trap canva

The Painting

Hi babes!💘 this is a smutty oneshot about the reader ignoring Tom when she gets an idea for a new painting, and Tom only wanting to gain her attention more! A small argument and sexy time ensues! I hope that you guys like it!👼🏻

The Painting

When Tom had come home, he’d found her with her hair tossed messily into a bun, stains of color smeared across her skin, and standing in front of a rather large canvas dressed in an imbrued art smock. The smock in which his girlfriend sported was backless, and Tom was delighted to find that she was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer, pink panties and bobby socks beneath it. He not only had a clear view of her legs, but her bum as well, and there was absolutely no way Tom thought that he would be complaining about anything when she was in such a state, but, there he was, complaining.
“Baby,” Tom whined, flopping into the nearest chair to her, “pay attention to me. I’ve spent my entire day missing you and now you’re barely even speaking to me.”
She sighed, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips, scrutinizing the piece of art in front of her. Crossing the room to mix together a concoction of red, pink, silver and white paint to create the perfect rosy tint, she answered Tom. “You know that I’m not trying to ignore you, I love you. It’s just that I think I may finally be breaking through the weird mental block I’ve had for a while.”
Tom nodded, understanding that she supported his artistic expressions, so he would have to buck up and support hers. It wasn’t as if he was unhappy with her painting, in fact, he was the exact opposite. He was thrilled to see her final product, and he loved seeing the spark of imagination light up her eyes, but as Tom said before, he missed her so much. Their time together had always been limited and he was jealous that her painting was receiving more attention than he was, considering that she could spend a million and one hours with her painting at her leisure, but she had maybe 90 something hours with him .
She plopped down into Tom’s lap and kissed him on the cheek, “you can mix the paints if you wanna.”
Tom held the spatula that his girlfriend had handed over to him, and did his best to focus on following her directions, while defying the feeling of his girlfriend in basically squirming around on his lap while she glided her soft, warm lips up and down the base of his throat in between her orders.
“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” Tom asked, curious as to what she was even painting.
Her kisses paused briefly, and then started up again between the words she said, “No! You can only see once I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”
Tom groaned, “is this good?” he motioned the colors he’d mixed. When she nodded, she made sure to turn her head to press a heavy, hot kiss to Tom’s lips before she hopped off of him. Sliding a hand down his face, Tom got up to leave the room. If he’d stayed there any longer, the images of her bending over in next to nothing would make him too hard to bare, so he decided that while she painted, he would busy himself with whatever nonsense that he came into contact with.
It had been a day and a half since her art project began, and since then, Tom had learned how assemble both a dresser and a cabinet, fixed every leaky faucet and broken appliance in her apartment, and had perfected a few random recipes he’d stumbled across on the internet. He was going out of his mind.
As time went on, she became even more and more appetizing to him. She was passionate and focused and Tom was, at that point, hard. No matter how many hot showers, cold showers, or even baths he’d taken, it wasn’t enough for him. Tom felt that if he didn’t have the real her soon, he’d burst into flames or melt into a puddle of sticky goo that would stain her carpet.
A few hours later, he heard the pitter patter of her socked feet rushing to meet him in the bedroom. Laying across her bed, Tom rolled over onto his side and peered at her smiling face when she entered the room.
“Tom, I need you.” She said, a blissful expression warming her features.
He quirked a brow at her, “oh yeah? What for, my darling, little love?” He looked her up and down, taking in the paint soils splashed all over her body, the exposed skin of her legs, her lack of bra, and hoped her response would indicate that she needed him to take her.
She rushed forward and knelt down by his bedside, taking his hand in hers, “help me with the painting, I’m just about finished.” She kissed his knuckles and laid her head onto her mattress.
“I thought that I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was all done?” Tom said confusedly.
“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind. The painting needs your special touch!” As she got up off the floor, still holding his hand, Tom could think of more than a few things that could use his special touch.
When she finally brought him to a stop in front of her painting, Tom understood why she hasn’t allowed him near it. He could tell that the figures trapped within her canvas were lovers, even though they appeared to be more similar to florets than people. All the colors were soft and romantic, and he could see that she had added a tinge of shimmer to particular images, so the painting looked mystical and otherworldly. Truth be told, if he’d gotten anywhere close to it earlier in the day, he would’ve messed it up.
“Darling,” Tom breathed out, desperately trying to figure out how to express the level of his admiration to her, “I just don’t know how you manage to be so fucking magical all the time. It’s beautiful, I love it, but I’m afraid that me just standing this close to it will ruin it. Unless you need me to lift it, I don’t know how to help you.” Tom bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, moving to tuck some of her untamed fringe back behind her ear, where he couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to her earlobe as well.
Tugging his mouth back down onto hers, she mumbled in between long kisses, “help me just fill in a few spots, then it’s yours. I read somewhere that if someone helps you complete a task, the task, or in this case, the painting, will make that person think of you.” She broke away from Tom for a brief moment, and Tom heard her airly whisper into the crook of his neck, “I wanna make you think of me.”
Tom’s eyes opened and he guided her body away from his, “what are you talking about?” He was so genuinely puzzled that his confusion took the place of his desire to have her until the sun came up. “I always think of you. Literally, always. Ask anyone I work with, I never shut up about you.”
“Okay,” she said, disbelief laced firmly into her tone. Grabbing a paintbrush, she leaned into Tom to kiss him again.
“No, no, baby. Honestly, do you not believe me?” Tom was growing so perplexed that he was starting to get angry. “I love you, do I not tell you enough or something?” He knew that he was being abrasive and slightly over sensitive, but he didn’t know why she was playing as if Tom didn’t care for her.
Groaning, she walked out of Tom’s reach and back to where she stored her varying paints. “Tom, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Uhm, nope. I’m going to worry about this because I’m pretty sure that this is something most couples in a healthy relationship would speak about.” Tom said, moving to stand in front of her.
