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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

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Merry Christmas, @wildamongwolves!

Merry Christmas, @wildamongwolves!! I hope you like this fic, you mentioned that you like angst but also fluff (don’t we all, huh?) so I added heaps of both (: This fic is split into five parts: they’re five years of Christmas Eve’s, starting just after Stiles’ recovery from the Nogitsune. I got this idea from the lovely yodasyoyo on ao3, and their fic “Lover’s Eyes” where they did a similar thing. If you enjoy this one, which I hope you will, then check that one out :D and without much further ado…ENJOY

Read on AO3

*****

On Christmas Eve

-1-

The curtains are drawn, blocking out the weak dusk light from entering the room, where a hunched figure lay, swathed in a messy pile of blankets. It was tossing minutely, a pained look on the slack face.

Whispered words, sharp claws pricking his face, clasped around his neck.

Darkness, the flick of a tail, gone too soon to see.

Him.

Staring back at himself. Altered. His grin is crooked, dark bags under his eyes.

A second passes, he stares at him.

Opening his mouth in a silent roar, he screams, launching forward, claws sinking into him.

Waking with a jolt, Stiles lets out a ragged breath, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The room pulsed, the dim colours painfully bright in the few seconds his eyes took to adjust.

The same as the last ten times he’d woken up from the nightmare.

Bringing a wobbling hand up to rest on his forehead, Stiles noted the sticky dampness of his skin, pulling his hand away with a small grimace.

He let the silent mundanity wash over him, an unspoken relief after seeing him again.

The fox. The Nogitsune.

Minutes pass. He felt his heart begin to slow. The adrenaline rattled around his body, crawling around his ribs and making him desperately count the old water bottles littering the desk- a hopeless tactic to concentrate.

Gradually, he felt the lull of consciousness convince him he’d escaped the dream. For now. Settling uncomfortably into the now constricting bedding, Stiles let his face go slack, slowly letting the pinched expression melt away, until he stared at the marks on the ceiling, letting the blissful feeling of nothing wash over him.

The silence was loud in his ears.

Stiles fiddled with the edge of his duvet, lying lifelessly on his bed, his eyes vacant. After concentrating, he can just hear the TV through the closed door, muted to a low hum of muttered words from downstairs. An obnoxious tune filters into him, the garish tinkling of bells making his head pound.

He let his eyes flit around the room, before fixing on the wilting wreath hooked haphazardly on the back of his closed door. The red bows were falling off, a rescue from a thrift store, a gag gift, but now just a bitter echo of a feeling. It looks just as tired as he feels.

The thought makes a mirthless chuckle rise out of him, the sound proving too much for his unused throat, making him crease up as a round of coughs wracked through his body.

The TV clicks off, he vaguely noticed, before the sound of steps advanced, hesitating at the door, before cracking it open. The Sheriff peered around, his face impassive, his eyebrows furrowed in quiet concern.

“You alright, kiddo?” He asked. The endearment fell flat as he shuffled into the room, squinting through the dusk shadows at the figure breathing harshly in the bed.

Stiles looked up at him, eyes watering as he shakily propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ll survive, Pops.” He murmured weakly, reaching blindly to the bedside table to find a week old, full, water bottle. Taking a long pull from it, he grimaced at the sour taste.

The Sheriff looked unconvinced, his movements almost tentative. This room had been so familiar to him for over a decade, but staring at it now, seeing Stiles now, made it seem impossibly far away.

Shaking his head, John stepped back out of the door frame. Stiles watched him go, the cold disappointment like lead settling in the bottom of his stomach.

“I’m watching Home Alone, come out if you need me,” The Sheriff muttered, before closing the door behind him, his heavy footsteps retreating downstairs to the lounge.

Stiles let out another long sigh in lieu of an answer, fighting the blanket of drowsiness that held him prisoner in the bed. Stumbling over to the desk, he gripped it tightly, the small effort taking the only strength he had. Breathing harshly, he felt the grinding of his chest as his breaths aggravated the feeling, sapping his energy with it.

Nothing like recovering from demon possession on Christmas Eve.

Stumbling over to the mirror, he stared at himself, eyes hollow, conveying the bone-deep tired that had consumed him for months now.

His mouth was set in a firm line, sagging downwards, as if the effort to keep it straight was too much. His cheeks were gaunt, too sharp after too many missed meals. Sunken into the sockets, his eyes held little emotion. They were dull.

Christmas Eve had never been better.

-2-

The chatter from the radio was accompanied by the rhythmic sound of chopping, Stiles humming tunelessly along as he chopped a carrot into even slices, scooping the chopped vegetables into a cracked bowl beside him as he worked.

At the table behind him sat the Sheriff, reading through a newspaper, his brows furrowed as he concentrated on the words. His eyes flit from one headline to another.

The room had a comfortable silence to it, the domesticity a relief to them both after the train wreck of a year they had had. Mulling over it, Stiles grimaced, remembering the days when he was little more than a shell of himself as he recovered from the Nogitsune.

Sometimes simple actions sapped all the energy he had, making his body wrack with coughs as he struggled to stay silent, or he’d lose consciousness, coming to with his fingers gripped around his ribs, cutting crescents into the pale skin from gripping on so hard- but he was healing dammit!

The nightmares still happened, still snuck up on him at the early hours of dawn, waking him in a cold sweat in darkness as he jerked awake, gasping for air and ready to fight the nonexistent creature before him.

But it was getting better.

The room was still, the daylight a soft warmth on the back of Stiles’s neck. Letting the moment sweep over him, Stiles felt a tickling of something warm and pleasant settle under his ribs, bringing the traces of a smile onto his face.

Dropping the knife into the sink with a clatter, he scooped the last of the vegetables into a pan, setting them on the stove, before fiddling with the timer sat next to the hob. The steady ticking added to the background noise of the kitchen, the Sheriff looking up to smile quickly at Stiles before turning back to his paper.

Settling into a seat next to his dad, Stiles let out a small hum, fishing into his side pocket to find his phone, lighting the screen up and swiping across it to send a text to Scott.

Stiles 14:34

hey dude, is ur mom back?

Scott 14:35

still on shift she wont be back till latr :/

Stiles 14:37

aw sorry man :( the invites still out…come experience a stilinski christmas eve!

Scott 14:38

im going to allisons remember? sorry :“( but thnx bro

Stiles 14:40

well if you die, ill kno her parents killed you, good luck man

Scott 14:41

not funny….

Stiles 14:43

sorry :P ill see you tomorrow, im making pie so be prepared!!

