lightreyofthestars replied to your post: Okay but Ezekiel Jones is aggressively Australian...
not sure if headcanon or canon but he definitely 100% loves and participates in the national passtime of Messing With Foreigners. He comes up with detailed stories about the dangers of drop bears and tells everyone about the kangeroo he used to ride to school.
YESSSS
And he does it without any of that smug grinning or too serious tone that just makes everyone doubt whether he’s fucking with them or telling them the actual truth.
lightreyofthestars replied to your post: Me on my blog: occasionally reblogs Teen Wolf, not...
i will talk to you more! I miss you! tbh I don’t talk about teen wolf on my blog any more because i WANT to avoid conversing about it lmaooo but i loved your skittles headcanons from the other day a++
I had to get my phone replaced and I haven’t re-downloaded whatsapp yet rip ... I miss you both ... I was just remembering how much fun it was to drive those empty miles with you guys.
Sciles prompt as requested: I'm a sucker for pining so pls tell me about some of the times they almost kissed but didn't
They’re thirteen, and Scott’s sure his crush on Stiles is unrequited, but sometimes Stiles looks at him like he’s the last slice of pie, the ticking of the minute hand a second before home time, or his favorite destination, and Scott wonders: maybe?
So he asks Stiles over for the night, with mostly innocent intentions. More because he wants to spend time with him. Not because he has designs. (But. He has designs. He just doesn’t have the words to articulate them yet.)
Stiles arrives, a flurry of too-long limbs, and they eat their respective body weights in junk food while watching Tim Burton’s Batman. Scott’s half-watching, anyway. He’s more intent on listening to Stiles’ running commentary and gazing at his long, elegant fingers swirling shapes in the air.
It’s late enough that it’s actually early morning, and Stiles is getting sleepy, and Scott’s been building his courage for minutes now. He’s leaning in, has wet his lips, is about to land a kiss because he doesn’t know how to say what he wants.
And Stiles blinks at him, says, “did you see Lydia today? I swear she smiled at me, bro,” while Scott’s heart shrivels up and settles in his stomach.
*
They’re fourteen, and Stiles has started to notice that Scott looks good all the time. When he’s falling asleep, when he’s wide awake, when he’s talking to Stiles about something he loves, when he’s talking about something he hates, when he’s smiling, even when he’s crying. He’s beautiful.
Stiles has an uncomfortable minute immediately after he thinks that, then he shrugs and goes about his day. It makes sense. Scott’s the best person he knows apart from his dad. He’s got a perfect face. Of course Stiles would find him attractive.
He isn’t going to do anything about it.
Or so he thinks.
Because, okay, maybe Stiles has always had this plan for his life. It hasn’t previously included being in love with his best friend. But he’s flexible, open to changes.
“You wanna practice kissing?” he asks Scott one day, because he’s been focused on his lips for a full half-hour and he wants to know what they feel like against his own.
“Haha,” Scott replies, “I know you’re bored, but I’m a paper away from an A in this class, so you’ll have to use your jokes on someone else.”
Jokes, right.
“I think it’s really sad you prioritize learning over me, your best friend.”
“Learning wants me for more than my body,” Scott returns, blasé. “It also wants to consume my mind and soul.”
Stiles can’t say the ‘me too’ that echoes around his brain.
*
They’re fifteen, and Stiles has been jokingly flirting with him for so long, Scott’s given up feeling heartsick over it.
Today feels different, somehow. They’re tucked up together on Scott’s couch under a fluffy blanket, watching While You Were Sleeping, sharing a glass of eggnog. Stiles bought him a lacrosse stick for Christmas – one of the more expensive ones, with Scott’s name engraved. His present to Stiles was tickets to All Time Low. Stiles kissed his cheek under the mistletoe.
Stiles has been stroking the back of Scott’s hand absentmindedly, playing with his knuckles.
“I hope we’re like this in twenty years’ time,” Scott murmurs, wondering how sweet the eggnog would be when licked directly off Stiles’ cupid’s bow.
“Yeah, dude, your kids and my kids running around each other as we sit with our wives, too full of food and buzzed because we’re drunk. It’ll be awesome.”
Scott turns back to the movie. He knew it was too good to be true.
*
They’re sixteen, and Scott wants to tear Stiles limb from limb. Wants to consume him, heart and all. Wants to kiss him until his lips are bloody and bruised.
He kisses Lydia instead.
*
They’re seventeen, and they’re in love with different people, but that doesn’t mean Stiles has stopped being in love with Scott. He doesn’t think it’s possible. Once you fall for Scott McCall, you’re always falling for him, physics be damned.
Stiles misses when they used to have downtime. When their combined greatest concerns were unsightly acne, asthma and adhd. The worst thing is that they still have those concerns.
The moon shines bright above and Scott stares at it, looking for all the world like he thinks it’s lovely. Stiles wonders how he can do that, how he can forgive something that’s caused him so much pain, can still admire its merits.
In the still and the quiet, Stiles breathes in slow and deep and imagines a world that’s been kinder to Scott. He’s not sure he’s in it.
“Are you okay?” Scott asks, suddenly, breaking the silence.
Stiles exhales. “Yeah,” he lies, despite knowing Scott will be able to see through the artifice. “You?”
He doesn’t expect the soft smile Scott graces him with, the patience in his gaze.