“Let’s not do this,” she said, pushing her art smock’s strap back up to it’s proper place on her shoulder.
“No, no, let’s!” Tom declared.
“Tom, no! There is literally no point to this argument, if you don’t want to help, it’s cool.” She stood onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of Tom’s unprepared lips. “See? It’s all good,” she said, going around Tom and back to her mostly filled in canvas.
“Please, can you just talk to me, darling?” Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her body to him as tightly as he could without crushing her. “I love you and what’s important to you is what’s important to me. So please, please clue me in.”
The girl didn’t even need to turn around to feel his puppy dog eyes burning a hole into her back. “Fine,” she said shortly, “when ‘Homecoming’ drops, you’re going to be huge, bigger than you already are. Like you’ve said before, life is going to change and nobody can say for sure what will and will not change, only that there will be changes, and if life makes you go away, at least you’ll have this painting. At least I’ll be remembered as the girl who painted you the weirdly rosy painting.”
Tom was so stunned that he couldn’t think of one appropriate thing to say. “Are you serious? Sounds like you’re pretty sure you know what’s going to happen with us, huh, smart girl?” He knew that getting mad wasn’t going to help the situation, but his feelings were hurt that she thought he’d drop her just like that.
Removing his hands from her body, Tom turned, “fuck it, that is so irritating. I am not leaving you, and unless you plan on ditching me, I think that we’re going to be together for more than a long while, darling.” He sneered, pacing back and forth across the limited space her living room provided. “This is ridiculous, you’re so intelligent, so why you’ve gotten that into your head, I have no idea. I’ve made sure to factor you into nearly all aspects of literally everything I do, now why do you think that is?”
She knew that she was being dumb, but she couldn’t help it. She was so paranoid that Tom would be out one day and he would come across someone shiny and new, and then he’d realize that being with her was not what he wanted anymore. When she started her painting, her only goal had been to give Tom something that would leave an imprint of her in his mind, so that no matter what happened with them in the future, she would still be apart of him.
Her eyes grew glassy and tears threatened to boil over her waterline and smudge her mascara. She was mad at herself for being so insecure, and for possibly ruining her relationship with the one thing she’d meant to sort of bandage over her issues, and she couldn’t come up with a statement to justify herself to Tom.
Tom looked over to her figure, standing in front of the pink canvas, frilled bobby socks and lacy blue panties in all. Even though he was both pissed off and taken aback by her behavior, Tom couldn’t deny the urge to just slam himself into and make her understand she was the only person on the planet for him. Muttering, “oh, for fucks sake,” Tom marched purposefully over to her and smashed his lips roughly down onto hers.
Yanking her hair out of it’s rubber confinement, he broke away from her to watch it tumble down in waves to frame her face. Forcing her to look into his eyes by pressing a finger beneath her chin, Tom practically growled, “I am not going anywhere without you in my life. It’s like they say on that one soap opera that never seems to end, you’re my person. Couldn’t leave you to save my life, I’d come back to you forever.” He looked into her eyes, trying to find better words to make her understand that he was completely and utterly dead serious. “Get it?”
Her lips were puffy and her skin was still soft, despite being nearly every color of the rainbow and Tom was going to rip that smock off her body if it was the last thing he did. He could tell that she was humiliated that she let her paranoia get the best of her, and Tom, for a brief thought thought that she deserved it for thinking so lowly of their relationship. He only stopped once he took into account that if the roles were reversed, he’d be a snivelling mess of a human being because she was an angel among humans. He didn’t deserve her, but then again, surely no one else did either.
Tom’s grip on her calmed and he lovingly pried the paintbrush out of her hand and shuffled her around in his arms so that she too faced her masterpiece. “We’re going to paint this together,” Tom said, as his hands began softly untying the knot of her smock. “I’m going to continue thinking of you always and forever, even though you’re still going to be my girl and I’ll still be undeniably yours. Got it?”
Her eyes fell shut and she gasped when she felt Tom’s mouth press adoringly wet kisses to her exposed shoulders. She arched her back as one of Tom’s hands moved to the front of her body to knead her breasts. Blinking her eyes open, she saw that Tom’s other hand was still clutching the paintbrush and that he was currently dipping its tip into a circle of paint. “Answer me,” Tom ordered, sinking his teeth into her skin.
“Got it, got it, got it,” she rambled out dreamily. “Gonna be your girl forever.”
Maneuvering her slightly so that his view of the canvas would be clearer, Tom began to paint the little empty spaces she’d left for him with long brushstrokes. “That’s right sweetheart, my girl forever.” Switching hands, Tom held her to him with the hand that was also holding the paintbrush, and yanked the closest chair in arm’s reach over to where they stood. Sitting down, Tom guided her around to face him before pulling her onto his lap.
Her cheeks were rosy from a mix of blush and paint and her lips were parted and her chest was heaving. Her gaze flicked up and down Tom’s body so obviously that he had to smirk. Forcing her closer, Tom brought his hips closer to hers and watched as she subconsciously leaned into him, bracing her hands on his chest.
She shuffled a bit further onto his lap, so that she was aligned perfectly with the bulge in his jeans. Letting out a gasp, her hips bucked against him and she bit down on her lip to prevent another louder gasp from escaping.
Tom’s arms constricted themselves around her, one went around her waist and the other tangled itself into her hair. “I think the painting is finished.”
Not even turning to look, she nodded, breathing out a response so faint that Tom couldn’t even make it out. She slid a hand under Tom’s shirt to trace over the lines of defined muscle on his stomach. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know why my head makes me think things like that.”
Tom kissed her tenderly on both cheeks before placing an even softer kiss to her mouth, “it’s alright, darling. I don’t know why I got so mad before. I honestly don’t know how my head would make me think if our roles were reversed.”
“I’ll love you forever,” she said, rolling her hips onto Tom’s lap.
“I’ll love you for some time after that,” Tom chuckled, his hips beginning to meet hers. “But don’t take my word for it,” Tom began to litter kisses up and down her throat while he reached up to untie her smock, “let me show you how fucking much I love you.”
“Okay,” she said, her lips covering Tom’s as his hands tore the art smock from her body. Their hips collided as their clothes became one with her floor, and the rosy painting in front of them was to be hung and framed in the apartment that they came to share.