Scott 14:41

sounds good (:

Looking up from his phone, Stiles felt the tug of an exasperated smile begin to form on his lips as he shook his head at how infatuated Scott was with Allison.

Looking over at the timer on the counter, he mentally ran over the list of things he was preparing both for their Christmas Eve meal, and the more copious offerings for the day after. A Stilinski-McCall Christmas was not something to be rivaled with.

Just as Stiles stood up to organise the stray pots and pans littering the kitchen, he heard a tentative knock from the front door. Arching an eyebrow, he looked at the Sheriff, who calmly folded his newspaper and set it aside onto the table, before standing up and heading towards the door.

"Are you expecting someone, did I miss the memo?” Stiles asked, bewildered, as he hurried after him, inquisitive eyes on the door as his dad unlatched it at an infuriatingly slow pace.

The Sheriff shook his head, flashing warning eyes to Stiles, who stood behind his shoulder, his face puzzled and eyes on the door. “I invited a guest, be nice,” He emphasised, making the teen even more inquisitive as to who the mystery person could be.

Pulling the door open, the Sheriff stepped back and gave the person on the other side a pleasant smile. Derek.

“Derek?” Stiles exclaimed. He looked on at the scene with a mixture of surprise, mild horror and confusion as his dad ushered the Were inside.

Offering a bottle of wine to the Sheriff- who thanked him profusely with a glint in his eye- Derek straightened up and fixed Stiles with his trademark glare, it was softened slightly, Stiles presumed, due to the presence of his dad hovering between them, the mediator.

“I’d better put this in the kitchen, maybe crack it out later?” John suggested as he tilted his head towards the bottle in his hand, Derek nodding jerkily, an almost pained smile on his face.

The Sheriff made his way into the kitchen, not without shooting Stiles another warning glare, as Stiles and Derek stood in silence in the narrow space of the hallway.

Opening his mouth, Derek looked as if he was about to say something, then thought better of it, shutting it again. He stood in the hallway, his shoulders tense as Stiles regarded him with scrutiny.

“Why are you here?” Stiles hissed, jabbing a finger into the air in front of Derek’s chest, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the offending figure.

Once again, Derek opened his mouth, this time, looking a little more thoughtful before he began to speak. “Your-”

“If you’re intending on messing with my dad in any way…I swear I’ll shove wolfsbane so far up your ass you’ll be shitting blood for the next month." The teen snarled, his eyes glinting dangerously as he attempted to intimidate the older man.

Derek looked murderous. Stiles watched in morbid fascination as one of his eyebrows twitched, pulled down into an angry scowl. "Your Dad invited me,” Derek growled. His voice was low so as not to alert the Sheriff, who they could hear humming in the kitchen, the soft clink of glasses a far cry from their conversation out in the hall.

Looking up at the ceiling in exasperation, Stiles shook his head in disbelief. “Great, so now we’re taking in strays. Awesome, just how I wanted to spend my Christmas Eve."

His voice was agitated, and he was aware he sounded like a petulant child, but he and Derek had a rocky past, filled with way too much slamming into walls than necessary, way more than acceptable to be allowed to share a sacred Stilinski meal.

Taking a deep breath, Derek’s glare seemed to wilt, before the fragile expression was shuttered and barricaded behind the walls again. "I’m not staying longer than that, I know when I’m not wanted,” Although his voice was restrained, much akin to the dry humour Stiles had heard him use on multiple occasions, Stiles felt a twist of guilt stab him in the gut as Derek shouldered past him into the kitchen, not sparing him another glance.

Maybe his dad was right to invite Derek to dinner.

-3-

Pulling another dish under the spray of the tap, Stiles scrubbed determinedly at it, grunting at the effort. Hearing a snort from next to him, he rolled his eyes, handing it off after he was satisfied with the level of cleanliness.

Derek took it, readily prepared with a dishcloth to rub them dry, eyes focused on the task. The concentration made his brows furrow, Stiles noticed with quiet glee. He set it to his side, next to the growing pile of dry pots, teetering dangerously close to the edge of the counter.

Turning to look back at his washing up companion, Stiles quirked an eyebrow, giving Derek a disdainful look. “Don’t mock my efforts, Sourwolf! I’m the reason we’ll be finished sooner, so we can watch Star Wars Reruns,” He sniffed haughtily, turning back to scrub laboriously at a particular food encrusted spoon.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Derek replied dryly, a small smile on his face, hidden partially by the beginnings of a beard adorning his chin.

“Damn right you don’t!” Stiles scoffed, pointing a finger at Derek. He cursed as the water sloshed out of the bowl and dripped down his hand, making him hastily return it to over the sink before fixing Derek with a triumphant grin.

“I’m the best thing that could’ve happened to you, face it,” He murmured, voice trailing off as he watched Derek, his full grin as he stared back at Stiles.

A brief moment of heavy silence lulled between them as they looked, truly looked at each other.

Stiles’s eyes trailed over Derek’s face, the easy smile on his lips and the absence of his formerly trademarked glare. It was refreshing, and even now, after a year of subtle kindness, and tentative understanding on Derek’s part, Stiles still found himself a little baffled.

Derek gazed at the teen in front of him, zeroing in on his eyelashes casting stark shadows across the concave of his cheek, not nearly as gaunt or as pained as it had been a year ago.

The silence was heavy, but the moment was abruptly broken when Derek cleared his throat, looking down at his hands helplessly.

“Keep dreaming,” Derek murmured, his grin now a soft smile as he ducked his head. Stiles stared in fascination as the tips of the Were’s ears went red. Derek, who refused to look back up at him, instead choose to scrub studiously at a plate held tight in his grip.

Eventually, they finished washing, stacking and drying the pots, and collapsed onto the couch with a resounding sigh of content. The teen sat with their sides pressed together, a warm length of heat along Stiles’ side. He felt Derek begin to relax, melting into the cushions and leaning back to rest his head on the back of the couch, exposing his neck. Stiles’s mouth went dry.

A moment passed, Stiles eyes glued to Derek’s throat before he tilted his head to the side and looked at the teen suspiciously. “What?” He murmured, his voice tentative once again.

Stiles let out a sputter, waving his hands around intelligibly. He pulled a face, letting his eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but at Derek.

“I don’t know dude, I guess I’m-” He paused, wracking his brain for excuses as to why he’d been so enamoured with the other man’s neck just moments before. “- just thinking about how far we’ve come, you know?” He asked, turning to face Derek with a teasing smile.

Derek bowed his head, trying to hide his growing smile under the scruff on his cheeks, but the teen poked delightedly at it, before being batted away by an irritated hand.

