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shina913 · 1 year

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Flowerworks | KNJ

Flowerworks

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M (SFW)

Genre: Exes; pure angst; fluff

Warnings: a lot of angst; pining; meet-cute; suggestive language; missed opportunities; vague infidelity

Word count: 4,241 words

Summary: “The love you had in your past...unfinished, untested, lost love...seems so easy, so childish to those who chose to settle down. But it’s actually the purest, most concentrated stuff.”

A/N: This story was inspired by an anthology series that I had binged while I had Covid back in January this year. For a while, I've been wanting to do a rendition of that but I wasn't sure which member to 'cast.' But Indigo has such a great inspiration so I've revisited this draft and thought Namjoon would be the perfect angsty main character here. Also, Kelly Price's rendition of As We Lay was a good inspo for this as well, except it's got none of the spicy stuff and you're left with all angst!

A/N2: I've never been to the UK or Europe 🤡 so a lot of this is just talking out of my ass hoping it would make for an interesting backdrop. I apologize for any geographical inaccuracies. This isn't the first time I've mentioned Juan Luna in my fics--I just thought, wouldn't it be cool if Namjoon studied Filipino impressionists🤪. Anyway, hope the story still lands! 💙

“Thank you so much for the presentation, Dr. YLN. It was so refreshing to hear a new take on a subject that’s so rarely…uhm, what’s the word…”

“Discussed? Thought of?” You finish their sentence for them. You smile warmly at a young journalist who was covering your lecture as part of a feature piece they were doing for a magazine. After the program ended, they decided to come up for a side conversation.

“Yes, that’s right,” the journalist says. “Your perspective is so fascinating to me. I mean–when we were in grade school, these lessons were just so repetitive and boring. It’s practically a bird course,” they chuckled.

“Right, because you’re supposed to just fly right through it?” You joked. You, too, had that impression when you were much younger.

“Your research style is so much more interesting. I was elated to find out that you’re the historical consultant on that ‘Ilustrados’ series!”

You tried your best to stay humble but deep down, you were still pinching yourself about getting to work with a major studio and top-tier production team. “I saw it as a great opportunity for us history and literature majors to flex a little, you know?” Then you caught yourself and laughed. “Oh my god, that sounded so nerdy,” you flushed.

“Not at all! Don’t be too modest,” they giggled. “I think it’s great that we get to give stories like this a new angle.”

You smiled and mouthed your thanks.

“I’m curious, do you remember what or who inspired you to pursue history as one of your fields of expertise?”

You grew flustered then blew out a quick breath. “Wow, uhm…nobody’s ever asked me that!”

“I don’t have to include it,” the journalist adds.

Your brows furrowed. “Include what?”

“That story that’s written all over your face,” they say with a knowing look.

“Oh, well…I think I’ve always been on track to study literature in some shape or form. That was my chosen major in college. Pursuing a career in history, however…was a happy accident,” you recall fondly.

They smiled excitedly. “Please tell me more,” they urged.

You stifle a grin. It was one of, if not the most unforgettable time in your life. If you could ever capture lightning in a bottle–that was the moment to do it.

You began, “He was an art history major spending a year in France while I was a language and literature major spending a semester in London. I met him while on holiday at a cafe in Paris–”

“Hang on! I think I’ve heard this story before!” They interject.

You give them a confused look. Up until this moment, you’ve only spoken about him to your former flatmate and a couple of close friends. “Y-you have?” You ask slowly.

They let out a soft chuckle. “I’m sorry, I’m kidding! Is that real?”

You laughed. “Yes, yes it is!”

“You know, most people are like–we met in college, lost touch for a while, then ran into each other on the street years later and had coffee.”

“Well…it does sound like quite the Hallmark movie plot, huh? The place we were at was certainly the perfect backdrop for it,” you smiled at the memory. “But, as unbelievable as it sounds, if it weren’t for him sparking my…” You cleared your throat, “...Enthusiasm in the subject and history in general–I wouldn’t be in this position today.”

It was indeed a serendipitous time in Paris, which began as a casual encounter over drinks, then eventually led to hours of exploring historic art districts with him. The day trips around the city certainly brought your interest in history to a whole different level.

“W-what happened to him?”

You shrug your shoulders. “After my break, I had to return to London. He wanted to come with me but he had some travel commitments with his fellow students. We agreed to meet at my place but–it just…didn’t work out for some reason.”

The journalist listened intently, indulging you in your story.

“I don’t know what happened. I thought we had a great connection. I mean, wasn’t that as perfect an opening to a relationship that you can get? Back then, I would go back and forth trying to think about how different it felt for me than it did for him.”

For a moment, you felt yourself slip again. But as you had done for the past several years, you smiled and shook your head to brush the memory aside to lock it away. Then, at your most vulnerable, you can unpack it again. You wave them off, “Anyway, that was such a long time ago, though!”

“How long?” They ask curiously.

“10 years,” another voice answered.

For that fraction of a second, your heart drops to your stomach, and you’re afraid to look up. This has to be another figment of your imagination. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the times you wished to hear that voice again.

The journalist steps aside to clear the path. You finally peer up, blinking a few times to assure yourself that this was real.

There he was, standing in front of you–your lightning in a bottle…Namjoon. He had the biggest smile on his face and it was just as warm and bright as you remember it.

Suddenly feeling that they’ve intruded in a special moment, the journalist excuses themself and thanks you for the lovely conversation, promising to send you the initial draft of their feature via email.

As stunned as you were, you managed to string some words together. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“Hello, YN,” Namjoon greeted you as he moved closer.

“H-hi.” You were shocked to hear how calm your voice sounded when all you wanted to do was melt into a puddle.

You both stand in front of each other not knowing whether to shake hands or hug. Before you knew it, you were throwing your arms around his neck to embrace him. You feel his warmth envelop you, hearing him sigh faintly into your hair.

“It’s been a long time,” you say after pulling away. “Weren’t we supposed to meet in London?”

//FLASHBACK

When you met in Paris, he was only one of the handful of patrons who spoke English at the cafe. You don’t know how exactly your conversation began, but he started spouting some facts about craft beer as opposed to wine–and tried to convince you that one was better than the other.

After a few spirited arguments, you agreed to settle things…back at his flat, which was a block away from the cafe. Your worked out your differences in opinions in bed, eventually agreeing to disagree after he made you orgasm.

He later confessed that the spontaneous debate was a pickup tactic from him. He thought he was being clever but never expected you to offer up some valid points. But you told him that you thought he was cute so you were all-too-willing to be reeled in anyway.

Though you were on break, he was in the middle of his school term and had to spend time traveling within the city to check out recommended sites to fulfill his course requirements.

He invited you to come with him on a day trip to check out the former studio of an artist who turned out to be instrumental in their home country's rebellion. You were apprehensive but came with an open mind--and you never regretted it.

You spent the evening at his place once more...and a few more times after that. Your favorite thing was waking up next him in the mornings, exchanging innocent kisses in bed that always escalated to the point where one or both of you would end up moaning each other's name.

But when you weren’t in bed, you spent many hours just talking. He was so passionate about his studies as much as you were about yours. The way he spoke about art, its origins, and inspirations was so reverent, it was fascinating to experience a drop of his enthusiasm.

The day you had to return to London was difficult, not just for you but for him, too. He and a few of his fellow students were supposed to travel to Rouen and spend a few days there to check out some impressionist exhibits recommended by their teacher. He planned to take the ferry to visit you right after.

When you arrived at the train station, he noticed that he lost his phone somewhere between the ride from his flat to this point. You dug into your bag and retrieved an old receipt where you wrote your number and address down. He took it and slid it in between his book that he carried with him. Then, on the week that you were supposed to meet, the borders shut down.

//END FLASHBACK

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Mm-hm…you better be,” you respond wryly.

He rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh…missed my alarm then, got caught up in the border lockdown. Before I knew it, I was stranded in Normandy for a bit before the school managed to make arrangements to get us back to Paris then back home.”

You’ll never forget it, since you, too, were stuck in a foreign land so far away from family.

“How come you never called?” It was a question that niggled at you for years.

He chewed at his bottom lip helplessly. “In the midst of all the chaos, I misplaced my book–the one where I kept that receipt where you wrote down your information.”

That all sounded too easy and far-fetched. But in the week that you spent with him, it wasn’t that hard to believe. He nearly left his passport behind at the bar that first night before going back to his flat; Once, he got off at the wrong stop after mixing up north and southbound trains.

You sighed. “Well…you’re here now. That’s all that matters, right? How did you know I’d be here?”

He smiled wistfully. “I saw your picture in one of our e-newsletters I get at work,” he answers. “I normally send those straight to my trash but something told me that I needed to take a look at it and…I’m sure glad that I did.”

That made your heart flutter. You made a mental note to thank the university’s Communications team for convincing you to do a headshot to promote the lecture series.

“Do you live around the area? Are you local?”

He shook his head gently. “No. I made the trip out here because I wanted to come see you.”

Your mouth falls open at his confession. “O-oh.”

“I wondered if I could take you out for dinner? There’s a bistro that I passed not too far from here. U-unless…you’ve already eaten–”

You snorted loudly then interjected, “Oh, please–you know I could always eat!” He laughs hysterically.

******

“Have you ever gone back?”

His eyes flick up at your question but the look he gave told you that you didn’t need to clarify it further.

“Mm-hm,” he answered affirmatively before adding, “Not as often as I’d like, though. And you?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Actually, a year after travel restrictions eased up, I went back right away.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

You nod and look at him enigmatically. “I went straight to Villa Dupont.”

Remembering the area so clearly, his lips twitch at the thought. “Luna’s atelier?”

You nodded again. He sat back on his chair then interlocked his fingers behind his neck before he tilted his head against them. “Wow. That’s…amazing!”

“What can I say? That’s where my career started,” you quipped.

“And here I was, thinking that I was such an idiot for taking this beautiful girl on the most boring, mind-numbing walking tour of Asian impressionist artists.”

You both laughed, but those walks with him were one of the best memories of your time there.

“Anyway, I came back a few more times after that for my doctoral dissertation. And now here I am, giving lectures on it.”

The look on his face showed pride and admiration. All those hours you spent talking, you both shared your dreams and hopes for the future. You both had your head in the clouds…just two kids trying to justify the relevance of your respective liberal arts programs.

“That’s amazing. Consider me envious,” he says in jest. “You’re traveling around the world…and living your dream.”

You wave him off. “It’s not so glamorous. These days, I’m happy if I get to squeeze in some personal time. Usually, I get to a place, spend most of my time working and…” Your eyes drift down to your left hand, picking up your drink, “...then I have to get back to my family.”

He follows your line of vision. It wasn’t the first time he’s clocked in the piece of jewelry you’ve worn for a number of years now. He noticed it when you took the menu from the host after they sat you down at your table.

He hadn’t asked about it then, nor did you ask him about the ring that he wore on his finger when he moved his wine glass to the edge of the table when the server returned to pour him a glass of red wine.

You cleared your throat. “So, what else have you been up to these days? Are you just calling up former lovers?” You teased him.

A low laugh rumbled within his chest. “I’ve only ever had one former lover,” he held up one finger and stared. It was so unnerving, you had to break eye contact first. “Then, I got married. Really quickly…to the first girl that I met a year after I got back from France.”

You couldn’t hide the shock written all over your face. “Wow,” you managed to say. “That’s…” You try to think of a word that didn’t sound too reproachful.

“Crazy? Impulsive? Yes. I was really young and I thought the world was ending. I just didn’t want to lose anybody again.” he trailed off.

You and your husband were together for five years before you even thought about getting married. Maybe you were unconsciously holding out hope that you’d run into Namjoon again.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smiled sadly at the thought, but that was quickly interrupted by the server bringing your dinner to the table.

******

You go through the rest of dinner talking about your most recent work and him sharing some of his more recent projects. When the server returns to dish out your plates, they ask about dessert. Namjoon declined but immediately looked at you.

“Oh, no thank you,” you declined politely.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Who are you? I could have sworn that moelleux au chocolat was calling your name,” he teases, remembering your favorite treat that you indulged in while you were together.

“Shut up,” you laughed. “We’re not 21 anymore. You can’t…eat chocolate cake just like that.”

“Not even in bed?” The soft crinkle in his eyes deepened as he smiled cheekily.

You try to put aside those memories of chocolate and him. You cock a serious eyebrow at him, his expression unchanging. “Nope, not even in bed.”

You fall silent for a bit. Then he asks, “How many kids do you have?”

“Two girls. You?”

“I have a son,” he answers.

“Must be blissful to just have one,” you commented, polishing off your wine.

“Oh, trust me,” he says, picking up the bottle to pour you another glass but you hold your hand up, feeling like you’ve had more than enough for the night. “He’s still a handful, though.” he laughs, proceeding to empty out the rest of the bottle’s contents into his glass.

“But he’s my handful, so…” he trailed off, setting the empty wine bottle on the table.

“Are you and your wife still together?” You thought maybe the question was out of line but curiosity was getting the best of you.

His expression turns wistful. “We live under the same roof, let’s put it that way. She’s a great woman, a good mother. And I don’t deserve her.”

You smiled sadly at him, then stared at him silently. You begin to question why you even decided to come with him. Perhaps it was all a big mistake.

And yet, even though it's been so long, your memories of him were so incredibly vivid that you could just reach your hand out and you'd feel them. Feel him.

“What are we doing here, Namjoon? Why did you show up at my lecture? What did you hope to achieve?”

“Honestly?” His eyes flicked downward and he began to fidget with a loose thread on the table cloth.

“When I found out that you’d be in town, I booked a room within five minutes.” He chuckled. “I didn’t even care if the rate was ridiculous…”

Then, his gaze lifted back to your face. “I was hoping that we could pick up where we left off."

Your hand instinctively clutches at your chest. Your heart was beating so fast, you were afraid that it would just burst out of it.

"For 10 years, I imagined what our life would have been like. And if I ever saw you again, would I feel the same way about you? Would you feel the same way about me?”

You purse your lips and lean in closer. “You didn’t need to book a hotel room to find out if we still love each other…” You paused, then gave him a small smile. “Because clearly, we still do.”

His lips curved into a smile and the dimples in his cheeks grew deeper.

“For 10 years…Just the idea of you, knowing that you existed and that you were in my life…I held onto those memories and they got me through some tough times.” Your throat tightens but right before your tears fall, he reaches across the table, holding his hand out, beckoning you to put your hand in it.

After some hesitation, you acquiesce. He gives it a gentle squeeze, then brings it up to his lips to kiss it. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

******

You took a leisurely walk by the avenue and into a small pub a few blocks away. You shared a few more drinks and stories. For hours, you caught up with each other’s lives.

You excitedly talk to him about your new television project while he enthusiastically describes recently studying works by the late Yun Hyong Keun, even developing a friendship with his family.

Art was Namjoon’s pride and joy. His eyes, though the corners were now wrinkled with laugh lines several years later, still lit up the same way when he talked about his passions and the things that he loves.

When one pub closed, you moved into another. And when that closed, you moved your conversation to a park bench, right outside of your hotel by the waterfront.

It was a little after 5:30AM and daylight was breaking through the horizon. Most of the town’s commercial avenue was still asleep, save for the cafes that were gearing up for a new day for early-morning patrons.

When you sat down next to him, he lifted his arm up, inviting you to sidle up closer to him. And you did. You basked in his warmth and rested your head against his chest. You caught a whiff of him…cinnamon and coffee mixed in with faint traces of lavender-scented fabric softener. Even though you felt fatigue set in, you couldn’t close your eyes. You crane your neck up to find him sitting still with eyes closed while the sunrise kisses his face. Now, how could you possibly miss that?

******

You head back into the hotel and go up to your respective rooms only to retrieve your things so you could check out and head to the train station.

“You don’t have to take me, really–”

“I know I don’t have to but I want to,” he insisted.

You laugh at him. “You’ve gone and rented out a room that you didn’t even sleep in. Now you’re saying that you’re going to take the train with me, see me off at my stop, then transfer at a station that’s completely out of the way for you?”

He laughed in return. “It sounds so crazy when you put it that way but…yes, I want to do all that.”

You shook your head at how ridiculous that was. “Joon…”

“Please? Just let me do this,” he all but pleads.

You wanted to protest again but instead, when you open your mouth, a yawn escapes you.

“Look at you…that’s like, the fifth time in a row you’ve yawned,” he snickered.

“Spare me,” you chuckled with a slight eyeroll. “I know we barely slept when we were together. Now I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Dawn is for lovers…and bakers,” he adds with a grin while his eyes peered up at a bakery that had just turned over its ‘open’ sign on the front door.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth. “You always had a way with words.”

“Things haven’t changed much,” he replied as you made your way out of the hotel to catch a cab together.

******

Hours later, the train approaches your stop, and you begin to gather your things.

“Thank you,” you say to him.

He smiled wordlessly then dipped his head down. You didn’t stop him and instead, met his kiss halfway. Warmth bloomed within your chest when your lips brushed against each other’s. In an instant, you had traveled back in time…back into his embrace. It was like coming home.

The train comes to a halt, making you bump against each other. Pulling away, you stare at each other with half-lidded eyes. Both your pulses raced but ironically, there was a calm that washed over you.

Neither of you said anything for a few beats until a smile broke through his lips. It’s so infectious that you do the same. He leans in again and plants a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut.

When he lets go of you, he looks into your eyes again. “We should do this again.”

His invitation was so unexpected that it knocked the wind out of you. You give him a small smile and a nod. “Sure, just call me.”

“I definitely will. You know, since I have my phone with me now instead of an old receipt,” he says.

You gather your things and off-board the train hand-in-hand. You put your luggage down then faced each other on the platform.

“So…have a good life!”

Your comment tickles him. “‘Have a good life’?” he echoed. “That sounds like something people say when they won’t see each other again.”

You didn’t really mean anything by it. You thought it sounded better than saying, ‘That was fun,’ or ‘Take care.’

You chuckled at him and shrugged. “You never know what could happen between now and the next time we see each other again. I could die; you could hit your head and fall into a coma; another border lockdown could happen, or…maybe one of us decides that they want something else,” you reply casually.

He took a step to narrow the gap between you. “I’ve always loved your wild imagination,” he says, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear.

You grinned at him. “So you’ve told me.”

His expression turned serious. “Well, none of those things will happen. We’ll see each other again.” he promises, keeping his eyes locked with yours.

You nodded softly and gave him a small smile. “Alright.”

His smile grew wider and you tilt your chin up to kiss his lips again before his train home arrives on the other side of the platform. You watched him board and saw that he sat by the window seat, his eyes still on you.

True love in its absolute form has many purposes in life. It’s not just about bringing children into the world; or romance or soulmates or even lifelong companionship. The love you had in your past...unfinished, untested, lost love...seems so easy, so childish to those who chose to settle down. But it’s actually the purest, most concentrated stuff.

For years, you imagined what it would be like to see him again. To learn that things hadn’t changed and that spark between you was just as bright and electric as when you first made eye contact.

And while you were happy to learn that he still felt the same way, just like any spark, there’s a brightness for a few seconds…before the wind blows it out. Like a firework that shoots up into the sky, bursting into different colors, only to fall back down as smoke and ash. Like a bolt of lightning, crackling through the storm clouds, followed by a loud thunderclap and a burst of rain.

Up until the last few hours, you realized that something this good can only last for so long.

You had your beautiful moment with him. And that’s how it will always stay in your heart.

When the train rain pulls away from the station, you feel a twinge in your chest. You blew him a kiss and stood there silently until he was far enough away from you.

He waved at you through the window then turned to look straight ahead.

“Have a good life, YN,” he whispered to himself.