Letters to Shiro #1:

You told me before that your goal was out of this world. That space has always been a part of you, your heart and mind. Every fiber and sinew in your body ached for it. You breathed the nebulous unknown and it filled your chest with its thousand possibilities light years from Earth.

You’re there now, and you’re not coming back.

I suppose I’m not surprised. I’ve watched long enough, behind gyms and classes after school, sweat-slicked hair, coffee-stained sweatpants, long nights and arid summers when you stood out in the desert just beyond the Garrison fence. Looking up, feet in the endless sand, eyes trapped in a blank canvas. You saw things that no one else did and when you spoke of them it appeared as if your heart had settled on the tip of your tongue, danced for the world’s majesty.

It’s a beauty hard to forget.

They say you’re dead now. You’re not. There’s too much vibrancy that bursts forth with each thing you do that it’s impossible to believe a man like you could ever die without tipping the world on its axis. I’ve never felt that I’d stand as an equal with you. But now I have to because no one else will.

I’ll keep searching, Shiro.

Over Again by @englandziam
Pairing: Zayn/Liam
Rating: T


The sun is still hot, traces of glowing beams crawling over Liam’s arms and warming his skin beneath the subtle chill of a breeze.

He can hear Louis and Harry bickering as they attempt to put the tent up, their voices muffled by the whistle of wind filtering through the array of trees behind. Liam squints as he looks over the view; beyond the hill they decided to pitch their tent at. He watches trickles of light seeping between clusters of clouds, pouring over the tiny houses of a town placed between the hills.

His best memories are confined within the bricked walls of those houses, others in the cobbled streets where the five of them would play when they were younger.

So much has changed since then; five lads tangled together in this wired bond but separated — scattered in various cities with different lives.

Liam utters a sigh under his breath, tipping his bottle of cider to his lips. The sweet taste reminds him of summer — of times like this; of now. Chilled weekends spent on a hillside, music blaring and laughter filling the content silence away from the business of the chaotic town.