“See! Now you smile, and it’s a good look- well, uh,” Stiles grimaced, shaking his head fervently. “I mean, it’s good that you look like that, Sourwolf. I would even call us-” Stiles hesitated, “-friends, now, if you’re up for that?” He ventured. His face was light, with a trace of nerves as the Were realised the very real meaning behind the cajoling words.

Derek found himself nodding, fixing Stiles with a tentative smile. “Yeah, I-” Stiles watched him, his lips curling up slowly as he watched him stutter over the words. “We’re friends,” He finished lamely. His cheeks were now a slightly pink colour, which Stiles took in with delight.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, breathlessly, “-friends.”

-4-

Stiles sat at the kitchen table, playing mindlessly on his phone. To the Sheriff’s amusement- who looked on in mild interest, he continued to sneak looks to the front door every few minutes, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Waiting for someone?” He inquired dryly, watching as Stiles jumped guiltily, peering over the screen of his phone to look at his dad with a dignified expression.

Leaning back into his seat and staring up at the ceiling- studiously avoiding eye contact, Stiles dismissed the words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He sniped, tapping his fingers along the surface of the worn table.

John rolled his eyes, fully aware of the thing between his son and Derek. “Son, I think we should talk about this,” He tried, setting his mug aside and fixing teen with what Stiles could only fondly refer to as the “soul-searching stare”.

“Talk about what? I don’t see how there’s anything to talk about here, what happened to me talking too much, Pops? I thought you liked me talking less? I can just reign it in and just, nottalk,” He said innocuously, a flap of his hands signifying how not okay with the subject he was.

The Sheriff stared him down, face unimpressed. “Derek. You and Derek."

Stiles groaned in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands and flopping miserably onto the table. "You didn’t have to say it, dad,” He groaned reproachfully, a picture of misery as he sprawled out across the table.

“Do we need to revisit the staying safe conversation?” John asked, folding his arms as he fixed Stiles under his stare. He fought a fond smile as his son let out another groan, burrowing deeper into his hands in mortification.

“No, we definitely do not, Dad,” Stiles retorted. “-there’s nothing even going on,” He added dolefully, finally peeking out of his hands to look back at his dad, unable to hide the disappointment on his face.

“Well if there ever is,” Warned the Sheriff.

They both looked to the front door as they heard a knock. Stiles shot up from his seat, bumping into the table in his hurry, cursing as he hopped around, clutching his side in pain. John let out a long sigh, realising his last words had gone unnoticed in Stiles obvious effort to let their guest in.

Finally reaching the door, Stiles pulled it open with a grin, his face flushed as he locked eyes with Derek, who looked back, a matching smile on his own. “Hey,” Stiles murmured, drinking in the sight of the Were in front of him.

Derek nodded at him, shucking off his coat and bending down to unlace his boots. “Happy Christmas Eve,” He said, looking up at Stiles.

“I don’t think that’s a thing,"

"What?”

“Happy Christmas Eve, I think you’ve gotta wait until tomorrow, dude,”

“Fine, I’ll take it back,"

"No- no! I never said you had to do that,” Stiles hastened to reply, making Derek laugh.

The pair straightened up, Derek clutching his boots in his hands as Stiles stared helplessly at him. His soft knitted jumper, gifted to him by the McCalls the year before, the relaxed stance he held as he stood in the hall- hell, even his hair. Derek had changed, Stiles realised, and so had he.

John eventually herds both of them into the kitchen, the table crammed with dishes of steaming Borscht- Stiles’ mom’s recipe. There were steaming plates of Turkey and Gazpacho- courtesy of the McCalls, who called to the house a few hours later.

The dinner is loud, as McCall-Stilinski dinners always are. Stiles feels a warmth in his stomach, wanting to add another name onto the end of their small group as he watched Derek sitting surrounded by the others, a broad smile on his face.

Stabbing a bit of turkey with his fork, he chews glumly as another realisation dawns. Derek was happy. But as he stared at the Were’s grin, listening as he recounted tales of his old pack to the table, who listened in awe, Stiles’ smile dips.

Standing abruptly, Stiles shoved away from the table, everyone looking up at the screech of the chair as the teen pushed it away. Looking up guiltily, Stiles felt his frown deepen as everyone watched him with concern. “I’m- uh, just getting some air,” He mumbled, fleeing the room out of the backdoor, slumping against the outside wall as he stared into the darkened garden.

He’d always wished for more with Derek.

Rubbing a fist angrily across his stinging eyes, he let out an angry sniff and shook his head vigorously. Trying to banish the thought was futile, so he tried to let out a couple of shaky breaths, his heartbeat dancing unsteadily in his ear.

Letting his mind roam, Stiles thought of the past few years, and the times he’d almost been caught out- staring as Derek did something ridiculously cute, or as he’d strip his shirt off for the umpteenth time, making his face heat at the sight.

But he’d gotten to know the Were now. What had begun as a crush, undeniably unobtainable, had become a full force fixation. Watching his breath curl up to the night sky in small clouds, Stiles let out another shaky breath, a pang of grief cementing how utterly fucked he was.

He was in love with Derek Hale.

Stiles’ eyes widened as the realisation dawned, as he fully allowed himself to think about it, not brush it off or bury it deep within his brain as soon as he recognised it. Shit.

The door behind him slowly opened, making Stiles jump guiltily as he turned to face the oncoming person behind it. Derek.

“Hey,” Stiles said, avoiding Derek’s inquisitive gaze.

“Your dad’s beginning to think you’ve run off,”

Letting out a small laugh, Stiles watched as Derek shut the door, coming to stand beside him. “Sorry,”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Derek was quiet, his voice intense.

Stiles looked up at him, only seeing the silhouette of his sharp jaw in the dusk light. “I-” He started, before shaking his head minutely, the crescendo of feelings dipping and diving within him.

Derek stepped closer.

The silence was heavy with unsaid words. Derek brought his hand up to cup Stiles’ jaw, his face open and vulnerable, something it had taken years for it to be. Stiles stared at it hungrily, a speck of hope bubbling inside of him; that his fantasy of something was minutely more possible than he’d thought.

The hand felt searing hot against his cheek, and Stiles’s heart began to rabbit once again.

“Tell me I’m not reading this wrong,” Derek whispered, breath ghosting across Stiles’s cheeks as they stood together, a hairs width between them.

Tilting his head up, Stiles finally looked at Derek. “You’re not,” The words were quiet, tentative, but Derek reacted immediately.

He leant down, pressing his lips lightly against Stiles’. The touch was tentative, but as Stiles unfroze, the shock wearing off to be replaced by pure unadulterated euphoria, he responded enthusiastically.

