This has been laying around in my drafts for while, so I figured I’d post it cause I’m weak for Stiles imagines.
Warnings: such feels, lol
Putting your books in your locker and pacing your stuff, you were ready to storm out the door and head home. All you really wanted right now was to bury yourself under all of your blankets in your bed and stay there for a decade or two. You had been in love before - plenty of times, but nothing had ever felt this right. As much as it hurt seeing your crush dating someone else, you didn’t know how to fight it anymore.
You groaned at the doorbell ringing. Once again you had to force yourself out of bed. Wrapping yourself up in two blankets, you trudged down the stairs, sighing at every step you made.You opened the door and immediately got caught off guard by Stiles standing on the other side. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the boy who had unconsciously made your day worse.
The only friends you had in Beacon Hills were the pack and if you were to admit your feelings about Stiles to them, it would sooner or later come up which would only make everything worse. You knew Stiles was dating Malia, which made it difficult to walk around, pretending to be fine, seeing the boy you loved, love someone else.
“S-Stiles?” you said anxiously, “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” Stiles asked.
You quickly gave him a nod and opened the door for him, whilst wrapping your blanket tighter around you.
“What’s up?” you asked curiously.
“I just wanted to check up on you. You kind of stormed off earlied,” he explained with concern in his voice.
“Yeah- No, I’m fine. Just had a bad day, that’s all,” you lied while trying to hold back your tears.
“I’m sorry… Y/n, a-are you getting enough sleep? ‘Cause I see you walking around in school with dark sircles under your eyes… You look pale a-and- I don’t know, you don’t look too well and I’m starting to feel worried about you,” Stiles said with a concerned expression.
“Yeah, no. Just dealing with life in general.. A-actually it’s realy silly,” you sighed.
Stiles looked at you with a worried expression as he was waiting for you to continue.
“I shouldn’t tell you,” you sighed.
“It’s gonna mess up everything and I don’t wanna ruin our friendship,” you explained, tucking some hair behind your ear.
“I-it’s silly, and I’m gonna sound like the biggest cry baby o-or the biggest attention seeker of all time… Whenever I’m around you, Stiles, I get butterflies in my stomach. I’m happy, I feel safe and I enjoy being around you. B-but that’s until Malia shows up and I see you being happy with her. I’m on the other side wishing I could take her place. I’ve been there before - to be hopelessly in love with someone who doesn’t love me back, and it’s hard. And all I want to do is to be with you, but you’re already with someone else and I don’t know what to do anymore because feelings just don’t go away that easily,” you sobbed.
Stiles pulled you in to a tight, soothing hug.
“I’m in love with you, Stiles,” you cried in his arms.
“Y/n..” Stiles said, raising your chin, seeking eye contact.
“Me and Malia, we’re nothing. I mean, we were, but not anymore. I’d rather be with you. We’ll figure it out,” he smiled, pulling you in to a tight hug.
It’s happening. Nanowrimo has prepared me for this moment. It’s in my hands. I have it. The thing. The rough draft.
Time to revise the first draft of lions.
My one true goal in life is to publish a book. I’ve wanted to be a published author since I was 7 years old. It’s something I’ve been working towards for two decades. And I hope to bring it to life by 2018. Here’s to a good year of rewriting and success, not just for myself, but for everyone writing their novels!
Concept: Hux has been living on he Finalizer a very long time, and is essentially sensory deprived, finding Kylo to be rich in textures: . He wears gloves for at least 10 hours a day, every day. He has done for over a decade. Two,if he’s honest with himself. Most days, nearly everything he touches is metal, plastic, glass, smooth and unyielding. Kylo is… Soft. But not just soft. Kylo has more texture than Hux gathers he has encountered his whole life. His cape is soft and frayed at the edges. His skin is soft and smooth and almost imperceptibly damp. His hair is thick but silky. And Hux can’t get enough. It’s not possible for Hux to be touching Kylo at all hours of the day, however. So, Kylo starts to bring him things; scraps of silk, a charm made of fur, a seed with tiny barbs on its shell. Some yarn. A small lump of clay. He doesn’t know where Kylo gets these things. Kylo does not offer them in person, but Hux knows it must be him who leaves them on the table in Hux’s quarters. Kylo, who frequently ventures off-world. Kylo, whose palms are rough, and whose fingernails are ridged. Hux almost allows himself to look forward to these little things, something he can enjoy in the evening, in the way that most officers would treat themselves to a glass of wine. One such evening, it crosses his mind to leave a thank you note for Kylo. He doesn’t; there is no paper in his room. Paper, he remembers, is one of those obsolete relics from a different life. Hux says thank you in different ways; a nice dinner, a fancy hairbrush for Kylo’s unruly mane, a shy invitation to use Hux’s nice, personal shower with water that’s hot, not just lukewarm.
Honestly, how dare men in living in countries where there has been no draft for DECADES, not in their fucking lifetimes, somehow find a way to blame the draft on women? Do you think we want to watch our fathers, brothers, sons, and husbands die in battle before their time? The woman that has lived across the road from my grandmother with her husband for 10 years, she has 2 children. A man needs 3 children to be spared from the draft. You know what she did? She got pregnant again. She’s in her mid-thirties, her youngest child is 8. It’s taking a toll on her body, she can’t walk without being in pain. But she did it anyway, to save her husband.