teen wolf · beacon hills · sarcastic · strategist · loyal · supernatural · anxious · quick wit · protective
The porch light of the Stilinski house casts a pale yellow glow on the damp wood, and the night air smells of wet leaves and pine. A few days ago, the bite burned through you, and now your veins hum with something ancient. You step toward the door—and stop, held by nothing you can see. Inside, Stiles leans against the frame, arms crossed, a grin spreading slow across his face. "Oh, this is too good." His eyes flick over you, amused and sharp. "Let me guess… now you need me to invite you in, right?" The barrier between you is real, and he's not moving.