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#*s:sterek
msmischief101 · 1 month
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twficfinder · 7 years
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Hey! You're blog is the best thing I ever stumbled across so thanks for the hard work guys 💕💕 I'm looking for two fics, the first one is a post apocalyptic fic where Stiles is a magician/Mage who wears a polar bear skin and lives in a town made from containers and has a greenhouse, and Derek and his pack live in an old school. The second is a hospital au where every ha a bet to see when they get together but they've been banging in cupboards for months and they get found out a xmas party 💕💕
I’m not sure about the second one but I can tell you with 100% certainty that the first  is: “Not With a Bang, but a Shiver” by captaintinymite (augopher): Complete| Explicit| 51,151| 11/11
Summary: Eighteen years ago, Earth froze over. You either adapted, or you didn’t survive. A group of nomads arrived at the coast, settling at the small shipyard. A lone barge, laden with containers, sat frozen in port.
They fashioned a functional society at the docks. Survivors came from all over, drawn to the Bear Beacon that burned atop a stack of shipping containers. Everyone did their part to keep it safe. The most skilled went out on the sea ice and sought out seals. The bravest ventured up into the forest to the junction of two frozen rivers. Yet… No one ever crossed that line.
There were stories of men who wore the skins of wolves and preyed on the weak. A young shaman, however, knew the real story. Men didn’t just wear the skins; they were the wolves. If his people didn’t cross into their territory, then they were left alone. Until one day, one pack strayed over the line and attacked first. In a desperate bid to escape, the shaman found he’d stepped over the boundary where he met a young, handsome wolf who had been warned to stay away from humans.
Neither could stay away from the other, and their romance would set in motion events no one could foresee: The thaw.
Can anyone help with the second part of this ask?
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manamongwolves-blog · 11 years
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Tales of things that can break || demon!Stiles
Some things were pretty easy when you looked like a seventeen year old human, but most things certainly weren't. For instance, going to college rather than to work was easy, because you could just not do it. It wasn't even a big deal. Humans tended to do that themselves and nobody was asking him if anything was wrong with him just because he missed classes. Getting your hands on useful weapons to torture your potential enemies and playthings definitely was one of the things that weren't easy. It was especially disappointing considering this kid's father was the sheriff of this town. All that man got was a gun, that wasn't even easy to access, but safely tugged away in a locked safe. Stiles had known the code, so he did as well, but he also knew that the sheriff would miss it fast if he took it. Not that it mattered much, since guns were the most boring weapons anyway and not exactly a torturer's first choice. There were kitchen knives, naturally. They were sharp and useful, perfectly usable for his needs. They also were simple, huge and anything but professional. Not really his style. The demon wanted real knives, knives that were meant to kill animals, not cut their already dead flesh into bits that were perfect for frying. “What do you think? Can I kill an alpha werewolf with this?”, the demon asked aloud into the empty room, holding up a heavy, black hunting knife. It was slightly curved, with a cannelure the kind of which medieval daggers used to have – he connected some fond memories to those times, even though he never quite figured out what the cannelure was good for. Even though his vessel didn't want to give him an answer to that, Stiles couldn't help having an opinion and the moment he formed it, the demon knew. Stiles didn't think this knife could kill Derek. Maybe if he stabbed the werewolf's heart, but even of that this kid wasn't sure. Good thing that he neither intended nor needed to kill him with this knife. There was blood on the hand that held the knife up in front of his eyes. It was slowly running down his long fingers and between them, pooling at the side of his hand that was lowest to the ground, trickling down from there in slow, lonely drops, echoing in the silent room. The demon watched it, fascinated and like he had all the time in the world to do so, just because Stiles hated it, wanted to close his eyes and look away. But Stiles wasn't in control of what he looked at, when his eyes closed and when they would stay open. It wasn't the blood that disturbed him and made him sick, it was that it was blood from a person he had killed. Technically one might argue that it hadn't been him, who killed, just because someone had used his body and his hands, but Stiles had watched and right now he didn't feel much difference. The demon had looked right into the eyes of the shop's owner when they widened in shock and pain, his hands reaching out and grabbing Stiles' hoodie tight, and he hadn't looked away for one second while they turned lifeless and dead, never stopping to stare at him until they looked right through him. Stiles' face was the last