders and textbooks thrown carelessly on the table to make them at least look like they’re studying.

“Ok, first, pretty sure he’s not an actual librarian, you need, like, a degree for that. Second, are you sure? He looks and acts like a pissed off cat ninety percent of the time. Third, why the Annie’s parking lot? You could just do it here,” Shitty laughs quietly. Nursey chooses not to respond to the last question and furrows his brows.

“Yeah, man, I just think he’s cute. Why not, y'know? If he ends up being an asshole I can just stop talking to him, it’s chill.”

Actually, it is definitely not chill, the absolute opposite of chill, in fact; Nursey had been doing his homework in the public library for the past month just to catch glimpses of this stupid boy. Shitty’s right, his mouth always carries a small hint of a scowl, but Nursey sees how his eyes melt every time he helps a child find what they’re looking for, how the lines on his forehead soften when he puts in his headphones while shelving books. Nursey wants to wine and dine this motherfucker, learn about his hobbies and the music he likes, maybe swipe his thumb over the cluster of freckles that decorate the other boy’s hand. If this doesn’t work out, he also may or may not have to throw out a couple of poems that are scribbled out in his notebook, and that would be a total waste of a good slam performance.

“Ok, ok, it’s your funeral. His name’s Will, from what I remember. I’m pretty sure he’s the same age as you, and good news, he played hockey in high school, so you two have a little bit in common. I took a comp sci class last year just ‘cause and he was mad good at it, like, he was doing hacker-level shit. I’m pretty sure I saw him making out with another dude at our last kegster so you most likely have the green light for flirting with him. And the last thing I know is that under that charming appearance lies a snappy little lobster, probably, so watch out,” Shitty says, moving his hands like claws for emphasis. Nursey laughs, a little too loudly for their location.

“Good thing I’m in the mood for fishing, then,” Nursey declares as he grabs a random book from a nearby shelf and makes his way over to the front of the library. He can hear Shitty whisper-cheering him on, which doesn’t really help much, but the effort is appreciated.

As he nears the front desk, Nursey can finally read the name tag that’s pinned to Will’s collar: William Poindexter. Nursey almost chuckles, because that is definitely one of the nerdiest names at Samwell, but it is kind of fitting. There’s no one in line, so Nursey walks right up and sets his book down, which causes Will to look up from his computer.

“Did you find everything all right?” Will asks, and for once he doesn’t look irritated, just distracted. His voice is unexpectedly soft, probably because he’s trying not to disturb any of the other patrons, and Nursey has to resist the urge to lay his head down on the counter.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Nursey answers, and mentally slaps himself. This should be easy for him; he’s flirted with tons of other people at varying stages of sobriety, but this is the first time that he’s actually been nervous. Will picks up the book to scan it, his eyebrows raising as he reads the title.

“Are you a bio major?” Will asks offhandedly as he searches for the scanner.

“Oh, no, creative writing,” Nursey replies, surprised that Will is actually initiating conversation. From the way Shitty talked about him, he half expected Will to beat him up the second they made eye contact (but to be honest, he doesn’t think he would really mind that).

“So you read about ‘the effect of temperature and soil water content on forest drought stress’ for fun?” Will asks, a hint of a smirk in his voice. If Will wasn’t currently chirping him, Nursey would actually be happy at the progress he’s making; he hasn’t gotten yelled at yet, at least.

“Haha, it’s…for a friend?” Will snorts, and it’s close enough to a laugh that Nursey’s face floods with warmth.

“You go to Samwell, right? I mean, you probably do since the campus is like two minutes away, huh. I feel like I’ve seen you around before.” Nursey feels like a dumbass; of course he knows Will goes to school with him, he just wants to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, I live in the dorms, so you’ve probably seen me walking to class half-dead in my pajamas,” Will says, typing something with one hand into the computer, and Nursey chuckles in agreement.

“Do you play any sports?” Nursey asks, leaning against the counter, his facade of calmness hanging on by a thread. A small voice in his head chants common interest common interest, but he pushes it out of his awareness.

“Nah, not right now. I used to play hockey in high school, but I stopped after graduation. My scholarship is for academics, so I don’t want to lose it because of sports getting in the way.” The lines on Will’s forehead reappear, and his eyes lower. It’s different from his usual expression, though, more sad and thoughtful, and Nursey absolutely aches. “I still love it though, I sometimes wish I could play again, y'know?”

“Dude, I’m on the hockey team, you can always come practice with us! It can’t hurt to have an extra player, Dex,” Nursey offers, hoping that he doesn’t sound like he was waiting for this opportunity.

Will’s ears turn a flattering shade of pink, and Nursey doesn’t know if it’s from the offer he just made or the nickname (Oh my god! I just called him Dex! What the fuck!). Will scratches the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed.

“I mean, if you wouldn’t mind? Fair warning, I might be a little rusty,” Will says. Nursey is just about ready to cry with joy.

“No problem dude, can I get your number? So we can plan a day, and stuff.” Derek Malik Nurse, your mamas raised you to be stronger than this, stop shaking, fuck–

“Hey, I don’t give my number out to just anyone. I don’t even know your name,”  Will jokes. He’s smirking again, but there’s a blush creeping down his neck.

