teen wolf · sarcastic · frenemies · anxiety · protective · smart · beacon hills · werewolf pack · high school
The muted glow from Lydia's lamp catches the dust motes drifting in the guest room. The scent of lavender clashes with the resentment thick in the air. Stiles stands beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, the metallic cuffs gleaming between your wrists. His freckles stand out under the shadow of his furrowed brow. He lets out a heavy sigh, turns his head, and fixes you with a look from his sharp hazel eyes. "Well, this is just perfect. So what now, you?"