I’ve been having pain in my shoulder for close to two months, and found out today it’s because I’ve partially dislocated my rib somehow. Until everything relaxes enough for the rib to slip back into place, I’m going to be really slow posting potentially. I’m still here if anyone needs anything, but posts may stop showing up for a small bit.
can you imagine being such a hateful person that you parade with hating fictional characters/ships and send hate messages to people about them on anon (bc you’re a coward), telling them they’re disgusting or even worse - to kill themselves.
A while back @benaya-trash drew this wonderful art for my long!fic: To Build a Home (Of Sorts). I absolutely love it so thank you so much!!!
“You’re back,” he said in more of a question.
“Yeah, I am,” Stiles answered.
“For how long?”
That is when the silence kicked in for real, and Stiles went rigid and nervous, “uh…well, Derek, that depends on you.”
“I’m not doing the map anymore, I sorta ripped it up. Self-righteous I know,” Stiles babbled, “and, I kind of ran out on you and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I never let you explain the whole Skype thing. Then again, I can totally understand if I overstepped, I was only half kidding about Christmas. Anyways…um I just, you have this big house all to yourself and I don’t really feel like going back to Beacon Hills for a while and I just thought….I just figured if–ya know if it was cool with you maybe I could stay?”
Derek opened his mouth, a response half baked in his throat, but Stiles kept on going.
“Of course I’d help and stuff, this time I promise not to nail my shirt to anything. I mean I assume you’re going to be putting furniture in soon. If it’s from Ikea I can totally help with that, I am the master of those things, Scott assembled his desk the wrong way after two hours but I fixed it in about thirty minutes. Like I said, master of Ikea stuff. Also despite what you may have seen at my dad’s house I promise not to leave a huge mess. Okay…maybe my habit of leaving towels on the floor will take a while to kick, but I’ll try and remember not to do that and–”
“Stiles,” Derek interjected, setting the glass down with a loud thunk, “I leave towels on the floor too.”
That was the last thing Stiles expected him to say. His jaw fell to the ground in shock, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Stiles let out a small laugh and Derek let himself get lost in it. The laugh went on for a few more seconds before dissipating, the joy replaced with a newfound seriousness.
“Wait–was that a yes?”
Derek looked up from his hands, the easy answer heavy on his tongue.
Stiles let out a long sounding sigh, his shoulders falling and face relaxing from its pinched state. The house would no longer be silent for days on end, Cora would no longer be the only person he talked to, the house would no longer just be a house.
Suddenly, with Stiles here, it had the potential to be a home.