He misses it; misses his boys and the memories they’ve made together, even though they’re always tucked away at the back of his mind; stored in a box that Liam often opens with the need to escape to the past.

“Y’ okay, babe?”

Zayn’s concerned voice breaks him from his distant thoughts, a shoulder knocking against his.

Zayn settles beside him, his bottom lip taken between his teeth as he looks questioningly at Liam.

No. Liam wants to tell him; to let every thought racing through his mind spill from his lips and vent to his best mate, to tell him he broke up with Sophia only two days ago. That he kind of wants to cry, because he just ended a two and a half year relationship, and because seeing the warmth of Zayn’s eyes triggered a million feelings all at once. He wants to tell Zayn that he isn’t okay — and that the only way he would be is if he felt familiar lips on his, if he could tangle his fingers in Zayn’s hair and feel soft fingertips tracing every vertebrae of his spine like he used to.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, instead — nodding as he diverts his eyes away from Zayn’s. “Fine, just a bit knackered from the journey.”

He smiles weakly, gripping the bottle until he notices his knuckles paling.

“You’re not fine,” Zayn says softly, shifting slightly closer to Liam as he kneels in the thick grass beneath them.

Liam frowns, lips parted to speak before Zayn interrupts him.

“I know something is going on,” he whispers, a cautious smile tracing his lips. “I also know that you don’t want to tell me, but. If you want to talk about it, I’m here — okay?”

Liam exhales a shaky breath, wrinkles sliced over his forehead as he furrows his brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking —”

Zayn sighs, shaking his head as he leans his head onto Liam’s shoulder with a knowing smile.

“You never were good at lying, Leeyum.”


“You can’t lie for shit,” Zayn grins, cornering Liam against the wall.

He bites over his lip, snaking arms around Liam’s neck as he brushes a soft kiss over parted lips.

“What’s going on?”

Liam shrugs, shaking his head.

“Nothing, Zayn. Nothing is going –”

Zayn kisses him again, smirking when he pulls away.

“Stop lying to me,” he whines, tugging at several strands of hair at the back of Liam’s head. “I’ve known you since we were four, Li. That’s long enough to figure out when you’re lying.”

Liam sighs, eyeing the questioning look filtered through soft eyes staring at his. His fingers trace Zayn’s hips through his t-shirt, lips sweeping a sulky breath over Zayn’s.

“I, um. I got accepted into Southampton,” he says quietly, stroking gentle touches over Zayn’s waist. “An unconditional offer, babe. They don’t care what grades I get.”

Zayn’s grin widens, a firm kiss pressed over Liam’s mouth as he looks up with fond eyes.

“That’s insane, Liam. Amazing, babe,” he babbles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why aren’t you happy about this?”

Liam nudges his nose against Zayn’s, smiling slightly.

“I am happy,” he says softly, arms wrapping around Zayn’s waist so that he can hold his smaller frame more firmly against his. “Southampton was my first choice, Zaynie. I want to go there so badly — but. Well. You’re going to Newcastle, babe. That means we’re going to universities at opposite ends of the country.”


Liam takes another swig of cider, humming under his breath.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” Zayn says with a shrug, fiddling with a cluster of daisies planted in the grass. “Just want you to know that I’m here if you decide you do want to.”

“I know,” Liam whispers.

You’re always here he wants to say.

He sucks in a sharp breath as Zayn threads his fingers through Liam’s, a gentle hand squeezing against his palm comfortingly. He swallows, eyes blinking shut at the familiar way Zayn traces Liam’s knuckles with the pad of his thumb – how he silently notices the bloody marks scarring Liam’s skin from where he threw several punches at his kitchen cabinet two nights ago.

A frown slices through Zayn’s expression, but he doesn’t comment.

Liam has always been grateful that Zayn doesn’t push.

“I’ve missed you,” Zayn whispers moments later, breathing a sigh into Liam’s neck. “All of you, f’ course – but. You in particular, Leeyum.”

Liam leans his head against Zayn’s temple, biting painfully hard onto the soft flesh of his bottom lip as he looks out over the view. He wonders if it’s normal for exes to be this close; for it to be okay that they hold hands and leave delicate kisses to each other’s foreheads and cheeks.

He tastes blood on his tongue as he realises that one affectionate gesture from Zayn holds more meaning than any of those did from Sophia.

“Me too,” he whispers, exhaling shakily. “Missed you, babe.”

It’s suddenly silent – and for a moment Liam wonders if Zayn can hear the fluttery increase of his heartbeat. He feels his pulse quicken by merely looking into caramel eyes, by watching the way Zayn cards long fingers through his dark hair.

He feels a little sick – something dangerous pooling in his stomach at the emotion scolding his mind.