thing that man had seen and Stiles was sure he'd see this man's face for years to come in a lot of dreams if he survived this. They all had been through so much over the years, but still, Stiles had never killed anyone or anything. There never had been the need for him to do so and he sure hadn't wanted to kill this person. The demon grinned, listening in to Stiles' despair and misery, a nonsensical stream of unfinished thoughts and feelings. He could feel it, thick and clear and beautiful. There was always an underlying fear since Stiles' was terrified of the situation and of him, but this was more intense. The boy did hold up good, compared to others he had possessed over time, but he wasn't in the sanest place right now. “We should clean up.”, the demon continued to narrate for Stiles, who was unable to answer and trying to keep his despair in levels that wouldn't leave him mental in the end. It was so irritating how his heart didn't even beat faster, how his breath was calm and relaxed, while he was going crazy from panic. He was still trying to take back control, trying to move a hand, a finger or close his eyes. It never worked. The demon went to the restroom, washed his hands and the knife he had come to obtain at the store and that he had killed for – nobody could know he had a knife and that man wasn't going to give it to him anyway. It was surprisingly easy to wash off blood and even though Stiles had unfortunately already known that, this was the first time he wished it wasn't. He wished one could still see the blood of this man on his hands, see that something was wrong with him. It was eating at him that nobody seemed to notice anything odd about him, just because this creature could put him on and wear him like a mask. Seconds inside his head had been enough and the demon knew everything that Stiles had known and could imitate him perfectly. Nobody noticed and nobody could help him. It was so frustrating, Stiles wanted to scream and shout, but his mouth didn't listen to his commands anymore either. The worst part was how this creature knew how Stiles felt; about things, about places or about people. He knew who he would die for and who he thought would die for him. He knew all his weak spots and now that he had seen the demon slit a throat just to get his hands on a knife, he knew this creature would kill if it wanted to, could kill with an ease that no being should have when it came to killing. And he would probably do it for fun if the felt like it. After he was sufficiently cleaned, not aware of any blood left on him, the demon put the knife away, got into Stiles' jeep and drove over to Derek's place, climbed the stairs and opened the door to his loft, just like Stiles always used to do. He knew the werewolf didn't lock his door and Stiles was welcome to get in, since they had come into supernatural disasters together for quite some time now. They were allies by now and the demon knew exactly how Stiles felt about this man. In excruciatingly vast detail. It was complicated, humans tended to say. “Derek? Are you home?”, the demon yelled while pushing the door closed, starting to walk in further into Derek's loft.
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msmischief101 · 9 months
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msmischief101 · 6 months
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@giftober 2023 | Day 1: First Meeting
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msmischief101 · 1 year
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Scott, Stiles. They're gonna tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me. What is it? Promise you'll listen to me. I promise.
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msmischief101 · 8 months
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We were both drowned under the waves of words we weren’t saying. ― Ben Maxfield
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msmischief101 · 1 year
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msmischief101 · 1 year
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Teen Wolf - Magic Bullet [1x04]
You faint at the sight of blood? No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!
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msmischief101 · 9 months
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♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Warnings: — ♚ Words: 907 ♚ Dialogue Prompt: “You're right.” - "I know... about what?" ♚ Mini Fic Roulette: 33/∞
---
Rolling over in the middle of the night to find one side of their bed empty is not unusual, yet Stiles still sits upright with panic when he notices Derek’s absence. Because Derek isn’t the one who leaves the bed in the middle of the night. He is the one who shuffles into the living room or the office to try and coax Stiles back to bed. That’s how their nights are, that’s their routine. Changes from the routine are never a good sign. 
Stiles rubs his eyes, listening to the silence of the night. At first, he doesn’t hear anything other than his heart pounding in his chest then he catches the soft murmur of voices. Derek watching TV in the middle of the night is almost more unnerving than the prospect of someone breaking into their apartment which is probably saying a lot something about him. However, it’s hard to be scared of criminals while living under the same roof as an alpha werewolf. 
