stiles: ✿, ☁
✿ five times my muse almost texted yours, and the one time they did.
i. ) he’s so aggravating. simon lewis is so fucking aggravating. it’s unbelievable how a few short words and she’s fuming with agitation and confusion. why couldn’t be as simple as two people liking each other and being together. ugh. angry fingers blunder over the screen of her phone. she’s writing an angry rant of sorts, exclamations, capitalization and and all. BOYFRIEND reads at the top. for a second she forgets the pretense of the relationship. he’s not actually her boyfriend. he’s under no obligation to hear her ranting. they are just friends. she erases the rant, tucks her phone into her back pocket and bites into her thumbs.
ii. ) her hands itch like an addiction’s gnawing at her skin. the world’s a little too overwhelming, spinning a little too fast. press pause. that’s all she wants. push the little button that will make the world stop from crushing the organ in her chest. she rushes out of her house, goes outside for a needed bit of fresh air. she engulfs lungfuls of pine, the grass and even the stench of gasoline is better the suffocation of her own home. her hands fumble with her phone, thumbs through her contacts until she finds stiles number. press pause. they’d let the world fade before. they could do it again. it’s her own desperation that keeps her from texting him.
iii. ) okay, so it’s totally normal to semi stalk your fake boyfriend on instagram. she didn’t mean to. it’s just that she was on her instagram feed when he popped up on her dash and wow. stiles was attractive alright but maybe she didn’t really pay as much attention to stiles attractiveness level until she started making out with him. he has a nice jawline, alright and really, really, really nice fucking hands. she never even knew hands could be attractive what the actual hell? and gawking at his pictures turned into small smiles of amusement for all the content on his instagram. her fingers twitch to text him and she’s not sure if it’s a libido reason or something else. confusion quickly consumes her and the text message is quickly forgotten.
iv. ) he’s sitting in the cafeteria, books sprawled across the table and highlighter in his mouth. she’s pretty sure she’s seen this picture before back when they were in highschool. she’s standing across the room with a latte in her hand and virginia wolfe tucked under her arm. aria brings her bottom lip in her mouth to snuff out the smile that threatens to spread. she brings out her phone, types up a silly text message. hey, sexy man. i see you. it’s a joke. a playful jab at their fake relationship. she’s about to press send until red catches her eye. lydia martin pops out of nowhere, presses her hand against his shoulder and he brightens up at the sight of her. aria stops in her tracks, something gross and unsettling filling her stomach. what’s so great about fucking red heads anyway? aria turns in the opposite direction, text erased and phone in her backpack while sipping at her latte to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth.
v. ) they’ve exchanged plenty of text messages before. it really shouldn’t be a problem to text him. aria marie montgomery is not a fucking wuss. she’s bold, she can write a few words and press a stupid send button. she fucking made out with him. she’s literally swapped saliva with this guy for fun. how hard is it text freaking stiles stilinski to hang out. except her palms are a little sweaty and there’s so many doubts inside running inside her mind like they’re on a freaking marathon. has she been so annoying lately? has she been too eager with him? a little too quick to press her lips to his. it was all just supposed to be for fun anyway. a way to pass the time and get rid of all the frustration they could.
vi. ) it’s late. it’s like almost midnight to be exact. he’s probably asleep and she should definitely be asleep. and she might be a little bit tipsy but definitely consciousness enough to be aware of everything she’s doing. she’s just tipsy enough to give herself a little bit of a confidence booster or some braveness. whatever. aria types up a quick message. or several. hey. you should come over. it’s incredibly too lonely in the house with my parents gone and watching netflix by myself isn’t too particularly appealing. she’s surprisingly flushed red.
