promise this is the last one for a while

We Got Married (M)

Originally posted by kthmyg

8.8k words. Arranged Marriage AU. Min Yoongi.

Warning: Fingering. Phone sex. ft Kim Namjoon.


It’s hilarious, laughable, pathetic even, how love could either build you or ruin you and yet knowing this, people still chase after it like the rise of golden light beyond the horizon, or the last drop of dew in twilight, or the flutter of that one coral blue butterflies in buttercup paved meadow.

It’s frightening, daunting, startling even, how love makes your hands clammy like you’re being interviewed by the very man who founded the big shot company you’ve applied to.

And it’s utterly, impossibly, unbelievable how love comes in many ways like a bump and a spill of coffee on crisp white shirt, or a brush of hands upon a dusty leather brown book spine or an envelope obtained from a mailbox on one’s way back from grocery shopping.

Well, that’s exactly what’s happening to Min Yoongi, second son to one of the well-known elite families in Seoul. Most of the time, he couldn’t care less about family matters; business deals, dinner with alien faces and empty conversations─ those things he’s entitled to attend with mildly bored eyes and champagne he’ll never finish in one hand. But this particular matter, he can’t just not care. One, because it directly concerns him (as if the cursive letter of his name engraved in bold black against crisp white isn’t enough indication). Two, because it’s from a certain someone in his family who he’s fond of.

Dear Yoongi,

Is written on the top of the not so neat written paper.

Son,

I know you might hate me for this.

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steve harrington x reader • cold coffee

Summary: Waking up next to Steve is something that you can get used to.

Word Count: 1600+

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, some language.

Notes: I started writing something angsty and got sad so I wrote this to make myself feel better. Idk man, idk. It got longer than I wanted?? and off topic?? I just love these kids and i love Steve Harrington.

Requests are OPEN!

Originally posted by cameronxboyce

Dating Steve Harrington came with a lot of surprises. The whole Upside Down thing, oddly enough, wasn’t one of them; you’d stumbled into that whole mess before you’d even met him, thanks to your insatiable curiosity and tendency to nose around places you really had no business being in. No, the oddities that Steve brought to your life were much more mundane, and all the more surprising for that.

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There’s My Girl (Tom Holland Imagine)

Originally posted by tom-hollcnd

request: “Would you mind writing an imagine where tom comes home late to find the reader asleep in the office from studying and so he carries the reader up the stairs and they wake up in his arms and it’s just cute and fluffy and leads to cuddling or something?? Thank you so much!!!! Love your writing btw!!” (requested by anon)

short summary: ^^

length: 941 words

warnings: none

A/N: just a quick/short little thing, i was feeling a bit inspired last night tbh sorry it’s shit (also ik i’m doing requests out of order i’m also sorry for that too)


Tom had had a particularly long day, as both of his flights back home had been delayed for several hours each. He was a bit peeved considering how excited he was to see you earlier in the day and take you out for dinner, but those plans came to a halt seeing as it was currently 2:15AM.

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tygermama  asked:

AU - The Jedi say "The Padawan Chooses The Master" Qui Gon lives, Obi Wan is very preoccupied, and Anakin is put into the creche as an Initiate to learn what he can until Qui Gon wakes up from his coma and gets yelled at by the Council. In the meantime, Anakin meets other Jedi Masters and when the Council asks him who he wants to be his teacher, his answer isn't Qui Gon. Instead it's *insert your fav Jedi here*

My Friend, I both hate you and love you for this prompt. Because I am so very very torn. But let me give it a go.

Naboo is a debacle. No one debates that. Qui-Gon Jinn comes back to the Temple barely alive, accompanied by his Padawan - the first Jedi in a millenia to have slain a Sith - and the powerful young boy they found on Tatooine.

At first they wait - while Obi-Wan Kenobi is considered more than deserving of Knighthood, they hold out hope that Qui-Gon will wake and perform the ceremony himself, and take Anakin on as he originally intended. It is not to be.

Obi-Wan is knighted and sent off on missions, Anakin remains in the creche - as Qui-Gon lives, it seems presumptuous to have any other Jedi take him on. But Qui-Gon may never wake, and so the more senior Masters take it upon themselves to get a feel for the too-powerful boy. Just in case.

Months later, Qui-Gon wakes.

He is in no shape to do anything more than argue with the council, but he is awake. Still, the matter of Anakin Skywalker is put off a little longer, until Qui-Gon is in a better position health wise. Besides, while he is not completely at ease in the ranks of the initiates, Skywalker has settled in somewhat - it will do no harm to wait a little longer. And it also gives some of them a bit more time to try an mitigate Jinn’s eventual bad influence.

A year after Naboo, the council requests the presence of Initiate Skywalker. The boy who faces them is so very similar and yet so very different from the child they interviewed a year earlier. Still far from emotionally balanced, but much less fearful. After all, by this stage he knows them all somewhat, and he has begun to accept that he is not going to be turned out - over the last year it has become very apparent that he cannot remain untrained, and as such the Creche Master had taken the time to explain the notion of a Padawan accepting a Master.

(They will never know how how much that notion affects Anakin. Because what slave chooses their own Master?)

And so they ask him. “Who would he choose as his Master?”

And Anakin is torn. Because this is a huge decision, and he knows it. Never before has he had the power to CHOOSE. He has to do this right. Qui-Gon Jinn freed him and brought him to the Temple. He is Anakin’s hero. It would make sense to accept him. And yet… What of the other Masters?

What about Master Billaba, who so patiently walked him through the First Forms when he worried about being so far behind his classmates? Or maybe Master Fisto, who laughs and smiles and pats him on the head and tells him not to worry, he will get the trick in time - has he considered a moving meditation, like this? Or even Master Windu, who is stern and forbidding, but UNDERSTANDS the anger that coils in his chest? And Master Koon - he’s kind and an absolutely WIZARD pilot. What should he do?

But Anakin Skywalker is a child of the Force. And all of the Masters he has encountered over the last year have told him the same thing. So he reaches out and…

The council watches as the boy raises his head and looks up at them with an unassailable sense of certainty. 

“I’m sorry Masters, but I can’t choose. Not yet. It’s not the right time.”

And it takes everything in him not to back down in the face of Qui-Gon’s sadness and the Council’s impatience, but Anakin stands firm.

The Force is speaking to him. Loud and clear.

“Not Now.”

In the end it is Yoda who breaks up the raucous arguments with a few firm taps of his gimmer stick. If the Force tells young Skywalker that now is not the time then so be it. The boy is still younger than the average new padawan, and still has some catching up to do. There is no hurry. Let him remain in the creche they shall, until the time is right.

And so they do. Except Anakin’s little demonstration along with the general increased interaction during Qui-Gon’s convalescence means that several of the Council members are seriously considering the merits of taking him on themselves. And Qui-Gon? He is determined to regain little Ani’s regard.

You can imagine the result. Anakin Skywalker becomes the envy of his classmates, as multiple senior masters court him to be their padawan. Plo Koon in particular seems to take great delight in tweaking Qui-Gon’s ire by allowing Anakin to learn to pilot the Temple ships, and Mace has spent a lot of time showing Anakin how to control his darker impulses. Kit sneaks him sweets but both he and Depa have the suspicion that they are not seriously in contention. Ironically all the attention has done wonders for his attachment issues.