Crossposted on AO3 | Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @joonschocochip @yu-justme @e-cm

#bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfiction

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sara78 · 1 year

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Family don't end in blood - chapter 8

Summary: Y/N had a fun two months off filming and she's finally coming to the grounds with where she's standing and who's got her back. But once again, a few words make all hell break loose in her head and she does something that sets off a domino effect on her and people around her, but it might ultimately lead to a positive outcome...

Word count: 6.000 and probably more

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x foster!Daughter reader

Warnings: angst, so much angst, scary situation (nothing big but if this triggers you SKIP!), Y/N is a lucky bastard to have these people by her side, Y/N's brain is a bitch

Word count:

A/N: This one's a roller-coaster, please fasten your seatbelts!

It's been quite a few weeks since everything unraveled. You would lie if you said that being at Jensen's didn't help. Having three kids eat your brains out occupied you a lot, but Jensen and Danneel made sure that you had your me time. You had a lot of talks with Jensen, Danneel and Jared and thought still confused as to why are they helping you, you were extremely grateful for everything they gave you.

The best time for you was the entirety of January. You finished your first semester of school, with all A's, which made everyone so happy because they all knew you worked yourself into the ground for it and you, for the first time in your life, felt like you were actually proud of what you were doing and your grades and all things you've accomplished this semester. It felt scary, as you closed in your last first semester of high school and were going to start the very last semester of high school ever, and you didn't know what will you do after that chapter of your life is behind you. But you didn't feel any rush, as you were financially more than stable and you have all the time and no pressure to find out just what you want to do with your life. And, well, it felt nice to know that even if you mess up or don't have a plan waiting for you to jump into it, you wouldn't be beaten to death, which definitely helped.

On the topic of beating to death, you were finally letting people close to you in. You finally felt like they weren't going to hurt you. You allowed yourself to let your guards down, even a little bit, even just slightly. It meant a lot to know you could do that. Jensen, Jared and Danneel made sure you were comfortable and they gave you a safe place where you could be just who you are.

You felt like you were finally beginning to heal.

January was also your birthday month and you didn't expect your birthday to go the way it did, but if you were being honest, you haven't had that much fun in such a long time. Your birthday was always special to you, since that was one of those rare moments when your mother put down the bat and let you enjoy yourself for a day with your friends. It felt like she was an actual, loving human being for that one day of the year. You didn't expect anyone to remember your birthday in the first place, but you were a fool to think that when you live with Jensen and Jared next door.

The kids had a sleepover at their grandparents' for the weekend, leaving you alone with Jensen and Danneel. You and Dee had maybe a little too much fun beating Jensen in Mario kart, which he fully allowed. Well, half of it was him allowing you to win. The other half was him just... Not knowing how to play.

The game was interrupted with the door bell going off. You said you were gonna get it, as Danneel was in the midst of kicking Jensen's ass. You walked up to the front door and opened it, revealing a short woman with glasses and a bunch of papers in her hands.

"Hi, how can I help you?" you said with a kind smile,

"Hello, are you Y/N Y/L/N?" you nod, "My name is Jane McAllister. I work in child protective services. You have been disowned and as a minor you are required to come with me and be in the foster care until you're 18 years old."

You froze right there.

Disowned?

"Hey, what's going on here?" Jensen's voice rang behind you as you felt him walk up to where you were standing, at a loss of words, "How can we help you?"

"I will not repeat myself. You have to come with me now," Jane responded and Jensen immediately flew into protective mode, pushing you behind his back,

"You will very much repeat yourself. What do you want from my kid?"

"First of all, she's not your kid," she corrected him, "She has been disowned and is now a part of the foster care system until she turns 18 years old."

"Disowned?" Jensen asked, "Disowning a child is a felony in the US. What do you mean she was disowned?"

"It might be a felony in the US, but it's very not in Y/H/C. She is not a US citizen and therefore she is not falling under the laws here. She will however, as an unsupervised minor, be placed in an orphanage and into foster care until someone picks her. I will have to warn you, teenagers are almost never picked. Especially if they... Look like that," she said, eyeing you from head to toe,

"Well she is not unsupervised, she has a place to stay at and I do not allow you to take her. How's that sound?"

"I do not have a problem with alerting the police, mister..." she looked down to one of the papers for a second, "Ackles."

"Then we'll be her foster parents," Danneel said as she showed up right behind you, "And we got no problem with adopting her. Right, honey?" she said, looking up to Jensen who nod,

"As far as I can tell, you do not have any records of fostering or a profile opened, for that matter. The process of opening a profile is very time consuming and it takes months, even years in your case, since you do not qualify high, as you have three children of your own and you are celebrities. Even if you tried, your poor attempt will be seen as a publicity stunt and it'll be immediately turned down."

"Try us," Jensen growled, "You're not taking Y/N away from here. This is her home."

"I'm afraid it's not."

"I'm afraid you're trespassing," Danneel growled, "Give Y/N the paperwork and leave. You can only come back with a warrant and take her if you have actual solid proof that you got rights and laws backing you up in your action, not just small-talk us into it. Otherwise she's staying with us."

"You are aware this looks like you are forcingly keeping her in? Like you're kidnapping her? You do know that is a felony for you, even if she's not a US citizen?"

"I don't want to go," you whispered, totally out of it, Jensen looking back at you, Danneel's arm on your back, rubbing it gently, "I want to stay."

"I'm sorry honey. But what I'm doing is for the best," she smiled at you but you shook your head, turning around and meeting Danneel for a tight hug, "Expect me with officers in less than 24 hours. Until we meet again," she said, shoving papers into Jensen's hands and walking away. Jensen closed the door and leaned against it with a loud groan. Danneel let go of you and opened her hand towards Jensen,

"Give me those. I'll contact our lawyer and see what the hell is going on and what we can do," Jensen did as told, handing her the papers before pulling you in for a tight hug which you gladly took.

It seemed like hours later when Jensen finally let you out of his warm embrace and looked you in the eye.

You didn't cry. You didn't have a reason to do so. If nothing, you were happy this is happening.

It took you a hot second to realize what's going on in this whole situation. At first you were taken over with fear. But then it dawned on what you should actually do.

"I'll go."

"What?!" Jensen exclaimed, "Not two minutes ago you said you don't wanna go. Whatever happened to that?"

"I didn't understand what was going on. I now do."

"Yeah? Enlighten me, doctor Phil," he sassed,

"My mother disowned me. She wants to get rid of me. She thinks that I'm weak and I suffer when I'm alone. Joke is on her, as I never really had anyone by my side, but she still thinks it's true. Being in foster care, in an orphanage, with the way I look, I'll be isolated, on my own. And even if someone picks me, I'll be beaten, bullied, abused. That's what she wants," you explained, Jensen shaking his head, "I'm gonna make a lot of noise if the cops show up tomorrow. I'll just go turn myself in first thing tomorrow morning."

"That's a no," Jensen said, "You're not going anywhere."

"I don't want to make a scene. I don't want to scare anyone. If she wants me to be there, then so be it. It's okay. It's just for a year. I'll be free in a year and it'll be all okay. I won't have to hear about her ever again. I'll be my own person."

"You are not going anywhere. You got a life here. You can't throw away everything. That's exactly what she wants you to do! Throw away everything you've worked yourself into the ground for. What if she has some sort of a sick, twisted plan up her sleeve? Huh? How did CPS even know you were here? What if she is behind that woman, what if they're working together or... I don't fucking know, what if your mother changes her identity and comes in to foster care you? She takes you with her. Goes MIA. What then?" you gulped, looking down, "What then, when we can't find you? Who knows what the fuck she can do to you. You said it yourself. She's mental. I've seen that sinister look in her eyes. There's a big fat reason she did this and for all I know she could easily manipulate and play outside the rules to get to you. You can't risk going there. You can't risk everything you've built already, your life, your safety. Dee is on the phone with our lawyer and we'll do everything we can to keep you here."

"Jensen, trust me, you don't want me to be your kid."

"Yes we do," Danneel spoke up softly, making you turn around to look at her, "You belonged here ever since you walked in through that door. And after everything you've been through, giving you a family is the least we could do to help you heal."

"How are things looking?" Jensen asked and Danneel sighed,

"We have to meet with our lawyer first thing tomorrow morning. This smells bad on so many fronts and we will discuss this scenario in more detail tomorrow. As of now, he will try to push us into the foster care system and have us take her case," Danneel said, "We hope it'll work out. But you are in no way leaving. You're not going into an orphanage. Not on our watch. Only place you're going to is the bathroom, to take a nice shower and then we'll talk some more. Okay?" you gulped, nodding as you padded off to the guest room to grab your clothes.

Your mind shifted to a dark place when you walked away from Jensen and Danneel.

Part of your brain wanted to believe Jensen was right, that your mother had something planned and she was waiting to get a hold of you somehow. It was rational.

But you couldn't think straight.

All your brain could think of is that you shouldn't be here.

You're dangerous.

Your mother is dangerous. Ways her actions would go to hurt you are dangerous.

And if she knew one thing, it's that you hurt the most when people you love hurt. That was the game she played when she wanted to control you. Hurt people you love.

You couldn't afford to be here anymore.

You sneaked out of the house, since Jensen and Danneel were upstairs in their room and couldn't see you when you walked out. You didn't even get any of your stuff. You just... Walked away.

Every step you took hurt you more, and you knew you'd be the happiest ever if you were to stay there forever and finally have a life-long dream of yours come true, but now wasn't the time for your happiness, but their safety. You kept looking back until the house disappeared in the darkness of the night. A quiet tear rolled down your cheek. Now you had nowhere to go.

You shivered as rain began to pour while you wandered to wherever this road took you. Of course it would start raining and there would be a storm brewing as well. Shows just how lucky you were. And the fact that you were in shorts and a flannel didn't help the situation much.

You were wandering down the streets, now already in a rural area of Austin. Jensen's house was already downtown so it didn't take a lot of walking before you were basically in the middle of nowhere. You couldn't see a single soul out here, besides trees and forests and the thought that something might jump out at any moment and any angle scared you. This whole situation scared you.

This wasn't your first time wandering on streets, in the night, by yourself. But never before were you scared like this. You could tell something bad will happen, again.

Every time you thought about how bad this idea was, you remembered Jensen and his family, and the thought would leave your mind. They were safe. No matter how much you loved them, they were safe without you around. And, well, just because you love someone, doesn't mean you get to stick around and screw up their life.

Cars passed by, splashing you, but the drivers didn't pay attention. Why would they? You were a nobody after all. Everyone had somewhere to go. Everyone had a home to go to. Everyone besides you.

You were wondering what to do now. You're going the opposite way from the city, from the orphanage or wherever you're supposed to be at. You left your phone back home and you knew that you shouldn't be wandering around these parts. You thought it would be a good idea to find some abandoned place and stay for the night, then make it back to town tomorrow. You were guessing that, if he was looking, Jensen was probably looking for you somewhere in town. You had to work around downtown as a whole if you were to go to the orphanage without him or any of the neighbors noticing you.

A black SUV went by you and you froze when you saw it brake suddenly. You forgot your glasses back at Jensen's place and you couldn't make out the plates, but Jensen didn't drive an SUV so that was already a red flag for you.

You swerved your path towards the forest instantly, lowering your head down as far as you could as you tried to find a bush to hide in or a tree to climb up on as you began to walk faster. You began running for your life when you heard steps grow closer behind you and you jumped on the first tree in your sight. But your legs began to slip and you felt your body slip down the tree as well, the surface wet and not very manageable to climb. Just when you were about to slip off the tree you felt arms wrapping around your waist and you began trashing as the person pulled you off the tree. You didn't let up, trying to get away from the hold, digging your short nails into the arms that tightly held you, trying to hurt and kick the man away.

"For fucks sake munchkin stop, it's me," Jared's voice rang over the rain, "It's just me. It's Jared. It's Jare, you're okay," he continued, still holding you tight and waiting for you to stop trashing.

As soon as you heard his voice, something broke inside you. You didn't know what it was. Was it all that fear, anger, sadness built-up that finally broke free? Or was it the fact that Jared is out here in pouring rain, looking for you? And if he was out here, then so was Jensen.

In reality, it was the realization that both of them were so scared that something bad had happened to you and you were gone, scared to the point where they don't care about the circumstances and would do anything to try and find you.

And then, that ear-piercing scream you've let out was some sort of a realization that you hurt people you didn't intend to and fucked things up beyond repair this time.

But you weren't going to let up.

"Stop, stop, stop," he tried, grunting as he tried to console your trashing body, "I'm not gonna let you go. You're not leaving us. You're safe."

"Let me go!"

"No," Jared shook his head, "Not gonna happen. You can punch me or the tree or yell out to the sky or at my face and do whatever you want to do to let all of that anger, sadness and fear built up go, but you're not going to leave your home and your family."

"You're not my family and that's not my home! Let me go!"

Jared put you down but he was fast to grab the collar of your flannel, almost lifting you off the ground with how strong he gripped at it,

"We're not your family?" he asked. You couldn't tell if he was crying because of all the rain but you could hear it in his voice and in the way he looked at you, "Is that why Jensen showed up on my doorstep, crying, begging me on his knees to help me find you?" he asked, shaking your entire body when tugging at your hoodie, "Is that why both of us are out here in pouring rain, trying to find you? Is that why we are both scared to death and we thought that bitch kidnapped you? Is that what someone who hates you does? Or is it someone who cares and loves you?"

"You're not safe with me around!" you exclaimed,

"We don't give a flying fuck!" he shot back at you, "You're my niece, Jensen's daughter, and whatever shit comes your way we'll solve it together! Running away isn't going to fix anything. It's only going to break everything."

"I-I can't," you sobbed, looking down, "I-I'm not Jensen's daughter. I'm a nobody."

"Yeah? Tell me then, why he's out here now, desperately trying to find you? Because he despises you from the deepest parts of his soul? Y/N, he loves you. We all love you. I don't know how long it'll take you to figure it out but we don't want to hurt you or scare you. We want to give you everything you ever needed - love. And no matter how long it takes you to understand, we will be here all the same and we will love you all the same and prove you day to day that you're worth it and that you deserve it. You need to tell me one thing - did she take you?" you shook your head and Jared heavily leaned against one of the trees, looking up to the sky as he let out a sigh in relief, but still tightly holding the collar of your flannel, "Okay. That's honestly the best news I've heard tonight."

"Best news? I ran," you pointed out,

"You do not want to know what scenarios went through Jensen's head, through my head. We were so scared she took you, Y/N. We didn't know what to think."

"I can't stay around with everything that's happening."

"Do you love Jensen and Danneel? Me? The kids?"

"YES!" you yelled out, "And that's the exact reason I can't stay! I can't put you in danger! Jared, please. Let me go. Tell dad-tell Jensen that I'm okay, and that I have to go and just let me go. It's for the best."

"You can't win this one, munchkin. I can only think of how dark and twisted your mind is because I've never seen you as a runner but you did it. It must be so bad up there if you acted like this. But everything is fixable."

"Even if I do come back, they won't want me anymore. What's the point in going back then?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna ask you again - if they don't want you anymore, why am I here right now? If Jensen didn't care you think he'd be kneeling and begging me to help him find you? If he didn't care he would have let you go, which is the complete opposite of what he did. Munchkin, I know you never had anyone stand by your side, but you have to understand this - there isn't an outcome where you win this war that has you running away from home and people who love you and people who you love. I know you want to fight this one alone and I know you're capable and strong, but this isn't a war you can win by yourself. You need an ally and you have us. You with me?" you nod, looking up into his eyes, hair falling into his sight but you could see honesty in the way he looked at you, "How about we move out of here and let your dad know that you're safe?" you approached Jared carefully before climbing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck. He helped you by picking you up and squeezing you tightly, giving you one of his famous moose hugs as he carried you back to his car.

"Brother, she's gone," you gasped quietly at the vulnerability in Jensen's voice when he answered Jared's call, "I can't find her, that bitch took her I-"

"Brother, breathe. I found her," Jared cut him off and Jensen sobbed on the other end, "Our kid is fine. Soaking wet and scared of what's to come, but fine."

"Y/N, are-are you okay?" Jensen whispered, voice cracking,

"Yeah," you responded, hearing Jensen exhale loudly,

"I'll drive her over to you. Are you home?"

"Yeah, uh yeah. Didn't leave the car. I thought-I thought I was gonna tell Dee that-"

"Y/N is fine, Jensen. I'll be there in five. Do you trust me, brother?"

"With my life."

"Then trust me when I say I'm bringing your kid home."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now go tell Danneel. Meet you in the garage."

You stayed quiet for the entirety of the short conversation Jared had with Jensen. You were speechless. You didn't think Jensen was going to lose it as much as he did. Part of you thought he wouldn't even go looking for you. That part of you was definitely wrong though.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Jared spoke up, "I didn't mean it to come out that loud. I couldn't hear myself, with the rain and all. Did I scare you?" you shook your head,

"Not-not with talking. I-I thought you were going to kidnap me. I left my glasses back at Jensen's and I didn't make out your licence plate. I... I thought it was her."

"You didn't hear me calling your name?" he asked and you shook your head, "You were very scared. I kept calling your name but you didn't budge and then you jumped that tree and you were going to slip and fall and... I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm the one who's supposed to apologize."

"Not really," Jared shook his head, "In my mind, you got overwhelmed, scared, and in moment of vulnerability you acted out and thought running away was a good decision. You made a mistake but that's okay. We all make mistakes."

"Why do you love me?" you then asked, Jared smiling gently,

"Can you explain why you love people close to you?" you sat in silence, trying to put it into words but miserably failing, "See? We can't explain it. I can't explain it at least. You grew to me. You grew to Jensen. We just love you with all we have."

"What do you think will happen to me now?"

"Well you are first of all going to get two bone-crushing hugs. Then you'll actually take that shower you never took and you'll probably have a sleepover in Jensen's and Danneel's bedroom. Lots of talks. Jensen will be clingy for a while too."

"Why?"

"Because when something bad happens to someone he loves more than himself, he gets scared. He gets vulnerable to the point where he's clinging to the person and he's just... Scared. How I know? I've been with him when he was scared. I've been in his shoes too. And only thing you can do is reassure him that it won't happen again and be by his side. He needs that reassurance. I might use it too."

"I-I won't run away again," you said as Jared pulled into Jensen's driveway, "I promise."

"Even if you do, I'll find you," Jared smiled as he put the car into park, "We'll always come for you. But I choose to trust you and the promise you made."

The door on your side is swinging open and you're picked up by Jensen in no time. He's squeezing you tightly and you swore you felt Jensen sob as he leaned against Jared's car while he held you tightly. You couldn't do much but burrow your face into his shoulder and try your best not to cry as you grabbed the back of his soaked shirt.

"Brother, let's go inside," Jared's voice rang and it seemed to pull Jensen back to reality. He put you down but as soon as he did so, both his hands are cupping your cheeks and you're looking him in the eyes, red at the edges with so many emotions in them. You can't explain the feeling his look set off in you, but you could see how terribly you've screwed up.

Danneel is grabbing both yours and Jensen's hand and she's squeezing you for a side hug, Jensen getting the same treatment on the other side, as she walks you both into the house with Jared on your tail.

You're given a towel and a fresh set of clothes and you walk away to shower without a word.

You didn't know what to expect after you came out of the shower. The entire time you kept thinking of ways to apologize, but you knew no words could put together how bad you felt.

You were plain stupid to pull this thing off and you will probably never forgive yourself for doing this to everybody. You scared everyone because you were selfish, once again.

You finally understood that this war can't be won on your own. But would you find an ally in Jensen and his family now? In Jared, Misha? Would they look you in the eye after what you've done? More importantly, would you be able to look at them?