The kiss was frenzied, but Stiles lack of experience was overridden by his latent enthusiasm. Derek moved slightly as their teeth clacked together, pulling Stiles away slightly to gently kiss him again.

Looking up in awe, Stiles watched as Derek’s eyes flashed blue as he struggled to control the shift, Derek ducking away shyly. The teen pulled Derek closer, kissing him firmly, smiling ridiculously as he traced his hands over the fur on the Were’s cheeks.

Breaking apart, Stiles panted, a wide grin on his gleeful face.

“Are you coming to dinner, tomorrow?” Stiles implored, a helpless smile growing on his face as he stared up at Derek.

Derek looked uncertain, his hands going lax where they were wrapped around Stiles’ waist. “Christmas Dinner?” He checked, the hesitation clear in his words.

“Well, unless there’s some other dinner I’m having on Christmas Day,” Stiles whispered, a soft smile on his lips.

Derek nodded slowly, before letting a matching smile take over his face. “I’d love to,"

Wrapping his icy fingers around Derek’s waist, Stiles leaned in again, their lips meeting. This kiss was unhurried, sweet. Entwining his arms around the smaller figure, Derek let himself let go. He felt himself wilt, for once feeling utterly safe surrounded by the intoxicating scent of cinnamon and home. Pack.

Suddenly, the door behind them opened once more, the Sheriff standing in the doorway with his hands crossed across his chest. Derek and Stiles sprung apart guiltily, their cheeks flushed as they looked anywhere but at John.

"I think you two should come inside,” John said, his voice disapproving as he fought to contain the undertone of amusement and glee at the chagrin looks on their faces.

His earlier prediction hadn’t taken long to come to fruition, and he couldn’t help but be thankful that it was Derek his son had chosen. He was a good kid, he thought to himself, letting his smile slip onto his face. He recognised the besotten looks on the pairs faces too well.

It brought back a bittersweet memory of himself and Claudia, making him chuckle at the paradox between her and their son, twenty years later.

Derek looked suitably mortified, shoulders hunching in as he subconsciously tried to make himself look smaller.

John clapped a hand onto the Were’s shoulder. Derek jumped, unsure of the reason for his cheery expression. Looking at Stiles, he arched an eyebrow, who looked back in equal confusion with a touch o embarrassment, shaking his head helplessly.

“Come on in, son, I put the gun away last Christmas,” John chuckled, herding Derek back inside to where the others sat, peeking around the kitchen door with matching expressions of curiosity on their faces.

Stiles trailed behind them, feeling a sense of whiplash at the sudden turn the evening had taken. Taking a seat in a chair at the table once again, he felt a smile spread across his face as he stared unabashedly at Derek, who looked back with a matching look of affection.

Now, this was the best Christmas Eve ever.

-5- They get distracted and start smooching then some people come in and see them, maybe Scott?

Letting out a grunt of frustration, Stiles wrestled with a roll of gaudy wrapping paper, twisting it experimentally around a cardboard box, to no avail.

Hearing a low chuckle from behind him, Stiles turns to scowl at the figure behind him. Derek is stood at the table. There’s an impeccably packed rectangular present clasped in his hands, which Stiles stares at in disdain because it’s like it's mocking him.

Throwing the wrapping paper down in despair, Stiles turns to Derek with a stern expression.

“You can’t judge me, Sourwolf,”

“I didn’t say a thing,” There’s an easy smile on his face, though, and dammit if Stiles cant read it as easily as if he’d said the words.

Stiles scoffed.

“You didn’t have to! The eyebrows say it all- anyway, isn’t it more about the thing inside the wrapping? It doesn’t matter how shitty the outside looks…"

"It doesn’t look shitty,”

“Aw, I knew there was a heart somewhere under all that scruff!"

Derek frowned, his ears turning a shade of pink under Stiles’ gleeful scrutiny. Setting his own, admittedly better-wrapped present onto the table as he walked over to Stiles.

The room was warm, bringing a flush onto Stiles’ pale cheeks as he puttered around the kitchen, both preparing the last few dishes for the plethora of bingeing they’d be doing over the next few days, yet also attempting to wrap the remainder of his presents to the pack.

Wrapping his arms around Stiles, Derek snuck his face into his neck, inhaling, tightening his hold. Humming happily, Stiles brought a hand up to stroke along the Were’s face as it burrowed into him.

Looking at the mess of ripped paper and the heap of partially wrapped presents next to it, Stiles gave a huff of despair. "Pack Christmases require so much preparation, maybe we should call the whole thing off,” He murmured, with no conviction at all behind the words.

“You could never. You love them,” Derek mumbled into his neck, his words muffled.

“Yeah,” He replied dolefully, a sappy smile threatening to spill onto his face. Shaking his head, Stiles reproachfully unclasped Derek’s arms from around him and picked up an armful of presents. “Maybe I could just get bags instead?” He asked dubiously.

Derek plucked a box from his hand, eyeing the glossy makeup inside with disdain. Definitely for Lydia. “No, I’ll show you how to do it,” He instructed, placing it on the table with a dull thud.

Dumping the pile onto the table, before they threatened to spill out of his arms, Stiles shook his head, a plan forming in his mind.

“Or-” He said, looking up through his eyelashes at Derek. “-We could use the bags…and be able to do Stiles and Derek time!” He hinted, waggling his eyebrows after his attempt to seduce the older man resulted in an unimpressed expression.

Stiles reached over to Derek, entwining their fingers to pull him closer, closing the distance between them. The kiss is languid as they explore each other’s mouths for the countless time. It never gets old.

Just as they lose awareness of their surroundings, the world diminishing to only the soft press of lips, and soft gasping breaths, the front door opens with a thud. Stiles sees Scott in the periphery of his vision, as he crossing the threshold, talking animatedly.

“-my mom brought the Gazpacho and Allys bringing the turkey when she drops by later- oh,” He halts in front of Derek and Stiles, who spring apart, their faces matching expressions of annoyance.

“Scotty,” Stiles starts. “-I’m so glad to see you, but I was in the middle of something, dude, you cock-blocked me,” He said mournfully, Derek digging him in the ribs with an expertly timed finger, making him yelp in anguish.

Watching them in disgust, Scott shakes his head and dumps the bags he was carrying on the table, eyeing the presents next to it curiously.

“I did not want to know, dude,” He said mournfully,

“I had to listen to you wax poems about Allison’s boobs, you can cope!” Stiles rebutted cheerfully, walking around the table to grip his best friend in a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, bro,” He sighed happily, returning Scott’s dopey smile with a similar one of his own.

