#all my hopes and dreams summed up in one gif #neat
(Source: cavortings, via baneofhearts)
Scott gets paired with Allison.
Allison is—she’s cute. When she smiles, everything about her face is warm and open, and Scott can’t help mirroring the expression. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt when they first meet, hair pulled up in a messy bun, comfortable. She holds her hand out for Scott to shake and he takes it.
“Scott,” he says.
“I know,” she says, letting her hand slip from his. “You’re the new guy, right?” She leans in, stage whispering, “Mm, fresh meat,” and shocking a laugh out of Scott.
“Yeah, well.” Scott dips his head down and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Be gentle with me?”
“But that’s no fun,” she says, and it’s so obvious that it fails at being anything approaching sexy, but Scott thinks that’s the point. His stomach does something strange and fluttery anyway.
“You two are already sickening,” Erica calls, draped across one of the prop couches.
They’re scheduled to shoot some tame looking couple-y shots—“To build your story,” Lydia tells him, rolling her eyes— because Neckz ‘n Throats is apparently also invested in something resembling plot to go along with all of the dominance play. Deep down, people want to be made to believe it. Or so Scott has been told.
Allison sneaks up behind him when he’s getting something to drink. He hears her coming, but still acts surprised when she grabs his wrist and says, “Come with me if you want to live.”
Allison laughs a lot, and it makes Scott laugh, too. She wraps her arms around Scott, pulling him into a tight hug. She tugs at his hair, and at the neck of his shirt, pretending to bite him. Scott picks her up a few times, carrying her like a princess while she pretends to swoon.
The video of them is fifteen minutes of them chatting on a love seat, Allison’s legs draped over Scott’s thighs.
“You like big guns? That’s— is that, like, a euphemism or—” Scott says, grinning, closing his eyes automatically when Allison leans in to brush away a fallen eyelash. She’s been touching him a lot. Quick brushes of her fingers smooth out a wrinkle on his shirt or brush something off of him, sometimes just to touch.
“That’s good. You tried,” she says, rolling her eyes, but she’s smiling back. “But no. My family is big on self-defense, you know. In case the world ends or someone tries to steal my fries. But, uh, I like archery better than the—better than guns.”
“Archery?” Scott tips his head to rest against the back of the loveseat, watching her, and forgets for a moment what it must look like.
“Yeah. Like,” Allison says, holding up an invisible bow and arrow, firing it off into the distance. “Like that.”
“So, you’re like, lethal. You could just totally— you could totally wreck me.”
Allison drops her arms and leans in close, close enough for Scott to feel her breath against his lips, and says, “You really have no idea.”HOLY
SHIT
I SEE YOUR HOLY SHIT AND RAISE YOU A
HOLY
FUCK
The room is quiet, oddly comforting in a way that the Sheriff knows is somehow not right for what is about to happen.
He says, “It’s Derek Hale, isn’t it.” and tries to breathe around the throbbing pulse that has been building in his throat for the past hour.
Stiles turns his face away, and there is something almost fond flickering in the shadows of his eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispers. His mouth tugs slightly, a wistful smile trying to make itself known on his bruised and broken face. “I love him, Dad. I love Derek.”
And the Sheriff knows, of course he knows, of course. He’s known for days, weeks, months, that knowledge a building trepidation in his bones, skirting across his skin, the chill at the back of his neck. He’s known from the extra set of footsteps thumping softly from Stiles’ bedroom at too-late hours of the night, he’s known from his son’s red-kissed lips and wild laughter and he’s known since the moment he spotted his son at the local gas station, standing by the hood of a Camero he did not own, leaning against it as Derek pressed himself into the swaying curve of Stiles’ body and smiled against his neck.
The Sheriff has known.
“That’s, that’s good son.” He says, because Stiles is his son and he is supposed to care about Stiles’ happiness most of all. And Stiles is smiling now, faint but still there, amongst the bruises against his cheek and the broken skin at his mouth. Stiles is happy and the Sheriff is supposed to be happy for him because that’s how it works, isn’t it? As a parent, a father - he’s supposed to be happy for his son.
He gives Stiles a squeeze on his shoulder, and it is awkward and Stiles lifts his head to his father and the Sheriff smiles because this is what his son needs.
But when he goes downstairs and hears Stiles turn in for the night, the Sheriff pours himself a glass of whiskey, and then another, and another still, until he’s forgotten that his son is in love with a boy too old for him and an ex-convicted murderer. He drinks until his wife has returned and is sitting by his side, hand curled gently around his wrist as she always used to, drinks until he can hear her voice and forget his own.
no it’s cool
i’m fine
totally fine
(Source: mydearsourwolf)
There is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually.
This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these lovable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable.
The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone.
But that person still wins.
They win, and you lose.
Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.
- yesterday this irritating kid saved my life, and for the first time someone had my back. it was terrible.
this angry dude i know has really sexy eyebrows, it’s distracting when i’m supposed to be mad at him.
- he hugged me today, and i didn’t know where to put my hands. it made me feel shit i don’t normally feel, ok?
the guy i like makes me want to punch a wall. he’s so fucking annoying. i don’t know why i like it so much.
- a woman in a diner called us boyfriends when she brought the check over, and Stiles choked on a fry. i didn’t correct her.
i just got kissed in my freaking Jeep. are Jeeps sexy? mine is pretty awesome but i never really thought about it as a sexy kind of place before. i will neverlook at my Jeep the same way.
- he said i love you in his sleep. i don’t know how to say it back out loud. i love you, too.
Derek, i found this postcard in the library and i know it’s your handwriting. it’s ok, you don’t have to say it outloud, i already know, dumbass.
- move in with me
ok
CAN YOU TWO STOP DOING THIS? MY BOSS THINKS YOU’RE PLANNING BANK HEISTS IN HERE- a worried librarian
SORRY! Derek, if you see this we need milk.
(Source: crystalreedie, via breenwolf)
My attempt at Failwolf!Friday! (Shhhh, it may still be Friday somewhere!) I’ve been off radar for a long time and it’s because I’ve been reading all the Sterek Teen Wolf fic. ;3;
Major kudos to oberstein for the idea and the words!
omg Stiles’ little face
(wolfrrito!)
(and even remembered the tissues by the bed)
(via agentotter)
#what i love most is that they worked for it #like obviously we knew going in#that they are holmes and watson #they are meant to be partners #they are each other’s person #but the show didn’t just coast on that #it legitimately spent 16 episodes showing us #how they come to know each other and love each other and respect each other #so that when he finally makes this offer for real #when he articulates it #and she accepts#we believe it fully and completely and utterly #and we FEEL it
(Source: jonny-lee-miller-appreciation, via bestillmyshippingheart)
