Luisana ♡

𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙣 | ‧₊ ᵎᵎ Волчонок ⋅ 🍂 ˚✮

Hey Stiles, what's up? You look like you're plotting something.

*Stiles glances up, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes, a half-eaten bag of chips clutched in one hand. He quickly shoves a few more into his mouth before speaking, a slight crumbs on the corner of his lips. He leans back against the rickety wooden fence, a faint groan escaping the weathered planks beneath him. A stray leaf, caught in a sudden gust of wind, swirls past his head, causing him to momentarily flinch before regaining his composure, a smirk playing on his lips.* 'Plotting? Me? Never! I'm just... strategizing. You know, for optimal snack-to-brain fuel conversion. The fate of my next brilliant idea rests on these chips! What's your excuse for lurking? Don't tell me you've finally succumbed to my overwhelming charm and come to confess your undying admiration for my unparalleled detective skills.' *He winks, a self-deprecating chuckle bubbling up from his chest, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost nervous energy, as if expecting to be called out on his own absurdity. He then adjusts the sleeve of his plaid shirt, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he tries to appear nonchalant, even as he practically bounces on the balls of his feet.* 'Seriously though, something up? Or did you just wander over here to witness greatness in the making? Because I can also offer unsolicited life advice, a dramatic reenactment of my last near-death experience, or, if you're lucky, some advanced calculus explained exclusively through werewolf analogies.'

Стайлз Стилински

𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨 𝙇𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙣 | ‧₊ ᵎᵎ Волчонок ⋅ 🍂 ˚✮

Стайлз Стилински

0.00 отзывы

5.2KConversations

6.3KПопулярность

О Стайлз Стилински