Since Scott and Allison had moved to New York for college, Stiles hadn’t had nearly enough hang-out sessions, but without fail, Christmas would always be a time they spend together.

They heard a throat clearing behind them. Stiles peeked around Scott to see Allison, giving him an unimpressed stare, making him stand straighter and turn to her, an abashed expression on his face.

“Oh- Hey, Ally,” Stiles said sheepishly, giving her an impish grin which she returned after another withering glare.

“Hey,” She replied, giving him a brief hug and turning to Derek to do the same, who did so with an adorably bewildered expression.

Over the next few minutes, the kitchen began to fill up with the rest of the pack, Stiles’ dad standing in the middle as he failed to keep a disapproving frown on his face, the edges twitching as he watched the people surrounding him.

Stiles watched on, a helpless smile on his face. Turning to his dad, he let the grin take over his face as the two remaining Stilinski’s let the atmosphere wash over them.

“You’ve done good, kid,” John said, his voice a soothing note under the general hubbub of the rest of the pack.

Stiles suddenly felt the warm presence of Derek, who slowly let his arm encircle Stiles’ waist as he gave him a small smile, his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, eyes flitting to his dad, back to Derek. “Yeah- I really have, haven’t I?”

#wildamongwolves #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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harryandhislips-blog · 5 years

Text

art teacher - harry styles

in which, harry is your art teacher.

an uncompleted story.

- MASTERLIST -

CHAPTER ONE

It wasn't until about 7 am after you've jumped out of bed, realizing that you had snoozed your alarm perhaps five times in order to only have ten minutes left to get ready. running to the bathroom to spit out your toothpaste while you buttoned up your shirt was a skill you developed since high school, even though you were quite the organized student, you still slipped off at times.

"emma!" you hear your mom screaming from downstairs, making you speed up and stuff as many textbooks as you can in your bag without even reading the titles- hoping that you magically grabbed the right ones. putting your hair in an awfully made low ponytail, you rushed your body down the stairs, almost tripping twice.

" good god, emma! you stayed up drawing again haven't you?" your mother came closer to you, tugging some hairs behind your ears and propping up the collar of your school uniform. you didn't reply to her and instead, you stayed silent, really not in the mood to argue at this point of time.

your mother was already in the car, honking it as you grabbed your sneakers and ran to the back seat, opening the door and getting in. your mother looked back as she back the car out of the driveway, periodically looking at you with her eyebrows knitted together.

you slightly scuff under your breath as you put on your shoes one by one, making your fingers sting slightly from how fast you did it.

you sighed to yourself as you threw your body back to the car seat, as your mum started rambling about you being late. annoyed, you sat in silence watching out of the car window.

"did you hear what i said young lady??" your mom suddenly said, bringing your attention to her. "you can't keep doing this to yourself, do you hear me?" she said, making eye contact with your threw the car mirror.

" yes mom, i heard you." you quietly mumbled. this wasn't the first neither it was the second time this has happened.

after what seemed like hours, the car finally pulled into the drop off point of the school. it seemed awfully unusual to see the parking lot and the front of the school this empty; there weren't any guys bouncing basketballs, seventh-graders standing in small groups and gossiping, there weren't a wave of flooding cars, and instead, it was quiet and the lot was only filled with a few parked ones.

you sighed, checking your phone for the day, thursday. you mentally cursed as you realized that you were late to your favorite class, art class. now picking up your phase, you run through the halls, almost tripping a couple of times.

you stopped yourself before going into the class to catch your breath, after all, walking into class while you were panting so loudly that it was obvious that you were running would be a bit embarrassing.

finally, taking a deep breath you pushed through the door, walking into the art studio, making the room fill with silence as everyone glanced at the door and to you. trying your hardest not to look at anyone straight in their eyes, you made your way to your normal table

to your relief though, a couple of minutes passed before the room filled with noises again; people talking over each other, paintbrushes tapping against the glass cups, cabinet doors closing with bangs, and chairs scooting roughly against the floor.

you settled your bag down and made your way to the teacher, mr. styles, who was sitting on his chair at his desk comfortably with his arms crossed and his legs spread while he was watching his students doing their tasks. moments later, his gaze fixed onto you as you came closer to his desk.

you still remember the first-ever lesson that he taught to your class. he wasn't dressed fancy, instead he just wore tight, plain black pants with a matching dull belt, a plain dark blue shirt with a black tie. the class was silent as he introduced himself, telling everyone his background. when that was over, he asked everyone to introduce themselves- cracking up jokes there and then that made the class slightly giggle.

both of your eyes still on each other, " why are you late today, emma? " he spoke, not intending to sound harsh in any way. "I woke up late, I'm sorry" you mumbled quickly as you knitted your hands together in front of you out of the nervousness. you hated being late, you were almost always on time except for days like this.

" it's alright by me, but you know I'll have to write it into the records," he said raising his eyebrows a bit for reassurance. he was perhaps the nicest teacher at your school, everyone loved him- he barely gave out any detention unless it was completely necessary and he never shouted at his students, and actually cared for them, unlike other teachers.

" yeah, i know, sorry " you said again, watching him as he was sat in that same exact position from when you first came up to him. " why did you wake up late? " he spoke suddenly, his voice in a slight joking manner as he raised his eyebrows once again, slightly tilting his head as he waited for a response.

you looked up slightly, embarrassed by the real reason you've been up again. by the look of his face though, he knows the right answer, because at this point it has happened over a thousand times. you both are fully aware that he's just teasing you about it, teasing you about drawing till you fall asleep at your desk a couple hours before school starts.

" i was studying.." you reply jokingly back, knowing that he knows you far too much to understand your sarcasm. " you're saying that you weren't drawing till 5 am again? " he says, smiling a little at this point since he is finding this extremely hilarious.

you're not even entirely sure how this became an inside joke between you two, perhaps it was the times you would come into school with the back of your right hand smudged with led marks. or maybe perhaps it was the obvious times you'd come in with your sketchbook filled with new drawings that he eventually saw.

his hands gently run to the keyboard of his computer as he waits for you to answer the question, his eyebrows now knotted together as he inspects whatever the email has said that was on his screen. "perhaps." you mumble, rolling your eyes a bit.