What you didn't expect when you opened the bathroom door was to find Jensen sitting on the floor right next to the door, back leaning against the wall. He looked up at you and your gut twisted and turned at all the pain you could read in his expression. He stood up and gently took your hand, leading you to the bedroom he shared with Danneel.

On the spare bench-bed in their room you had the full setup waiting for you. Your blankie, pillow, phone, the book you read, everything. You nod in thanking as Danneel sent you a soft smile. Jensen led you to the bench and sat you down on it before he leaned down and kissed your forehead. He smiled softly at you and you smiled back,

"I think it's best to stay close tonight," Danneel spoke up as she walked up to Jensen, "For all of us."

"Is Jared okay?" you asked,

"No rain can take out our favorite moose," Danneel responded, making you smile weakly, "I think we could use some sleep before talking about it all. How's that sound?" you nod, "But before that. Are you okay?" you nod again, looking down,

"I'm sorry for-"

"We're not asking that," Danneel cut you off, "All we care about right now is that you're okay."

Jensen didn't say a word. Instead, he leaned down to kiss the top of your head, Danneel doing the same. They made a few short steps to their bed while you laid down and watched as Jensen curled on his side and into Danneel's hold, the same way you curled into Jensen many times before. You grabbed your pillow, wrapping yourself around it and making yourself as small as possible as you squeezed it to your chest, burrowing your head into the blankie resting on your pillow.

You woke up to soft whimpers and it doesn't take you a lot to figure out where you are. You looked up to where Danneel and Jensen slept and found Danneel wide awake, shushing Jensen down. You gulped, standing up and walking over to their bed. Without a word you climbed onto what was supposed to be Jensen's side if he weren't absolutely squeezed against Danneel,

"He's got a nightmare," she said tiredly, "It's gonna take him a few minutes to ride it out."

"He has them often?" you asked and she shook her head, making you gulp,

"Only when he's really scared."

Only thing you thought of doing was plain stupid but it wouldn't hurt if you were going to do it.

You lifted your left hand and let it rest on his head, rubbing reassuring circles on it with your thumb. Danneel smiled,

"He does that to you, doesn't he?" she asked and you nod, "He does it to everyone he loves. It's his way of showing he cares deeply for you."

"I told him I were often hit in the head but his head rubs helped ease my headaches after nightmares. Didn't know it was his love language."

"It is. He's a very gentle soul. Even though he plays rough a lot."

"Outside world doesn't like gentle souls. You gotta stay rough out there if you want to stay alive."

"No seventeen year old should know that," Danneel frowned,

"I'm not your typical seventeen year old," you responded,

"I know that," she sighed, "Shhh sweetheart," she cooed as Jensen whimpered, still asleep, "It's just a bad dream. Everything is okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

You gulped, looking down. The way he curled up reminded you of yourself. You could only imagine what his nightmares were. Hell, for all you know, you were the exact reason he had them.

Your train of thoughts got delayed as Jensen sat up abruptly in bed, breathing ragged as he looked to his left, where you slept. You could see his back tense as he looked back to Danneel, his left hand pointing at the empty bench,

"She-She's gone, Dee she's missing she took her we never found her Dee I gotta find her I-"

"Jensen, I'm right here," you whispered, making him turn around completely to face you.

It took you a moment to get back from awe you were left in when you heard Jensen's voice, uttering those words you didn't expect to hear. But as soon as you realized how scared he was, you didn't hesitate to crawl up to where he sat, completely silent, and give him a tight hug he gladly took.

It took him a few minutes before he let you go. His eyes were glued on yours for a few more seconds before he laid back down and curled in Danneel's hold.

You didn't know if you were ever going to be able to fix what you've broken here.

You stayed in bed for a few more seconds, watching him cuddle up to Danneel. She looked up at you with a tired, honest smile. You pressed your lips in a line, remembering Jared's words.

Telling him that you're sorry won't fix it.

Doing something to prove him you're sorry and to prove him that you're grateful for him will maybe do a thing or two.

You tapped Jensen's shoulder gently. He rolled to his back and looked at you, eyes watery and vulnerable. You leaned down to kiss his cheek.

"I love you," were only words you could think of and as you said them stood up and went back to where you slept. You turned your back to face their bed and you tightly hugged your pillow.

You knew a stupid kiss on the cheek and a stupid I love you won't fix a single thing and it probably meant nothing to him. But you felt like it was the least you could do in that given moment.

Not even a minute later, you felt a finger tap your shoulder. You rolled onto your back and Jensen smiled softly at you, leaning to kiss your temple and whisper a soft "I love you too," before he walked back to bed.

You woke up again to the sound of Danneel's phone going off. You heard her talk to someone on the other end and you just grumbled as you turned around on the other side and it wasn't long before Danneel tapped your shoulder gently,

"Honey, I totally forgot the twins have a class party today and I was in charge of some treats. I'll go sort all of that out and I'll call our lawyer too to see when he can see us, since he has other clients as well. I'll let you know via text."

"Can I let him sleep in?" you whispered and Danneel smiled as she nod, "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," she kissed the top of your head, "Sit in our bed. It's a tad bit more comfortable than that bench. I'm outta here. See y'all later."

"Hey," Jensen whispered as he found you reading a book while seated in Danneel's spot, "Where's Dee?"

"Because of all the mayhem I made last night, she forgot the twins had a class party and she was supposed to bring treats and snacks so she went to do that and she'll let us-" you stopped talking as your phone vibrated, "Pardon, she just let me know that we will meet with your lawyer at 11AM and uh... Get me some family, I guess."

The smile Jensen let out felt like a huge relief, especially after all of the emotions showed last night. This smile gave you a slight hope that maybe someday this will be a rather bad memory for everyone involved.

"I'll go make us some breakfast," you said as you went to stand up from where you were seated, but Jensen gently grabbed your hand,

"Thanks for staying here last night," he whispered, "It meant a lot to me."

"I scared the living shit out of you. The least I could do is stay by your side when you were scared."

"Yet that's exactly what you refuse when you're scared," Jensen smiled sadly at you and you looked down,

"You made me a promise," you whispered, finding courage to look up to Jensen, "Months ago. That as long as you're around, nobody will hurt me. I think I should make you a promise too."

"Kiddo, you don't have to-"

"I promise you to never run away on you again. Never, ever leave you again. Last night it finally clicked for me and I let myself truly believe in you. Up until last night I was waiting for the moment where you're going to up and leave me. Hell, I was pushing your buttons and trying to make you do that multiple times too. Last night I realized that you're not here to hurt me and that I can trust you, no bullshit. The mere fact that you were outside last night, looking for me, was enough for me to understand that you weren't doing everything you've been doing out of pity. And when I heard you last night... Jensen, she didn't take me. I ran. It was just me. Me and my stupid brain."

"Tell me one thing," he said, "Did your heart stay on the other end? On the end where you wanted to stay here and not leave?" you nod and he smiled,

"Then we're good. You unfortunately got hurt so many times before because you followed your heart and you had to grow out of that habit. But you've been following your heart recently, and I assure you that you're never going to be hurt by any of us for following what's in there," he smiled softly, "You scared me. Big time. But knowing that your heart was here this whole time makes it easier for me."

"I know I scared you. I scared Dee too. Jared... I don't think I'm ever going to forgive myself for doing this. That's why I'm making you a promise to never leave you again. And I know it's nothing but it's a start. I'll prove you that I meant what I promised."

"You've got nothing to prove. Your heart was here last night, wanting to stay home. That's enough proof for me that you want to be here. Even that smart brain up there must have entertained the thought too, but it had to think more rational. I know it'll take a lot of time to get used to it and sometimes you'll feel like you're not welcome and your feelings will get the best of you, but as I promised - as long as I'm around, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Physically and emotionally."

"Do you still want me here?" you asked, a little unsure, "After the stunt I pulled last night?"

"Yes. You belong here. And mistakes will be made but we're all human and we make mistakes. And no matter how stupid those stunts you pull were or will be, I'll still love you," he smiled, sitting up to give you a tight hug you gladly took, "Let's get ready. Dee's gonna kill us if we're late."

A/N 2: Thanks for reading! And thanks @crasmuna for being my consultant and for being my biggest support 💚

#jackles #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x daughter!reader #jensen ackles series #jensen x reader #supernatural #spn fanfiction

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erin-bo-berin · 2 years

Note

just read your “this isn’t goodbye” and would absolutely love a fluffy follow up/part 2 where maybe steve goes to visit reader at school or the reader is home for the holidays and it’s just really cute and fluffy please?

Yes, yes! I couldn’t handle leaving it like that cause I was crying while writing it it broke my heart 😭 I’m not sure how it works everywhere, but I know of some colleges that are through with the semester before Thanksgiving until beginning of January, so it’s like an entire month off, so that’s what I’m gonna have it be like, just to clear up any confusion.

But yes all the fluff for this couple!

We Made It

Part 2 of This Isn’t Goodbye

Steve Harrington x Reader

You hadn’t told Steve you would be home for the holidays. Well, that’s a lie. He knew you would be home, he just didn’t know when.

He’d figured probably sometime in December, maybe closer to Christmas. He didn’t think he’d have the opportunity to see you for Thanksgiving or that you’d be home for an entire month.

You’d enlisted the kids’ help in surprising him. So, they had poor Steve out driving around for the last hour, while you awaited in the basement of the Wheeler household—most known as the home base for the group.

You heard footsteps and raised voices from upstairs and you waited in anticipation to finally see your boyfriend for the first time since the end of July.

It had been a long four months. Sure, you talked on the phone all the time. But due to Steve’s busy work schedule, hauling teens around town and your classes, he’d never had the chance to visit this semester. Talking to him was nice, you loved the sound of his voice, but you’d missed seeing him in person. Missed smelling his intoxicating scent, a mixture of his cologne, hair products and just him.

“Why did I just spend an hour driving you idiots around town if you couldn’t make up your mind where you wanted to go?” Steve’s voice carried down to you from upstairs, “We’d get to the movies, then you decided you wanted to go to the park. We get to the park and then suddenly you’re hungry. We get to the goddamn diner and then all of a sudden you wanted to go rent a movie! You’re lucky I didn’t ring your necks! Where are you guys going?”

“Just follow us,” Mike said.

You heard half a dozen footsteps on the stairs and soon the teens appeared, grinning like mad.

“Hey, come back here! I’m not finished with you!”

Steve’s footsteps followed next and when you came in view, he stumbled slightly, shocked to see you.

“Y/N?!”

His earlier annoyance was gone and his face split into a wide grin.

“You’re home!”

He practically went flying off the stairs and for you, picking you up and spinning you around as he hugged you.

“Surprise!” Dustin smirked.

“Was this why you guys had me driving all around town?”

“We wanted to make sure she had time to get here,” Max smiled.

“Okay, I take it all back. You guys aren’t so bad,” he smiled, in their direction, his arms still tight around you.

“Come on guys, let’s give the love birds some privacy,” Lucas said, herding his friends upstairs.

“When did you get in?” Steve asked, pulling you down to sit with him on the couch.

You put your legs in his lap, situating yourself before answering.

“About half an hour ago. I’m yours for an entire 5 weeks.”

He looked so shocked and happy that you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re done with the first semester?”

“Mhm. Finished my exams earlier this week, just in time for Thanksgiving. Classes don’t resume until after New Years. You’re going to get so tired of me.”

“Never,” Steve smiled, “So what’s the updates on the grades?”

You usually kept Steve updated on grades you made on tests, essays, but hadn’t yet let him know your course grades. It meant so much to you to know that he was so invested in knowing about little things like this.

“Three A’s, one B.”

“That’s my baby girl!” he praised, giving you a high five, “I knew you could do it.”

“I’m just thankful to get a B in the mandatory science course. It doesn’t even have anything to do with my degree! It’s just one of those “freshmen have to take it” courses, but it was hard.”

“It may not be an A, but I’m still damn proud of you for getting a B,” he said, lacing his fingers through yours.

“So, what would you like to do during break?” you asked, shifting, so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

“Uh, how about everything?”

“Everything huh?” you laughed.

“Well, first, the big gang Thanksgiving is being held by Joyce and Hopper this year, so of course we’re going to that. I’m going to eat so much pumpkin pie.”

“You and me both,” you agreed.

“Then we have a week to just lay around being full and happy while we eat Thanksgiving leftovers. We can go Christmas shopping. I promised I’d take the kids.”

“Aw that’s sweet.”

“You’re definitely coming with us though,” he said.

“Definitely.”

“We have to go ice skating at that new rink one town over. We can even invite the kids.”

“Sounds like you want to hang out with them more than you do with me,” you teased, knowing that was far from the case.

“They kinda ended up becoming attached to me at some point.”

“Not that you mind, of course.”

“Eh, well,” he joked, laughing at the look you gave him.

You knew him better than that.

“What else?” you promoted.

“Hmm. We definitely have to bake Christmas cookies. Decorate the tree. Make some snow angels and snowmen when it snows. Have a snowball fight. We must go see Santa.”

“We must?”

“Of course! How else will Santa know what I want for Christmas?” Steve protested.

“Well, how can he get me what I want when I already have the best present?” you smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Steve grinned, resting his forehead against yours.

“I am too.”

“Hey Y/N,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“We made it through the first semester.”

“Yes,” your smile matched his own, “Yes, we did.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff

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izukuwus · 1 year

Text

Edible Arrangements 31

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: FORMATTING THIS FOR MIDNIGHT FROM AT 11:53 PM YEET

Chapter Summary: January flies by as you begin a new semester. Izuku falls deeper and deeper. You begin to fear you may never pull him out.

Warnings: off-screen minor character death, murder talk, blood

Word count: ~3300 words

January comes like an old friend, the cold biting, the snow settling over the house and the lawn in a gentle, untouched blanket. Izuku has spent most of it—all of it, except for when you drag him out somewhere—inside, focusing on grading, on work, until the exact moment he can break away to his real project of the day:

The Fucking Death Adder.

("Fucking" is not part of the man's serial killer alias, but it might as well be for how Izuku thinks of him.)

Four days into January had woven the threads Izuku had been collecting into a dead end. Nothing seemed to be happening anywhere—had the man gotten injured and was recovering? Or had he decided to lay low in light of too much attention? It couldn't be that he knew Izuku was getting closer—his habits hadn't changed except for you. Still he spent his time inside, squashing the occasional media request from a desperate journalist who still remembered his past and focusing more on his students than on things like getting an appropriate amount of sunlight for a vampire or remembering to drink. Still he isolated himself. Still he appeared to research, and teach, and teach, and research.

He wants to be grateful for his time spent studying languages, but his decent Russian only gives him enough to know that the news site he's scouring has nothing to say about mysterious murders matching the description. Neither does any of the others—in other words, just as much information as he had before. The man could be anywhere, and here Izuku is, sitting still.

Sitting still and waiting.

It is with great displeasure that I must inform you that suffering does not come to an end. Not even minor sufferings, or medium-strength sufferings that beg you for a steady supply of extra-strength Tylenol.

Or, in this case, not only one familiar face, but two, the first sitting just across the aisle from you in a bigass auditorium in a too-cold building on campus so that you’re stuck shivering with an arm not yet healed enough to make long sleeves comfortable.

Blond hair and a resting annoyance face.

Further ahead, towards the front of the room (you think making a point not to turn around and be forced to acknowledge Neito’s presence) is a head of fiery hair. It seems Itsuka and Neito still aren’t getting along. (Did they ever?)

Neito waves at you. You consider dropping out of college.

(If Izuku weren’t now also paying your tuition, too, you might.)

(You should really consider getting a job.)

On the bright side, suffering comes with good things! On Tuesday, there Mina is, TA’ing your general education credits-mandated dance class! When class lets out, you hang around and walk out of the building together.

“You didn’t intentionally take my class, did you?” she teases, eyes playfully narrow.

You snort. “No way. How do you even TA for dance? Gonna be grading papers this semester? Proctoring dance exams?”

“Oh, totally. For sure. Definitely.”

You check your phone. For the millionth time since New Year’s.

“You good?” she peeks at you.

You shrug. “I just… Did Tenya happen to mention why…”

“Oh. That. He hasn’t said anything… maybe ask Tsuyu? I know she and Tenya have been hanging out, like, constantly.”

Something in you twitches in discomfort. You can’t place it—why should you care? They’re your friends. If anything, you’re pleased that for once, people are getting along, seeing as how you tend to collect people who are incompatible on a fundamental level. (Case in point: Tenya and Izuku. Case in point: Neito and half of your friends.)

(Whether Neito counts is debatable.)

So you’re glad, really. And you don’t care! You don’t have a reason to care about something like that!

“Since when?” you ask.

(Dammit.)

“Since New Year’s, I think. Chalk it up to bonding over not being drunk at the party, I guess.”

“If only that worked.” You force a smile. It comes too easy to you. Why do you have to force it? “And yet the usual two are still at each other’s throats.”

She snorts. “Got that right. I’m not sure you’re ever getting those two to agree on anything, sorry.”

“Haha, yeah.”

(God, you really just said “haha” out loud.)

(It’s worse than you thought.)

Mina arches a brow your way. You hate her nose for these things. Ear. Whatever. She should take a journalism course and leave you to not acknowledge your problems. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong. I think I’m just stressed. You know, all the classwork, and I didn’t really get any rest over the break, and—“

“Oh?” Her voice drops low, teasing. “What were you up to?”

You roll your eyes, batting at her shoulder. “Shush. I was doing some personal research.”

“On what? Vampire anatomy?”

“I’ll bite you.”

“Go for it. Bite your hot landlord first, though!”

“Oh fuck you,” you reply, though there’s no bite to your words and you both know it.

She smiles. “There’s [name]! You were getting all gloomy there for a bit.”

“Was I?” You tilt your head. Maybe you were. It’s already slipping away, though. Fuck, are you experiencing mood swings? Do you need to call up your old therapist? “Weird. I already can’t remember.”

She hums suspiciously. “You’re a good actor, though…”

“Really!” You take on a mocking tone. “You just make everything unimportant slip away, my dearest—“

Now she’s laughing and hitting your arm.

Whatever it was, it’s gone, and with it, the pair of you go, too.

Neito to [name] at 3:47PM

Neito: You probably don’t care, but I wanted to tell you:

Neito: I called the number for the therapist you gave me.

[name]: that’s great!

[name]: like, genuinely

Neito: Regrettably, it seems that I’ve been put on a waitlist. Who knows when she’ll actually be available, but I thought I’d tell you

[name]: oof

[name]: that sucks

[name]: she’s totally great though. worth the wait

Neito: I sure hope so. You said she’s good with trauma-type things, right?

[name]: oh yeah totally

[name]: did I ever tell you my roomate freshman year stabbed me?

[name]: *roommate

Neito: she WHAT

[name]: right? it was totally out of nowhere

[name]: yeah apparently a girl with a transformation quirk totally replaced my roommate for no reason

[name]: like my roommate was just a random sort because I didn't really have any friends to room with so we'd never met or anything

[name]: anyways so she was dead before we ever met afaik shit was wild

[name]: some other stuff went on around that time too so I just bucked up and forewent some meals to pay for therapy lmao

[name]: all that to say doc fuyumi's great! aside from the scar it's like it never happened lmaoooo

Neito: well, that's a rave review if I've ever heard one

Neito: but are you just like a magnet for trouble or something?

[name]: hey, that's not nice

[name]: apparently I'm ALSO a magnet for vampires, thank you very much

Neito: I'm sorry but I'm failing to notice a difference

You roll your eyes and pocket your phone. You're sort of hoping your troubling vampire magnet tendencies will help you find the answers Izuku's looking for. Best not to curse it.