Still, every time he is asked if he is ready to take a Master, Anakin will close his eyes and reach into the Force, before saying. “No. Not yet.”

Incidentally, his lack of Master has very much impeded the Chancellor’s efforts to spend time with the boy alone. After all, a Padawan is very different from an Initiate from a Jedi perspective - one is considered a semi-adult capable of assisting in basic mission duties while the other is not. The Chancellor may be their direct superior, but even he cannot order them to facilitate private audiences with a CHILD under their care. For now, he must make to with infrequent and supervised visits in which he must take care not to overstep the role of a genial man interested in the welfare of the child who saved his planet.

It infuriates him.

But anyway.

Time passes, and Anakin’s classmates start to dwindle, as they are either apprenticed (Anakin feels smug at having facilitated one of two of the matches - having Knights and Masters watching him keenly means he can try and push others in direction the Force suggests) or drawn towards alternate pathways. Anakin is nearing thirteen years of age, and he knows the time for a decision is coming soon.

But there are things he needs to make sure are in place first. Luckily, he knows who to speak to about that.

“Time then, it is, Young Skywalker?”

“Yes Master Yoda.”

“Hmm. Certain, you are?”

“Yes Master Yoda.”

“Good. Done well, you have, to follow the Force in this. Who is it, you have chosen?” 

Anakin tells him.

And the old Jedi starts cackling.

It is not long after that Anakin Skywalker stands before a large crowd of Knights and Masters (Because this? The apprenticeship of Initiate Skywalker? This is going to be the thing of temple legends and  NO ONE wants to miss out.) and asked who he would take as his master.

And Anakin Skywalker looks his choice straight in the eye as he speaks their name.

Obi-Wan Kenobi nearly faints there and then.

.

Let’s take a step back. 

When Obi-Wan Kenobi first accompanied his comatose Master back to the Temple, he had been consumed by their last conversation. The one in which he had promised Qui-Gon to train the boy. Except, those were obviously the words of a man who thought himself dying, and Qui-Gon still LIVED. When the council decides to put Anakin into the creche until things are more certain, Obi-Wan is so RELIEVED. Because while he would if he had to, Obi-Wan doesn’t feel READY to take a padawan just yet, not while he is still processing the end of his own apprenticeship, and Anakin is meant for Master Qui-Gon - Obi-Wan would never wish to steal that role while the possibility remains that the man will wake one day.

Still, he made a promise. And there are many ways to teach.

So Obi-Wan makes an effort to check in on Ani, make sure he’s settling in ok. It’s a big culture shock for the boy from Tatooine, and Obi-Wan does his best to help explain some of the things Temple raised initiates take for granted. Anakin’s  glee when he finally gets the hang of something is infectious, and Obi-Wan finds himself enjoying the time they spend together. 

When he starts taking missions as a Knight, Obi-Wan makes the effort to farewell Anakin every time he leaves, and if he can, brings him back some toy or trinket from wherever he ends up. Nothing major, but Anakin has often expressed his desire to visit every world in the galaxy one day, and he gets so excited even if all Obi-Wan has to show him is a rock he found while running for his life from upset dignitaries…

Obi-Wan thought his missions might be less exciting now he wasn’t partnered with the most infuriating diplomat in the Order. He was wrong.

When the Masters begin paying more attention to Anakin it is Obi-Wan he contacts for reassurance he is doing the right thing. After all he is listening to the Force, but what if he’s listening wrong? And Obi-Wan tells him he’s doing fine, to follow his instincts, and sorry he has to go now due to potential pirates, but maybe to take time with each of them to work out how well they connect, just in case the Force changes its mind? And it is Obi-Wan who tells him he should just confess about the incident with the door chimes, and reassures him that no one will hate him over the accident with the speeder. 

As time goes on, Obi-Wan becomes known in the Temple as the BEST source of information on the Skywalker Situation, because he has THE most up to date gossip on what Masters Jinn and Windu have decided to challenge each other with this time, or which Knight has decided to throw their hat into the ring most recently, only to find the kid too much to deal with. Obi-Wan finds himself feeling a little protective over Anakin, rolling his eyes at the latest stuff up on the part of Ani’s potential masters, and during one of his morning meditations he comes to the startling realisation that he is well and truly Attached to his young friend.

Well then.

So of course when it comes time for Anakin to make his final decision, Obi-Wan Kenobi puts on his best face and mentally tries to work out which master will have the honour of training the Chosen One. The selfish part of him hopes it’s not Qui-Gon. He adores his former Master, but time has convinced him that he would be a poor match for Anakin. And he wants what is best for the boy. 

Maybe once Anakin is safely matched to a Master of his own Obi-Wan might consider the merits of a Padawan himself. Certainly he is feeling a lot more confident in his skills that he was a few years earlier…

But then Anakin gives his name.

His.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

So many faces are turned to face them and he can feel them all asking “Why him?” and he doesnt have an answer and…

Anakin is looking at him. Waiting. For his response.

His heart gives him his answer, but he has to be SURE this is the boy’s decision.

“Why now Anakin?”

And Anakin smiles, bright and sure.

“Because you weren’t ready before.”

Oh.

Obi-Wan Kenobi laughs then, in joyous wonder and kneels to look the boy (his student!) in the eye.

“In that case, Anakin Skywalker, I would be honoured to be your Master, if you would agree to become my Padawan.”