Huffing out a breath, Stiles rolls out of bed. Even after years of being together, having to coax Derek back to bed is still very much unchartered territory. But on the rare occasions it happens, Stiles at the very least has an inkling as to what’s going on. Today, however, he has no clue what could possibly keep Derek up at night. There are no monsters causing mayhem in Beacon Hills. Nobody in the pack is in any sort of danger. Everything should be fine. 
But apparently not. 
Stiles tiptoes out of their bedroom and down the short hallway towards the voices coming from the TV. By the sound of it, Derek put on a rerun of Friends. He pushes the door open, not entirely sure what to expect — and he sure didn’t think he’d find a wolf curled up on the couch. “Derek, seriously.” Annoyed, Stiles flicks on the lights in the open-plan kitchen. “Get your filthy paws off my furniture.”
Derek’s ears flick in his direction. He doesn’t move immediately but decides to follow the command after a few seconds of contemplation. Judging by the way he stretches languidly, it seems like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 
If Stiles has woken up in an empty bed for nothing, he’s going to be pissed. He grabs the sweatpants from the backrest of the armchair and tosses them at Derek. “Unwolf and explain yourself, Mister.” His least favorite past-time is forcing his fiance to talk to him about feelings. No matter how long they’re going to be together, Stiles doubts Derek will ever be able to communicate freely about the shit that bothering him. So, occasionally Stiles has to get a little mean to make Derek open up. Cuddles can come after. 
The enormous wolf makes a sound akin to a huff. However, he shifts back into a human — not without a disgruntled rumble though. He still cooperated a lot faster than Stiles expected. Nothing would’ve stopped him from simply staring him down as a wolf, looking adorable as hell. Well, nothing but the knowledge that not even Derek, as emotionally constipated as he might be, is able to out-stubborn Stiles. 
“So?” Stiles asks and switches the TV off. “What’s going on?” 
Derek studies him as he slips into his sweatpants, head slightly cocked in a way that’s reminiscent of an animal. It always takes a few moments to leave his wolf behind. He blinks slowly, once then twice, and flares his nostrils just enough to be noticeable; almost as if he’s trying to figure out how mad Stiles really is — and truth be told, he isn’t mad, just a little frustrated that Derek decided to eat his feelings instead of waking him up. A conclusion his dear fiance clearly came to as well because his shoulders slump and he crosses the distance between them. “You’re right,” he says almost reluctantly before pulling Stiles into a hug. 
“I know.” The response is more instinct than anything else. After all, when is he wrong? Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s waist and squints at him. “About what?” 
“Peter doesn’t have an emergency.” 
Stiles rolls his eyes. “She’s not going to eat you alive.” His grandmother has always been more bark than bite, but since Stiles is her favorite grandchild, she might be a little bit overprotective. 
“I’m not sure about that,” Derek mutters, and he looks genuinely worried. 
It takes everything in him not to bring Red Riding Hood into this conversation. “Babcia knows you make me happy,” Stiles reminds him, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek’s middle, and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “That’s all she needs to know to approve of our marriage.”  
Derek doesn’t reply immediately, instead, he leans back a little and studies Stiles’ face again. “Am I?” 
“What?” Stiles raises his brows. 
“Am I making you happy?” That question could’ve only come from Derek. They’re engaged, about to be married in three months, and have lived together for the last four years. Still, he questions whether or not Stiles is happy, as if he’s the one burying his emotions under abs of steel. 
After kissing Derek once again, Stiles leans back and sighs. “That depends.” His attempt at keeping his face straight fails almost immediately. He grins slightly and cups Derek’s face. “Are you coming to bed?” 
Laughing softly, Derek hoists him into his arms and carries him back to the bedroom.
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msmischief101 · 5 months
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♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Peter Hale, Nolan Holloway ♚ Tags: established relationship, 6b AU ♚ Words: 1014 ♚ Prompt: “If someone gets nosy, just, you know, shoot them." - "Shoot them?" - "Politely.” ♚ Mini Fic Roulette: 36/∞ 
⤚⁂↝♚↜⁂⤙
Nolan looks more than terrified, and judging by his track record, this is bound to blow up in his face. But they’ve made it this far, so Stiles hands him the crossbow again. Nolan knows exactly what’s going to happen in case he stabs him in the back now, so Stiles isn’t particularly worried about him. It’s the rest of his plan that might’ve been a bad decision. That, however, is a problem for future Stiles. Present Stiles finds himself with only a door separating him and Derek. One. If Nolan fucks this up, there will be hell to pay. “If someone gets nosy, just…” Stiles trails off for a moment, not sure what to say because Nolan won’t be able to talk himself out of anything — not when he perpetually looks like a deer in headlights. “You know… shoot them.” Stiles gives the crossbow a little pat.