The time flies on. Maybe it's your nose being in so many books and classwork, maybe it's the looming presence of your lack of a job (completely for lack of trying, mind you) in the background of everything, but it flies.

(Izuku's no longer sure what day it is, let alone the time. He's trying, really! But sometimes things are more important than sunlight and keeping regular schedules, and Sbeve is good at reminding him to eat every now and then. So if he sleeps at his desk more nights than not these days, that's between him and his desk.)

And then, as January melts into February, you check your email on your way in the door after class. It's an absent scroll—you're worried about a paper draft for your Quirk Genetics course; you've been checking for a notification of the feedback obsessively every day since you submitted it. You've been working hard on this paper, dammit, and—

(He's replying to an email from a student. Run of the mill questions, but he's sure they just missed the line in the syllabus they need. No big deal! A quick reply, and—)

Anyways, that's not the issue, not really.

(His fingers still on the keyboard, head tilted in confusion.)

The issue is that, as always, the house is eerily silent. Some days it's been like you lived alone in this mansion. You hate it—not because Izuku can't spend his time doing as he wishes, or because you're finding that the meals you've grown used to just having have started trickling out, but because Izuku is steadily growing worse along with it. You can barely count how many times you’ve had to remind him to feed, how often you have to drag him away from his damned desk to make sure he sleeps and dresses himself.

(His desk phone is ringing, the one intended for work calls. His desk phone never rings. Of course he picks up—he's got tunnel vision, but he's still doing his job! It's probably just a matter of something his colleagues need to know. Not a big deal, either!)

(If his hands twitch with nerves and his eyes skim a news article on his second screen as he picks up the phone, that’s between him and Sbeve.)

And you've tried to help! You have! But there's only so much you can do when the man doesn't even look for information in a language you speak half the time. It's shit like Russian, which admittedly is extremely cool but completely unintelligible to you!

(Whatever he had been typing is gone from his brain. The words on either screen are gone.)

But still.

(Dr. Midoriya? Are you there?)

The mansion's silence feels heavier than usual.

(“No, no!” he replies, voice strained. “Yeah. No. Sorry. Just… yeah. You get it.”)

(I do. No one’s gonna blame you if you take a day or two off work, you know.)

(He navigates to a new tab and pulls up his email. He’s got someone to contact. “Oh, I won’t be doing that. Can’t fall behind, you know? But I’ll give the poor kids a day off. Uh, yeah.”)

You set down your bag and scroll back through your emails, searching for any point of interest. Feedback, or a new assignment, anything to keep your mind off of how useless you're being while Izuku falls deeper into tracking a serial killer who might be dead by now anyway.

(“Does anyone know yet?”)

(The chancellor sent out the memorial email earlier. Depends how many have checked their email, I guess.)

Your breath hitches on the words "In Memoriam" in your inbox.

from: [email protected]

A message from the Chancellor

February 2nd, 2051

Fellow Ravens,

I am deeply saddened to inform you about the loss of one of our Senior students, Momo Yaoyorozu, an undergraduate student completing a degree in Biochemistry.

Momo was an exceptionally bright student. In addition to her work in the International Honors College, she worked in the KUC as a tutor, offering her expertise to all students in many fields. She participated in the university debate club and has won many awards in the College Bowl since her beginning at the school. Momo had accepted an offer to join a Master’s program with Ossenfelder beginning in the fall, furthering her education in biochemistry.

Our thoughts now are with Momo’s friends and family, those who cared for and loved her, and other Ravens who are touched by this loss.

Visitation for Momo will be held from 7:00-9:00 PM Saturday, February 11th, at Respite Funeral Home, 48th Street. A memorial celebration will take place at 5:30 PM Monday, February 6th, in front of the Kevin University Center.

The U of O Counselling Center can provide support to any students and other members of the campus community affected by the loss of Momo. The Dean of Students Office may also be a useful support resource for students and may be reached during hours Monday through Friday.

Sincerely,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor

There’s a bliss that comes with this. You’ve known it since the first bite, and you’ll know it to the last. In the time following a fresh bite, your mind is clear, your emotions lulled, the waters calm ahead. You’d like to think that it somehow soothes Izuku, too, to drink from you like this. He needs it, of course. Idiot’s been forgetting.

He pulls back, buries his face in your freshly-bitten neck. His exhale is heavy, but no heavier than yours, which comes out more tired sigh than you’d have liked. If you’re holding him too tight, if he’s holding you too tight, well, you’re both used to that.

“Did you know a Momo Yaoyorozu at the university?” he mumbles eventually, and you still.

“I was trying to convince myself I didn’t,” you admit, voice already creaking with tears. “She was one of my TAs last spring.”

His words come slow, halting, haunting. “They aren’t publicizing the circumstances around her death out of respect for the family. Those of us on faculty have been told to keep a close watch on all of our students for the rest of the term.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—“ He pulls away, stares you dead in the eyes so you know he’s serious. “They think she was killed. Her family had a lot of money, but we can’t rule out other motives if she was killed. The police want to question any of her professors, in case they know anything.”

Your blood hasn’t warmed since you first read the email. This doesn’t warm it now. “Did—did they say why they think it was a murder?”

He stares for a second, eyes hard, and then looks away. “She was in one of my classes. I don’t know when they’re coming, but just in case, you should cover your arm and your neck.”

“What? You don’t think—“

He sighs. “If it is what I think it is, then it’d be best if they didn’t see me living alone in a massive house with someone covered in the same kind of wounds as the murdered student.”

Your eyes are blown wide as you nod. “Right! Yeah, of course!”

He smiles, drops his head against your shoulder again for a moment. “Thank you. Now let me deal with those wounds.”

He pulls out his usual bandages—these ones covered in tiny, smiling bats—and smooths them over the bite marks as always. His thumbs linger on the edges, eyes somewhere far away.

“Izuku?”

“Be careful, okay? I-I won’t force you into anything, just… m-maybe stay in at night when you can for a little bit? Just in case?”

You let out a breathy, tiny laugh. “Yeah. I’ll be careful.”

The cops come, just as expected, two days later. You’ve got a scarf on, and long sleeves that scratch, but aren’t nearly as uncomfortable as you were expecting. Too bad you had to go almost the entire winter before you were able to wear long sleeves again.

When you answer the door, it’s two men—one who looks more detective than cop, and another who looks more cop than detective. “Good afternoon, there. We’re here looking to speak to a Dr. Midoriya Izuku. Does he live at this address?”

You nod, studying them closely. Given the tails on the more-cop one, you can guess that he’s just got an animal quirk. On the other… nothing jumps out at you. He looks perfectly normal. Nothing that would indicate a quirk at all. “Um, yeah. I think he’s in his office. If you’d like to come in, you can sit while I get him! But be warned, our cat bites.”

You lead them to the living room, let them sit on the sofa. Before they can thank you, you’re bounding off toward the stairs, careful to maintain a calm persona even though you know what you and Izuku both want out of this situation.

It’ll be rough trying to get it, especially without casting needless suspicion on fifty year-old baby-faced Izuku.

Cops probably expect a healthy amount of nerves, right? Polite smile, wide eyes? But Izuku would have obviously known they were coming and what for, and if you live here, of course you have an idea, and—

You’re overthinking it.

You poke your head into that damned hidden office, eyeing Izuku carefully. He’s looking better than he has in nearly a month, hair as untamed as always but clean, clothes that he definitely wasn’t wearing yesterday or the day before. If nothing else, thank fuck those cops didn’t give a specific date for when they’d show up. Izuku has been forced to pay at least a little attention to himself in the meantime, not knowing when he’d need to be presentable.

“’Zuku, it’s the cops,” you say, gentle. He’s easier to startle these days, too, with tired eyes and the occasional growl sent your way if you don’t telegraph your entrances enough. “C’mon, they’re here to talk to you.”

He raises his head with a resigned sigh. Even having planned for them to show up (you more extensively than Izuku… I think) he’s unprepared, dragging himself after you. You’re careful not to say anything strange, not knowing the quirks of the cops sitting on your living room couch. The cat one likely has better hearing than average; the normal guy? Anything’s fair game. Best not to chance it.

You split from Izuku as he greets the cops (“Good afternoon, g-gentlemen!” with only the slightest stutter) and poke your head in to ask about drinks. If you’re listening, if you leave your phone on the buffet with the recording app on, no one has to know.

Friendly chatting, quiet, forced laughter from both sides. The kind of laughter you would expect to hear from men talking about a dead girl—trying to be jovial in spite of awful circumstances. Failing, just a little bit. You’ve got drinks down in front of them soon enough—water, tea, and the most concentrated coffee you can manage for Izuku. (A sludge, really.)

You linger in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure of whether they want you out of the room or not. They don’t seem particularly bothered by your presence, but the normal guy flicks his eyes between you and Izuku as if trying to decipher something. You can’t place it until you do, and then it hits you in the chest.

You miscalculated.

It’s real nice to think about keeping suspicion off the uninvolved Izuku, lest they realize he’s in his fifties and connected to a very high-profile case, but—

I’ll be honest, her wounds were… strange… one of the men says from the other room. Almost like bite marks.

You stride back in, keeping up the pretense of chasing Sbeve. You scoop the little terror up, cuddling him to your chest and lingering behind Izuku.

“If possible, we’d also like to talk to your… um…” The normal guy has his eyes flicking between the pair of you again, confusion written on his face.

At once, you and Izuku are reaching for an explanation, because shit, yeah, doesn’t it look suspicious if the professor connected to the dead girl has a similarly-aged girl living in his secluded mansion for no apparent reason?

“Tenant!” you blurt. (“R-roommate!” Izuku yelps.) “He’s my landlord. I rent a room upstairs.”

(The visible relaxation on Normal Guy’s face makes you even more tense.)

“Uh, the name’s [name],” you follow up lamely.

He believes you. More than his cat-faced partner seems to. Easily, too. Completely and totally easily.

And that?

That stresses you out even more.

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#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader

44 notes · View notes

sapphireginger · 1 year

Text

Title: Drowning Out Sound - Chapter #5

Pairings: None [Gen]

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Word Count: 4,273

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Descriptions of Past Child Abuse (Recounted by the Child) PTSD Flashback Dissociative Episode Panic Attack Past Trauma

Square Filled: Cooking Together

Written For: @anyfandomfluffbingo

Full Fic AO3 Link

Summary:

Aunt Talia is a really good teacher and Stiles loves her so much. She has taught him how to do his numbers and letters even better and when he got discouraged, she would distract him with a snack or coloring until he could focus again.

Stiles was embarrassed when they went to the doctor one day because he has to get meds for his ADHD. He wouldn’t look at daddy, mommy or Aunt Talia at first. However, once he got the medication and started taking it, he felt so much better and did a lot better with his schoolwork.

Stiles was doing so well with his schooling, and they were able to have him tested. He ends up getting into first grade at five years old which his family is so very proud of him for. They all get ice cream to celebrate. Toward the end of the year Peter asks Stiles about school.

> Do you want to go to school like Jackson and Malia?

The boy tilts his head and chews his lip. His fingers card through Zuri’s fur and he shakes his head.

> No thank you. There’s so many kids and I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Daddy.

Peter gestures for Stiles to come to him and when the boy does, Peter scoops him up and settles him in his lap.

> Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Talia said she would help homeschool you until you are ready for public school.

Stiles contemplates this for a moment and then looks at Peter with nervousness.

> What if I never want to go to public school?

> Then we will homeschool you.

> Really?

Peter nods and Stiles hugs him tightly. “Tha’k y’u.”

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

A hand waves gently to get his attention. He blinks, having gotten deep into the book he was reading.

> Sorry, Aunt Talia.

He signs quickly as he sets his book down and faces his aunt.

She smiles.

> It’s okay. How is your work going? Do you need any help?

Stiles shakes his head with a smile.

> No thank you. I am just reading now. I did my math and writing. So, I am going to try and do my reading. Is that okay?

Talia nods and ruffles his hair gently.

> Good boy. Enjoy your book.

Eagerly, with a giggle at the ruffling of his hair, Stiles turns back to his book while Talia goes back to the kitchen to fix lunch. It’s so peaceful and she is so grateful she is able to do this for her new nephew.

Her eyes scan the book, and she is surprised at the one he chose. Only five years old and he’s reading Hatchet. Talia is proud and looks forward to telling Peter that his worries for Stiles while valid are unnecessary. He’s going to do just fine. In fact, Stiles will do extremely well. She will make sure of it.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

First semester comes to an end and then in January, they celebrate Malia and Jackson’s birthday. Stiles gets an allowance and saves all of it to get them each something special. He got Jackson a really nice watch that’s red because that’s Jackson’s favorite color and Legos to build a ship from his brother’s movie. He got Malia two fuzzy blankets, one green and one purple that she immediately insists Stiles cuddles with her under. Of course, Jackson gets to join too.

In February they celebrate Talia’s and Grandma Bridget’s birthday. Stiles gets a bottle of warm vanilla sugar lotion for his aunt as well as some fuzzy socks cause she says her feet get cold sometimes. He doesn’t notice her tearing up right away but when he does, he takes over her lap for the day.

> Thank you, Stiles. These are just what I need.

Stiles grins.

> I know. I pay attention. You’re welcome.

Then he lays his head on her shoulder and watches the movie they have on. Gone with the Wind is Talia’s favorite movie, and the twins got her the anniversary edition for her birthday.

👂🏻•💙•👂🏻

The next day they go over to Grandma Bridget’s house to celebrate her birthday. There are hugs and kisses all around and after lunch, cake and ice cream they head into the living room for presents.

Stiles shyly hands her his gift that he wrapped himself.

> Thank you, my moonbeam.

She opens the gift and places a hand on her chest. Inside is a necklace she thought she had lost that has been polished along with a photograph of her late husband in a beautiful frame with a white rose on it.

> Do you like it grandma?

Bridget wipes her tears and nods.

> I love it, moonbeam. Come here.

Stiles walks over and melts into the hug she gives him and giggles at the kiss she places on his forehead.

👂🏻•💙•👂🏻

In March they celebrate Peter and Marie’s birthdays that are only a week apart.

Stiles had asked Talia to take him to get their gifts and she took all three kids to the mall. Zuri stays close to Stiles’s side, having already been officially serving for nearly a year.

> Can we go to the bookstore please?

Talia nods and walks that way, making sure the twins are in her line of sight.

As Stiles scans the shelves, he finds the perfect gift. He asks for help getting it down and when Talia smiles at him, giving her approval at his choice, he preens with pride. They head over to the register to pay for it and then go to the craft store for mommy’s gift.

All in all, it only takes a couple hours before they have everything bought and are on their way home.

Peter’s face when he opens the gift from Stiles is priceless.

Stiles smiles shyly.

> You said you love to write, and I thought that you should write more but of course you need something special to put all your words in.

The man’s fingers trace the details on the cover of the dark blue leather journal, and the blue fountain pen to go with it. He kisses the boy’s forehead before pulling him into a tight hug. When Stiles pulls back, he giggles at the pleased smile on Peter’s face before settling in for the rest of the gifts.

Marie gets some new thread for her sewing machine and some seeds for her flower garden. She asks Stiles to help her plant them when it’s the perfect weather for it and he eagerly agrees.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Then comes April, Stiles’s birthday and in the morning when he wakes up, everything is great. They’re having a small party with family and a couple kids that Stiles met through homeschooling.

Stiles helps with setting the table for lunch and greets his friends when they come. Only one of them gets to stay for cake but they make sure to send some treats home with the one who has to leave.

Peter turns the lights down a bit as Marie gets the video camera out. Stiles blushes and waits patiently as Talia lights the candles on his cake. He counts each candle as it’s lit.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

As the six little flames flicker, Stiles feels a tightness in his chest start to get even tighter. He’s had one birthday with the Hales already but for some reason this one is different. Daddy, mommy, Aunt Talia, Jackson, Malia and Stiles’s friend Grant all start signing to him.

> Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Stiles.

Stiles hiccups a sob so softly it’s barely audible.

> Happy birthday to you.

Everyone is smiling at him, and he wants to smile back but he can’t. So, when they tell him to blow out the candles, he closes his eyes and makes a wish.

‘I wish I wasn’t broken.’

Then he blows out the candles.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

He manages to hold it together until his friend Grant leaves but after that all bets are off. He runs to the master bedroom and crawls under the big bed. Zuri is right by his side and curls around him, letting him bury his head against her tummy. Stiles curls into a small ball as his breathing becomes shallow and rough. His heart is pounding, and he starts rubbing at his ear until Zuri’s paw gently traps his wrist.

Stiles has no idea how long he is under the bed for but when he wakes up he’s on mommy and daddy’s bed and it’s nighttime. Stiles’s brain is mushy, and he wants to hide. So, he does.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Peter is extremely worried when Stiles hasn’t made a sound or moved a muscle in hours. It hurts to see him so still, almost exactly like he was in the hospital the day Peter came to get him. Marie gets the twins ready for bed and Peter tucks them in. The two adults then get ready for bed themselves and then climb into bed, with Stiles settled between them. Peter made sure to put him into pajamas as well.

He sends an email to Doctor Bowen about an appointment. Peter knows Stiles needs to talk to someone. Marie goes to sleep but Peter can’t sleep yet. He needs to know that Stiles is okay. So, he waits and waits and waits.

It’s nearly midnight when Stiles finally rouses and Peter stills as the boy blinks at him.

> Daddy?

Peter slowly scoops him up and cards his fingers through Stiles’s hair with a soft shudder of relief. He kisses the boy’s forehead and rocks him slowly. Zuri is still on alert watching over her human with a protective gaze and stance.

After a few minutes Stiles pulls back and looks at Peter.

> I’m sorry.

> For what sweetheart?

Stiles looks down for a moment and reaches for Zuri who nuzzles her nose against his tummy. She knows that is where it hurts after he has a panic attack.

> Running and hiding. I got scared and really sad.

Peter nods and gives a small smile of reassurance.

> That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are not in trouble.

> I’m not?

Peter shakes his head.

> No, but can you tell me what made you upset? Maybe I can help.

Stiles starts rubbing at his ear as tears start to fall again. He raises small shaking hands to reply.

> You are my daddy. Marie is my mommy.

His hand forms a fist, and he drags the back of his thumb from his bottom lip down to just below his chin for the word patience and then signs the letter M.

> You are my parents, but I thought about no more mommy and no more daddy. I am glad but it just hit me really hard right here.

He taps his heart and sniffles.

Understanding washes over Peter and his heart aches for the boy. He uses his thumbs to dry Stiles’s tears and makes sure the boy is looking at him.

> You don’t have to be sorry for the things your heart feels. It’s okay to be hurt. It’s okay to be sad. You went through a lot of hurt and even though you’re safe now and have people who love you so very much, you’re going to miss them.

Stiles shakes his head in frustration.

> I don't want to miss them. Why do I miss them?

Peter takes Stiles’s hand in his and ducks his head to meet the boy’s gaze again.

> Because they raised you and were your parents. For all their faults they did love you even if they forgot how to love you in the right way after a while. So it is okay to miss them. That doesn’t mean you are broken or wrong or bad. It just means you are human, and you hurt just like everyone else.

> Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

> I love you too sweetheart. Shall I sing?

Stiles’s amber eyes brighten and a small smile forms on his face as he nods. It’s enough of an answer for Peter to pull him close again. He starts softly humming and Stiles rests his nose against Peter’s throat so he can feel the vibrations as they lull him to sleep.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

When it’s time to go to second grade, Stiles asks his parents and his Aunt Talia if he can try public school.