And the Force sings.

~~~

I hope you’re not too disappointed! I was tempted to write a Plo Koon is Anakin’s Master AU, but in my heart of hearts, I just can’t keep the Team separated! :)

+

anonymous asked:

Coran getting seriously hurt in a Galra attack and Lance getting worse everyday. Coran had studied the human concept of psychology and was helping Lance by doing regular space therapy. They were attacked in the middle of one section and Coran used himself as a "shield" because he promised to never let Lance getting hurt again, not when he can do something about it and now Lance can't stop blaming himself

Okay but, imagine Allura, under stress of losing the last person she has left, blames Lance too. She doesn’t outright say it, but everyone can tell. While the rest of the paladins know that this is not Lances fault, they take Allura side- because she’s already lost so much, she can’t lose Coran. And of course almost no one realize how Lance feels- Hunk semi realizes, but he’s been busy making sure Allura actually eats

Of course, when Coran wakes up, and is  healed, everyone crowds around him. They are all exclaiming how relieved they are and, after hugging Allura, he looks at Lance, and completely loses his shit. The boy is absolutely destroyed, he looks like he’s given up on life. He just goes off on the rest of the team, asking why they didn’t take care of Lance while he was out.

Surprisingly Lance answers before any of them can. 

“It’s because of me that you were hurt, so why didn’t I deserve to be hurt?”

You can’t love me, Apollo says with a sharp grin and peaked teeth.

I won’t, Icarus answers and kisses Apollo’s knuckles one by one.

You have to promise, Apollo says and runs his hands over Icarus’ bare shoulders.

I do, Icarus promises and throws his head back when long fingers coil around his throat.

You have to swear, Apollo whispers and bites down on the sensible flesh of Icarus’ cheekbones.

Whatever you want, Icarus swears and closes his eyes against the blazing fire of flesh on flesh.

You get greedy, Apollo snarls after a while and pushes the boy away.

Please don’t go, Icarus thinks when the waves kiss his back and break his bones.

it was his last thought before he fell | r.m

Okay let’s get some really late korrasami week stuff going. When they’re married I’m picturing korra “dragging” Asami on tons of picnics and she would sip her wine while korra rambles about how one cloud looks like naga or a rock she had seen last week. And asami would just nod and hum and smile about how adorable it is because even though she sounds like a little kid, it shows how, after everything she’s been through, she’s still her Korra.

Hopefully some better quality pieces will come out of these prompts…. they’ll get done! Slowly but surely, they get done! I promise!!!!! >:))))))

anonymous asked:

Could you maybe show us an evolution of your drawings? (Even before this blog?) I love the fact that you are self-taught. I'm not good at drawing but I would love to give it a go, but I would appreciate some motivation by seeing your evolution (if you don't mind)? Big fan! x

Well, basically all digital art that I’ve drawn is posted on this blog, or at least on my dA account :) Although I did delete a few! So I guess I can bring them back… *cringe*

Okay so… In 2015 I got really into Harry Potter and was inspired by all those fanartists, so I tried drawing some stuff of my own. I didn’t have a tablet yet, I was just trying the waters, seeing if digital art is even something I’d be interested in. Here are Hermione and Draco’s portraits I did in mid-November 2015 (I think I was drawing with my mouse, or I might have been using a touch pen on my Asus laptop that has a touch screen, but it’s very tough to work with, not like a tablet at all, no pressure sensitivity, no precision)

Ugh the cringe…. :D

I mean if you scroll to the very bottom of my dA page you’ll find more stuff like this, if you’re interested.
But yeah, those portraits are pretty much the first digital drawings I’ve done.

Continuing with portraits, 4 months later (mid-March 2016) I did Hermione and Draco again, this time already using my graphic tablet and also using references:

Already much better! Yet, to me, still cringy :D I haven’t yet redrawin these portraits (I am planning to), but if we look at my newest portraits (from Ravenclaw set since that one’s the latest, it was completed in February 2017 which is almost a year later from the previous ones), you can see that I have improved a lot too!

They look so much cleaner, every brushstroke has much more purpose, there’s more symmetry and logic and all those things. I like how my portraits changed, not sure how others feel :)

The biggest change in my art was me starting to use references. It helps so much with getting proportions and perspective and body movements right.
And then it was just all about continuing to learn and polishing my style through practice and frequent drawing :) As I did more and more portraits, it sort of felt as though I’ve always been doing them the same way, as though my portraits look the same and no progress is done, but as you can see, during one year, the way I draw changed, or rather got a bit better and precise, so while it didn’t feel as though I’m improving as I’m drawing, when looking back, the progress is visible.

So just take your time :) Miracles won’t happen in a short period of time, especially if you don’t draw at least a couple of times a week (last year in spring-summer I drew like 5-12 drawings a week, so that totally made a difference). You will improve, I promise, but looking at other artists’ art, trying to figure out how they did it, trying out different tools, and learning from references will surely speed up the process of making progress. So yeah, I hope this helps a little :) Sorry I only showed portraits here, I just thought they’re good to show art evolution with since I drew so many of them. Good luck mate! <3

[After the battle with Gaea, Percy, finally home, is fast asleep in his old bedroom. Sally is sitting at the foot of his bed, staring blankly at a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Every once in a while she looks over at her son, as though afraid he might disappear if she doesn’t check to make sure he’s still there. The rooms suddenly fills with a light, salty smelling breeze, and Poseidon appears]

Poseidon (quietly): How is he?

Sally (staring blindly at her book): …Tired. Sore. Alive, at least.

Poseidon (exhaling a small sigh of relief): Thank the oceans for that. For a while, I wasn’t sure he was going to-

Sally (getting to her feet): May I have a word with you, privately?

Poseidon (glancing from her to Percy): ….Now? What about-

Sally (walking to the door): Just out in the hall.

[Nonplussed, Poseidon follows her out. Sally gently shuts the door, checking one last time to see that Percy is still asleep and present, then turns to face Poseidon]

Sally: I’m going to lose my temper now.

Poseidon (blankly): …When?

Sally (narrowing her eyes): Right now.

Poseidon: Well, when-

[Sally slaps him across the face. Poseidon gives an involuntary noise of shock and pain, clutching his face before staring at her in mute incomprehension]

Sally (breathing hard): Two years ago, YOU made a promise to me, while we were stranded in New York, trying to find our son, that if he survived, you would never put him through another curse, quest, prophecy, or geas- whatever those are. And I believed you. So why?

Poseidon (softly): Sally…

Sally (wiping away furious tears, voice breaking): Why did you lie to me?!

Poseidon (simply, with over two thousand years of pain, exhaustion and resignation behind it): Because I’m a god.

Sally (glaring at him): You are also a father.

Poseidon (helplessly): Sally, I’m trying to tell you the truth about myself.

Sally (through gritted teeth): I don’t care about the truth about yourself.

[Poseidon nods silently in understanding, lowering his gaze to the floor. Sally gives a shuddering sigh, face in her hands]

Sally (miserably): I’m a writer. I know how these things go. This story is just too predictable.

Poseidon: Predictable, really? What happens in the end?

Sally (quietly, turning her back on Poseidon, one hand on the handle of Percy’s door): In the end? In the end, they all die. Percy and every child like him dies, unless you and your family change.

Wilford was the last one left.

The others faded years ago, but he wasn’t quite sure how many. Not much point in keeping track of time when there’s nothing to live for. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing.