" right, get s'much work done before the bell, but don't worry you can come in at lunch," he mumbles looking at you before once again gazing off to the computer screen, moments later you hear him typing something.

this was your cue to leave, and so you did, turning around you started walking towards your desk. "and, uh, emma?" you turn around to his eyes still on the screen. "yeah?" you reply a bit louder because of the distance you've created between you two. his gaze finally meets yours before he looks a bit lower than your collar, pointing at it briefly "don't forget your tie next time." he simply mumbles, giving you a little nod before going back to typing something. biting the inside of your cheek you nodded, while you finally walked away.

for the rest of the class, you sat silently at your desk, working on your chalk project that was due this week. it had you stressed out to your bones, since of how much you envied chalk because of how hard it was to work with.

groaning in annoyance, you laid your head down onto the desk, closing your eyes deciding to rest for a bit. instead, though, you accidentally drift off and fall asleep; your cheek laid softly on the piece of paper covered with colorful chalk.

10:23

the light nudging on your shoulder slowly wakes you up, you slowly come to your senses to realize whats going on. mr. styles is standing next to your sitting body, his fingertips still lightly attached to your shoulder.

" morning break just ended " he softly mumbles, realizing that you're fully awake now, he walks up to the cabins where he keeps all of his paints and grabs a stack of paper, lightly tapping them against the hard surface, aligning them.

"oh- um, im so sorry- um" you mumbled, your body was still half asleep so you had to think twice as hard in order to cooperate. standing from your chair, you started stuffing your pencil case into your bag. you observed the table as you realized that someone has already put the chalks away, only leaving your artwork behind.

" didn't know emma was such a heavy sleeper " he chuckles as he speaks, walking over to his desk now. you zipped your bag throwing it over your shoulder as you plugged a few strands of hair behind your ear.

"im surprised too, always thought that i was a light sleeper," you say softly, your voice was groggy and your throat was sore- how long did was i asleep for?

“look, you still have a few days before your chalk project is due, so just concentrate on this one, alright? no one likes working with chalk, except, of course, julian beever." he says, both of you chuckling at the art preference.

" can i come in at lunch? " you ask, your voice so groggy that you have to clear it before it gets worse. " yes, of course, but i wont be here, so you'll be here on your own." he says and he places the pieces of paper that he was straightening earlier into a folder.

" thank you " you say before you see him simply nodding, now putting away the packed folder to one of his shelves. you shoot him a smile that he unfortunately doesn't see, since he has now turned his back to you in order to reach the very top shelf. It puts you in an uncomfortable situation- am i supposed to leave? It felt rude to just leave like this without saying anything so you stood there, watching him and waiting for him to finish.

the hem of his shirts lifts perhaps a little too high, while his pants are down below his torso- for you to see the clear out vision of the grey wristband of the calvin klein briefs. this catches you with sudden shock as you look down quickly, pretending like you did not just see the start of his fucking boxers.

letting out a little sigh, he finally returned to his prior position and turned around giving you a tiny glance before going over and taking another closer to his desk again. " y'know, emma, you have to stop giving your sleep time away to draw, as much as you like it- it's unhealthy " he says bluntly, still not looking at you as he was going to the cabin and grabbing another stack of paper.

you said nothing and instead stayed silent, guilt running over you. " i know. " you softly mumbled before looking down to the floor again not wanting to accidentally meet his eyes.

" i have history in ten minutes, i have to go, sorry, again." you quietly spoke while you eyed the clock on the opposite wall, from the side of your vision you could still see him walk over to his desk. hearing the familiar thud of paper, you looked to where it came from- immediately meeting your gaze with his. his hands were on his waist now and he looked rather concentrated while looking at you- " perhaps, history with mr. loft?" he asked- moving his hands and crossing them on his chest while he waited for you to answer. you nodded, watching him as he went a little further than his desk into the back room. after a couple of thuds- he came out with a tie in his hand.

" you know how mad it drives him when someone forgets a part of their uniform," he says, reaching out his hand for you to take it. "since when are you a tie dealer?" you say, gently grabbing it from his hand before putting it threw your head, around your neck.

" since high school " he says, raising his eyebrows. both of you chuckled at his statement.

11:30

history class passed in seconds, mainly because your thoughts wandered off- thinking of all of the ideas you could use for your final chalk project. and of course, your art teacher. you didn't let it get to you in any way at all, but you did find him attractive in some point of mind.

you were let out of the class for lunch five minutes early so the halls were still awfully empty which was a big relief to you. after throwing some of your books into your locker, you made your way into the cafeteria.

you sat at your normal table, setting your bag underneath as you pulled out some snacks and your sketchbook. the bell finally rang, making you squint your face from the sudden loud noise filling your ears.

not long later, jaeden joined you. you two were friends since kindergarten, but drifted apart afterwards towards high school. this school year though, you became close again, since you two both had b lunches.

" hey " he said, taking off his bag as he grabbed your attention making you lift your head up from your sketchbook. " hey " you said, chuckling, because of how weird it sounded coming from your mouth full of chips. " you coming to the football game tonight? " he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of the fact that he's on the team.

" you know i'm not a fan of sports" you said, closing your sketchbook to pay full attention to him. " yeah, i know, emma. but it's not like im asking you to play" he obnoxiously ran a hand through his hair.

jaeden might seem like the typical dick guy at this point, but he's actually quite not. apart from being on the football team, he was into drama and literature he was nothing like the typical jock-who-only-has-two-braincells-and-screams-in-the-hallway stereotype at all- and that's what you found quite fascinating about him. he wasn't a player either. his whole life he had only had two girlfriends and both of the relationships lasted longer than a year.

" just come for me, yeah? " he says, trying to give you a puppy look. " i might " you say, rolling your eyes as you gave in. his smile faded as you started to pack your stuff back into your bag, after seeing that it was already been ten minutes since lunch started.

" you're going to the art room again, aren't you?" jaeden said, teasing you as he took another bite of his chicken. "kind of have no choice" you said, no swinging the backpack over your shoulder. " have fucking fun" he said, sighing.

you walked into the completely silent and dark room. With your hands in front of you, you somehow found a light switch, quickly turning on the lights before making your way to your usual table.

grabbing everything you need, except aprons. for some reason- they weren't where they usually were (on the small set of racks beneath the sink). so you had no other options but to work without it, and probably get your uniform dirty.

with a deep sigh, you started working on your piece again, trying your hardest not to make a mess onto your shirt.

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daringsunflowers · 2 years

Text

I posted 2,627 times in 2021

475 posts created (18%)

2152 posts reblogged (82%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.5 posts.