Less than half an hour with this boy and he’s already feeling everything he did four years ago.

“C’mon,” Zayn tells him abruptly, standing to his feet and pulling Liam up with him. “I know you can stop Lou and Harry’s arguing by putting that tent up in five minutes.”

|+|

He feels safe here; with the five of them cosied around a fire pit and laughing with one another like they’ve never been apart.

Thick flames engulf the tepee of wood they put together; flickering whispers of flames hissing to one another as they paint a warm glow. Liam watches billows of smoke swallow the air and rise against the veil of darkness hanging over them, wispy clouds creating brief shadows over the millions of stars shimmering against a silky sky.


Liam should probably be focusing on the glittering constellation of stars hanging above them, but he can’t seem to peel his eyes from Zayn’s face. The pinch of his brow as he frowns, the smile fading over his lips when Liam brushes fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Zayn whispers as they lie beside one another, Zayn’s head lying over Liam’s chest.

It’s almost silent – the moment perfect as they lie beneath an oxford sky.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, voice soft as he listens to Zayn sigh into his t-shirt.

He mumbles a kiss over Zayn’s temple, shivering into the cold.

“When we go to uni,” Zayn says quietly, voice almost inaudible as he strains his neck to look up at Liam.

Their lips are barely touching, Zayn’s eyes glittering amongst the flames flickering a warm fire beside the two of them.

“I’ve been around our sisters long enough to realise that it doesn’t work out,” he mutters, chewing over the soft flesh of his bottom lip. “Being apart puts strain on relationships, and — I don’t want things to change between us, Leeyum. I don’t want us to grow apart, or end up breaking up and then hating each other — y’ know?”

Liam stays quiet, swallowing the twisted nerves cradling his throat. He feels sick; the thought of being far from Zayn crawling anxiety over every bone in his body, and the thought of the two of them splitting up far worse.

“So, when we go to university…we just —?”

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes, and Liam just about chokes on the oxygen trapped in his throat. “I mean, it’s for the best — right? We just, we stay as friends?”

Liam finally drags his trail of vision to the starry night settled above them. His chest is tight, all energy drained from his body.

“I guess,” Liam whispers, clamping his lips together before he can whimper.

Zayn presses up onto an elbow, cupping Liam’s cheek with cold fingers.

“It’s not that I want to do this,” he says, voice scratchy.

Liam knows the sound and doesn’t dare look back at Zayn; unable to deal with the tears most likely brimming over his waterline and clinging to his lashes.

“I just. It’s — I love you so fucking much, Li. And, it would break me if something happened and we ended up not speaking. Or, never seeing each other again.”

Liam nods, exhaling a shaky sigh at the thickness of Zayn’s voice.

“Yeah,” he whispers, suddenly cold as they lie in the forest clearing.

Zayn leans in, spilling a needy kiss over Liam’s lips.

He feels broken; the thought of spending any time away from Zayn slicing pain through his insides. Liam can taste Zayn’s tears upon his tongue, salty whispers that leave Liam feeling so alone.

“Zayn?”

Zayn hums, his thumb sweeping over Liam’s cheekbone as he tangles their legs together beneath the blanket draped over their bodies.

“I love you,” Liam says softly, refusing a sob to catch at his tongue as he kisses over Zayn’s lips.

He’s never been one to show emotion; the thought of somebody watching him unravel every feeling trapped inside the chaotic canvas of his mind a scary thought that he isn’t willing to encounter.

“I love you, too,” Zayn whispers into a kiss that he brushes over Liam’s jaw, nudging his tear-stained face into the crook of Liam’s neck.

Liam’s eyes flutter shut, every part of him aching with the realisation that Zayn just ended things between the two of them.


Liam stares into the bottom of his empty bottle as he realises how much has changed since then, since they shared secret kisses beneath the duvet late at night — and since Zayn was in love with him.

He can hardly look at Zayn across the fire pit, unable to stop the stutter of his heart whenever Zayn sputters a giggle into his palm at something Louis says.

He engulfs his mind in watching the glowing embers of ashes twisting into the air; the way the breeze carries them and scatters them in the distance.

The drunken thoughts poured through Liam’s mind symbolises the ashes as the five of them; strong when a fierce amber but fading as they trickle apart and escape to new places.

(Or perhaps that’s just him and Zayn — once together and now separated).

“D’ you realise you’re the only one tied down as of now, Payno?” Louis says across the pit, the flames highlighting the grin outlining his lips. “We’re all single apart from you, mate.”

Liam forces a smile over his expression, placing the bottle at his feet as he feels a dizzy blur of emotions tangle with his thoughts.

He can feel Zayn’s eyes on him, a gentle brown burning into his skin as he concentrates on the soft cackle of a laugh from Niall.

