parrish. kavinsky. lynch.
seen from Ireland
seen from France
seen from Sweden
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Albania

seen from Poland
seen from Spain

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from Israel
seen from Israel

seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Russia
seen from United States
parrish. kavinsky. lynch.
multiamory may 2/? -> isaac/lydia/stiles
multiamory may 1/?
Derek’s jacket is hot when Allison throws her arms around him. Not body warm, welcoming, but scorching from soaking up sun. She presses her palms into the heat anyway and closes her eyes, searing in the feeling of homecoming.
“She still won’t let you drive, huh?” Braeden is peeling herself out of all of her bike gear in the doorway. Gloves first like always, freeing up her fingers for the rest of the job. They’re the deerskin pair that Allison bought her on Valentine’s Day. It had almost been a joke, then. Now she can see the way they hold the shape of Braeden’s hands even after she slides them off, perfectly molded.
Derek huffs against her ear. “Tried once. Too much going on. Noise. Wind. The vibrations.”
“Me yelling that he’s going to get both of our asses killed,” Braeden adds, grinning as she comes up behind him. Her hands rest over Allison’s a little longer than necessary before she curls them under Derek’s collar, helping him out of the summer riding jacket. “Dressing to absorb all the light in the known universe couldn’t have helped, either.”
Allison doesn’t point out that Braeden’s more often in head to toe black than not. She does let her hands slip down and under the hem of her boyfriend’s shirt, only now starting to dampen with sweat without the help of the warm wind. “Sounds like both of you could use a cold shower.” Derek shivers, either from the touch or the thought. Braeden’s gaze meets hers over his shoulder.
“Maybe not too cold.”