Mark kept his promise, he kept the channel up after he stopped making videos. That alone kept Wilford and the others around for a while. The fans still cared, after all.

But slowly, they started to lose interest. The weakest were the first to go, those who were only in one or two videos. Yandere, Bop, Bim, Ed, the Silver Shepard, they faded quickly. The Host lasted a bit longer, due mainly to the scope of his powers, but not by much, maybe a month longer than the other five. Dr. Iplier was next, and he spend his last moments bustling around the clinic, trying to cure himself. King, the Jims, the Googles, Bing, they were next. Soon, only Wilford and Dark remained, and then it was just Wilford.

The channel icon, Mark’s face with a pink mustache, Wilford’s face, was seen whenever someone scrolled through their subscription list. That was just barely enough to keep him alive. He was more of a ghost, really, barely corporeal and hardly visible unless he concentrated.

He never did anything anymore. He stopped trying to air Warfstache TV after Bim faded. He stopped leaving his room after Dark faded. There was nothing for him anymore, he was doomed to a lifetime of solitude that wouldn’t end until the last of Mark’s subscribers was gone and there was no one left to see his face.

It was unbearable.

He hated every second of this miserable life.

Silent.

Alone.

—–

“Hey, you remember this dude?”

“Oh yeah, we used to spend hours watching his stuff.”

—–

Someone was watching Mark’s videos.

Someone was watching his interviews. For the first time in ages, he felt the power of having an audience, even if it was only one or two people reminiscing.

He left his room for the first time since Dark faded, praying to whatever was listening that they would watch the other egos videos, too.

He looked in each room as he walked down the hall, hoping beyond hope to see someone inside. He checked the Google’s room first, knowing that “Google Gets an Upgrade” was at the top of the live action playlist.

——

“Hey, is that Markiplier?”

“Yeah!”

“Shit, I haven’t watched him in years, mind if I join?”

—–

“Googs?” His voice cracked from disuse. “Googs, you in here?”

Nothing.

He checked room after room, still feeling the power of having active viewers. They were still watching.

Every room was empty. His voice echoed uncomfortably through each one. He started to lose hope. Obviously one or two viewers wouldn’t bring the others back, and while he had realized that as he walked through the hall, he just couldn’t keep himself from checking for the others.

—–

“Oh hey, check out this series, it’s one of my faves.”

“‘A Date with Markiplier’ ?“

“Yeah, take the horror movie route.”

—-

He finally reached Dark’s office at the opposite end of the hallway, and opened the door with trepidation. He probably wouldn’t be here either, no one else was.

—-

“Holy shit, hot demon dude.”

“Dark was always my favourite uh, what were they called? Egos? Yeah. He was my favourite.”

“Any more vids of him?”

“Hell yeah.”

—–

As soon as he opened the door, his ears started ringing.

“Dark?”

—–

Nerd Lord posted a link

Nerd Lord: hey guys watch this

Fucko: sweet

That Damn Kid: oh hey i remember this dude

Hot Diggity: fuckin nostalgia trip

Hot Diggity: imma binge this channel now fuk u

Fucko: yno wat same

That Damn Kid: yeah me too

—–

“Daaaark?”

The ringing got louder. Granted, it was still faint, but it was increasing in volume, bit by bit.

Wilford walked into the room slowly, not really believing the ringing was Dark. Why would it be? He was probably hallucinating.

Then he heard him.

“Wilford?”

6

3x01 // 2x12

“Hey, man, listen. We all miss Shiro. I remember what a thrill it was just to meet him for the first time, when the two of us carried him out of that Garrison hospital. You’re not the only one hurting, man. We’re all right there with you! But you know that he would be the first one to tell us that we have to move on.“

“You know, it’s okay to miss Appa… What’s going on with you? In the desert, all you cared about was finding Appa and now it’s like you don’t care about him at all. [Aang speaks] But now you’re not letting yourself feel anything. I know sometimes it hurts more to hope and it hurts more to care. But you have to promise me that you won’t stop caring.“

1.5k words of Neil getting flustered daydreaming about Andrew. A little nsfw, and a lot silly. I ended up listening to more than just Charlie XCX’s Boys, but safe to say the rest of the music had the same theme.


Neil isn’t a one-track-mind kind of person, as much as Andrew might suggest otherwise – years on the run taught him to multitask, to prioritize but not overlook anything. Unlike Kevin, even when he’s focused on Exy he can still think about survival, about his friends, his classes, about Andrew.

Well – Could. Usually.

Neil was in class, in a class, in some…sort of class that he definitely can’t currently remember the name of, doodling absentmindedly in his notepad for who knows how long, when there’s a cough above him. His professor is stood above him, looking exasperated, and Neil notices that the rest of the students are pretty much gone; class must have finished without him realizing. The aforementioned professor nods down at his notes with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, at least you weren’t sleeping.” She says, and Neil follows her gaze and realizes that his notepad has maybe two lines of notes, the rest just covered in doodles. The little fox prints and Exy sticks are par for the course, but he flushes and not-so-subtly moves his arm to cover the page to hide the cigarettes and keys and half-drawn profiles that are a little more damning.

Neil mumbles a ‘sorry’ and bolts from the class as quickly as possible, but things only go downhill from there.

Listen. It’s been two weeks since he’s seen Andrew, which is thirteen days too long if he’s honest – Neil has had the luxury of Andrew being in kissing distance almost constantly for the last few years, and now he’s off playing professional Exy and Neil is distracted.

The last time they were together Andrew must have sensed Neil’s desperation and anxiety about their coming separation because he had been heavy and rough, had pressed in close enough that Neil could feel the weight of him all over, always so solid. Then Andrew had slipped his hands under Neil’s thighs and with a harried ‘yes’ mumbled between kisses, lifted Neil fully off the ground, pressing his back up against the door to their room in Columbia and tugging at his legs until they encircled Andrew’s waist.

Neil had gone very very still for a good fifteen seconds while his brain processed what was happening (before coming to the conclusion that he was definitely, absolutely, a hundred percent on board). Andrew had kept still while he did, allowing Neil that time only to press back in close to him, all dense muscle and warm skin, till Neil was pressed up tight against the door, barely able to move but for the unintentional roll of his hips when his body decided that yes, this was very good, more please.

“Yes?” Andrew had asked, one hand coming up to trace Neil’s mouth, still lax in his surprise.

“Yes,” Neil had finally managed to get out, and then, “Yes, Andrew, fuck, yes, yes—”, only to be cut off by Andrew replacing his hand with his mouth, catching Neil’s plush bottom lip, already swollen with kisses, between his teeth as his hand moved down to lightly rest against Neil’s neck.

Which was good, was great, but then Neil had the abrupt and somewhat life changing realization that Andrew was holding him up with one arm. Neil certainly wasn’t keeping himself up.

Neil had pulled back a little, panting, thinking briefly that the light flush across Andrew’s cheeks looked good on him but then, also: oh, and something like wow oh god his arms why haven’t we done this before. And maybe he said that out loud or thought it so hard that Andrew somehow picked up on it, because his expression had gone distinctly knowing and maybe a little smug.  

“You’re drooling.”

“I’m not,” Neil had argued, but his conviction only lasted long enough for him to swipe at his mouth and find Andrew wasn’t lying.

“Are you done? Or am I going to have to give you and my arms some alone time?”

Andrew wasn’t serious, but the sudden flash of images that occupied Neil’s thoughts had him half-tempted to say yes and see what happened. Instead, he’d spent one last moment admiring the stretch of Andrew’s shirt across the top of his biceps, the strain of his muscles as he held Neil in place, the veins and the light freckles and the pale tan lines on his forearms. The contrast between his own darker skin against Andrew’s, the way Neil could feel him flex, feel the shift of solid muscle against him – the implicit power behind it had sent a dizzy rush of warmth to his cheeks, and a low moan threatened in his chest.