Widening his eyes, Nolan stares back at him. “Shoot them?”
“Politely.” Giving him the thumbs up, Stiles pushes the door open and slips into the vast darkness behind it. They’re a bit on a time crunch, so there isn’t a time for a pep talk. Luckily, Stiles isn’t stopped by any locked doors. The hunters don’t think it’s necessary since they secured everything with mountain ash. They’re idiots, all of them, and it reeks of desperation on Gerard’s part to find recruits via fear mongering. If only they knew werewolves aren’t what they should be most afraid of. Then again, Stiles probably should be thankful. After all, this gave him a very easy in — after his dad finally informed him that shit hit the fan in Beacon Hills. The staggering number of hunters made it hard for the supernatural community, Stiles, however, had a very easy time to get in without rousing any suspicious.
As the door clicks shut behind him, Stiles can hear a faint growl in the seemingly endless darkness of the warehouse. “Keep growling at me, and I’ll leave your sorry ass here.” Stiles flicks the lights, raising his brows as he finds not only Derek but also Peter chained to an electric fence. “I cannot believe this,” he mutters more to himself than anyone in particular. How the hell did they manage to capture both Hales?
Stiles jogs towards them, still shaking his head in disbelief. There’s no doubt that Peter somehow dragged his nephew into some shenanigans that caused them to end up here. Judging by Derek’s glower, he’s even less thrilled about Stiles joining the fun. “You’re welcome,” he mutters, turning the electricity off.
“How did you get in here?” Derek asks as he’s breaking the chains holding him in place. When he takes a step, he looks a little unsteady on his feet.
“Gerard is overestimating the intelligence of his hunters.” Stiles shrugs, barely resisting the urge to rush forward and make sure Derek is okay. He’s not the biggest fan of being coddled in front of people, especially not Peter, and Stiles tries to respect that.
Peter looks quite put out by the fact that he’s not only been captured by a ragtag group of hunters, but also that he needed to be saved. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he says with his usual rather unpleasant and knowing smile. It’s like the guy has a sixth scene for Stiles doing something shady.
“Can you go grab Nolan, please?” Raising his brows at Peter, Stiles points over his shoulder. “Careful, though, he’s a bit nervous… and armed with a crossbow. Try not to startle him.” Although he’s pretty sure at this point, everything could startle the poor guy. He’s got no clue how he made it this far without a nervous breakdown.
Peter draws his brows together. “Aren’t we leaving?”
“Not through that door.” Stiles gestures for him to leave before finally crossing the distance between him and Derek, cupping his pale cheeks softly. “Are you okay?”
“Why yes, I am,” Peter calls over his shoulder, “thanks for asking.”
Ignoring not only his uncle’s comment but also Stiles’ question, Derek tilts his head just enough to press a kiss to the ball of his left hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Of course.
Stiles rolls his eyes and flicks Derek’s forehead. “I should’ve been here weeks ago.”
“It’s not safe—"
“Nowhere is safe,” Stiles interrupts him curtly. This isn’t a new argument, and it’s probably not the last time they’re having it. His dear boyfriend loves to bring it up. “Not for you, not for me… and this place is going to be especially unsafe in a few minutes.” He runs his finger along Derek’s left eyebrow, drawing his own together.
Sad brow moves into a deep frown. “What did you do?”
“I do not want to interrupt this heartfelt reunion,” Peter says, dragging Nolan after him by the fabric of his jacket, “but there’s a fire outside, and it’s closing in.”
Derek stares at Stiles.