> I want to try and be around other kids. Malia says I would love recess and Jackson says I would love gym class cause they play soccer and dodgeball. I also want to make some more friends.

Peter is hesitant but with a firm and encouraging nod from Talia, they sign Stiles up to start school at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School where the twins go.

Much to Peter’s relief, Stiles does really well and all of his teachers and even classmates are extremely considerate. Peter can only hope that continues as the years go by.

One day, Stiles comes home and gets off the bus with a huge grin on his face. Peter chuckles at the way the boy is bouncing with excitement.

> What has made you so giggly and excited?

Stiles blushes lightly and kicks his shoes off by the door.

> I made a new friend.

> Oh? What’s your new friend’s name?

> Name. C-A-L-L-I-O-P-E. Calliope but she says I can call her C-A-L-L-I-E. Callie.

His smile is shy and pleased, and Peter gets all warm and fuzzy at the news.

> You’ll have to invite her over to play this summer then.

Stiles runs over and looks up at Peter with wide eyes.

> Really? She can come play?

> If her mommy and daddy say she can then I don’t see why not.

Stiles throws his arms around Peter and squeezes as tightly as he can. Peter flings the towel he was using to dry dishes over his shoulder and hugs the boy back. They stay that way until Marie comes in and coaxes Stiles outside to help her plant the seeds that he got her.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

It’s halfway through the summer after second grade and Callie has gotten along really well with all three of the kids and she adores both Marie and Talia. Stiles adores her and they’re really close, so when it’s time to go to the pool, she is asked to join them. Her parents have no problem with her going as they are pleased that she has made a real friend.

Stiles is nervous at first but he’s glad they’re at a smaller waterpark and not a really big one. He also loves all the pretty green trees nearby. Zuri is right by his side as he stands by the edge of the pool. His small hands fist the fabric of his red swim trunks as he tries to work up the courage to get in.

Then two older boys walk over, and Stiles gets nervous at their approach. They smirk at him and without warning, Stiles is shoved into the pool. Time seems to freeze, and Stiles starts thrashing around in terror. He can’t breathe. He. Can’t. Breathe. His eyes go hazy for a moment as his chest constricts. He can hear Zuri barking and just as he’s about to pass out, he has a flashback.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Three Years Ago:

Playing with his rubber ducky in the tub is something Stiles loves to do. He also loves all the bubbles but is sad when they start to disappear. He’s looking for the soap, when his mommy comes into the bathroom and closes the door.

Stiles frowns slightly in confusion but since she just smiles, he goes back to playing.

Daddy used to always give him his baths but with daddy working more, mommy had to help.

As he’s playing with one of his boats, mommy puts her hand on his head and ruffles his hair. He giggles softly and blows bubbles at her with a grin.

Stiles doesn’t know what happens to make mommy angry but suddenly, mommy does something bad.

She pushes his head under water and holds him there. Stiles starts thrashing and clawing but he’s too small. His eyes grow hazy, and he can’t breathe. The last thing he sees before he passes out is his mommy’s smiling face above him.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Present Day:

Stiles remembers talking with Doctor Bowen about what it means to disappear into his head. He remembers her calling it a really big word. When she talked to Peter and gave him papers, Stiles had seen the word and sounded it out for himself. Doctor Bowen calls it dissociating. It’s a big word but she made sure he understood it when he asked.

So, when Stiles comes to and finds himself nowhere near where he was when he blacked out, he knows he dissociated.

Peter has him bundled up in a towel and cradled in between his siblings in the backseat of the car. Stiles’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

> Callie?

He signs the word beautiful with a C. It’s her sign name that she got from him.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns his head to see her in the backseat. He starts crying, having been afraid he would lose his friend.

> I’m here Stiles. I am here. You’re my best friend and I’m not going anywhere.

The feeling of tightness in Stiles’s chest has nearly vanished and with the warmth of his siblings on either side of him he feels himself relaxing. Zuri is a grounding weight across his lap and Callie’s hand is gently holding his hand over the seat. Stiles feels totally, completely and one hundred percent safe. This is his family, and he knows they won’t let anything happen to him.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Callie stays for lunch and then heads home but promises to see Stiles again real soon. They hug each other tightly before she gets into her dad’s car and goes home.

When she’s out of sight, Stiles closes the door and locks it. Peter is in the study and Marie is in the laundry room. She told Stiles he can help her make cookies for dessert and so he heads to find her first.

With giggles and a huge grin on his face, he helps mommy make cookies. They make peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip cookies and oatmeal cookies. Stiles gets flour on his face and spills a bit of sugar, but Marie just chuckles and tells him it’s okay. Cooking is going to be messy sometimes.

Dinner is a bigger task and Marie is going to handle it herself, but she gives Stiles the first cookie along with one for each of the twins and one for Peter. With a smile, Stiles delivers the twins their cookies first and then, with a deep breath, he heads to the study to talk to Peter.

Zuri is right by his side, a solid weight he needs to stay grounded.

“Da’dy?” he says startling Peter who looks over.

> Hey. What do you have there?

Stiles walks over slowly and hands his daddy the cookie.

> Oatmeal. Mommy says you like oatmeal raisin, but we didn’t have raisins.

> That’s okay. I bet the cookie tastes delicious.

Peter takes a bite and softly sighs.

> Do you like it, Daddy?

Stiles watches with hopeful eyes and Peter nods.

> Yes. I love it.

The man chuckles as Stiles does a fist pump and then quirks a brow when Stiles gestures to the couch.

> Are you busy?

Peter tilts his head.

> Not too busy for you. What’s up?

Stiles chews his lip and signs.

> I need to talk to you. Is that okay?

> Of course. Do you want to sit over there?

Stiles nods and scurries over after closing the study door. The couch is a safe place for him, and Zuri is quick to hop up with him. She settles her body over his lap securely and Peter takes a seat next to the boy.

> What do you need to tell me, dearheart?

> It’s bad, Daddy, but I want to tell you. I need to tell you. I’m just scared is all.

Peter frowns slightly and nods.

> Okay. You can tell me anything. I’m always here when you need me.

Stiles sniffles and nods.

> I know. That’s why I want to tell you. I trust you, Daddy.

Peter’s heart swells with love and affection as that small seed of doubt is decimated.

> Whenever you’re ready.

Stiles nods and takes a deep breath. He takes a moment to go through the breathing exercises that Doctor Bowen showed him and cards his fingers through Zuri’s fur. When he’s settled and calm, he starts to explain.

> You know that old mommy went to a jail for people with hurt brains, but you don’t know what she did to me. I want to tell you. Okay?

Peter swallows thickly. As much as he has wanted and even felt the need to know, he’s certain he won’t like what he learns. Still, he nods.

Stiles nods back and continues.

> Daddy used to always give me my baths. He would make them so much fun. One time he made himself a beard when I accidentally put in too much bubble bath. I don’t know why but daddy had to work more, and he was never there to give me a bath anymore.

He pauses and shudders, gripping Zuri’s fur tighter, eliciting a rumble in her chest to ground him so he can keep going.

> Take your time.

Peter signs quickly, wanting to make sure Stiles doesn’t push himself if he’s not truly ready.

Stiles nods and flexes his fingers before continuing with a determined expression on his face.

> At first, it was fine, and I took my bath while she was in her room or somewhere else upstairs but sometime after my birthday, she started coming in during that time. She would just sit there but she never played with me like daddy did. When she did come over to the tub, she

Amber eyes fix seriously on Peter.

> Please don’t be mad, okay?

Peter stills and his heart begins to race, but he nods.

> If I am mad, it won’t be at you. I promise.

> Okay.

With another round of his breathing exercises, Stiles forges ahead.

> Mommy knelt by the tub, and I offered her my toy. She just smiled and shook her head. I remember being confused but she ruffled my hair like she always did. So, I didn’t pay much attention. Then something changed and she pushed my head under water. I was scared. I was terrified and I tried to fight back but the water was so heavy here.

He presses his hand flat against his chest and then his stomach.

> I couldn’t breathe and got so sleepy. I don’t know what happened next except for seeing her smiling above me and then darkness. I think I maybe fell asleep, but that is scary cause you can't sleep underwater. I don't remember. My head is all fuzzy about that. When I woke up, I was in my bed and my tummy hurt so bad, Daddy. I couldn’t remember stuff, but I knew mommy did something wrong.

Peter waves his hand slightly to get the boy’s attention.

> Did John know?

Stiles shakes his head and glares, though Peter knows it is not directed at him.

> No. Daddy didn't protect me. He didn’t notice. She did that for a long time and the last time I felt a pain in my head. Right here.

He rubs at his ears and then presses his palms against his temples with a sigh and a shudder.

Peter is barely holding it together as he listens to the horror of what Stiles went through. A white hot burning hatred for Claudia Stilinski floods through his body. He nearly misses when Stiles starts again.

> I felt sick and because my tummy hurt bad, I didn’t eat a lot of food. Mommy told me I was fine, but I knew I wasn’t. That last night I remember my heart pounding as I stared wide eyed at her from under the water. My little hands were scratching at her but then I coughed and accidentally sucked in water. Then my ears popped and started to ring. I felt sleepy and numb. That was the last time I saw mommy and she was smiling at me as she drowned me. The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital and daddy left me that day too.

It seems as though Stiles’s story is over, but Peter is speechless. He’s vibrating with anger and crying silently. What exactly does one say to a child when they explain their trauma, so very well for their age? How can Peter possibly help this child–his child–with overcoming what he went through?

Stiles seems to understand and slowly crawls into Peter’s lap as Peter stretches his legs out on the couch. Zuri keeps her body on Stiles to weigh him down and keep him grounded.

After taking a few minutes to collect his thoughts, Peter makes sure amber eyes meet his blue ones.

> I am so very sorry that she hurt you. I am so angry on your behalf because your mommy should have loved you and never hurt you. I want you to know and never forget that I love you so much. Marie, Jackson, Malia, Talia and grandma love you to the moon and back. You are safe here and I am so very proud of you.

Stiles looks away with pink cheeks.

> Why are you proud?

Peter coaxes the boy to look at him.

> You are brave, strong and you have a huge heart. You knew you needed to and wanted to tell me what happened. So, you did. That takes a lot of strength sweetheart but most of all I am proud because you are my son, and I will always protect you and keep you safe.

Tears fall in torrents down Stiles’s cheeks as he presses a kiss to his daddy’s cheek. Then he practically melts against the man’s body with a content sigh. Peter almost misses the very soft words the boy speaks against his shirt.

“I l’ve y’u Da’dy.”

Peter cradles him close in a protective cocoon and vows then and there that Claudia Stilinski will never ever get out or come near his son again. In fact, the next morning he makes a call and ensures that she won’t ever see anything beyond the walls of the asylum and that if by some small miracle–nightmare–she does get out, well he’ll handle that personally. No one will harm his child ever again.

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jade-everstone · 1 year

Photo

The yearly tradition returns: 2022's Summary of Art!

And hey, I did something a little more design-y than my past ones! Will admit it was a bit tricky to fit each month's pics into the frames this time but I'm glad I tried a different look than usual

thoughts on each pic + reflection on the web + how I want to handle art going into the new year below:

January - Iri Intro!

From a somewhat short-lived thing I wanted to try out: Doing sketches of OCs just to serve as an introduction reguardless of quality. The good thing is, because quality's not a factor I can do these whenever in whatever format or polish. I just prefered doing larger pics this year

Febuary - A 'Cereal' Debate (comic short)

Ok, but she's got a point when you think about it.

From a comics class I took spring this year. The only prompt was "conversation"... well, heated debate in this case.

March - The School Mystery (comic short)

Another one from that Comics class and goddamn I think the panel featured here alone is one of the hardest things I drew that semester. That's pen and ink with minimal digital edits and damn hoping one day I could somehow make a longer comic with a similar style bc it was really fun to ink honestly.

April - The Fish Project

JADE WITH THE FRESH SALMON???? REAL!

Ok but for the real context, this was an April fools project I had in the works since 2021. I turned all my active art accounts at the time into an OC Fishing irony page and sent Jade, Iri, Risa, Jpeg, and both Prisma's on a fishing trip. Not sure how I'll top that in the future... I'm not revealing until April >:)

May - MOONROT

May was when I redesigned & revealed Io to the public! They got a bunch of art this month, but the CN challenge art is my favorite of all of them.

Huh. Suprised I didn't immediately burn out because that semester was extreme in terms of work. I guess wanting to draw Io was that strong.

June - Life, After Wither

A pre-Artfight 2022 pic: I was Team Wither! I like doing splash pics for my own page for Artfight and this stayed my main banner for just about most of the year.

The mini-story I made up for this is these three teamed up across dimentions or something to visit this forest.

July - In the Studio, fr

I don't normally do post-Artfight related pics, but Moog ended up getting the most attacks this year and I wanted to give her an extra pic based on it.

Seems she kept a souviner from the forest in the last pic.

August - B-Hold! The Portal King!

For Clockday on Newgrounds, Strawberry clock the portal King himself!

Kept getting swept up with other things to jump on Newgrounds events, I wasn't gonna miss one of the bigger ones!

September - // DIRECTION //

(outside of being gay for the robot-) I just wanted to draw Alia tbh. With a similar energy she had in her older art too.

October - HELLSPAWN

ABSOLUTELY NEFARIOUS HALLOWEEN PIC!!!

Featuring Io's true/original form + their 'powered-up' state

November - The Fowl Pest (Mock-Cover)

The last two are for my Digital Illustration class. This one is a mock-book cover based on a worldbuilding project of mine (still need to organize it before sharing).

Though tbh if I do want to do more art for said project I might go tra-digital or use a grittier style. During crit I was told this looked "middle-grade"... when the world is "older-YA/Adult"... still like the pic, but damn.

December - Lan Party!

*Sigh* Always wanted to go to one of these! But alas, me and my irls are all busy these days. This is based off a different project I'm working on.

I ended up debuting some different designs for my OCs for said project (notably; Iri, Risa, and Human!Midi) but separate pics for them will have to come next year. In terms of digital lineart, this was the most intense I did this year (traditional lineart comes easier to me than digital).

---

So... 2022. Jesus Christ

This year was rough for me on things personal, and things non-personal. I mean jesus christ every other week something came out that was hostile to artists one way or another on top of some rough patches in my life. I don't want to jinx 2023 or leave things on this note though...

I think my biggest takeaway from this year is I need to rethink a lot of things. How I want to do art, where I want to go, or even my 'digital wellbeing'. This year, I realized keeping art a Hobby or staying "part-time" (as in small gigs & private comms only) might be healthier for me in the long run. I've already had my doubts with a lot of "professional" practices when I was shooting for it (a tl:dr it felt like "no fun allowed" half the time). But realizing how horribly i've treated myself and my art with this chase? That was another thing.

I think i've done a lot of strong pics compared to past years. Especially in terms of backgrounds and not being afraid to draw them (though I could always use more practice, lol). But I've also come to terms with I've been affected by social media without realizing it and how it hurt how I do art. Basically, for the past two years I've been working under the fear of being boxed into doing one thing. Be it fanart, genres, etc. To the point I stopped doing things to force a "brand". Specifically, I stopped doing fanart unless it's oc-centric. I hid straight-up fanart, and started getting irrationally upset over the metrics fanart gets over my original works.

And I hate it. I hate how I let myself judge the value of my work over "numbers and engagement". I hate how I boxed myself in trying to avoid being boxed, because of chasing this corporate measurement of worth. And most importantly, I hate that I nearly forgot that I enjoyed making fanart, because of some dumb culture caused by social media numbers and algorithms. I'm exhausted. So for 2023, I think I want my main resolution to do better with my online life & how I treat myself and my art. I want to pull away from social media a bit more (ironic considered i just came back here heh), spend more time on the slower web & offline if possible, and break that cycle of letting numbers judge my self-worth. And maybe help others do the same. It's much easier said than done, but I don't want to do nothing about this toxic hellscape that is how art is treated online, I want to do something even if the only person I directly help is myself.

And for what it's worth, focusing on my site so far has been cathartic. It's somewhere I can set up my art, projects, weird shit, etc. on my own terms, how I like it. It's quieter over there. And I'm glad I kept working on it beyond just a "portfolio site".

But I guess I have all of 2023 (and what's left of 2022) to process that. For now, I could use some extra time to pretty-up my website some more and take a few more naps before the year ends.

---

extra note: this post is a (slightly modified) mirror of a post over on the everlogs:

Website Version Here!

#art summary #art summary 2022 #2022 #2022 summary of art

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marianoellaposas · 22 days

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"Senior High Camaraderie"

An appreciation post with the following people who brought happiness and endless memories in my life. I would like to acknowledge our former HUMSS 11 Adviser Ms. Mary Ann D. Abellanosa without her guidance we will not be this far. This journey gives me a lot of comfort with the people around me. They were once my home, my crying shoulder, every time I felt like I did not have the idea to fight for life anymore. Indeed, they saved me from all the circumstances that I've faced in this what we call life. Establishing all their efforts was priceless. They do not only deserve the world but also the universe. Miss Ann, thank you for your guidance and support throughout our grade 11 journey. You will be loved and remembered. Honestly, I've idolized you for what you have become. You are such a model in my life. One of my inspirations is to do better in life. My Grade 11 buddies individually fight for their upcoming future. This smile has different untold stories. Realizing that even though life was tough they still encouraged their selves to always put a smile on their faces. I am silently clapping for their victories and praying that they will get their burning desire. Ain't just my buddies but my sort of young warriors in life. Apparently, despite all of the hardships that we've been through, they are still looking forward and striving for success.

#KUMBATI HUMSS 12

JANUARY 2023 Sugbu Awit 3rd placer with the song entitled "Pandemya". It is a song dedicated to all of the Filipinos who are trying hard to fight and survive for life. The song in the line "Tungod nimo covid nusab ang tanan naapektuhan ang katawhan ug kinabuhi sa tanan" shows that there are millions of people are suffering due to lack of needs and financial because of not being able to work outside since the virus was slowly spreading. In addition, the virus was very harmful and the results show that millions of Filipinos are dying. I want to introduce my co-members to this song. Almera Bonjoc and Alwena Bonjoc as the backup dancers. Kirvy Delan as the singer and Myself as the compositor. Lastly, John Aaron Dagaraga is the one who leads the instrument. The people mention above are known as the "Noella's Minions". There are a lot of difficulties while making this song since we are not professional compositors and singers. To accomplish this we go through brainstorming and sharing our suggestions so that we will easily construct our original song. Delan suggest "PANDEMYA" as the title of our song. On the other hand, the Bonjoc sisters suggest that "NOELLA'S MINIONS' will be the name of our group. I start to compose the lyrics in the first verse until the end. Additionally, dagaraga is the one that borrows the instrument from Cyrus Judillia a TVL 12 student. Sacrifices are already intertwined with success. The result of determination and dedication.

FEBRUARY 2023 Second semester, here we go. Honestly, I'm not expecting to becoming this far. I always have pressure, stress, and sadness while thinking about how to pass. I keep on setting strategies and goals to avoid disappointments to myself and trying to focus on my positive thoughts for me to proceed to another chapter. A big hug for myself for always doing great despite all the judgments that I've faced. I pray, I stand and I believe that I can then I would.

MARCH 2023 Advocacy champion HUMSS 11, despite all the hardships while shooting this video we still do it on top. Even though we have a lot of misunderstandings we still choose to be united because teamwork makes the dream work. The stress that we consume leads us to achieve our desire to get the trophy that we aim for. We all deserve this success after the sacrifices that we've been through. You all have a space in my heart. Special thanks to our very own SSLG President who is also our director Alexa Melika Shams O. Ramos. Additionally, to all of the committees thank you, without your cooperation this would not be possible. To my classmates, you all did well by devoting yourselves and divulging your efforts just to ensure that this task well flow in good terms. Special mention to ma'am Ruby Josephine Louise V. Jabilles our subject teacher for giving us this task and believing us that we will make it. This challenge helped us learn to know about Gender Equality. Thank you, ma'am.