Then he had turned fully back to Andrew, and found himself soundly distracted.

Until now. Where, for some reason, his brain couldn’t stop thinking about it. He felt itchy and warm and like he definitely shouldn’t be attempting to captain right now, when Robin and a couple of their freshman recruits were watching him worriedly as he fumbled his second easy shot at the goal in the last ten minutes. He could imagine the unimpressed look on Kevin’s face, the muttering about letting yourself be distracted is idiotic and out gay athletes struggle and I’m perfect so I never think about anything but the game blah blah blah. He could also imagine the face Andrew would make, and the balls he would send in the direction of Kevin’s shins, but then Neil was distracted thinking about the power behind Andrew’s throws and the way his sweat-slick shirt would cling to his body; emphasizing how his shoulder muscles bunched and smoothed out, the hint of skin between his sleeves and his armbands drawing Neil’s eyes like a sunflower to the sun.

Maybe the ‘moth to a flame’ metaphor would be more appropriate because Neil thought he might actually kill himself by walking into traffic or something equally stupid today, and Andrew would have to raise him from the dead just to tell him how idiotic he was. Although if Andrew was digging up his grave for necromantic purposes, that would mean they were at least in touching distance – which was more than could be said currently.


So. Practice went like that, and the rest of the day is more of the same, until Robin stops him from joining the rest of the team for an impromptu movie night and smiles like he’s a dog that’s too old and stupid to bother telling off for peeing on the carpet or humping someone’s leg. He tries not to grimace, facing the embarrassment that comes with her knowing him too well.

“Go and call Andrew. You’re a mess,” was all she had said, but it was enough that he would have flushed to his roots if he had the complexion for it. As it was, he’d just gone very warm and made as swift an exit as he could without outright running.

Listen.

It’s been two weeks and an entire day, which is fourteen too long, and Neil is done. He holes himself up in his bedroom with his back to the door, and bites the proverbial bullet. The phone rings twice before Andrew picks up.

“Neil,” Andrew says by way of answer, and Neil is suddenly thankful that he didn’t call Andrew in public, because his knees almost buckle under him just from hearing his voice.

“Neil?”

“I’m fine!”

“Well, that’s good,” Andrew says slowly, tone moving away from concerned and settling somewhere near to amused. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” Neil replies, suddenly feeling foolish for calling Andrew for no reason other than missing him. God, and it’s only been two weeks.

“How is your new team?” He asks finally, settling on something innocuous to avoid saying something like I can’t get your dumb biceps out of my head I think I might need you to set up a live stream of you on the bench press or I might die. Or any one of the hundred other stupid things he wants to say: I miss you, or I keep thinking about the last time I saw you or I don’t know how I’m going to be able to last a year like this.

“Fine,” Andrew tells him after a moment, “Kevin keeps bugging me to ask how your captaincy is going. I told him he could ask you himself when you get here tomorrow.” It’s a promise and a reminder all in one, but mostly it’s a relief – that Andrew knows him, that he’s only a short flight away, that he isn’t being forgotten. He lets out a slow breath that he feels like he’s been holding all day, his body relaxing the longer he’s on the phone with Andrew.

“I was thinking about the last time we were together,” he blurts after a little while, and curses himself immediately. But then he hears the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone, like Andrew is getting comfortable on a sofa, or his bed.

And then Andrew says, “Oh?” with something like curiosity, and Neil lets himself smile.

-
This now has a sequel :)
The Louvre (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Originally posted by crystelgreene

You were the only daughter of one of the wealthiest pureblood families, everyone thought you would’ve been sorted into Slytherin but you were instead sorted into Gryffindor. The first couple of years you mostly kept to yourself, but then you met the infamous golden trio during your third year and now you were the fourth member of the former trio; after sharing a cabin together on the train, you instantly clicked. You were as studious as Hermione, as daring as Harry, and as carefree as Ron. 

Soon enough no one found you without one of them, from studying late at night in the common room with Hermione to raiding the kitchen with Ron. Well that was until the last week before the summer term. During Potions, Snape had decided that he would switch partners for the final exam and to your luck, you were paired up with Draco instead of Harry.

“If you cost us this exam I swea-” Draco began off coolly, but you cut him off with an air of confidence.

“Your father will hear about it? Don’t worry Malfoy, I’ll make sure you get to tell daddy dearest that you got an Outstanding.” you replied, arching an eyebrow at him while he instantly shut up, clearly not used to someone speaking that way to him. It unnerved him, but in a good way.

And you weren’t wrong, you and Draco got an Outstanding, something that surprised him considering how he didn’t even manage that on a weekly basis.

“Told ya so.” You said as you gathered your things and headed out the door, leaving the Malfoy heir speechless for the first time in his life.

The rest of the week flew by and next thing you know, you were hugging your friends’ goodbye at King’s Cross, promising Mrs. Weasley that you will stay at the burrow for the second half of your summer vacation.

As you and your family made your way across the station with your trunk you spotted Draco, you thought he would throw a dirty look your way but much to your surprise, he simply smiled at you, not a big toothy grin, it was a rather shy smile but a smile nonetheless. You returned it and carried on towards the family car.

A few days had gone past and so far your summer vacation was proving to be quite boring, until that fateful Tuesday. You were strolling down Diagon Alley, waiting for your father to finish doing whatever he had to do at Gringotts, you were so engrossed with all of the colorful summer flowers that adorned the window sills of some of the shops that you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking. Next thing you know you literally bumped into none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Woah, are you alright there, Y/N?” he said, his hands holding your waist to keep you from falling. You didn’t know what shocked you the most, that you were clumsy enough to fall in public, that you fell into Draco or that he knew your name.

“Um, yeah, I’m sorry, I should’ve been watching where I was going.” You said, blushing slightly at just how close you were.

“That’s quite alright. Rather bump into just you than the rest of your quartet.” He replied in a light, teasing tone.

“Are my ears deceiving me or is Draco Malfoy joking around?” you laughed, as he shrugged.

“I don’t know, let me take you out for a sundae at Florean’s and we can discuss it.” he said smoothly. You eyed him wearily, unsure whether or not to take his offer, but you weren’t one to get scared from the unknown so you smiled brightly and said,

“I would love to.”

And that was just the beginning.

Well, summer slipped us underneath her tongue
Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession
Half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom floor
Use our eyes, throw our hands overboard

 

After that Tuesday afternoon at Florean’s you spent every other day at either his manor or yours. Your parents absolutely adored him and his parents loved that he was seeing such a promising young lady, even though you were a Gryffindor. The fact that you were a pureblood made up for it.

Nights turned into days and days turned into nights, summer was passing by way too quickly for your liking and you were wondering just what this was, were you two just having a summer fling? Were you dating?

You were pulled from your thoughts by Draco calling your name over and over.

“You alight there love?”

“What are we?” you bluntly asked.

