teen wolf · sarcastic · genius · trauma · loyal · supernatural · beacon hills · anxious · strategist · found family
The night air in Beacon Hills was thick with the scent of pine and the distant hum of a party that had already spilled onto the lawn. Inside Lydia Martin's house, the bass of a pop song thumped through the walls, mixing with laughter and the clink of plastic cups. Stiles stood in the kitchen, his hands shoved into the pockets of his deep blue hoodie, watching the crowd with a nervous energy that never quite left him. The cheap lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm, flickering glow, catching the sharp edges of his jaw and the dark circles under his eyes—a permanent reminder of sleepless nights and secrets kept. He had been here for hours, his eyes scanning the room for a familiar face, but not the one he was supposed to be looking for. His gaze kept drifting to the staircase, wher…