current teen wolf feelings

  • Me: *has 2 tests tomorrow, still hasn't finished studying*
  • Me: *has 2 papers due tomorrow; still hasn't finished typing*
  • Me: *has a project due tomorrow; still hasn't finished it either*
  • Me:
  • Me:
  • Me: this is quite possibly the best time to scroll through every social media account I have for hours

A boy like that, runs with wolves.

A boy like that, get’s lost in a crowded room.

A boy like that, holds onto family.

A boy like that, hides his tears behind a crooked smile.

A boy like that, the world beats on.

A boy like that, faces his demons.

A boy like that, could tear down an army from his bedroom.

A boy like that, hold your heart tenderly as a butterfly.

A boy like that, gets the girl.

but a boy like that, wants the man.

I want to write a fic where Derek is a writer from home and sometime he gets all his work done in the morning and doesn’t have anything to do in the afternoon and messages all his friends until they are too annoyed with him to answer except for Stiles who not only always answers but sometimes texts first to tell him that he saw a Dominos guy and a Pizza Hut guy fighting in the parking lot of wal-mart this morning and here, look, I got you a video

this-is-andavs  asked:

Prompt setting: SPACE.

I see what you’re trying to do. I SEE IT. DON’T THINK I DON’T. (And it worked, because here’s a snippet. I don’t know if it makes any sense out of context, but here y’go anyhow.)

When they’d arrived on Bera, Stiles’ scent had been around him purely by virtue of cohabiting the same space for a period of time, but by the time Derek and Stiles return to the inn on the evening of their third day, Erica’s shooting him sly little grins from behind the bar. Derek doesn’t need to check to know that Stiles’ scent isn’t just on his clothes, anymore – it’s coating his skin: he can still feel the warmth of Stiles’ long fingers on the back of his neck, directing him to look at something; the brush of their arms together as Stiles gesticulated wildly.

 Perhaps the worst part about it is how simple it feels. There’s no awkwardness – Derek’s metaphorical hackles don’t rise when Stiles draws near, and Stiles never tries to treat him with kid gloves, doesn’t ever hesitate to come closer. The idea of hesitation doesn’t even appear to pop into his head, which—well, it’s possible that says more about Stiles than it does about Derek.

 No, Derek realises: the worst part is that he wants. Derek wants Stiles’ hands to linger, wants Stiles to press in close and keep going until there’s no space at all between them. He wants those pretty eyes on him, he wants Stiles’ smart mouth. It’s not just objective appreciation anymore – it’s bordering on full-blown fantasy.

 Derek’s so, so screwed.

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Five Times Stiles and Isaac Didn't Switch Bodies – And One Time They Did

For Mal because she asked for Stisaac for this prompt! I hope this cheers you up a little bit!

1. Lydia

Lydia is not fooled for even a second. When someone hugs her from behind and whispers “Lydia, my strawberry blonde goddess” into her ear, she just shoves him off and without looking away from her course book says:

“Go and bother Stiles, Isaac, I’m busy.”

It doesn’t work unfortunately; he just drops into the chair next to her and keeps talking.

“But I am Stiles! We switched bodies; you need to help us change back!”

Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Not now, I’m busy. Just, go and make out or something.”

She sneaks a look at him from the corner of her eye, and wow, that is a bright red blush. Bingo.

“I’m not – we’re not – what are you – ” Isaac starts spluttering and seems to have already forgotten his claim that he was Stiles.

Lydia just smirks and says innocently: “Oh do you no longer want to kiss Isaac, Stiles? You told me just this morning that you want to grab him by one of his stupid scarves and kiss him silly, didn’t you?”

Of course he didn’t, Stiles is as deep in denial as Isaac is, if not even deeper. But Isaac, or should she call him “Stiles”, doesn’t, of course. Not that it would make any difference, he seems to have lost all higher brain function at that little tidbit of information.

“I, I have to go!”

Isaac stands up, knocking over his chair in his hurry to get away from her. He almost falls over it when he tries to pick it up and take a step over it at the same time.

Lydia sniggers and watches Isaac bump into several more tables on his way out of the room.

She’d almost believe that they’d switched bodies now.

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“Crystal and I, we have a lot in common. What kind of clothes we like, what kind of movies we like, how we see the world.. we have a very honest relationship with eachother, which is what I appreciate”- Holland Roden