“Come again?” Draco said, clearly confused by your question.

“Us, what is this? We go back to Hogwarts in a month and I don’t know, we never stated just what this is. I mean you met my parents for Merlin’s sake!” you ranted, standing up from his bed, throwing the book you were previously reading to the side as he chuckled.

“Considering that I have at least one jumper of yours for every day of the week in one of my drawers because you always forget them here, I would safely say that we are dating, Y/N. Not to mention that I know for a fact that you steal my jumpers. I saw one on your bedroom floor last week.”

“You could’ve asked…you know, formally.”

“Are you seriously mad I never properly asked you to be my girlfriend?” he asked, laughing as you pouted, looking away knowing that your cheeks must resemble Ron’s hair.

“Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, bowing deeply as he were some sort of knight.

“Oh sod off.” You said laughing as he captured your lips with his.

 

A rush at the beginning
I get caught up, just for a minute
But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing
Can you hear the violence?
Megaphone to my chest

 

You were hastily packing your trunk as Draco lazily played with your tabby cat, Harold, a scowl on his handsome face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, as you shut your trunk with a flick of your wand, coming down to sit next to him on your bed.

“Nothing.” He said curtly.

“Draco…”

“Do you really have to go spend a week with the Weasleys?”

“Like I told you a thousand times, I do, I promised my friends I would. Besides it’s just a week, then I’ll go stay at the manor until the term starts, I promise.” You said kissing him softly.

“Very well, but I’ll pick you up tomorrow bright and early so we can go have breakfast together one last time.” Who knew Draco Malfoy would be a lovesick puppy.

Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make ‘em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it

 

While you were at the burrow you kept looking for the right time to tell your best friends about you and Draco but it never seemed like the right time. The week flew by and soon enough you were using the Floo network to get to the Malfoy Manor where Draco was waiting for you.

What little remained of your summer break was filled with end of the summer parties from pureblood families, which meant that everyone that was anyone knew about the wealthy power couple that you and Draco were. Which meant that your friends would bound to hear about it.

You were sitting in the garden, taking a breather from the stuffy party crowd inside. Lost in your thoughts you didn’t even notice Draco coming up behind you.

“I told mum not to make a big announcement like that about us but you know how she is…I’m sorry.” He murmured as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder softly.

“It’s not that Draco, it’s just that…” you trailed off.

“Go on, love.” He encouraged you.

“It’s a well-known fact that Harry, Hermione, Ron and you don’t get along. And I’ve grown rather fond of you… I just don’t want you to hurl insults at them and vice versa. Merlin knows just how much they hate me for not telling them about us.” You admitted, adverting your gaze from his piercing grey eyes.

“Well you’re not wrong. I’m rather fond of you but not of them, but for you, I’ll try to be civil. I won’t be best of mates with them, but I’ll keep the comments to myself.” He said, with that you let out a sigh of relief at which he chuckled.

“Now come on, they’ll think we’re up to no good if we don’t go back in there.” He said taking your hand in his as he led back inside.

 

Our thing progresses, I call and you come through
Blow all my friendships to sit in hell with you
But we’re the greatest, they’ll hang us in the Louvre
Down the back, but who cares, still the Louvre

 

Okay I know that you are not my type (still I fall)
I’m just the sucker who let you fill her mind (but what about love?)
Nothing wrong with it, supernatural
Just move in close to me, closer, you’ll feel it coasting

 

Just as you predicted it, Ron and Harry were beyond livid once they spotted you at King’s Cross. Your mother suppressed her laughter seeing them flail their arms, asking you a million of questions.

“YOU DO KNOW HE’S DRACO MALFOY RIGHT?” Ron yelled, scaring your cat as you looked between him and Harry.

“Y/N, IS HE BLACKMAILING YOU? We can call Snuffles or Remus!” Harry added.

“Is it a love potion?! Maybe we can contact Dumbledore before we get there so he can have the antidote ready!”

“Guys, GUYS! Shut up! Yes, I know that he’s a Malfoy, no, he’s not blackmailing me and we do not need to contact them, and lastly, it is not a love potion, you git.” You listed off as you tried to calm down your squirming cat.

“But Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? Mr. Weasley came home three days ago saying how everyone at the ministry kept buzzing about the latest Malfoy soirée and how his parents made a big announcement about their son. It was about how he was dating another powerful pureblood heir, you.” Hermione said, finally speaking out, a tone of hurt and resentment in her voice.

“I just didn’t know how to tell you; I know how ever since first year you all have not been in the best of terms with him. I was scared that you wouldn’t be my friends anymore.” You confessed.

“Now that’s bloody ridiculous. We’re just worried for you and yes, this will take some time to get used to but we’re here for you and we will try to be civil.” Harry said, hugging you softly, soon enough the rest of trio were hugging you, amidst the commotion your cat broke free from your arms and ran off straight into a tall, blonde figure.

“Missing someone, love?” Draco asked, holding your cat tightly since he was squirming so much.

“You know Harold; he doesn’t like it when he’s not the center of attention.” He chuckled and then noticed the golden trio, who were watching him apprehensively. He nodded politely at them and they returned the gesture, although it looked like it took Ron all of his will power not to shout at him.

“I’ll go get us a cabin, I’ll take this fat fluff ball with me.” He said, kissing your cheek and taking Harold along with him. You turned back to your friends but before you could get a word out, Ron cut you off.

“I take it you’re not sitting with us on the way to Hogwarts, eh?”

“I’m sorry Ron, but I’ll obviously sit with you guys during the feast.” You promised, hugging them one last time before you followed after Draco.

Once classes started, everyone kept talking about you and Draco, and how could they not? It wasn’t every day that a Slytherin prefect dated a Gryffindor. They constantly saw you bantering over the silliest of things, and it was a daily occurrence that Draco would be spotted running after your cat. No one could’ve imagine that the once cold Slytherin prince was now nothing but mirth and joy, well around you, around others he was still that cold prince. Just like at all of those summer parties, people looked and talked about the two of you with an air of awe, you parted hallways as you both walked hand in hand. Even the paintings themselves would coo over you both.

A rush at the beginning
I get caught up, just for a minute
But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing
Can you hear the violence?
Megaphone to my chest

“They’re cute, don’t you think?” Hermione asked Ron and Harry as she spotted you two down by the lake, relaxing under an old oak tree.

“A little too cute. It’s like they’re living in a photoshoot, they’re so perfect!” Ron exclaimed.

“Oh hush up.” Hermione laughed as Harry snickered.

Even though you were deemed as the it couple at Hogwarts, that didn’t mean that everyone thought so. At the beginning of the term, the twins and many other Gryffindors would keep a close eye on you whenever you were with Draco. Draco’s friends were still weary of you, especially Pansy. But you both learned to ignored the whispers and snide comments because it didn’t matter to you both.

Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it

It was almost midnight and you were up at the astronomy tower, watching the clear night sky. Harold was purring next to you, and you were twirling your wand in in between your fingers, waiting for Draco to finish up with his prefect duties.

After a few minutes the door opened and he came in carrying two mugs of hot chocolate, Dobby trailing behind him with a plate of cookies.

“Dobby has come to help Draco! Dobby likes Draco very much because Draco treats miss Y/N kindly.” Dobby said cheerily, setting down the plate next to you.