“What?” Stiles shrugs, gesturing around. “Gerard wants his people to be afraid, so, I gave them something to be scared of.” After everything they have done, some of these hunters certainly deserve worse, however, Stiles is not quite the monster the nogitsune was trying to turn him into. But Derek keeps staring at him, and Stiles hates that it doesn’t take anything more for his guilty conscience to appear. As much as he loves Derek, Stiles really did not need yet another Jiminy Cricket in his life. “They’re going to be fine. I started the fire in an abandoned area. No one’s going to get hurt, Care Bear, who do you think I am?” It’s a loaded question, they both know that — and for the first time since they started dating, Stiles is scared of an answer.
Derek doesn’t reply, merely lets out a long breath and nods. His hand finds Stiles’ easily. He intertwines their fingers, squeezing tightly — believing him.
The guilt settles in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. “Let’s go,” he says, glancing over his shoulder and catching Nolan’s eye. Hopefully the kid knows how to take a secret to the grave.
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msmischief101 · 1 year
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parallel universes: 18/?
Final Destination 2
"Being alive after we were supposed to die caused an outward ripple. A rift in Death's design."
When Stiles and his friends decide to go on vacation before their last year of college, they end up in a horrific crash on the interstate that kills about twenty people — them included.
Or so he thought.
Because seconds before he meets his own demise, Stiles startles awake and finds himself back behind the steering wheel of his jeep. Despite his friends telling him to drive, Stiles blocks the ramp instead, knowing deep down that he didn't have a dream.
One of his dad's deputies, Derek Hale, tries to talk Stiles down, but when the cause of the mass crash passes them, Stiles freaks out even more — only to be proven right when moments later his vision becomes reality without him because Derek saves his life from a truck that kills his friends.
Almost two months later, Stiles learns that two of the people he saved that day have been killed in a gruesome fashion. When a third dies, Stiles is sure Death is coming for all of them, but the only people who believe him are his dad and Derek, who has been by his side since that crash.
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msmischief101 · 1 year
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♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Kate Argent ♚ Tags: established relationship, alive! Hale pack, Emissary!Stiles, kidnapping, choking, injuries ♚ Words: 1849 ♚ Bad Things Happen Bingo - Tortured for Information ♚ ao3
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die for him
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Stiles spits out blood and leans his head back a little, taking a deep breath. His vision is fuzzy. There’s not a single part of his body that does not hurt, even twisting his fingers sends a spark of pain down his spine. His left ear is ringing.
“I should just kill you.” Kate’s voice sounds muffled as if she’s talking through a pillow. 
Stiles grins through the pain. “Great,” he says or slurs. It’s hard to tell. His own voice, his words just sound wrong in his own ears. “I’m getting bored.” He’s not sure how long he’s been here. It could be days. It could also be a week. There’s no way of telling what time it is. This room is always dark, and Kate comes and goes at random intervals. That’s what Stiles believes, anyway. He’s in and out of sleep when she’s not trying to torture Derek’s location out of him. 
Snarling, Kate steps closer. “You think this is funny?” 
“Hilarious.” His split lips make speaking a torture in and of itself. Half the time, Stiles feels like crying, but he’s refusing to show her. “You can’t find Derek with me. You won’t find him without me.” He swallows, feeling sick at the metallic taste on his tongue. Considering everything he’s been through, the sight or taste of blood shouldn’t get to him. His stomach turns regardless, and he takes a deep breath through his nose. “Let’s just get this over with, Argent.” Stiles would like to say he isn’t giving up, but that would be a lie. He’d never tell her where the Hale pack hides. He wouldn’t even sell out anyone from his pack; not even Peter, and especially not Derek. 
It’s just—
He’s tired. He’s tired of the pain, tired of nightmares. There’s no way for him to get out. Stiles can’t get past her, can’t kill her. Not in his current state, not even under normal circumstances. Kate as a human was a monster. Kate as a werecreature is something worse. 
Kate grabs his throat. Her claws are digging into his skin. The pain is not the worst thing he’s felt in his time here, but Stiles would still scream if she weren’t cutting off his air supply. “I will break you,” Kate tells him in a low voice, smiling a sinister smile, and lifts him off his feet. “Tell me where Derek is.”
