and oh the heights those flames will r e a c h.

illbeyouryoda:

            [ a piteous whine broke through the still air,
              forcing stiles to slide further down the door.
              he had the distinct feeling the birds scattering
              from the trees nearby was because of him,
              but he had other pressing things to tend to.
              like, say, getting derek’s will to break down. ]

                    “Come onnnnnnnnn.”

            [ nails scritched along the paint of the door,
              leaving what he thought were little grooves
              that he’d probably get in trouble for later. it
              wasn’t that noticeable, anyway, it’d be fine. ]

                    “— please? Scott kicked me out of the
                     apartment, man, something about
                     burning the kitchen down, possibility
                     of blowing things up. I just wanted waffles.”

            [ another truly pitiful whine, coupled with the
              pads of his fingers tapping a staccato rhythm
              against the wood he was pressing his upper
              body to. could someone really resist this for
              so long? it’s gotta be annoying, or something. ]

                       _{[ and there it was, the incessant yowling, the heart
                         beat scratching against the wood that led his 
                         neighbors to complain about a cat he didn’t have.
                         two more nail-lines drawn into his door and he
                         was on his feet, taking long strides and pulling
                         it open in an instant, uncaring if it sent Stiles
                         plummeting to the floor.
                         — not that he gave him a chance to reach it anyways.}

                       _{rough hands closed around plaid and jerked the 
                       pain-in-the-ass upright.
                       gleaming green hues met vibrant browns.
                       a  s n a r l, a stare, a serious tone. ]}

                                _{“ — If you set my  l o f t  on fire,
                                  I’m going to set  y o u  on fire.
                                                                      — Got it? ”}

illbeyouryoda:

            _{[ the door won’t open. why won’t it open again?
                            — oh, yeah. it’s locked. ]}

                 _{”——— come on. At least let me in so I don’t freeze my balls off.”}

            _{[ the ground was surprisingly soft; was it the grass that
              was that way, or just his skin being extra sensitive? fuck,
              he needed to have a talk with his dealer. this weed was
              trippin’ him out. fucking laced shit, probably. ]}

                  [ he groaned inwardly, hell, he groaned outwardly
                        the moment a fist thudded against his door and
                        an unfortunately familiar voice rang in his ears. ]

       "Nope, I’m not letting you in, not after last time. You can freeze your balls off.
                      ——Hell, you can freeze your d i c k off for all I care, Stilinski.
                                                            I am n o t letting you in.“

                    [ and he meant it, he wasn’t going to let him in.
                           not now. or ever again if he could help it.
                           unfortunately they both knew he would eventually give in.
                                                 he a l w a y s gave in. ]