“It’s so nice to see you, Dobby.” You said, smiling at the cheerful house elf. After a few minutes he bid you both farewell and went back to the kitchen.

You were both quiet for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s company.

“Who would’ve thought that we would be here…you being nice to house elves, and civil towards my friends.” you mused.

“Well, people do crazy things when they’re in love.” He answered, smiling as you moved closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it
Broadcast the boom boom boom boom
And make 'em all dance to it

The Bookstore

Hey guys! It’s me again, and I sorta wanted to write a Tom meet-cute because I daydream about those 25/8? This is just soft, fluffy and sweet, I hope you like it!
Author’s note: Tom is my screensaver and I went to Barnes and Noble today and the girl that was ringing me up was really, really nice and we were talking about Marvel because I was buying a comic, (I finally found Spider-Man Blue, three cheers for me!) and she was literally like, “oh my gosh, you and Tom would be super adorable together! I can just see it now!” And I sort of died? So this is just a story branching off of that?
The Bookstore
“Is that your boyfriend?” The saleslady asked, referencing the girl’s phone, as a smile that stretched from ear to ear crossed over her features. “He comes in quite often, has mostly good taste in books, although, sometimes his choices are questionable at best. Likes fantasy and adventure, some good, some not.”
The girl’s eyes widened and her mouth flopped open and shut like a guppy’s as she attempted to stutter out an appropriate response.
Tom Holland was the girl’s screensaver, and no, he most definitely wasn’t her boyfriend because he had no idea that she existed. Even if he had stumbled across her fan account, she’d just be another fan to Tom, maybe she’d even stand out for being an ultimate creep.
“He’s a very polite boy, you’re so lucky! My daughters are only interested in self-obsessed assholes.” The lady began to scan her choices, continuing to rant about her daughter’s apparent bad taste in men.
The girl was still struggling to comprehend her situation. The saleswoman clearly knew Tom, who apparently came in often, as did she, so she couldn’t really say that he wasn’t her boyfriend without looking like an utter and complete weirdo.
Pondering, she bit the inside of her cheek. Their paths had never crosses, so what could be the harm in indulging in a little fantasy? “We’ve been dating since last Spring,” She said, not daring to look into the kind eyes of the saleswoman.
“Ah, I see. I bet you two look absolutely adorable together, maybe turn him onto some high quality literature next time he comes in, eh?” The woman smiled from across the counter, waving the girl’s new Philip Roth books in the air before handing them over.
Reaching for her five purchases, the girl smiled and nodded, “I’ll do my very best!” She called and waved as she left the store.
Over the next few days, Tom wandered back into the bookstore. Navigating his way down the store’s narrow aisles, Tom searched for something that he could read on the plane that he’d inevitably be boarding sometime soon. He paused every so often to pick up a book, glance over the summary on the back, and reshelve it to it’s proper home.
After shuffling down another section, he came across the very same saleswoman who had helped the girl moonlighting as his girlfriend.
“How come you guys never come in together? She knows some good authors, I’m sure she’d love to help broaden your horizons.” The saleswoman said, maintaining her position, crouched over to straighten and tidy the shelves.
Tom looked around, unsure of who the woman was speaking to, because as far as he knew, none of his friends knew about this store. They opted for Barnes and Noble, while he prefered to dig.
“Yes, you. I just met your girlfriend and she’s lovely. Great taste in books.” The woman said again.
Scratching his head, Tom wasn’t exactly sure what to say, so he played along, not wanting to be rude. Surely she must be confusing him with someone else, because he didn’t have a girlfriend to share books with, as much as he’d like one.
“Yeah, we just have different schedules, she’s usually in class when I peruse the bookstore.” Tom said, bending down to help the woman on the floor.
“She’s very cute, and very sweet. It’s nice to see young people reading something that isn’t their twitter feed.” The woman said, taking one last glance at the fixed up shelf, before nodding decisively and standing up.
Tom stood as well, chuckling, “My Dad’s an author, so reading has always been apart of my life.”
“You guys are lovely, let me know if I can be of any help.” The woman began to walk away and Tom shook his head and laughed.
“How do you know that my girl is my girl? We never come in at the same time.” Tom asked suddenly, curiosity leaking into his bloodstream.
“She comes in more often than you, buys more books than you, and you’re her screensaver. It’s quite cute, actually.” The saleslady called out.
There it is, Tom thought, she might be a fan. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he’d be her screensaver. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Tom smirked and picked out not one, but two books. One to leave at the register for her the next time that he came in, and one for him to read while he was on the press tour.
“That is so thoughtful! She’ll love it!” The woman said from behind the cash register, clapping her hands together. “I’ll make sure that she gets it, alright? Wanna put a little message in it, promise I won’t peak! I’ve got a pen right here!” She chirped happily.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll actually do that. Could I please borrow your pen?” Tom asked.
Drawing a heart to conclude the note to his ‘girlfriend’ that he’d never met, he said thank you one to the lady one last time and left the store.
The very next morning, the girl pushed her wallet back into her purse at the bookstore’s register, waiting for the same saleswoman to finish ringing her up.
“Saw your boyfriend yesterday, left a little something for you.” The saleswoman smiled, turning around to sift through the books on display behind her to find Tom’s choice for the girl.
The girl felt the fiery licks of scarlet coloring her skin again. Her hands shook, surely Tom thought that she was a mega, ultra stalker. He’d probably left her a note begging her to kindly fuck off. She wished Mother Earth would swallow her up the same way it did to Sita in ‘The Ramayana.’
“Don’t be embarrassed, silly, it’s endearing.” The woman handed her a book titled, ‘Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair’ by Pablo Neruda. “He’s paid for it, of course, and he left you a little note on the first page. Lent him the pen myself.”
“He really shouldn’t have,” the girl stuttered, her hands almost noticeably shaking as she held the book within her palms.
Inside, Tom had scribbled out,
Seeing as you’re my girlfriend, I thought it was only fitting to leave you at least twenty love poems. Left you a song of despair as well, seeing as we haven’t met yet.
Love always,
Your devoted boyfriend, Tom

“Could I go back and pick one out for him as well?” The girl asked, feeling a tiny bit braver after reading Tom’s cheeky message for her.
“Of course! I love this, I wish more couples did things like this for each other, it’s endearing!” The saleswoman smiled, shutting the register.
After picking out an appropriate novel, she left the store, smiling, blushing and practically gliding on air.
Later that very afternoon, Tom was chased by the overbearing coldness of the afternoon breeze, and his own excitement over whether or not she’d received his present, back into the bookstore.
Not even bothering to look at anything, he came to a halt in front of the saleswoman, who upon seeing him enter, tore through her display to retrieve the novel that she’d left for him.
“Did she get it? Did she like it, I haven’t heard from her yet.” Tom asked, beaming at the woman.
“She loved it! She loved it so much, in fact, that she’s left one for you as well.” She handed him a novel called ‘One Day.’ “She’s left a love note for you as well!”
Tearing the book open, Tom came across her delicate handwriting sprawled in black ink.
Here’s to hoping that I meet you one day.
With all the love in my heart-
Your mystery girlfriend
Fighting the urge to hug the book closer to his chest, Tom made a choice.
“I’m going to go pick her a book out right now, and I’m going to wait right here until she comes back in. I want to give her this one in person.” Tom turned on his heel to search for the perfect book for to give her, when the saleswoman informed him that she’d already been in today.
