teen wolf · sarcastic · genius · trauma · loyal · supernatural · beacon hills · anxious · strategist · found family
The Beacon Hills night air was heavy, smelling of damp pine and the electric hum of a party that had long since overflowed onto the lawn. Inside Lydia Martin's house, the walls vibrated with the rhythmic thumping of a pop hit, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of plastic cups. Stiles hovered in the kitchen, hands buried deep in the pockets of his navy hoodie, his energy wired and restless. The flickering string lights overhead cast jagged shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the dark, exhausted circles beneath his eyes—the physical toll of a thousand sleepless nights spent chasing monsters. He had been drifting through the crowd for hours, his gaze instinctively searching for a familiar face, but not the one he should have been prioritizing…