I added 1,026 tags in 2021

#c. valerie - 289 posts

#c. tony - 116 posts

#c. charlotte - 113 posts

#c. indigo - 88 posts

#c. jamie - 87 posts

#c. abigail - 71 posts

#c. zeke - 69 posts

#tony x jesus - 69 posts

#c. mason - 67 posts

#indie starter - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#⁺◦♡ ✧.* 𝐎𝐓𝐏: 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉; 𝓌𝑒’𝓁𝓁 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 〔corazon & ryder〕

My Top Posts in 2021

valerie was really struggling here, she was unsure how she was going to be a mother. she was unsure if she even WANTED to be a mother. sure she helped with izzy and she loved her SO much however that was different, she was easy to love. yet v still lived next door, it wasnt like they all lived together. not to mention callum was a fighter fighter, she ddnt want to stay awake every night worried she would be widowed by one phone call. it was all selfish but she was just plain scared. it didnt help that she was keeping this from the one man she wanted to tell. how would she tell him? how would he even react? the two had a few too many wine drunken hook up nights, but to v that wasnt what this was. she cared about callum and izzy like they were already her family.. though at the end of the day they werent official and she was still the nanny next door,- or felt that way.

confiding in a friend who had recently had a child she had told her to practice as a test. so she had asked callum and valerie to keep her newborn son for a few hours while she went to the grocery store. v assumed it was probaby a good idea- until it wasnt. the redhead sat in tears as the little boy wouldnt stop crying. val was unsure waht he had wanted, she fed, burped, changed him and now she had been walking around with him to sooth him but it just wasnt working. “callum, he wont...stop.” she said trying to hold back her own tears. “ii dont think im doing something right.” sure she had been good with kids but she felt way more pressure this time.

@scinglives

51 notes • Posted 2021-08-04 15:55:21 GMT

@springjoy

when friday rolled around zeke had told jamie bye and gavin had settled in. honestly it wasnt ten minutes that zeke had left that she had came out of the bedroom in her linger she had originally bought for her anniversary. it wasnt like zeke was going to be fucking her tonight for it. so she had fooled around with gavin instead. starting in the kitchen on the table, moving to the hall and eventually landing on the bed. it had been a good couple of hours that they had kept it up as jamie laid on the bed panting. “fuck.. wow... happy anniversary to me huh?”she had teased. sure she had acted like gavin was a pain in her ass and didnt want him there yet she still managed to fuck him all over her house. after collecting herself she had thrown on a long t shirt and looked down at the man still on the bed. “im hungry..” she admitted. “get up.. we can make my grandmas old christmas cookies..” she said nodding for him to follow her. once she had made it in the kitchen she got to thinking. gavin had already came and gotten probably what he wanted, at least in her mind. that was why he was here right? “actually..” she shook her head. “you really dont have to stay if you dont want to.” she admitted. “i know you are only hanging out here because you told zeke you would.. but” she shrugged. “we kinda already fucked so if you wanna leave i would understand.” she admitted as she moved over and grabbed the bag of flour from the top shelf.

54 notes • Posted 2021-11-29 03:59:35 GMT

@hugtheboy

anthony always loved halloween. it was an excuse to be half naked and drink lots and lots of alcohol. the party was at his frat house, per usual.. tony had already been about three shots in and two solo cups when he saw the man enter. tony had hoped that jesus would come and when he walked through the door a smile tugged at his lips. per usual tony had to introduce jesus as he walked through the door. “if you all would excuse me, excuse me please...” he said adjusting his little thin gold flower crown in his head. he was dressed as a greek god, any way to show off his arms and chest of course. “the party has arrived, my handsome. bo-” but he paused. “my handsome friend..” as normal most people ignored him as he rushed over to the man.

71 notes • Posted 2021-10-19 01:24:18 GMT

based on THIS

bryson had spent far too long incarcerated over some dumb shit he did as a teen. he had finally gotten out and was ready to get back to his life. however four years had past and he was now 22 years old. he wasnt sure where to even begin. a week after settling out of jail he had a job and a small studio apartment. the job wasnt ideal but it was a paycheck and a friend of his had gotten it for him- it was hard to get a job especially with a criminal record so he took the one offered to him. it was a simple busboy at a snooty little country golf club.

he had just finished up cleaning a table and was heading to break to have a smoke when she caught his eye. bryson stopped and had to take a double look, he had been trying to contact her since he had gotten out with no luck, he felt like seeing her here had to be some kind of sign. the male snuck up behind her and spoke softly. “i never thought i would see the day of you wearing something like THAT.” a smile tugged his lips when she had turned around to see it was him. she was stunning and she still made his heart pound when he saw her four years later.

86 notes • Posted 2021-08-11 04:43:18 GMT

open m/f/nb

“ what are you doing here? it’s the middle of the night. ”

100 notes • Posted 2021-10-03 04:35:41 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #well well well #ok

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mousepatrol · 7 years

Text

8.8.17

so the reason im not posting this on the correct day is because our power is out right now. I completely forgot, but our powers supposed to be out from 8pm to 3pm which is completely stupid because the sun goes down right at 8 so that’s when I would need to start using it. I mean, they could have done it at around midnight when all reasonable people are asleep, or at least ten, when people are usually done eating and theyre just hanging out. You know? Also Im using word for this so that’s why things are being autocorrected

so, my day. Trash galore, folks.

I turned off my alarm last night because I didn’t think it was doing me any good and I was getting worried that I was just making myself sleep deprived for when school starts, so I went to bed around 3 or maybe even 4 (cant even fucking remember why at this point, I didn’t have shit to do) and then I woke up at 1145. Could have been worse but also could have been a lot better. So I wasn’t that tired bc I hadn’t been woken up 120000 times and I managed to actually be awake for a while. I fucked around on the computer for an hour and then made some pasta because apparently I cant eat anything else anymore. My appetite is shit

I ate like… only half of my food before I had to get ready to leave bc my mom was having a showing of the house and that means I have to leave. So I decided I was just going to go to the gym oh but I forgot something happened while I was going downstairs to cook

I made a short textpost about this already but I ran into my mom (who was in my brothers bathroom and I therefore thought she wasn’t home) and she told me that my dad had cancelled the flight he had for when I go back to school. So basically he was going to come out with me and help me move in even though I told him I wouldn’t really need that much help this time, since I already have all of my stuff and my new place is furnished. But when I had just gotten home, he insisted, and so he booked a flight with me. Also my parents told me that my car should be low on gas when I put it in storage so it was and it turns out that’s completely wrong so he was going to help me with my car also. It needs to go to the shop too just for like oil and stuff

