slayinski:

gonethroughhale:

michalamay:

Derek=SourWolf

Peter=SassyWolf

Scott=SportyWolf

Isaac=BabyWolf

Erica=SpicyWolf

Boyd=CleverWolf

Jackson=LizardWolf

Stiles=FuckinAWolf

the-faro-fixer:

I want them to be yelling, with Stiles pushing at Derek’s immovable shoulders and Derek’s eyes just barely flashing red even as he digs his human fingernails into his human hands. I want Derek holding himself back until he can’t anymore, except to both of their surprises, this time for Derek losing control doesn’t mean fangs and pain and blood, it means a meeting of the lips, a shocked ‘umph’ and a moment of confusion before Stiles kisses back.

I want them to be quiet, with Stiles sitting on the edge of the bathtub at his house, his dad miles away at a crime scene and Derek kneeling before him with peroxide and gauze and guilt in his fingers and his face and his heart. I want Derek flinching away when Stiles lets out a small cry of pain when he cleans a particularly deep cut, and Stiles reaching out automatically to pull him back in. I want Stiles leaning down to kiss him, gentle and soft until Derek can’t help but tilt his head into it.

I want them to fall asleep while researching, to gravitate toward each other while they’re not conscious enough to keep their bodies apart, when instinct draws them together rather than the usual fear that keeps them apart. I want them to wake up, bleary-eyed and morning-breathed and to close the few inches between them in a chaste kiss, a ‘hello’ and a ‘good morning’ and an ‘I’m glad you’re here’ and an ‘I trust you’ and a ‘you’ve carved yourself a place in my life’ all at once.

I want Derek and Stiles to have many first kisses. I want them to have many last kisses. And an eternal number of kisses in between.

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?

gilraenis:

okay, this gif is horrible cause I clearly lack any self-preservation and I just had to think of young Derek and Laura coming home the day of the fire and finding nothing but debris and ruins, desperately looking through the ashes for something to tell them that maybe it wasn’t real; the void in their chests where pack used to be and the smell of burnt flesh poisoning their noses.