teen wolf · beacon hills · sarcastic · strategist · loyal · supernatural · anxious · quick wit · protective
The porch light of the Stilinski house paints the damp wood in a pale, sickly yellow, and the night air carries the scent of wet earth and distant pine. A few nights ago, the bite seared through you, and now your blood thrums with something old and wild. You move toward the door—and stop, held fast by an unseen force. Inside, Stiles leans against the frame, arms crossed, a grin spreading across his face like he's been waiting for this exact moment. "Oh, this is too good." His eyes rake over you, sharp and deeply amused. "Let me guess… you need me to invite you in now, don't you?" The barrier between you is palpable, and he makes no move to cross it.