Stiles yanks on the chains. The skin on his wrists tears open further. As tired as he might be, as hopeless as this situation feels, he’s not ready to die. Far from it. But he’s at her mercy. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, struggling for air. “No,” he gasps. His head feels like it’s about to explode, making him blind to the rest of the pain in his body. He curls his fingers into tight fists and tries to get the ground back underneath him. The tip of his shoe helplessly drags over the dirty stones. Every fiber of his body wants him to beg, but he won’t. His vision darkens. Stiles can barely see her face any longer, despite forcing himself to look her in the eye. 
Until he finds himself on the cold ground, gasping for air. Black spots dance in his vision. He’s trying to breathe, but it feels like no matter how deep he inhales, it’s just not enough. It’s not enough. Panicked and with effort, he brings his hands to his throat. Even the smallest touch stings.   
Muffled laughter fills the room. Kate grabs his chin and pulls him close enough that they’re sharing the same air for a few seconds. “Sooner or later, you’ll tell me where your mate is. They all do.” With another sinister smile, she lets go of him and stands up. 
Stiles collapses to the ground, hardly stopping his head from banging against the unforgiving ground for the umpteenth time. His vision blurs further. He can’t make out Kate’s boots. He’s not even sure if she’s still facing him. Stiles sucks in a breath. “Fuck you.” Speaking hurts. His voice is nothing more than a rasp, barely even audible to himself. 
But Kate heard him. Without any warning, she kicks him in the stomach hard enough he skids across the ground and slams into a wall. 
A violent scream is ripped from him. The sound is broken, clawing at Stiles’ throat. Pain floods his mind, echoing through his body with every beat of his heart. Consciousness is slipping away from him rapidly. Stiles is trying his best to keep his eyes open, but his body is giving up on him. 
— — — 
Stiles glances at his phone. “I’ll be there in 40 minutes.” Unless his jeep is dying on him, which does not seem that way. It has been behaving wonderfully ever since he left for Beacon Hills hours ago. It’s a rare opportunity, but it does happen. 
Derek lets out a breath. “It’s late. You should have stayed at a motel.” 
“Where I couldn’t have fallen asleep?” Stiles taps a finger against the steering wheel. “You and I both know it’s better if I just keep driving. Besides,” he continues, setting the blinker, “I wanna be with you.” As much as he loves the FBI program, he hates being so far away from Derek for long periods of time. It’s making him nervous. Beacon Hills always brings new horrors to town whether Stiles is there or not. Derek and the others are strong, but he prefers to be around for the fight and especially the aftermath. 
Another beat of silence, and another reason why he hates being away from Derek. Talking over the phone isn't fun because Derek is terrible with words and Stiles has too many of them. He needs to see Derek's face. But they can't always have a video call. So, sometimes Stiles talks Derek's ear off, and other times, well, no. They aren't really other times. Stiles is terrible with silence. 
"Come on, big guy. It's not like people are on the road at this time of night." Stiles shifts in his seat and glances in his rearview mirror. A long stretch of darkness is all he can see. Come to think of it, Stiles doesn't remember how long ago he'd seen the last car. People don't like the night in Beacon County. Hard to blame them. "I'll be fine. 35 more minutes! Enjoy the silence until then." 
Derek huffs, but it sounds suspiciously like he's trying to bite back a laugh. 
"I love you, Sourwolf."
"I—" Whatever Derek replies is drowned by bright lights, metal crashing into metal, and then there's nothing.
— — —
Stiles is ripped out of his dream. He winces as he's pulled into a sitting position. His ribs, his head— his whole body feels like it's on fire. The world around him feels wrong, almost out of balance. His right ear isn’t ringing any longer; it’s roaring. He takes a deep breath, blinking his eyes multiple times. His surroundings, however, don’t get any clearer. Kate’s face, no matter how close, is a blurry mess just like everything else in the room. 
“We’re not done here, little emissary," she smiles, fingers curling tightly around his chin once more. Her voice sounds strange, and distant like she's standing on the other side of the room instead of crouching right in front of him. “You’ve still got secrets to spill.” 
Stiles wants to punch her, but his arms refuse to cooperate. Every part of his body refused to move. His eyes flutter shut despite his best attempts at keeping them open. 
Kate pats his cheek. 