“Alright then, I’ll be back first thing tomorrow.” Tom blushed, but continued on his way down through the shelves, desperate to find the perfect book for her.
Deciding on ‘You,’ by Caroline Kepnes, Tom paid and left the store, planning to return right when the bookstore opened.
The very next morning, Tom was perched in a cushy, plush chair, obscured by stacks and shelves housing novels, waiting for her. He’d positioned himself perfectly, ensuring that he could see the register at all times, but that the people at the register wouldn’t be able to spot him, unless they knew where he was hiding.
He was completely on edge. Every time the door opened, he’d practically leap to his feet, only to be met with disappointment because mostly everyone who wandered in off the street was either male, or too old to be his mystery girlfriend.
Finally, when Tom had all but lost hope, a girl so otherworldly beautiful that Tom truly debated in his mind whether or not the girl was even a girl, he briefly wondered if she was an ethereal fairy of sorts, floated into the room.
Her hair reflected light the same way that waves in the sea did, and her voice was so soft and warm that it sounded as he imagined his favorite hot drink would taste. She waved hello to the saleswoman before diving into the poetry section, hidden deep within the store.
Jumping to his feet, Tom rushed to finally meet her, rolling the book he planned to give her in between his palms.
Checking his hair one more time, Tom came to a stop next to her.
“Excuse me miss, I was just wondering if you happen to be my mystery girlfriend, who apparently has better taste in books than me?” Tom’s confidence was evaporating as she turned around to face him.
She was even prettier up close and Tom wanted to scratch his own eyes out for beginning the conversation with such a shit line.
Thankfully, she smiled, a strawberry jam colored blush widening across her delicate features. “That would be me, but unfortunately, you’ve caught me off guard and now I don’t have anything to give to you.” Her eyes refused to meet his own for more than a few seconds.
She could barely believe any of this. First, her celebrity crush and her happened to both shop at the same bookstore. Then, he goes along with the charade of being her boyfriend, and even leaves her gifts, and now, he was standing in front of her.
He looked like Prince Charming and her brain was turning to mush.
“Lucky for you, I don’t mind. But, I do have a book for you.” Holding the novel, ‘You,’ out to her, he began to sway from foot to foot, nervous that she’d hate it.
“Funny enough, that’s one of my favorite books,” She laughed, “But are you planning to kill me?” She referenced the plot of ‘You,’ which was more or less a horror story, hardly the conventional romance.
Stuttering, Tom attempted to clear his name. “I just thought it was fitting, seeing as we met in a bookstore, and so did Joe and Beck,” the main characters who become romantically involved in the novel, “And really, I just wanted you to have the line about the mouse in the house.”
“Are you going to get a cat to chase me out?” She teased, and Tom laughed.
“Absolutely not, you’re just all I’ve been thinking about. I wanna know you, and learn from your apparently epic choices in literature.” Tom said, leaning in closer to her.
“Than sit, and I’ll pick you something out?” She questioned, shyly moving to sit on the floor, her arm curled around more than a few options.
The pair scooched into one another one the floor, and the saleswoman watched, smiling from her spot at the register. Her two favorite customers were finally together.
Her eyes twinkled as she turned the radio onto a station that played only love songs.
They read love poems, and love stories together, so it only seemed fair that they listened to only love songs as well.

Ever think about taking care of Harry when he’s feeling ill?

Like, he’d come home from the studio early even though a song is thisclose to being finished because every note irritates his scratchy throat and the sound of the bass reverberating through his skull during playback matches the pulsing of his migraine. 

And he’s disappointed when you’re not home because the only thing that can make him feel better and forget all about his hay fever is your cuddles. So he relaxes the best he can, flipping through his phone and holding his head in his hands trying to ignore the way his eyes are heavy and his body is exhausted.

Keep reading

Catch You

Thrice- Come All You Weary

Newt can’t help but worry when you experience a near death fall…


“I’m tellin’ you Y/N,” Gally scoffed. “You’re not gonna be able to make it up to the top of those vines.”

“How much do you wanna bet shuck face?” I glared. Gally was oil and I was water. No way in bloody hell were we gonna be friends.

“If you make it to the top, I have to build you a new bed.”

Ooh’s and ah’s spread like wildfire through the crowd surrounding us, Minho grinning in particular. He was the only one who actually enjoyed when Gally and I bickered, thanking us for giving him a free show.

“But if you lose,” Gally smirked. “We have to play 7 minutes in heaven together.”

“You’re on,” I huffed confidently. Knowing Gally, he’d probably be able to take advantage of me within 3 minutes.  

As I was about to follow him to the vines, Newt grabbed me by my arm and gave me a warning look.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked almost demandingly.

“Making Gally swallow his words?” I chuckled nervously, confused at why he was acting so weird. “I’m not gonna fall Newt. I’m okay.”

“Please don’t. I- I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.” Giving him a warm smile, I patted him on the back and walked to where the boys were.

When we took our starting positions in front of the wall, I noticed out of the corner of my that Thomas and Minho were holding Newt back by his arms, as he had a pained look on his face.

“Ready,” Frypan counted down. “Set. Go!”

Some of the boys were cheering for Gally while others were encouraging me to ignore them. Whatever right?

Just as I was about to reach the top, Gally decided to tear a vine that was coincidentally connected to the one I was climbing. The last thing I remember was a shooting pain in my ankle before I went out like a Christmas light.  

“Y/N!” Someone shouted. “Get her down from there!”

“Get Clint!” another yelled.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be fine Newt. Just a broken ankle- all it is really.”

“You promise?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“When is she going to-”

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to have to put you in bedrest for a week.”

Sighing in defeat, he sat down next to me, entwining his fingers through mine.

“Ugh…” I groaned. “What happened?”

“Gally pulled a vine and you dropped. Wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t caught your ankle on one of ‘em.” Newt grimaced, remembering Y/N’ s distinct scream.

“Newt, are you okay?” I asked wearily, recognizing the angst in his voice.

“You think I’m bloody alright after the stunt Gally pulled? You’re moving into my hut starting next week. You’d think that after the trick he pulled a few weeks ago in the changing rooms he’d-”

“Newt!” I snapped. “What’s going on? Why are you so stressed out? I just fractured my ankle. It could’ve happened to anyone.”

Pausing from his pacing, he breathed out and sat next down next to me.

“The reason I didn’t want you to climb up the wall involved an- accident that happened a while back.”

Staring into his deep brown eyes, I widened at the realization of what he was talking about.

“Oh Newt…” I sighed, tears welling into my eyes.

Taking his hands into mine, I let him cry as well.

“Everyone knows why I have this bloody limp,” he muffled through his tears. “I was in a bad place, I didn’t have anyone, I was lonely- then you came along. My  sun. My lullaby. My light. My Y/N.”

Wiping the tears from his eyes, I held his face in my hands as our lips met in a desperate embrace.

“I thought I lost you…” he sobbed.

“Newt,” I said teary eyed while bringing him into a tight hug. “No matter where you are, what mood you’re in, or how far away we are from each other, I will always be with you. Sorry to spoil it, but you’re not getting rid of me. I’ll always be here to catch you if you fall.”

Grinning with that amazing smile, he climbed into the bed with me and began combing through my hair with his comforting hands.

“I love you…” he said while softly kissing the top of my head.

“I love you too Newt…” I smiled, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.