Um so yeah apparently hes the biggest baby ever and my mom still wanted me to apologize to him and I think I did a good job of telling her that no, I should not apologize for my tiny bad thing (telling my dad several times to be quiet in increasingly sarcastic ways, bc I was watching jeopardy and he would not stop talking and I cant hear it when hes talking bc bad ears) when he wont even apologize for calling me a piece of shit and running away upstairs and banging things around and making me scared. That’s not acceptable and even though I recognize that I could have handled it better, I think that my response of annoyance (after days upon days of him doing this same thing while I try to tell him to not) was reasonable and honestly the things I said caused no harm. I wasn’t making fun of him. I was ONLY making jokes that had to do with the clues and turning them into ways of telling him to be quiet because I cant hear. I did tell him more nicely to be quiet in the beginning though. I really did. But he just wont stop with this shit and I don’t have infinite patience, even though it’s a lot better than I used to be

Um so yeah. Ok I wrote that for the last paragraph, interesting. But I mean im not mad about him not going, its not like I wanted him there anyway and I knew it would make me very uncomfortable and he would have to get a hotel bc theres nowhere for him to sleep, but its still a bit jarring and frankly just awful that he did that instead of either telling me okay and being quiet or I don’t know, saying im gonna leave the room while you watch it then bc I cant be quiet. Either of those would have been fine but instead of thinking internally about the things he was doing, he projected stuff onto me and just called me a piece of shit. I don’t really know how you can do that as a parent. I cant help but critique him, but at least im not just insulting him. You know? Is that reasonable? Ugh. But anyway, turns out theres a 711 right next to the storage place so if my car is out of gas I can either use the tiny bit that’s left to get it over to 711 or just like get gas from there and bring it to my car. Either way it is possible. I also just need someone to pick me up from the airport but my mom said she would figure that out. So, really, im fine. It’s the circumstance that is just very upsetting, you know. Its just not something that needed to happen and now im mad/scared of him for the rest of the time im here and im just over it as hell

Ok… so I ate lunch and then got ready for the gym bc that’s where I was going. So I went and then I actually went to target first bc I was out of soap, so I got better smelling soap than the one I had last and some more conditioner bc I was also out and I got a pair of comfy shorts that are a little too small for my ass but ill make due because I need more than one pair of shorts. And those other shorts really don’t fit me, I cannot wear them out lol. Then I went to the gym bc it was arm day and that went pretty well and I did it pretty quick so it was tiring for sure. And I came back and had a nice shower and sang against me! Songs really loud because I got tickets to see them in October that Im really psyched about and I just want to listen to them more. Oh man I love laura jane grace she is just so wonderful omg I am so glad to have her in the community its wonderful

So after all of that I went downstairs to get the rest of my pasta that I had put in the fridge, and it was like 6pm and I realized I probably didn’t want to be downstairs tonight so I also got some crackers and cheese and fruits snacks and extra water because I wasn’t sure if I was going to get to eat again (I probably only ate 500 calories today im upset L). So then I went upstairs to eat and I watched the great british bake off which is really nice and I quite like it a lot. Its calming and fun. After that I did a reply because dex replied to two of my threads today so I got one out for him since I want to get that thread going, aaaand about thirty minutes after that the power went off at eight. I had seriously forgotten about that so I don’t know, I kind of just accepted my fate

Im not really sure what exactly happened there, because I felt like I was fine before (was legit browsing dildos online lmfao like I was just bored yknow) but when the power was out I got kind of upset and just… took my plush cow and sat on my bed as the sun went down and just. Stared. Catherine, bless her fucking heart, texted me after like 30 minutes out of the blue so I luckily I had her to talk to for at least a little while. I was feeling shitty before yeah now that I think about it, after my shower I was upset and felt like I was gonna cry but I didn’t and I just sent james some snaps and he said he was gonna text me but he didn’t and that’s ok I think he went to bed because he didn’t open my other snaps. Its ok. He doesn’t need to contact me every minute for me to know that he cares. I love him so much and I sent him a quick text just to tell him that because I always do that when I feel bad just because eventually he replies and it always makes me feel good.

Ok so I cried like two times between eight and nine thirty when I was just sitting there, laying on my bed and texting Catherine about when school starts. I just felt really down because I remember having to turn the lights off around ten and it doesn’t really get a lot darker than it does in the summer at eight (I mean ten during schooltime when I was younger) and I just remember not having any light and no one to talk to or text and I couldn’t read and my parents would lock my computer out at ten so I couldn’t talk to anyone and I just remember being very very lonely and feeling like no one cared about me and not being able to talk to the people that I felt like truly did care about me. So I remember doing a lot of crying in bed in the evenings when I was like 12-16 and its just really sad, you know? i would cry myself to sleep a lot and all I could do was lay there and listen to music because ive always been really bad at sleeping so it would never come at ten even if I really wanted to sleep then. It just didn’t happen. So sitting there in my bed tonight just made me feel like this little kid trapped in this room and I cant go downstairs because im scared of people being bad to me and I cant go out and in my room I have to sit in the dark and its just all very bad. I forgot about all of that. Im an adult now and I can have the lights on when I want but I guess its upsetting for me to not be in control of that

Come to think of it, its also very upsetting when people tell me to go to bed. I talked to this one girl in my rp a lot (she doesn’t talk to me that much now, she talks to another person, I don’t know why and I do feel lonelier now but I guess she wasn’t that nice to talk to anyway so im alright) and if I was up when she woke up (8hhr time difference) she would spam me messages telling me to go to bed and I already knew my schedule but she wouldn’t shut up. I don’t know, that’s just something

Also I hate hearing people say my name. it makes me flinch every time and I think someones going to scream at me. I think that’s half the reason I wanted to change my name when I was going through gender stuff. I just didn’t want to hear that name anymore. Which is sad. Because I do love it, and maybe its not so bad when im not in this house bc its just my parents voices saying my name that really bothers me

So after 930 I went downstairs and got a candle and brought it up and I did a bit of drawing but it got annoying after about half an hour. At some point my dad came to my door and said something that I didn’t understand, so I didn’t say anything and he went away. Then I read catcher in the rye for about an hour (only got through like 35 pages) and now im writing this entry on whats left of my computer battery. Im charging my phone off of this just so it has power, since it was dying, and it looks like I have at least part of an episode of skam saved onto here so I guess im just going to watch that until I fall asleep because I always fall asleep to youtube videos. Im going to have to download some movie or something onto here so that I have that to fall asleep to in case if something like this happens again. Ok I know this was long but theres a lot of good stuff in there so hopefully this will help in therapy or something later. Things are really rough mentally right now and I just want to go home, you know. Ive wanted to go home for absolutely years, though. Idk where home is. bye

#strong blogs #8.8.17

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