JANUARY 2024 With our very own subject teacher, Sir Chai. No words can explain how happy we are to have you as our entrepreneurship teacher. Farewell Sir Chai, our memories will not be forgotten and they will be forever cherished. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

MARCH 2024 From HUMSS 11 to HUMSS 12. literally how fast the time changes. I would like to acknowledge our very own HUMSS 12 adviser Ms. Geoferleen B. Flores. For her unwavering support and guidance with us. Your presence will always be appreciated. Your HUMSS 12 students sincerely love you despite all of our mistakes you still treat us with all of the good in your heart. Thank you for the free pizza, Miss Geo. Additionally, we also have our pictorial at the GSK building, I can't put my thoughts into words all I can say is "THANK YOU" for being with me since day 1 in this journey.

SENIOR HIGH STUDENTS IN JAGOBIAO NATIONAL HIGHSCHOOL

This voyage helped me to realize to live well in life because life is too short to focus on the obstacles. Realized happiness is where you are, that's why I am choosing this people. I found my home with all of you. I know that we are almost at the end of this journey, I hope that you all get your BURNING DESIRE.

WISH YOU ALL THE BEST! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

#SOAR HIGH SENIOR HIGH!

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kyleigb220journey · 8 months

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About Me

As mentioned in the first post my name is Kyle Daniel Muir-Mcmurtrie and I am in my final semester of my bachelor of information technology majoring in information systems. IGB220 is part of my user experience minor and was selected because it seemed like it would be fun to have during a semester where all my other units are business focused or capstone related, however I will admit I am a bit out of my depth in this unit as I am not good at programming and have only done one unit relating to actual programming development. My comfort zone in this degree would probably be based around tasks a business analyst would conduct such as project management, process improvement, business modelling, and information systems lifecycle management.

I can comment and critique designs of IT systems and games very well and is my main task for my capstone as we improve the UI/UX and layout of a website but in terms of artistic design itself such as needed for this unit I find myself lacking those skills. I do hope that I don't lose many marks for coming up short in this regard and even this blog post is unorthodox in its structure compared to most of my other assignments. Needless to say, I am not against learning new things outside of my scope of current knowledge as my other now completed minor was justice/criminology which was a very heavy 4 units of knowledge.

In terms of my personal life, I was born in Brisbane on 15th September 2000 (to whoever is marking this feel free to buy me a gift) and moved to Thailand in 2003 and lived there until 2020 January - yeah not a good time to move back. Moving back has been a huge challenge in my life (looking at you cost of living and lack of good Thai food) and meeting new people felt hard due to covid pandemic being the main player of the field when I returned. My hobbies do include video games so thank God I can relate to this unit through that, my favorite game is probably Destiny 2 in which I have probably clocked in over 15k hours (cry for help not a brag), included my wasted time stats in the image below. I primarily play on PC and PS5 - however recently my PC recently just had the SSD break and PC rollback 2 years to a windows snapshot save in 2020 (gift idea btw) so lost a bunch of work.

Besides that, I am heavily into metal with my favorite bands being Paleface, avenged sevenfold and numenorean and usually wear anything black and the same band shirt constantly. On campus I am a recent member of the socialist alternative group (sorry if I have annoyed you handing out protest flyers or trying to talk politics with you (don't mark me down if I have)). Favorite film is the Hot wheels Acceleracers films because they were used as a baseline of what modern cinema should be and no other film comes close - eat your heart out Scorsese. IGB180 acted as the prerequisite for this unit and despite not doing too well in the first assignment which was a plan and outline for the later one, I do feel that my presentation video on aspect of violence in Destiny 2 helped me to get the grade of 6 in that unit. However, that unit was all theory based and I know I'm decent at that, putting said theory into practice on the other hand is where the trouble starts lining up. Though not straight up programming in IGB220 I really hope Gdevelop is able to carry me through the gates of the end of this degree, would hate to tell a postgraduate job I have to decline because I failed a minor unit. Gdevelop on first glance looks similar to scratch which I've used in the past for IT in high school, but everything looks basic at first glance.

Linked to some of the bands I listen to, if you like deathcore, metalcore, or black melodic metal them give em a listen. For Paleface try Fear and Dagger or the Orphan , Numenorean try Adore or Home, Avenged sevenfold give the wicked end, unholy confessions or mattel.

That should conclude my intro post I look forward to continuing to make these, hopefully was not too painful to read.

#about myself #heavy metal #destiny 2 #IT #Spotify

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diahmandis · 1 year

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January

(even though I wrote this ln February 6th)

To my future self, I know that someday you’ll look back on this blog and reread posts and cringe so hard at what you’ve written — but I just want to tell you that I’m proud of you EVEN if you did not accomplish writing about how your day went on Tumblr every single day. Well, You’ve successfully posted on your Instagram dump (@pritongsiomai – I hope you still remember her) everyday for the month of January until now, as you were writing this on February 6th of 2023. Anyway, back to what you wanted to say:

I guess I could say that the month has been a rollercoaster of emotions. The first few weeks of January were absolutely stressful since I was struggling to keep up with all my requirements from the previous semester; deadlines were piled up like crazy and I didn’t think I could finish everything on time. But I did. (Well, except for PE where I got an INC but that’s TOTALLY FINE. I can finish that before the year ends. Sure I can.) I successfully finished the semester with 1.5 as my lowest grade (wait til I get my grades from PE lol). I’m so glad that I got to hang out with friends even outside of academic requirements (well, we DID do academic requirements but we did it TOGETHER outside of class.) I’m thankful for the bond that Rei, Alyanna and I had shared this month. It feels refreshing to finally have people whom I can call friends at UP. Oh. Another thing. I finally had the time to reflect. After a very long while, I got to experience VACATION properly again. Like I literally have nothing to do (except PE… okay I’ll finish that SOON!!!!)

Going back, despite that haunting INC, I’m incredibly proud of myself for pushing through and sticking to the things that I told myself I would do to change for the better. I promised myself that 2023 would be the year when I started thinking of myself more — prioritizing my mental health, investing in myself, and just overall trying to be the best version of me I could ever be. I started reading again, which is good because I have been discovering so much things about me that I never really knew. I finished Every Day by David Levithan, a favorite when I was sixteen. And now, at twenty two it really hit different. I really wasn’t that impressed by it. But okay, it’s still a good book. 6/10. I also started reading Atomic Habits by James Clear, but I haven’t revisited the book again since I got a physical copy of a different self-help book — Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear by Elizabeth Gilbert. And oh my fucking god. It has been so impactful to the way I think as a creative. I can’t even explain how much I love it. So, to my future self, if ever you’re coming across this and you don’t know which book to read, pick it up again. I’m sure you’ll find a lot of insights there. I marked it up for you.

This month was also challenging for Sean and I’s relationship. I mean we obviously did NOT break up, but we had some trouble here and there because of our personal priorities. Which is totally understandable by the way, we didn’t have any huge fight about it but we were able to talk it through and compromise for each other. And on that note, I just love our relationship because we’ve obviously grown so much individually and as a couple. We’re able to fully express our feelings without sudden outbursts of emotions, we just talk shit through and get over the things that we’re supposed to get over together. Safe to say that our relationship has never been healthier.

I just loved how January was for me. I’m hoping that the next couple of months will be too. I’m already claiming that this is going to be my year. I’m owning it. 2023 will be the hear when I’ll start my journey to become a bad ass boss bitch.

See you at the end of the month, I guess.

#2023 #diary

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bookloveravenue · 1 year

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Franklin U (book 6): Learning Curve by N.R. Walker

Cobey Green There I was, moving into the dorms at Franklin U, and not into the shared party house I’d lived in my freshman year. Last year had been all about football and parties, not schoolwork. Which was why my grades tanked, and why I was one failed class away from being kicked off the team. Why I needed to live on campus, and find myself a tutor. Funny that my new roommate just happened to be a tutor. Funny that he was oblivious to how hot he is. For a smart guy, he was pretty clueless. Maybe I could tutor him in how to be more outgoing in exchange for help with calculus? I could teach him how to talk to people, how to make new friends. Hell, maybe I could even help him punch his V card. Actually, now that I thought about it... that was a really good idea.

Vincent Brandt And there I was, happy to be back at college, happy to be where I was most comfortable. Happy to be starting another school year, happy to start tutoring again so I could earn some money. And yes, there I was, equal parts excited and dreading to see who my new roommate would be... Until Cobey Green’s smiling face appeared at the door. A huge football player, loved by everyone, gorgeous, rich, and out of the closet. Everything I was not. It didn’t help that he was genuinely a really nice guy. It didn’t help that I could make him laugh, and we could talk so easily, and it certainly didn’t help that we started having private tutorials which ended up way more private than I’d ever dared imagine. I’d ranked top of my class in every subject since the first grade yet there I was falling stupidly in love with him.

This was going to be a hell of a year. And one very steep learning curve for both of us.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61367886-learning-curve

********

January 24, 2023

My Review: 5/5 Stars

Okay, this one may be my favorite of the series so far! Vincent and Cobey are adorable. So Cobey is starting off the semester in a bit of a bad mood. His parents are forcing him to live in the dorms and not a house with his football teammates in the hopes that he will study more and get his grades back in shape so he won't be kicked off the football team. And as one of the best players there looking to play in the NFL, he can't screw up. What he doesn't expect is to have a roommate who is probably the sweetest, hottest, and smartest guy he has ever met. And the more he spends time with him, the more he likes him. Vincent isn't confident. He doesn't really have friends and spends a lot of his time studying and hiding away. He's not good around people, but meeting Cobey, well, that's different. Cobey is able to coax Vincent out of his shell and Vincent is super comfortable with him. Maybe it's who Cobey is or maybe it is because of this thing between them. In the beginning they make a deal. Cobey will help Vincent learn to be more comfortable in social settings and Vincent will help Cobey study calculus. But it doesn't take long before the two of them realize they have more than a tutor and student relationship. These two were the cutest thing ever. Opposites in so many ways, but they just fit. They also brought out the best in one another. Their love story was just adorable and I couldn't put it down!

#book #books #i love books #my review #book review #learning curve #franklin u #nr walker

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musicjunkie71315 · 1 year

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Hey guys...

So this post isn't going to be about music at all because I have a more pressing matter to discuss. So I'm not sure if I have discussed this with you guys before (I prob did but just don't remember lol) but I started doing these weekly blog post because of an assignment I had in my Public Speaking class where we had to make a blog at the beginning of the semester and post 2 post every week up until the end of the semester. Even though this started out as me doing it for a grade I have come to really enjoy it. This week's post are the last required post for my class so there's gonna be a few changes on how I run my blog from here on out. First of all I would like to say that I plan to continue posting things music related on this blog so I don't plan to stop just because it isn't a grade anymore. However, I will be taking a month hiatus because I really need the break with finals week being between this week and next week. With that said, I just want to thank the people who like and reblog my post because I get a sense of joy when I get a notifcation like that so thanks! But anyways that's really all I wanted to say on this post. But I will be posting again around the first of January. That said, I'll be signing off for now. Bye guys!! Hope you all have a lovely holiday (whatever you celebrate during december) <3

#music #hiatus #announcment

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surrender-souls · 4 years

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i think teachers should stop sending me emails, mind your own business please!😊

#i’m failing 6/8 of my classes and i feel terrible and it’s only because i have a lot of missing work #and i’m getting so many emails #i really don’t want to have a video call with you i’d rather just ignore everything and then it will all turn out ok #i also know that you’ll never understand why i can’t do things (which sucks) and also having an entire conversation about all my missing wo #it’s so annoying too because they keep telling me i have missing stuff as if i don’t already know 🙃#also i don’t want to keep using stuff as an excuse as to why most of my work isn’t done but??? it’s literally the reason so...#idk i’m just being stupid i guess #but i don’t want people to think i’m annoying or over exaggerating or trying to get sympathy or something #because if anyone thinks that about me i’ll feel terrible #i speak #also a teacher now knows that i’m not able to talk in front of the class and it’s good but it also feels so embarrassing!#i guess it’s just that i don’t want to stand out or be treated differently than my classmates even though i really should be treated differ #i guess i just don’t want to seem like a burden etcetera (idk how it’s spelled) ❤️#i know i’m being immature about this but it just hurts #i don’t feel like anything anymore it’s like i’m not even here like i only have school and that’s it it’s constantly on my mind and it’s no #the semester ends in like january so i have until then to get my grade up but i don’t really care if i fail this because i’ll probably be f #i’d rather just not have school this year if it’s like this

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tennessoui · 3 years

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would you be willing to go more indepth on the TA au first kiss scene?

i'd be willing to apparently really really really fucking in-depth with the TA au first kiss scene it turns out.

(3.1k, no porn but a lil raunchy there at the end)

This is not the first time Obi-Wan has been over to Anakin’s house. At the start of the semester, back in August, Professor Skywalker had invited all of his TAs to dinner, to introduce himself to them outside of the classroom.

This is different, though. Obi-Wan’s alone as he dismounts from his bicycle and stands it up against the garage door. No one else will join them tonight. Anakin had only asked him over.

If Obi-Wan thinks about that too much, he’s not going to be able to ring the doorbell.

He’s already late as it is, having changed multiple times since Anakin had texted him. What does one wear to the house of one’s professor who one desperately wants to fuck?

Lingerie, obviously. Check.

But on top of that?

He’d gone with a navy blue sweater over a simple t-shirt and jeans. Even still, when Anakin opens the door, he feels immediately overdressed. Anakin’s only wearing a black tank top and dark gray sweatpants that cinch at the ankle.

Alright. It’s official. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s going to survive the night.

“Obi, great!” Professor Skywalker exclaims, ushering him in and out of the cold November air. “I was worried you’d slipped on ice riding over here. It really is starting to get dangerous to bike in this sort of weather.” His tone becomes disapproving, something that absolutely doesn’t make Obi-Wan’s cock twitch in his pants. “I’ve seen your tires, they’re not up to the way it gets icy up here.”

Obi-Wan could say that he knows the weather better than Professor Skywalker, seeing as how he’s been a student at the same school for going on five years now, and Professor Skywalker still has partially-unpacked moving boxes sitting around his living room.

But what he says instead is, “Yes, Professor,” which makes Anakin freeze for a second before he hurries into motion again.

It’s interesting, is all.

“I told you to call me Anakin, Obi-Wan,” Anakin says sharply, turning away. Alright, yes. Obi-Wan’s body does react to that tone.

“Sorry, Professor,” Obi-Wan murmurs with a half-smile when he sees the way Anakin’s back stiffens for a second.

“You must think I have the patience of a saint,” Anakin mutters to himself. Louder, he says, “Shoes off and do you want some tea?”

Obi-Wan bends down to start untying his shoes, perking up at the mention of tea. “You have tea? I’ve never seen you drink tea on campus.”

“I have rooibos and earl grey,” Anakin shouts from the kitchen. Obi-Wan stands, shoeless, to follow him curiously, looking around the house as he goes. The entrance hallway opens up into the living room, which is sunken into the floor. There’s a dining room table a few feet from the couch, positioned next to a window looking into the kitchen.

There are still moving boxes scattered around, even though it’s already mid-November.

“Earl grey, thank you,” Obi-Wan says absently, still taking in Anakin’s home. Gently he lays his messenger bag on the table next to Anakin’s laptop and retrieves the papers he’s been invited over here to grade. When the kettle goes off, he peers through the window to watch Anakin assemble his cup. “Oh, that’s my favorite brand,” he says happily. Anakin flushes and busies himself putting away the apparently incriminating boxes of tea.

“What a coincidence,” Anakin replies, handing the cup to him through the window. Obi-Wan wraps his cold hands around the mug and allows the warmth to travel through his body. He’d forgotten his gloves, an idiotic move that can only be blamed on his nerves for the night.

But now that he’s here, he suddenly doesn’t feel quite so nervous anymore. It feels natural to sit with Anakin like this at his dining room table and grade their students’ work.

It feels right and scarily easy.

They get to work with little more chatter, as these papers are supposed to be handed back the next section class.

After one high score and two middling ones, Obi-Wan sets down his pen. “You still haven’t unpacked everything?” He says this observation like a question.

Anakin looks up at him from the paper in front of him and adjusts his glasses as he processes the words. “No, not really,” he agrees. “I never usually do, not until I find something that makes me want to stay in one place for a while.”

Obi-Wan’s hands tighten around his mug of tea. His voice comes out more strangled than he’d like. “You’re thinking of leaving?”

“It’s a temporary position, Obi,” Anakin says slowly, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the essay. “I’m renting this place from the school, but even then the lease is up in February.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what his heart is doing, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been in so much pain. Not to be dramatic or anything, but the thought of Anakin leaving as quickly as he’s blown into Obi-Wan’s life feels as if it can kill him.

“Oh,” is all he says. “Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Minutes later, Obi-Wan is staring at himself in the mirror, hands gripping the sink. He’s still reeling from the very real possibility that Anakin will leave in a few short months. That he’ll go to some other college in some other city and make everyone fall in love with him there as well, and Obi-Wan will never find out what it feels like to kiss him because he’d been too scared of breaking the rules or being rejected to try.

Resolve forms in his mind. If Anakin is looking for a reason to stay, Obi-Wan will give him one.

But Obi-Wan’s never really set about seducing a professor before, is the problem. He doesn’t know what Anakin likes in his partners, and he doesn’t know if he even really likes Obi-Wan at all. There are hints sometimes, certainly, the way he’ll stare at him in class, the casual way he’ll touch his lower back when they’re walking somewhere, all of his behavior that night at the bar near Halloween.

But there’s a difference between feeling arousal and acting on it. And there’s an even bigger difference between wanting someone once in your bed for the night and wanting someone enough to stick around town for a few years while they finish school.

So it’s not even seducing Anakin that is real problem here. It’s keeping him interested afterwards. And Obi-Wan needs to start now, before the semester ends. If he waits until January, he won’t have enough time before Anakin’s lease is up. Hell, he doesn’t even have enough time now, not really. He’d probably need four months alone just to get Anakin to look at him with more than dark, considering eyes.

Alright. Alright.

He’ll start with coffee tomorrow morning. He’ll go out there and finish grading papers with Anakin, and then tomorrow before class begins, he’ll bring Anakin a cup of coffee. It’s a start.

Anakin’s made a fair amount of progress by the time Obi-Wan exits the bathroom-cum-war council room. “Alright?” The professor looks up with a small furrow between his eyebrows.

He’s so gorgeous Obi-Wan almost gives up right then and there, but he’s never been a quitter.

“Alright,” he agrees, picking up his mug and carrying it to the kitchen. He’ll just add some more water and a little bit more milk and get started on the rest of the papers. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can go home and start planning. The thought makes him excited and nervous all at once.

He glances up through the kitchen window just in time to see Anakin lean back in his chair and stretch his arms so far up that his tank top rides up enough that his tummy--or, well, defined abdominal muscles as it were--flashes into view.

Which, of course, makes Obi-Wan’s life flash before his eyes. He trips and then promptly curses when he rights himself but half the tea spills out over his sweater.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s there immediately, as if he’s teleported from the table to the kitchen instead of gone around the normal way. “Are you alright? Are you burned?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Obi-Wan mutters, blushing furiously. His seduction of Anakin is never going to work if he keeps behaving like a clumsy idiot in front of the older man. “Just got on my sweater, it’s fine.”