“For once. For now.”
Stiles feels a prickle up his spine as they continue to stare at one another, can hear his heart begin kicking like a bass drum pedal against his rib cage.
He thinks, perhaps.
There’s a howl from somewhere in the distance and he springs into action, hops off the Jeep, blowing on his hands for something to do. He hopes his anxiety and quicksilver surge of shame is explained away by the reason they’re out here, by the fact he’s clearly been distracted from their task of protecting Beacon Hills. It wouldn’t’ve been fair to anyone if he’d done what he’d been thinking about, but he still regrets not taking the chance.
It’s funny, always being on the verge of dying, you see all the choices laid out before you, yet somehow you’re still too chickenshit to risk the ones you’ve made.
*
They’re eighteen and Stiles wants to admit to his feelings, without truly knowing the reason why, as if something in his amygdala has picked up on something the rest of his brain is refusing to process.
He reaches out, tries to form the words, chokes over his too-large tongue, and Scott gentles him with, “tell me later.”
*
They’re almost nineteen, and they’ve been apart for seven months. Scott encloses his arms around Stiles like he’s never going to let go. He might not. He might choose to stay wrapped around him forever. They could learn to live with it. People learn to live with a lot of things that at first might seem like hindrances.
“I missed you, buddy.”
“I missed you so much and I didn’t even know you existed,” Scott counters, tightening his grip. “Everything felt wrong and I couldn’t reason why. It was like permanently having a song stuck in my head and never knowing the title or the lyrics.”
Stiles squirms in his hold and Scott worries for a second he’s squeezing him too tight, or that he wants out, but then there’s a hand stroking softly through his hair and Stiles muttering something sweet-sounding into his shoulder.
Scott tilts back, frowns at Stiles. “What’d you say?”
“I said the title is I Will Always Love You and the lyrics are the same,” Stiles confesses, pink-faced.
He’s endearingly embarrassed. As jokes go, it was pretty cheesy and pathetic, but Scott scans Stiles in a way he never consciously has before and he realizes: it wasn’t a joke.
It’s a startling revelation. turns everything Scott’s ever thought he’s known on its head.
“Really?” he asks, because he can feel Stiles’ heart beating in tandem with his own, but he still needs confirmation.
“Of course, Scotty,” Stiles says, gaze tender and warm.
“How would you react if I kissed you right now?”
“I’d kiss you back.”
Scott can feel himself smiling, his chest loosening, his hands sliding until they’re on Stiles’ hips. He pulls Stiles flush to his body and tilts his head up to capture his mouth in a kiss.
Before it can land, there’s a knock at the door.
Scott startles, considers moving away, but Stiles places a hand at his lower back and urges him closer.
“Leave it,” he pleads. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”
“You have? I have.”
Stiles grins, too genuine to look smug, but clearly proud. He caresses Scott’s neck, cocks his head to the side.
They kiss while still smiling. It’s a little awkward, but everything Scott has ever wanted, ever needed. They kiss, hot and wet and perfect.
OK but what if Derek came back for a visit some time and accidentally found all the drafts on Scott’s phone WHAT THEN
It’s a complete accident. Scott’s phone pinged and he asked Derek to answer it because it might be important and there it was--
a message, a long message, from Scott to Derek. It detailed how lost Scott was feeling. How anxious he was about school. Not about getting in necessarily but about leaving. Because how can he leave? He’s the alpha...this is his territory now.
And Derek isn’t one to pry but there were so many of them and all addressed to him.
It’s a good thing he’s a werewolf because Scott barrels up the stairs and into the room so soon. And Derek has to exit out of the messages.
He’s always been good at reading Scott and he was sure Scott was doing better. But now he can see the strain behind the big smile when Scott asks, “Ready for dinner?”
Derek smiles too...it’s a small, sad one. Maybe it’s time he came home for good.
If nothing else, you've reminded me to make sure I reach out to my single mom friends tomorrow and tell them how much they're appreciated. That doesn't do anything for you directly, but because of you I'll be surprising a few other people! (Honestly, being older than you by quite a bit, I'm disappointed in myself for not thinking about it myself. I don't have any kids, so it didn't even register.)
Please do reach out to them! Some of my single mom friends are celebrated by their exes or their new loves or their families, but a lot of them go completely unrecognized, and that’s pretty tough on a day that’s supposed to be about, you know, celebrating moms. It’s cool that you’re going to help make their day more special.
@lightreyofthestars replied to your post “I am a little bummed. I sent my stepmom a text earlier asking when...”
*hugs a lot*
::hugs:: thanks babe
@blackistruelove replied to your post “I am a little bummed. I sent my stepmom a text earlier asking when...”
This saddens me because you should be acknowledged on this day, especially as a single mom. I was raised by a single mom and honestly the strength it takes to raise a child on your own is ast-OUNDING. I'm sorry that your relationship with your stepmom is like that :/ i hope your day is good though tomorrow (or today?). ��
Thank you sweetheart. <3 I’m sure I’ll end up having a lovely day with Jack. This time of year is tough for me because of the loss of my Mama / my weird relationship with my SM, but ultimately it always turns out okay. Your sweet words help.
@leastlikelyto replied to your post “I am a little bummed. I sent my stepmom a text earlier asking when...”