“That’s, um. I —” he whispers, clearing his throat. “That’s not, we’re not — I broke it off with Soph.”

He feels the relief sweep through him as the words hurriedly leave his lips, a weight lifted from his chest as he finally tells somebody.

It returns as soon as he snatches a glance at the concerned frown creasing Zayn’s flawless skin.

Everything goes a little blurry, Liam’s ears ringing through the cautious ‘Liam’ that Harry murmurs from beside him.

He stands, ignoring the heaviness behind his eyes as he tugs at the blanket around his shoulders.

“I want to — I urm, I need to be alone for a little bit.”

|+|

A branch snaps and Liam’s eyes flicker to the shadowy figure approaching in the darkness.

He knows it’s Zayn from the silence. The caution radiating from Zayn’s body is deafening as he sits on beside Liam on the broken log Liam is slumped on.

Zayn edges closer, his fingers pressing into Liam’s thigh as he leans his head onto Liam’s shaking shoulders.

“Do you really want to be alone?”

Liam shrugs, shoulders slouching as he traces over the lines marked into the palms of his hands.

Zayn slides his fingers over Liam’s, entwining them with a tight grip.

“Are you okay, babe?”

Liam bites harshly onto his bottom lip, drawing blood as Zayn squeezes his hand.

He’s tongue tied over three words; cursed as he feels Zayn’s hair brush over his neck, soothing fingertips tracing the dried blood coating his knuckles.

“Not really,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

Not since you left to go university four years ago and my whole world shattered.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Liam admits, sighing.

“You really loved her, huh?” Zayn asks softly,

No Liam wants to shout, or maybe scream; to portray every emotion blaring at the loudest volume in his mind.

But he wants to cry, to sob into Zayn’s neck and be held by strong arms that used to make him feel so safe.

The guilt is too much — writhed into every tiny corner of his thoughts. It’s almost overwhelming, to know that he spent over two years with a girl he never really loved. Two and a half years of Sophia’s life that he wasted; because eventually Zayn stumbled back into his head and he realised that it was him that captured his heart all this time.

“It’s complicated,” Liam whispers. “I don't… I can’t —”

His voice cracks; every word thick and crumpled as several tears fall over his flushed cheeks. He reaches to brush them away, flustered as he turns his head from Zayn.

“Hey,” Zayn says under his breath, his tone so soft and gentle that it makes Liam cry harder.

He hushes him with delicate whispers, both arms wrapped around Liam’s broad frame.

It’s somehow so familiar, as if the past four years haven’t existed. He feels eighteen again; young and vulnerable and in love with this shy boy with a bright smile and warm, trusting eyes.

“I don’t know if I ever really loved her,” Liam whimpers, choking on a wrecked breath.

Zayn carefully pulls him into his chest, stroking over Liam’s hair as he guides his head into his lap. Liam sobs into Zayn’s thigh, sniffling as he feels comforting fingers over his scalp.

“I think I loved the idea of being with someone, you know? Soph was there, and. She was the best person I’d met in a long time.”

Zayn keeps quiet like he does when he’s listening. Liam smiles slightly — he’s always loved the way Zayn is so willing to listen, and how he never interrupts.

“And I, um. I’m in love with someone else.”

Zayn’s movements stop for a brief moment in surprise, before he’s tickling soft fingertips behind Liam’s ears and through his thick hair once again.

“Have you ever told anyone any of this?” He asks quietly.

Liam shakes his head in Zayn’s lap, swallowing.

“Li,” Zayn whispers, his voice disapproving. “You should’ve told me, babe. You know I’m always here.”

“I can’t tell you,” Liam sighs. “I wish I could, Zayn.”

Zayn uses the palms of his hands to tilt Liam’s face so that he’s looking up at him.

“You can tell me anything and everything,” he says softly as he sweeps a thumb along the blush scattered beneath Liam’s cheekbones. “I’ve known you since we were four, Liam.”

“I just, I can’t tell you, babe. Because I love…well, it’s you, Zayn —”

Liam blames the alcohol for the words spilling from his lips.

His eyes widen as he realises what he’s said, and he’s suddenly very grateful for the darkness of the forest so that Zayn can’t see the blush streaking his skin. He pushes up from Zayn’s lap, ready to run — but Zayn’s fingers wrap around his wrist before he can go anywhere.

“What?” He asks, breathless as he looks at Liam.

Liam can just about make out the glisten of Zayn’s eyes from the moonlight filtering through the branches and flickering over Zayn’s skin in glittering shadows.

He wants to blurt a lie, to say that he’s joking — but it’s Zayn. He’d see right through him.

(There’s also this tiny flicker of hope in the corner of his mind, a part of him hoping that Zayn will feel the same way back; even after all these years).