Anakin’s hands grab at the hem of Obi-Wan’s sweater, and when he doesn’t protest, slowly drags it up and over his head, careful to keep the wet stain from his hair.

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat at the look of intense concentration Anakin’s wearing, how dark his eyes are. It’s almost exactly what he wants, but it’s not enough because Anakin backs away quickly, sweater clutched in his hands. “I’ll get you one of mine,” he says gruffly, turning to leave the kitchen, but Obi-Wan stops him with a hand on his arm.

“It’s really fine, Anakin, I’m not cold.”

“You’re covered in goosebumps,” Anakin points out, laying his hand on Obi-Wan’s own arm.

Obi-Wan swallows and bites at his lip. “I’m not cold,” he promises. A part of him wants Anakin to hear what he’s not saying. A part of him is afraid he will.

But Anakin only nods jerkily once before exiting the kitchen and returning to his seat at the table. “You’ll tell me as soon as you feel so much as a slight chill,” he insists, picking up his glasses and resettling them on his face.

“Yes, Professor,” Obi-Wan murmurs as he sits down, just to watch Anakin’s jaw clench tightly for a second before relaxing.

They resume grading in silence, but this silence is tense. A different beast than the previous one.

Halfway through his sixth paper of the night, he furrows his eyebrows at a student’s paragraph. “Professor,” he says, standing and moving to lean over Anakin’s shoulder to show him the error. He places one of his hands delicately on Anakin’s skin, because he is a weak, weak man. “They’ve gotten this bit extremely wrong, but the paragraph after this one is basically the same thing but with the correct information. What, do you think it’s just an editing error?”

Anakin looks at the paper without saying anything.

Obi-Wan adjusts his position so he’s more leaning over next to him instead of behind him and points out the relevant sections. “Would you dock points, do you think?”

Anakin’s jaw bunches as his nostrils flare for several long seconds, before he seems to snap out of whatever had taken his mind away. “Take a few off, but for formatting not for content,” the professor decides.

Nodding in agreement, Obi-Wan stays where he is and makes a note in the margins. He looks up at Anakin when he feels his eyes rest heavily on him. “What?” he asks. “Do I have pen on my face?”

“Just haven’t seen you this dressed down before,” Anakin’s voice is incredibly low and the timbre of it makes a shiver run down Obi-Wan’s spine. “You’re always so buttoned-up in class.”

Obi-Wan wets his lips. Somehow the words that come out of his mouth are not ones he’s approved of saying. “That’s not true,” he says so quietly it’s almost a whisper. “I wouldn’t say I was buttoned-up at the bar.”

Anakin inhales sharply and he leans towards him with dark, dark eyes. “You were all dressed up then, weren’t you?” he murmurs. Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from swaying in Anakin’s direction, even if he wanted to.

Slowly, he nods, paper forgotten under his professor’s burning gaze.

“Do you still have it?” Anakin asks hoarsely. “I’ve been wondering what you did with that little dress for weeks now.”

“Didn’t keep it,” Obi-Wan replies honestly. His mouth dries incredibly fast when Anakin’s hand falls to his arm.

“You’ve got goosebumps again,” Anakin observes, rubbing a thumb over his skin. “Are you cold?”

“Not cold,” he whispers, moving closer than he’s ever dared. He’s terrified that if he speaks louder than he is now, the moment will be ruined. They’ll snap out of this, whatever this is, go back to grading papers, and then Obi-Wan will leave and tomorrow morning he’ll buy Anakin coffee and try to make himself come across as the perfect life partner for his professor.

But he wants this so much. He thinks they’re standing on the edge of something that could very well be amazing.

Anakin’s opening his mouth to say something, but Obi-Wan cuts him off. He wouldn’t be able to hear it over his pounding heart anyway. “I kept the lingerie though,” he says. “Do you want to see them, Professor?”

For a second, those words and all they imply hang in the scant few inches between them.

Then, “Jesus fucking Christ, baby,” Anakin groans, sounding torn to shreds. He pushes his chair back so fast that Obi-Wan stumbles.

Anakin’s hands are there to catch him and pull him into his arms, mouth descending onto his.

Obi-Wan moans into the kiss immediately, wrapping his arms around Anakin’s neck and tugging their bodies as close together as he can get them, making helpless little noises he’s never made before in his life. Anakin’s not quiet either, not as his hands roam down from Obi-Wan’s waist to trace the outline of his ass before he grabs it and rocks them together. The pleasure skyrockets when their bulges grind against each other, and Obi-Wan has to break the kiss just to gasp for air.

Feeling brave and desired and hot, Obi-Wan grabs one of Anakin’s hands and slips it down the waistline of his pants, just far enough that he can feel the spread of lace over his skin.

“Baby,” Anakin groans again, rubbing his thumb over the cheap silk of the Halloween costume’s panties. “Baby, fuck.”

Obi-Wan pushes back into the hand, trying to convey how much Anakin really can fuck him, should he want. Obi-Wan wants.

Before he can say anything though, Anakin’s lips claim his again and his tongue fucks aggressively into his mouth. It feels so good, especially when Anakin scratches up the skin of his back gently with one hand. The touch has Obi-Wan turning pliant and weak in the knees, something Anakin must realize because he edges Obi-Wan closer and closer to the table before sweeping the contents off with one hand and lifting him up with the other.

He spreads his legs automatically and for a second everything is perfect when Anakin comes to stand between them, mouth biting searing kisses into his neck while Obi-Wan tries to keep rubbing their pelvises together. He throws his head back and to the side with a high moan, mouth falling open as he stares uncomprehendingly at the ceiling.

Does this mean he doesn’t have to buy Anakin coffee before class tomorrow?

The thought of school is like a bucket of ice water poured directly over his head. Almost frantically, he pushes at Anakin’s chest, trying to get space between them.

Anakin detaches himself from Obi-Wan’s skin with the utmost reluctance. His lips are red and wet.

But Obi-Wan needs to be responsible, and he’s currently sitting on his professor’s table, papers scattered on the floor around them. “Fuck, half of these weren’t stabled together,” he cries, hopping down and starting to pick up the students’ papers. “Shit, Professor--”

“You were just sucking on my tongue like a professional slut, Obi-Wan, I think you can call me Anakin,” Anakin bites out, working his jaw furiously as he watches him crawl around on all fours from above. The nerve of the man for causing the mess and not helping at all to clean it up!

Obi-Wan feels just petty enough that he pauses at one of the papers and arches his back, pushing his ass out and looking over his shoulder. “I thought you liked it when I called you professor, Professor,” he responds in what he hopes comes out sounding mostly sultry.

It seems to work if Anakin’s reaction is anything to go by. “Fucking hell, Obi-Wan,” the man snarls, but his sweatpants make the twitch of his cock impossible to miss.

“What a pair we make,” Obi-Wan says, just for the fun of torturing Anakin. “You’re not wearing any underwear and I’m wearing lingerie.”

He finishes with the papers and stands to stack them on the table.

“I think you should go,” Anakin grits out, watching Obi-Wan intently.

Obi-Wan’s heart stops for a second and he’s suddenly terrified he pushed too far, too fast, that Anakin hadn’t enjoyed the kiss, that he remembered he was too annoying to keep around, that--

“If you don’t go now, you’ll be spending the night in my bed, and I think we need to talk first,” his professor finishes gently, reaching out to rub his thumb over Obi-Wan’s lip.

Obi-Wan licks it immediately, and when no protest is made, brings it further into his mouth.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin sounds extremely pained.

Slowly, he drops his thumb from between his lips. There’s hardly a foot of space between them. It’s too far. It’s too close.

Anakin’s right. They do need to talk. And it shouldn’t happen tonight.

“Can I borrow a sweatshirt for the bike ride back?” he asks quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only it’s cold outside and--”

And you smell really nice, he finishes in his head. Out loud, he says, “And I think I’d look good wearing something of yours, don’t you think, Professor?”

Anakin’s eyes narrow and his hands clench tightly into fists at his side. “I didn’t have you pegged as a brat.”

“You haven’t had me pegged at all yet,” Obi-Wan points out with a grin. As if magnetized, Anakin’s thumb comes up and digs into one of his dimples.

“I’ve wanted to lick these since the first time I saw you smile,” his professor whispers like they’re in a confessional.

It’s incredibly easy to reach out and trace one of the lines of Anakin’s octopus tattoo down his arm in return. “I’ve wanted to do the same with your tattoos for months now,” he admits. “Will you let me? After we talk? Will you let me put my mouth on you?”

His fingers dance across the front of Anakin’s sweats, before veering back up to more friendly territory.

Anakin’s eyes are dark with promise when he nods in response. “I’ll do more than let you, baby,” he growls. “I’ll put your mouth on me myself.”

Obi-Wan shivers.

No, he probably doesn’t need to buy Anakin coffee tomorrow before class.

But he probably will anyway. Just because the way Anakin’s looking at him makes him think the other man isn’t going to get much sleep tonight either, and it’s the least he can do.

#asks #ta au #obikin #i feel like obi-wan constantly getting and losing his confidence is really sexy of him actually #i mean jk i just wanted to write a lil minx obi-wan lol #enjoy <3

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sapphireginger · 1 year

Text

Title: Drowning Out Sound - Chapter #5

Pairings: None [Gen]

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Word Count: 4,273

Warnings: Descriptions of Past Child Abuse (Recounted by the Child) PTSD Flashback Dissociative Episode Panic Attack Past Trauma

Square Filled: Anxiety Attack

Written For: @anyfandomangstbingo

Full Fic AO3 Link

Summary:

> Do you want to go to school like Jackson and Malia?

The boy tilts his head and chews his lip. His fingers card through Zuri’s fur and he shakes his head.

> No thank you. There’s so many kids and I’m afraid. I’m sorry, Daddy.

Peter gestures for Stiles to come to him and when the boy does, Peter scoops him up and settles him in his lap.

> Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Talia said she would help homeschool you until you are ready for public school.

Stiles contemplates this for a moment and then looks at Peter with nervousness.

> What if I never want to go to public school?

> Then we will homeschool you.

> Really?

Peter nods and Stiles hugs him tightly. “Tha’k y’u.”

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

A hand waves gently to get his attention. He blinks, having gotten deep into the book he was reading.

> Sorry, Aunt Talia.

He signs quickly as he sets his book down and faces his aunt.

She smiles.

> It’s okay. How is your work going? Do you need any help?

Stiles shakes his head with a smile.

> No thank you. I am just reading now. I did my math and writing. So, I am going to try and do my reading. Is that okay?

Talia nods and ruffles his hair gently.

> Good boy. Enjoy your book.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

> Thank you, Stiles. These are just what I need.

Stiles grins.

> I know. I pay attention. You’re welcome.

Then he lays his head on her shoulder and watches the movie they have on. Gone with the Wind is Talia’s favorite movie, and the twins got her the anniversary edition for her birthday.

👂🏻•💙•👂🏻

The next day they go over to Grandma Bridget’s house to celebrate her birthday. There are hugs and kisses all around and after lunch, cake and ice cream they head into the living room for presents.

Stiles shyly hands her his gift that he wrapped himself.

> Thank you, my moonbeam.

> Do you like it grandma?

Bridget wipes her tears and nods.

> I love it, moonbeam. Come here.

Stiles walks over and melts into the hug she gives him and giggles at the kiss she places on his forehead.

👂🏻•💙•👂🏻

In March they celebrate Peter and Marie’s birthdays that are only a week apart.

Stiles had asked Talia to take him to get their gifts and she took all three kids to the mall. Zuri stays close to Stiles’s side, having already been officially serving for nearly a year.

> Can we go to the bookstore please?

Talia nods and walks that way, making sure the twins are in her line of sight.

All in all, it only takes a couple hours before they have everything bought and are on their way home.

Peter’s face when he opens the gift from Stiles is priceless.

Stiles smiles shyly.

> You said you love to write, and I thought that you should write more but of course you need something special to put all your words in.

Marie gets some new thread for her sewing machine and some seeds for her flower garden. She asks Stiles to help her plant them when it’s the perfect weather for it and he eagerly agrees.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Then comes April, Stiles’s birthday and in the morning when he wakes up, everything is great. They’re having a small party with family and a couple kids that Stiles met through homeschooling.

Stiles helps with setting the table for lunch and greets his friends when they come. Only one of them gets to stay for cake but they make sure to send some treats home with the one who has to leave.

Peter turns the lights down a bit as Marie gets the video camera out. Stiles blushes and waits patiently as Talia lights the candles on his cake. He counts each candle as it’s lit.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

> Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Stiles.

Stiles hiccups a sob so softly it’s barely audible.

> Happy birthday to you.

Everyone is smiling at him, and he wants to smile back but he can’t. So, when they tell him to blow out the candles, he closes his eyes and makes a wish.

‘I wish I wasn’t broken.’

Then he blows out the candles.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Stiles has no idea how long he is under the bed for but when he wakes up he’s on mommy and daddy’s bed and it’s nighttime. Stiles’s brain is mushy, and he wants to hide. So, he does.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

It’s nearly midnight when Stiles finally rouses and Peter stills as the boy blinks at him.

> Daddy?

After a few minutes Stiles pulls back and looks at Peter.

> I’m sorry.

> For what sweetheart?

Stiles looks down for a moment and reaches for Zuri who nuzzles her nose against his tummy. She knows that is where it hurts after he has a panic attack.

> Running and hiding. I got scared and really sad.

Peter nods and gives a small smile of reassurance.

> That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You are not in trouble.

> I’m not?

Peter shakes his head.

> No, but can you tell me what made you upset? Maybe I can help.

Stiles starts rubbing at his ear as tears start to fall again. He raises small shaking hands to reply.

> You are my daddy. Marie is my mommy.

His hand forms a fist, and he drags the back of his thumb from his bottom lip down to just below his chin for the word patience and then signs the letter M.

> You are my parents, but I thought about no more mommy and no more daddy. I am glad but it just hit me really hard right here.

He taps his heart and sniffles.

Understanding washes over Peter and his heart aches for the boy. He uses his thumbs to dry Stiles’s tears and makes sure the boy is looking at him.

Stiles shakes his head in frustration.

> I don't want to miss them. Why do I miss them?

Peter takes Stiles’s hand in his and ducks his head to meet the boy’s gaze again.

> Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

> I love you too sweetheart. Shall I sing?

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

When it’s time to go to second grade, Stiles asks his parents and his Aunt Talia if he can try public school.

> I want to try and be around other kids. Malia says I would love recess and Jackson says I would love gym class cause they play soccer and dodgeball. I also want to make some more friends.

Peter is hesitant but with a firm and encouraging nod from Talia, they sign Stiles up to start school at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School where the twins go.

Much to Peter’s relief, Stiles does really well and all of his teachers and even classmates are extremely considerate. Peter can only hope that continues as the years go by.

One day, Stiles comes home and gets off the bus with a huge grin on his face. Peter chuckles at the way the boy is bouncing with excitement.

> What has made you so giggly and excited?

Stiles blushes lightly and kicks his shoes off by the door.

> I made a new friend.

> Oh? What’s your new friend’s name?

> Name. C-A-L-L-I-O-P-E. Calliope but she says I can call her C-A-L-L-I-E. Callie.

His smile is shy and pleased, and Peter gets all warm and fuzzy at the news.

> You’ll have to invite her over to play this summer then.

Stiles runs over and looks up at Peter with wide eyes.

> Really? She can come play?

> If her mommy and daddy say she can then I don’t see why not.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Three Years Ago:

Stiles frowns slightly in confusion but since she just smiles, he goes back to playing.

Daddy used to always give him his baths but with daddy working more, mommy had to help.

As he’s playing with one of his boats, mommy puts her hand on his head and ruffles his hair. He giggles softly and blows bubbles at her with a grin.

Stiles doesn’t know what happens to make mommy angry but suddenly, mommy does something bad.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Present Day:

So, when Stiles comes to and finds himself nowhere near where he was when he blacked out, he knows he dissociated.

Peter has him bundled up in a towel and cradled in between his siblings in the backseat of the car. Stiles’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

> Callie?

He signs the word beautiful with a C. It’s her sign name that she got from him.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns his head to see her in the backseat. He starts crying, having been afraid he would lose his friend.

> I’m here Stiles. I am here. You’re my best friend and I’m not going anywhere.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

Callie stays for lunch and then heads home but promises to see Stiles again real soon. They hug each other tightly before she gets into her dad’s car and goes home.

Zuri is right by his side, a solid weight he needs to stay grounded.

“Da’dy?” he says startling Peter who looks over.

> Hey. What do you have there?

Stiles walks over slowly and hands his daddy the cookie.

> Oatmeal. Mommy says you like oatmeal raisin, but we didn’t have raisins.

> That’s okay. I bet the cookie tastes delicious.

Peter takes a bite and softly sighs.

> Do you like it, Daddy?

Stiles watches with hopeful eyes and Peter nods.

> Yes. I love it.

The man chuckles as Stiles does a fist pump and then quirks a brow when Stiles gestures to the couch.

> Are you busy?

Peter tilts his head.

> Not too busy for you. What’s up?

Stiles chews his lip and signs.

> I need to talk to you. Is that okay?

> Of course. Do you want to sit over there?

> What do you need to tell me, dearheart?

> It’s bad, Daddy, but I want to tell you. I need to tell you. I’m just scared is all.

Peter frowns slightly and nods.

> Okay. You can tell me anything. I’m always here when you need me.

Stiles sniffles and nods.

> I know. That’s why I want to tell you. I trust you, Daddy.

Peter’s heart swells with love and affection as that small seed of doubt is decimated.

> Whenever you’re ready.

> You know that old mommy went to a jail for people with hurt brains, but you don’t know what she did to me. I want to tell you. Okay?

Peter swallows thickly. As much as he has wanted and even felt the need to know, he’s certain he won’t like what he learns. Still, he nods.

Stiles nods back and continues.

He pauses and shudders, gripping Zuri’s fur tighter, eliciting a rumble in her chest to ground him so he can keep going.

> Take your time.

Peter signs quickly, wanting to make sure Stiles doesn’t push himself if he’s not truly ready.

Stiles nods and flexes his fingers before continuing with a determined expression on his face.

Amber eyes fix seriously on Peter.

> Please don’t be mad, okay?

Peter stills and his heart begins to race, but he nods.

> If I am mad, it won’t be at you. I promise.

> Okay.

With another round of his breathing exercises, Stiles forges ahead.

He presses his hand flat against his chest and then his stomach.

Peter waves his hand slightly to get the boy’s attention.

> Did John know?

Stiles shakes his head and glares, though Peter knows it is not directed at him.

> No. Daddy didn't protect me. He didn’t notice. She did that for a long time and the last time I felt a pain in my head. Right here.

He rubs at his ears and then presses his palms against his temples with a sigh and a shudder.

Stiles seems to understand and slowly crawls into Peter’s lap as Peter stretches his legs out on the couch. Zuri keeps her body on Stiles to weigh him down and keep him grounded.

After taking a few minutes to collect his thoughts, Peter makes sure amber eyes meet his blue ones.

Stiles looks away with pink cheeks.

> Why are you proud?

Peter coaxes the boy to look at him.

“I l’ve y’u Da’dy.”

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

Text

A chatty writing update | novels, short fiction, etc!

Hi folks!

It’s been a while since I last wrote an update on this blog! I thought it’d be fun to go back to basics, and just talk about writing. This post chats about: new plans for Feeding Habits, my newest novel, my short story goals & growing collection, along with process reflections.

(image description: a photo of green leaves with the text “writing update” in a white font written on top. /end image description)

Post starts under the cut!