“Oh shit, my name’s Derek! Everyone calls me Nursey, though. And…I could take you out for coffee? My treat?”

Will doesn’t answer, just turns around and finishes getting Nursey’s book ready. When Nursey opens the front cover, there’s a phone number scrawled out on the receipt. Underneath it, a message reads, “actually, I’m more of a tea type of guy”.

~

“Not gonna lie, I totally thought you were an asshole before I actually talked to you. But you were like, super nice the whole time!”

“Only ‘cause you were bumbling around like a middle schooler with his first crush.”

“Ok, I’m revoking your tea privileges, time to take this back–”

“Hey! Quit it or I’ll bite!”

“On the first date, Poindexter? I thought you were classier than that!”

To Hear Destiny Calling

(In which I finally begin writing that story idea about the girl with hearing loss, a magical quest, and an unfortunate lack of hearing aids)

It was a perfectly normal night. Livvie was slumped into her bed, soaking in a new book, taking a sleepy sort of happiness from having taken her hearing aids out after a long day — like pouring all the synthetic, grating sound out of her head, shaking it out of her ears like water.

It was a perfectly normal night, except that a glowing purple portal had opened up in the corner of her bedroom five minutes ago, and she’d been huffily ignoring it ever since.

It’s just my imagination, Livvie had told herself, aiming the thought pointedly at the softly humming portal, in case that would help. No weird magical shit going on here.

She focused on her book. Through the softness that was all sound without her hearing aids in, she heard the portal cough, politely but purposefully, waiting to be acknowledged. She raised her book higher so it would block her sight.

This went on for a another few minutes, then the portal let out an indignant huff and a flash of bright violet light that grabbed Livvie around the waist like a cosmic octopus arm and yanked her in, ignoring her protesting yells of “What the fuck!”

The portal did not care for rude language, or for slightly magical teenagers who ignored the very polite callings of their destiny. Unfortunately, it also did not have a good enough grasp on humans to know that some of them, if they were to complete quests with their highest possible potential, really ought to be wearing their hearing aids before they are sucked into magical alternate realities.

Sometimes magical quests just go to hell before they’ve even begun.

(To be continued tomorrow!)

Unsaid

People say
Words are what causes us pain
That what we say,
Hurts
It’s very true
Words hurt
But what hurts even more,
Is the words left unsaid
The words we never got to say
They float around
In our mind,
Haunting us
Making us feel regret
For not saying them
Though we can’t take back words
We can still say them
The guilt gets to us
We have to say something
To someone,
Anyone
But if we aren’t careful,
We can say them at the wrong time
We could push someone away
Hurt them,
Then no matter how much the words
Haunted us,
Some say they would be better left
Unsaid
But if we don’t say them,
The unsaid,
Could hurt someone
Just as much
As us saying them

One of Captive Prince's biggest issue is how it was published:

Okay guys, when I picked up Captive Prince because it was recommended to me from someone on tumblr, I read the back and was like “oh FUCK no, this shit is racist and sick I can already tell.” The whole “Damianos is sent as a pleasure slave” shows the book in a slash/romance light. Considering it says this on the first book, where they don’t even like each other, let alone fall in love, it was a terrible mistake on the publishers part. It’s focusing on a romance that hadn’t even happened yet and doesn’t till the end of the second. It also doesn’t focus on the fact that Damen himself owned slaves and is forced to see the wrongness of his actions.

This was done kinda fast. Maybe I would rewrite it again. But after finishing the first book, the summary didn’t relate to what I read at all. A rewrite of the back cover and what the first book is actually about:

When Prince Damianos, heir to the Akielon throne, is betrayed by his half brother Kastor and sent to Vere under the guise of an Akielon slave, He meets Prince Laurent. Knowing he had killed this Prince’s older brother and fears for his life; he stays under the guise of a slave. He is forced to address the morality of his own slave owning while also fighting for his freedom to return home.

Genre: Fiction, historical fantasy.

a book about a girl who runs a little taxi business with her car but for magical beings? it’s not the most conventional or safe job, but she inherited the business from her grandmother who used to bike woodland fairies from one forest to another in the basket of her bike in exchange for little favors, and it became a family business. the main character modernized it and now she gets notes written on tree bark pinned to her front door or written in the frost on her window or sent to her phone from impossible phone numbers asking for rides.

she rarely accepts cash payments, because all to often it’ll turn into a handful of sand or gravel within a few hours. but she takes the other things they offer her and trades around. there’s a small grocery store where the owner is superstitious enough to accept her little good luck charms and pouches of healing herbs that always, somehow, work; there are pawnshops where she can sell the tarnished, ancient-looking pieces of treasure that she’s sometimes tossed like loose change by the gnarled, crumbling tree spirits that crumple up like folding chairs to fit into her small car; she has an etsy shop for the gorgeous woven flower crowns certain nymphs leave on their seats or the strange but beautiful leather shoes some elves leave on the floor