“I just, it didn’t stop when we went our separate ways to university,” Liam whispers.

He’s grateful that Zayn doesn’t pull away, that his fingers don’t leave Liam’s skin.

“The first six months were the worst,” he continues to explain, eyes downcast despite the darkness faded over the two of them. “I saw you in everyone I met, and I hoped that you’d call and tell me to forget everything you said — that when we saw each other between terms I could kiss you and hold your hand. But you never did.”

He pauses, waiting for some kind of response — but Zayn just sits there, gripping Liam’s wrist as he listens.

“I don’t blame you,” Liam whispers. “I love that we’re friends now, instead of fighting because of some silly break up, but. I never really stopped loving you.”

Zayn is still silent, head cocked to one side — and Liam hates that he can’t make out the expression painted to his face.

“I met Sophia and she was so lovely, and she was what I needed. We started dating and it was easy to forget when I was with her. The feelings almost went away, for years, Zayn – but then you called me on New Years and I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you instead of her at midnight. And then I realised that I don’t love her, Zayn. Whether we’re together or apart…even after two years of being with Sophia, and four years since we split; it’s still you.”

He licks over his lips, heart rapid in his chest as he blinks into the darkness.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, biting onto the inside of his lip. “I’ve probably just ruined this friendship that you purposefully created, and I. If you want me to grab my bags and go I totally understand —”

Liam cuts himself off when Zayn shoves at his shoulders, almost pushing him off of the log they’re still sitting on.

“You hate me, right? I’ve totally just ruined —”

“Yes, I hate you,” Zayn tells him blankly.

Liam almost chokes on his breath, everything cold as he hiccups a sob.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Zayn demands, exhaling sharply. “You…Why are you only telling me this now?”

“What?” Liam asks, confusion swept over his expression as he frowns. “You know why I —”

“I thought you were happy with Sophia,” Zayn says quietly, his voice questioning.

Liam can’t decide whether he’s angry anymore; the sudden deflation of his tone complicating his thoughts.

“I thought, Liam. I thought you were happy with Sophia,” Zayn repeats, his voice louder than before.

“No, I —”

Liam is cut off by Zayn’s lips on his, a hand cradling his cheek as Zayn closes the distance between them.

His mouth is so soft, his breath warm as he spills soft kisses over Liam’s bottom lip.

It takes everything in Liam to pull away, brows furrowed as he blinks at Zayn in the darkness hanging over them.

“What are you —”

“I was going to call you,” Zayn abruptly says, his other hand crawling to Liam’s cheek so that he’s holding Liam’s face in both palms. “Beginning of the second year, after we’d spent our summer together. I was going to call you a couple of months into that first term, to tell you that I was stupid; that all I wanted was to kiss you, and all I could think about was making you smile so I could see those cute crinkles appear around your eyes. It made me regret it; from the start I wanted to tell you that we should try — to take back everything I said and try to make things work, because I missed you so fucking much.”

Liam feels as if his heart stops, his words caught in his throat as he nudges closer to Zayn.

“What happened?” He whispers, breathing stuttered as he feels Zayn’s lips brush over his as he talks. “Why didn’t you call?”

“I saw Louis after he came and visited you around Christmas time,” Zayn explains softly, sighing. “He told me you were seeing a girl — Sophia, and that you seemed happy. Said he hadn’t seen you so happy in a long time.”

Liam winces, covering Zayn’s hands with his.

“So you… you feel the same way?” He asks, a smile turning up the corners of his lips as Zayn bows his head to kiss Liam.

Zayn nods as he breathes a sigh over Liam’s lips.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice soft. “I still love you, Liam. Always have, babe.”

A whine spills as he kisses Zayn, arms tangling around Zayn’s neck as he holds him close.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that again,” he says quietly, a grin spreading over his lips. “I love you so much, Zayn. Ever since you asked me if I could kiss you because you were scared you’d be rubbish.”

Zayn moans through a giggle, his fingers dragging through Liam’s hair as he pulls him impossibly closer.

“You just had to bring that up,” he whispers with a smile, nudging his nose against Liam’s.

“Best kiss I ever had,” Liam admits softly, grinning uncontrollably as Zayn moves closer — practically in Liam’s lap.

He takes a moment to appreciate the way Zayn’s skin feels against his; how incredible it feels to hold Zayn in his arms, and how soft Zayn’s lips are over his.

He guiltily realises that Sophia never fit like this; that she never sparked electricity over Liam’s skin, or caressed Liam’s skin like he’s breakable.

“What does this mean for us?” He wonders aloud, gripping Zayn’s hips with gentle hands. “Does this mean…what do we —?”

“Liam,” Zayn cuts him off softly, thumbs stroking over Liam’s cheeks as he rests their foreheads together.