General taglist (please ask to be added or removed)

@if-one-of-us-falls, @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @shylawrites, @ev–writes, @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories @eowynandfaramir, @august-iswriting, @aetherwrites, @avakrahn, @maisulli

What have I been up to?

For starters, I finished my second year of my Writing undergrad last week and got two of my final grades back today (A+ baby)! For anyone who has taken online university, y’all already KNOW, but this year was so difficult. Would not recommend! Really proud of myself to have gotten through this absolute rollercoaster of a school term and am excited to get into some writing. That leads us to:

What have I been up to (writing edition)?

2021 started off so fast. By the time January hit, I was so consumed in my new semester that I did not have time to write Feeding Habits (my novel). In the first few days of the term, I managed to write between class, until I could no longer keep up! Essentially, I did not write any of that novel until exam season (last week), where I did manage to get in about 3k words in ~4 days.

Feeding Habits

I’m currently drafting what I believe will be the last chapter of this book (chapter 10: Swan Song). This chapter is so bizarre for a few reasons. It begins the book’s third part and also marks the shift back into Lonan’s head from Harrison’s. I originally thought this part would be much, much longer, with at least another five chapters to go, but quickly realized the book’s content was nearly completed. In my 4 day 3k palooza, I hit 50k in the book (the word count goal), and couldn’t see myself extending past 60k. Since then, I’ve made the loose decision to write this final chapter as a ~novella. Here are a few reasons why:

1. This chapter is structurally very strange.

I unashamedly shift from present to past to present to past past, and so much more every 12 words. I mapped out the timeline on a sheet of paper, and there were over 20 shifts in scenes (the chapter is only about 4400 words at the moment). The fictive past is incredibly important to this chapter, more important than the present, and I thought it would make more sense to not break randomly for a chapter so I could upkeep the consistent inconsistency of the chapter.

2. The chapter is very abstract

This stems from the structural changes, but there are paragraphs in this chapter of the fictive present that are loosely based in reality. They’re more poems than they are factual paragraphs, and keeping them all contained in one place (so a mega chapter/ novella) would reduce the most confusion!

3. There’s not much left to cover

Like I said above, Feeding Habits is on its last leg, lol! I know exactly where the book needs to end up, which is very, very soon from where I’m currently at on the timeline. Swan Song should cover what 2-4 chapters would cover in terms of arcs.

Feeding Habits and I have a really weird relationship, tbh! When I realized a few weeks ago that it’d been over a year since I started the book, I realized I just needed to finish it. Not that I want to rush (because I’ve taken longer than a year to write a book in the past), but that in order to move onto another project, I’d like to put this one behind first. This book has been the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and has reminded me there’s always a time to let go. This sort of scrounges up a conversation about letting this entire series go, which is certainly something I’ve been contemplating doing soon(ish). If this spinoff series gets a third book, that may or may not be the last Fostered book for a very long time (or ever)! There are many complex reasons to move on, but the main one is that I have other projects I’d like to focus on. This is not a definitive decision, but something I’ve certainly been thinking about!

Here are a few excerpts I wrote recently:

(TW: death, gore)

Dying feels like being a trout dangled out of water. Clinging to a hook. Mouth open. Scales iridescent in a final death cry. It’s like blood spurting up the knuckles, drowning out the flesh. It’s that moment on the long fall down when the clouds cup the body. Easy drifting. The sound a skull makes when it cracks is really just the afterthought.

(TW: death, gore)

Kill shot. Death blow. Coup de grace. Right in the heart. He feels it. The blood swelling, slicking his palms. He can do it. Reach into the cavity. Feel for the ribs. Part each bone. Then cup the humming heart. Stay there. Right. It’s never been easier.

Look at this PURE moment of Lonan holding a baby I CANNOT:

The grocery store was a fifteen-minute walk away. With Olivia clinging to his shoulder, Lonan was acutely aware that she could feel his heartbeat. Open valve. Close. Repeat. Hers pulsed right above his, a miniature drumming. The sky had bruised purple, misted with clouds. The evening air nipped his cheeks, so he made sure Olivia was securely fastened between him and his jacket. With wide eyes, she absorbed the drowsy suburbia, all its family cars pulling into driveways, all its couples heading back home after a sunset walk. When Lonan passed a young boy walking two golden retrievers, Olivia giggled, and didn’t stop, even after he’d spent fifty dollars on groceries and nearly the rest on a red Corolla marked with a MUST GO NOW sign outside a convenience store.

Let’s move on!

Mandy and Cora

I said I wouldn’t talk too much about this project, but I just love it so much?? I wanted to share my SUPER early thoughts on drafting a novel, especially one that is SO different from what I’ve been writing recently. I talked about this before in THIS post, but the summary about this project is that it’s a YA contemporary novel! Can’t believe I’m writing YA again, it’s been so long, but I also think it’s going so well. Everything I’ve learned as a literary fiction writer has been a fantastic primer for transferring back to the genre. Admittedly, I have not written much, but I’m having a lot of fun diving back into a lighter project. This is the summary:

Cora and Mandy are identical twins who’ve always done everything together. But when Mandy decides to go to university out of province after graduation and Cora doesn’t, Cora takes this as an opportunity to “test run” life apart from her sister for the first time by spending the summer at her aunt’s house across the country.

I have come up with a few ~things since I last talked about this project, mostly how I’d like to structure it. As of now, I’d like the book to be structured super loosely. I’m really pulling on a lot of inspo from “We Are Okay” by Nina LaCour (which is SO good), particularly how “nothing happens-y” that book is. This project (which I still need a title for!!) will be structured in short chapters that cover something Cora does on her own for the first time (without Mandy). For example, a few ideas are “Flight”, “Lunch”, and “Groceries”. “Flight” is the first “chapter” (they’re really kind of vignettes) where Cora flies to her aunt’s house. I still can’t determine if this book will take place in Canada. On one hand, I feel like there will be a wider audience if it takes place in the US (is that just an assumption??? maybe?? someone let me know!), but also: don’t really care too much about an audience at the moment! It could also take place in Canada (So Ontario and British Columbia). But if it does take place in the US, I think it may take place in NYC and San Francisco. The problem is: I really don’t like researching lol, and while I’ve been to NYC many times, I will definitely write it wrong! Does this really matter on a first draft?? absolutely not lol, but of course I am already overthinking!

But back to structure: I am looking forward to seeing what this looser structure will do. This is a story that is solely around one half of a set of twins learning to be her own person (and ultimately that she doesn’t have to completely forget her sister in order to do that), and as a twin who KNOWS this feeling, I think this structure of her doing things for the first time is SUPER relatable.

I was worried it might sound silly/worrying to others who are not twins that Cora hadn’t done things like “lunch” or “groceries” on her own, but I feel this so much as an identical twin myself! Not that she hasn’t done anything at all by herself, but as a twin, when you do something without your twin for the first few times, at least in my experience, you notice. If any twins are reading this--weigh in!

This story is the most personal thing I’ve ever written. It definitely is an OwnVoices book! Usually, I avoid details that are remotely similar to me because they make me uncomfortable haha, but with this book, it’s all me, lol! The characters are all Guyanese, which is SO fun because I’ve been planning what they eat (my fellow Caribbean peeps know: the FOOD!), which is so fun (yes they have pumpkin and shrimp, yes they have roti, yes they have pera, yes they have mithai). Every time I’ve gone to dabble at this book, or even think about it, I get incredibly emotional for this reason? I don’t exactly know why. I think this is a story I just so want to tell, with the culture I love SO much that I definitely struggled to love as a child. This is reclamation bitchessss!

Not going to lie tho: the prospect of writing ~a book~ is kind of freaky! I’m going to make the minimum word count for this book pretty short (50k) and see where it goes from there. I think I will focus on this project this summer! Originally I was going to write a literary novel this summer, but I think this one’s calling my name!

Here’s a pretty rough excerpt:

Try. I remind myself that’s what I’m doing after the flight attendant fills me a disposable cup of Coca Cola and all I can think of is Mandy and I shoving Mentos into a bottle of the stuff when we were twelve. Just me, wedged in the middle seat between an exchange student heading out for summer break and a middle-aged woman sipping a cocktail, thinking of Mandy and I bursting whole oranges in a blender when we were bored one Winter break as the plane dips through a wave of turbulence. Mandy and I dying our hair neon green with highlighters (didn’t work—our hair is too dark) as the plane lands on the tarmac. Mandy and I arguing so loud last month, we both lost our voices as I lug my carry-on out of the overhead compartment and shuffle off the plane and through the airport, searching for Aunt Vel.

Short Fiction

I’ve written so much short fiction this year! I have a goal to write a short story a month (they can range in length, as long as 1 is “complete”), so my short story brain has seriously been soaking it all up lately. Let’s chat my month to month breakdown so far:

January:

I wrote four stories in January! The first is a flash fiction piece called “Shark Swimming” that follows a young woman who attends a shark swimming class after breaking up with her girlfriend. I wrote this story for a “test” workshop for my fiction class, and it was based off the prompt “think about something you’re afraid to do and make the character do that thing”. I’m not particularly afraid of sharks, but had been wanting to use the title “Shark Swimming” for AGES (literally since 2018).

This story is one of my favourites. It’s only about 900 words, but I think there’s something profound in how mundanely specific it is. The entire story doesn’t even see the narrator swim with sharks once; it actually takes place fully in the sanctuary’s lobby. But I really love this narrator. This is the first story I’ve written in second person in a while, though I felt really connected to the unnamed narrator. She struggles with accepting that she truly is a “boring” person, and there’s something about the final image that really gets me!

I’ve been submitting this around, though it’s been rejected a handful of times. Hoping I can secure it at a magazine one day because I really love it!

The second story is “Joanne, I’ll Pray for You” which is actually a rewrite of one of my very first short stories (the first story I did not write for a class haha), “NYC in Your Apartment”. I LOVE this rewrite a lot, and also learned the original is not a very good short story! Revising this story taught me just how much I’ve learned in the 2 years I’ve been writing short fiction. Seeing the 2019 version versus the 2021 version side by side is fascinating because I essentially “gutted’ the 2019 version of its beginning and end until all that was left was the middle of the story (aka the actual story). AKA: this is the only story I’ve ever written with a hopeful ending and I cut out all the happy bits lol I am SO sorry (that arc is more for a novel or novella). That’s how this went from a 5k word story to an 1800 word story (my Submittable thanks me for this lol). A lot of details and scenes I included were more pertinent to a 3 act structure/novel, which of course short stories don’t often have because of their brevity. I love rambling about writing theory, and seeing that actually pay off is so fascinating!

(TW: trauma)

Like the original, this story follows Joanne, a woman in her early twenties, who spontaneously breaks up with her boyfriend. She claims the poltergeist haunting her drove her to this decision. The original draft focused a lot more on the traumatic events Joanne survives, but this draft really loosens them up. It focuses less so on the events themselves, and more on how Joanne’s life is affected. I found the details of these events were less important, and even sort of contradicted Joanne’s insistence she is being haunted. Instead, the poltergeist really takes more precedence in the new draft as a force Joanne doesn’t understand. That ambiguity, I think, is what the story truly needed.

I also centralized Joanne’s relationship with her boyfriend, Julian, here. Now don’t get me wrong, I really didn’t add anything to this draft. It was a matter of trimming the fat around it to leave the lean “meat” in the centre. But by removing that fat, I was able to emphasize what was most important here, and that was her relationship. Julian always played a really big role in the original draft, but I feel like his role as both a friend and partner to Joanne is much more emphasized since this draft literally is only two scenes now. Because there is less, there is more room for Joanne to reflect, which I’m happy about!

A final change I made was the setting and therefore the title. The original, which was “NYC in Your Apartment,” I couldn’t keep because I shifted the setting to Toronto (this is how I originally saw it, but in 2019 I just?? couldn’t?? write?? canlit??), and “Toronto in Your Apartment” sounded sort of gross LOL. The new title comes from a line in the story which I think is more relevant to the themes!

The next short story I wrote in January was “How to Spell Alpaca.” This one is super fun because I wrote it SO fast (in about 15 minutes or so). THIS is the writing update if you’re interested in learning more. I talked extensively about this one in that update, but some developments are that I dove into an edit a few weeks ago to really understand the core of the story. I’m still not quite there (this is just an intuitive feeling; I know not everything has “clicked), but I am really intrigued by the two mothers in the story, the narrator, and her newfound acquaintance, Violet. Both really struggle to understand their place as mothers (the narrator even declares she isn’t a mother anymore). The narrator, who is in her 50s, sees herself in Violet, who is much younger (~20s), and so she views Violet’s relationship with her daughter in a cautionary, yet mournful way, like she can see it will end up like her own relationship with her daughter, despite wanting the opposite. This is a really subtle story. I feel like if you blink, you’ll miss the message. But I think it’s compelling for that reason. It’s really a portrait of parenting and how to grapple with mistakes you may make that inevitably affect your children. Wow just unlocked the theme writing this lol.

The final story I wrote in January is “The Party,” which may be in my top 3 faves I’ve ever written. This story follows Aida, a recent divorcee in her ~40s. The day her divorce turns official, she moves into a new house and receives a party invitation addressed to the previous homeowner, yet RSVP’s anyway. At this party, she’s hoping to find some sense of noticeability, having struggled with being nondescript her whole life. Things seem quite normal at the party, until it gets bizarre.

I LOVE this story, y’all. Like “How to Spell Alpaca” it really delves into motherhood. Aida, our narrator, is incredibly hurt after her divorce. She now lives farther from her children she struggled to feel connected to in the first place, and doesn’t really know how to reignite her life. This party is a means to do that. This is the first story I’ve written that contains a “twist” which is strange because I really prefer stories that give us as much info as possible upfront, but yes, this one sort of twists.

February

I wrote one story in February, and that was “Protect the Young.” This title is SO changing when I think of a new one because it’s thematically incorrect, haha, but this story follows a woman in her late 40s whose daughter, Lindy, announces she is married the same day all their backyard chickens turn up dead. The discovery of dead chickens prompts our narrator to recall her ex-husband’s murder and the role her daughter may have played in his death.

I love this story so much! I think this would make a great closing for my short story collection. It just has that vibe! I wrote this for my second fiction workshop. I thought I had to hand in the story a week earlier than I had to, so I panicked and wrote this in one sitting! Little did I know, I did not need to do that lol but I’m very happy because this story is so fun. We get to learn more about Arnold (her ex), his relationship with Lindy, and how that translates to Lindy’s relationship with her new husband, Malcolm. I LOVE true crime (I listen to about 3-4 hours of case coverage daily), and this is my first “true crime” story. Because of that, I’m very sus of a few details that probably wouldn’t slide in actual investigatory work, so I’ll also be working on that in a revision. My professor also gave me a great suggestion that may alter the story’s structure a bit, though I look forward to toggling with it in the future.

March

In March, I was really on a Criminal Minds kick lol. I’ve been watching this show since I was seven (oops), and dove into a rewatch since it hit Disney+! This story, “Where to Run When the Lamb Roars,” is very clearly Rachel watching 5 episodes of CM a day. Oops! We follow 14-year-old Astrid as she and her older half brother kidnap a young girl to sacrifice for their yearly ritual.

I knew a few things going into this story, but the main thing was that I did NOT want to show any details of a potential murder (if one even occurs). I really wanted to keep all of those elements off the page because this story is not about those events, but about Astrid’s relationship with her brother. They are a murderous duo, with Astrid actually being the dominant partner. I wanted to explore that. I knew her brother, Fox, was more of a submissive partner in their team, even when he used to do this same thing with his father when he was much younger (chilling!), and so it was a task to explore how this young girl’s desire for violence works. The end actually comes right before the story starts, one could say, but I like it for this reason. It really made me contemplate the story by the time I finished it, and helped me examine what it really was about versus what it appeared to be about.

April

(TW: sexual content, non explicit)

I was so busy this month! Who knows if I’ll write a story last minute, but I did write one story this month called “Five Times Fast.” I wrote this during a “writing sprint” that was being hosted at a flash fiction workshop I recently took with one of my favourite writers ever, K-Ming Chang. I learned so much from this class, and am so happy I came out of it with a draft! This story is just over 300 words, so the shortest flash I’ve ever written, but I’m really happy with it. It was based off the prompt “describe the last time you or your character was naked.” In this case, the narrator has a “friends with benefits” relationship with Ricky who works at a laundromat. This story highlights a moment in this relationship (and also Ricky’s goofy personality lol). I really like it! Hopefully I’ll submit it to some magazines soon.

My short story collection

Very briefly I wanted to touch on my short story collection which I’ve titled “She is Also Dead.” I’ve been meaning to make a blog post on this, so look out for that in the coming months, but this collection is already at around 35k words (about 14 stories so far). The collection also surprisingly has a solid amount of flash fiction which is kind of fun! There’s definitely a range here, which is what I personally love in short story collections.

I feel very professional now that I have a ~collection chart. This is her:

(image description: A chart with the title “She is Also Dead.” It is broken into four columns: Story, Status, Word Count, and Published. Entry 1 - Story: Slaughter the Animal. Status: Revisions, Word Count, 3982, Published: N/A. Entry 2 - Story: Joanne, I’ll Pray for You, Status: Polished, Word Count: 1809, Published: N/A. Entry 3 - Story: Primary Organs, Status: Published, Word Count: 2342, Published: The Malahat Review. Entry 4 - Story: Faberge, Status, Polished, Word Count: 619, Published: N/A. Entry 5 - Story: The Wolf-Antelope Will Not Come for Us, Status, Polished, Word Count: 1556, Published: filling Station (forthcoming). Entry 6 - Story: How to Spell Alpaca, Status: revisions, Word Count: 1327, Published: N/A. Entry 7 - Story: Blink Twice for Final Judgement, Status: Polished, Word Count: 6572, Published: N/A. Entry 8 - Story: The Species is Dead, Status: Published, Word Count: 1208, Published: Minola Review. Entry 9 - Story: Shark Swimming, Status: Polished, Word Count: 907, Published: N/A. Entry 10 - Story: The Party, Status, Polished, Word Count 2339, Published: N/A. Entry 11 - Story: Fig, Status: Polished, Word Counter: 947, Published: N/A. Entry 12 - Story: Protect the Young, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4128, Published: N/A. Entry 13 - Story: Where to Run When the Lamb Roars, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 2174, Published: N/A. Entry 14 - Story: Phantom Limbs, Status: Revisions, Word Count: 4844, Published: N/A.) /end image description.

This order is DEFINITELY not permanent (at this point whenever I write a story, I just fit it randomly into this chart lol), and some of the info is outdated (for example, Slaughter the Animal is now polished!!! thank god!!!). But just an idea of what I’m thinking of including.

This is the summary so far:

In SHE IS ALSO DEAD, characters are pushed to act on their gravest impulses. A small town turns murderous when their local invasive species, the Janices, begin dying. A child struggles to understand her mother’s suicide. A college dropout who insists she’s being haunted by a poltergeist unexpectedly breaks up with her boyfriend. A mother acknowledges her daughter’s murderous tendencies after her backyard chickens mysteriously die. A young girl caters the funeral of a girl rumored to be killed by a wolf-antelope. A newly-divorced mother RSVP’s to a bizarre party she was not invited to, and a murderous brother and sister upkeep their yearly tradition of abducting a young girl. These stories follow characters who navigate death, violent desires, womanhood, and loss, both self-imposed and otherwise.

This is also so subject to change as I may pull and add stories to the collection!

I think I’m going to leave this update here for now! I’ve written TONS of poetry too, but I honestly ~hate my poetry right now lol, so! Hope you enjoyed this chill rambly update. Hope writing has going well for you all! All the best!

--Rachel

#writing #writeblr #writerblr #amwriting #writingupdates

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