Newtmas/Dylmas Oneshots

Poetry Part 3* (Newtmas)

A/N: Ok so the smut in this chapter will be slightly different to what I normally write, it'll be much slower paced and more like "making love" (for lack of a better term)... this chapter is about 2.5× the length of my normal chapters so enjoy ;)

Also there will be random names mentioned in this chapter, one of them will be Ava BUT it isn't Ava Paige. They're honestly just tributes to my friends :)

Also also, the poem in this chapter was written by me. Just wanted to let yuz know.

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It had been two months. Two months of Thomas and Newt dating.

Two months of them avidly spending most of their time together, holding hands in public, meeting up in the library, cuddling and having sleepovers, making silly romantic gestures and finally two months of Minho and Gally having to put up with their love-struck friends.

Neither boy could believe they had ended up with each other, they couldn't tell whether it was dumb luck or the universe being kind to them. Both of them wanted to spend every waking moment with the other boy, and for the most part they had been fairly successful.

In the last two months, Newt had learnt to love Thomas more than he thought humanly possible. Simply seeing him brought a smile to his face and filled his heart with a strange kind of happiness, the kind that swells inside you and feels like it's about to burst from your chest. He just didn't know how to tell Thomas this.

Unknown to Newt, Thomas felt the exact same way. He was hopelessly in love with the blonde. He wanted to fall asleep next to him, wake up next to him, make him dinner, snuggle into the crook of his neck and shield away from the rest of the world forever- because to Thomas, the only thing in the world that really mattered was his Newt.

However neither of them had said anything to each other about their feelings of love. Whenever they would prepare themselves to finally say the words "I love you" a pit of anxiety would set in their stomach and insecurities would grasp a hold of their throats, stopping them from confessing how they felt.

"I love you."

Those words kept swimming around Thomas' mind while he sat on Newt's bed, watching the taller boy write another poem. He watched as the ink flowed from Newt's pen and formed beautiful words, Newt's poetry mystified Thomas. It was always so well thought out and worded.

They weren't necesarily your standard poems, with rhymes and iambic pentameter, they were more expressive and got their effect through powerful vocabulary and simple writing techniques. Needless to say Thomas loved every single poem of Newt's he was lucky enouugh to read.

"Tommy, I've finished if you wanted to take a listen?" Newt asked, turning in his seat to look at Thomas and smiled warmly at him. He liked it when Thomas read his work, it gave him reason to keep writing and improve on it.

Thomas replied, "Duh, I'm coming." and slid off the bed, shuffled on his knees to Newt and hugged him from behind. He rested his chin on Newt's shoulder and kissed his neck lightly before waiting for Newt to start reading.

Taking a breath, Newt began "Ok Tommy, this is a poem called 'Beneath The Yew Tree' and it's fairly simple." He cleared his throat and read:

"Staring out across the chruchyard,
a father tells his son
of an old yew tree, planted by a grandfather.
"In the far future
bury me beneath it" the father whispered.
And the son stood staring at the yew tree,
the tree's branches green and blooming.
Young and happy.
Just like his father.