“Just kiss me, babe. So we can start it all over again.”

This is a Centurion. There were many like it, but some were sold to Australia - and in Australia, it would seem they wanted to know just how good their British tanks were. So, in 1953, in the deserts of South Australia, a Centurion Mk 3 was battened down as it would be in combat. The parking spot was 500 yards from another British import - a nine kiloton atomic bomb, which they set off. The tank rolled back 5 feet. 

The side plates that covered the treads, visible in the photograph above, were blown off, but these were frequently removed by crews anyway as they trapped mud. The canvas coverings around the gun mantlet burnt away and the aerials vanished. The hatches were also torn open and the engine stopped, after it ran out of gas. After three days it was fired up and driven back out of the desert, most of the radiation having gone straight up and drifted away in the wind. In 1968, with the 1st Armoured Regiment, Centurion 169041 went to Vietnam, unsurprisingly it returned home.

can-thou-even-art-muffin  asked:

Your writing is great!! I hope you get more followers soon! How about the guys realizing they are in love with a long time friend they never really noticed, and this realization comes while said friend is doing something stupid like tripping over a chocobo chick or almost setting the tent on fire.

Sorry for taking so long! ♡ Also this request is so fucking cute!

Noctis - Okay, so imagine Noct is fishing, right? Doing his own thing, having a good time, all peaceful and shit, and then suddenly there’s this massive ‘SPLOOSH!’ followed by this shriek, and there’s water fucking flying everywhere, soaking poor Noct, ruining his perfect hair and basically ruining his quiet time. He’s gonna sigh, wiping the water out of his eyes, and as soon as he can see again, whaddya know, there’s his friend/crush just standing waist deep in the water with this adorable, sheepish grin on their face. He’d probably be like ‘are you even capable of lasting 5 seconds without falling over?’ I think just the sight of his sheepish friend/crush is just gonna melt his heart tho and he’s gonna be looking down at them just like ‘this fucking nerd’. It might get slightly awkward after he realises his feelings for them, like he’s not gonna be shy, but say he helps them out the water and they stumble or something and suddenly the two are really close and Noct is just gonna freeze and blush. Later tho when he regains his cool he’s gonna laugh at his crush, teasing the shit out of them.

Prompto - These two clumsy bunnies! I can picture him and his friend like racing chocobos together, laughing and just having an all around good time, and Prompto’s just gonna speed ahead like ‘EAT MY DUST SUCKAAA!!!’ and he’ll glance back just in time to see them catch they’re head on a low hanging branch and fall off the back of the chocobo. Initially he’d panic when he sees them lying there not moving, but as soon as he hears them suddenly screech with laughter he’s gonna have this big stupid grin on his face. Just the sight of them so happy and having so much fun would be contagious and I think he’d suddenly notice how pretty his friends smile is, and how much of an adorable mess they are. I think he’d just flop down on the floor next to them and be like ‘you’re adorable, you know that?’. I think the two would just freeze before giggling, trying to ease the awkward sexual tension that’s suddenly arisen.

Gladiolus - Omg so his friend would’ve volunteered to help him set up the tent, right? And they’d be busy trying to unroll the tent and suddenly they’re like trapped in the canvas trying to untangle themselves and they’re gonna be flailing about screeching, and Gladio’s just gonna be dying of laughter, refusing to help them because they’re such a loser! His friend would probably end up tripping over their own feet and they’d just sprawl on the ground with the tent still tangled around them. That’s when Gladio would finally decide to help, like he’d be crying with laughter as he removes the tent from his friend, shaking his head at them as they continue to just lie on their back, hair a mess, and the biggest pout on their face ever. I think he’d just realise how much he enjoys spending time with them, even if they are a complete nerd, and he’d just stare down at them fondly until it just kinda clicks. ‘ya know for a complete moron you’re kinda cute,’ he’d say, before moving away to set up the tent properly.

Ignis - Oh God. Ignis is so graceful and smooth so a clumsy s/o would be so adorable for him! Okay so like imagine they’re walking through Accordo, and his friend is too busy gawking adorably at the passing buildings, and Iggy would take note of how amazed they are at the town and he’d think it was pretty fucking cute. His friend would be so focused on the scenery that they wouldn’t notice the lamppost looming in front of them until their face literally meets it. Ignis would probably catch them from behind before they fell, but they would be rubbing their nose and pouting whilst mumbling angry curses at the lamppost. Iggy would try so hard to contain his laughter like the sight of his friend angrily shaking their fist at the lamppost would just be so funny to him. But he’d quickly check over their face, making sure there’s no injuries whilst also taking note of how pretty their eyes are. I think he’d just find his friends clumsiness so endearing and it would literally just melt his heart.