☁ five times my muse has thought about yours, and the one time they do something about it.
i. ) it had become a habit: stiles and aria. aria and stiles. pent up frustration, a thrill, a kind of ADDICTION or coping mechanism for everything or anyone that was eating at them from the inside. stiles had become stiles had become aria’s own personal kind of high. it was supposed to be a way to pass the time, it was supposed to be just for fun. but aria’s on lunch break with clary, the two of them catching up on each others lives as best as they can in hopes of being normal. her phone buzzes, a quick glance and BOYFRIEND lights up the screen in the same breath that her face lights up. clary’s quick to catch on, quick teases and redness flushes quickly to aria’s cheeks. ‘ you’re getting in deep, aria. ’ she quickly denies it.
ii. ) REDDENED LIPS BUZZ. aria rests her head on his forehead, panting slightly from their little escapade. aria rolls over onto her side, secluding herself into a spot beside him. tiredness weighs down on her, eyes closing and finding solace within the moment after. her body’s still tingling and there’s still a part of her that craves his touch but this is good. just sitting here, is fine. it’s more than fine and she’s content — maybe even happy. this is good. it’s the first time she catches herself not thinking about just escaping reality with stiles through kisses and whatever else. she finds herself closing her eyes in contentment.
iii. ) the third time she’s blunt, watching stiles watch the one who’s crushing his heart.’ why do you like her? ’ it slips out so bluntly, cheek resting on her palm as her gaze pierced over stiles. it’s not rude or crass. ‘ you could do so much better. ’ it’s the honest truth and it’s not a jab at lydia but stiles deserves someone who will give him the time of day. stiles shouldn’t have to wait on anyone. he looks at her, curving eyebrows and what looks like nervous laughter falls from thin lips. he doesn’t voice it but there’s an unspoken question of who. an extended beat prolongs between the two of them, a twitching twinge of her lips where she wants to smile despite the knee jerking thought in her head. maybe it’s me. she doesn’t say anything.
iv. ) she’s sitting in her english literature lecture with a pen in her hand and her notebook riddled in notes. the teacher’s droning on, pretty words and poems falling in and out of her ears. her attention span is weak and before she knows it words fall onto paper. her own inner workings churn like gears grinding together. flashing memories paint words in her mind and it’s not overly romantic, not the kind of desperate love poems she’s used to reading about. it’s not a pretty poem that sits in her lap at the end of her lecture. it’s messy and truthful. it’s about a boy who makes the world pause when it’s spinning all the rest of the time. ——- she quickly tosses it in the trash because no way was she about to write poems about her relationship with stiles stilinski.
v. ) she’s stumbling in drunk, arms lazily draped over clary’s shoulders with her cherry shampoo wafting through her waves of red hair. she’s had a little too much, partied a little too hard —- all in a desperate attempt to feel like a normal eighteen year old. ‘ where’s stiles? ’ it’d be nice if he were here. he’s soft, warm. ‘ he’s funny, ’ she slurs and she finds herself curling into her bed, clary chuckling in the background while she huddles into her pillow. in the morning she finds herself repeating the same question in a sleepy state.
vi. ) they’re both laughing. aria’s stomach tightens, cheeks aching from the laughter that shakes her shoulders. a stupid and oddly passionate talk about super heroes and super villains. it’s so dorky, so average and it’s the honest truth that it feels so damn natural. not even that but not once does she compare stiles to simon, she doesn’t even think about him but let’s herself fall into the moment. she’s good, this is good. her laughter subsides but the warmth that spreads through her tummy and to her fingertips doesn’t. especially not when she brushes her hand against his shoulder in a gentle little push. her lips come together into an eased smile, gaze falling onto stiles. she could lean in and kiss him. he probably wouldn’t blink since they had kissed so many times already. she’d kissed him and it was just an accepted part of their relationship, an easy way to cope. but it’s not just about coping anymore. her hand somehow finds his, wandering down the softness of his skin and gently she traces the lines of his hand. her heart is beating a little too fast. ‘ i wanted to thank you, ’ she says. it’s random but it’s okay because it’s the truth. ‘ i —- i like being with you. i mean, i like it more than i thought i’m supposed to. ’