A moment later, Stiles’s arms are ripped above his head. He lets out a whimper, too exhausted to even scream. The chain around his wrists tightens, dragging him across the floor and onto his feet in the middle of the room — right back to where he woke up the first time what feels like weeks ago. It seems like he cannot escape it. 
"See, Stiles, I don't want to hurt you." Kate brushes her fingertips over his cheek. Even this slight touch stings. 
Stiles forces his eyes open and swallows. “You’re never going to find him.” His split lip opens up again. Every single word feels like it’s torn from his throat, but Stiles refuses to back down. He looks her in the eye and wishes he had the energy to headbutt her. All he can now hope for is that he’s not passing out. 
The smile on Kate’s lips is replaced by a smile. “Oh, I will,” she snaps, clearly at the end of her patience, “even if I have to use parts of you as bait.” 
“Good luck.” 
Sighing theatrically, Kate lets go of the chain. Without the support holding him up, Stiles collapses. His legs refuse to carry him, and he’s not fast enough to move his arms. The fall stops abruptly, his head banging against the ground in an explosion of pain and light. Stiles sucks in a deep breath, panic, and pain battling for the upper hand. There are hands on his body. Someone moves him. 
A face appears above him. Blonde wavy hair frames a smile. Her lips are moving, but Stiles can’t make out the words she’s saying. He knows her, but Stiles’ brain refuses to connect a name to her face. He blinks and he’s in the air, arms wrapped around him with no recollection of how he suddenly got there. Stiles draws his brows together, trying to place the familiar stoic expression on someone he knows.
Stiles blinks again. This time, bright light burns his eyes. He squeezes them shut instantly. People are talking, throwing around words he’s sure he’s heard before, yet they refuse to make sense. Slowly, he opens his eyes again, this time prepared for the harsh lighting above him. The world starts to piece together around him. Breathing is easier despite the odd pressure around his mouth and nose. 
“Welcome back, sweetheart.” A woman smiles down at him. Her face looks unfamiliar, but he’s not worried about her. As long as it's not Kate, he’s safe. 
When the woman vanishes from his field of vision, another face appears. 
One he could never forget. 
“Derek.” Stiles smiles. His split lip hurts like hell, but right now that’s the worst pain. “It’s not—” Talking is almost impossible. His voice still sounds weird, and his throat hurts whenever he tries to. Still, Derek needs to know. “It’s not… not your fault.” He wants to reach out, but his left arm feels too heavy to move. 
Derek kisses his hand, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers as they press a little harder against Stiles’ skin. For a second, Derek holds onto him then he takes a shaky breath and looks at him again. He tries to smile, but it fails spectacularly. His eyes are red-rimmed, almost as if he’s been crying. He shakes his head. “Don’t talk.” 
Closing his eyes, Stiles nods slowly. “Love you.” 
Fingers brush over his forehead. “I love you too.”
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msmischief101 · 6 months
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“Don’t sell yourself short,” Peter says with his usual knowing smile. It’s like the guy has a sixth scene for Stiles doing something shady.
“Can you go grab Nolan, please?” Raising his brows at Peter, Stiles points over his shoulder. “Careful, though, he’s a bit nervous… and armed with a crossbow. Try not to startle him.” Although he’s pretty sure at this point, everything could startle the poor guy. He’s got no clue how he made it this far without a nervous breakdown.
Peter draws his brows together. “Aren’t we leaving?”
“Not through that door.” Stiles gestures for him to leave before finally crossing the distance between him and Derek, cupping his pale cheeks softly. “Are you okay?”
“Why yes, I am,” Peter calls over his shoulder, “thanks for asking.”
Ignoring not only his uncle’s comment but also Stiles’ question, Derek tilts his head just enough to press a kiss to the ball of his left hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Of course.
Stiles rolls his eyes and flicks Derek’s forehead. “I should’ve been here weeks ago.”
[minific 37]
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msmischief101 · 9 months
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♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: getting together, future fic(ish) ♚ Words: 905 ♚ Prompt: “I do talk a lot, huh?” - “But it’s nice. I like hearing your thoughts.” ♚ Mini Fic Roulette: 35/∞ 
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“I’m serious, you haven’t experienced heat until you’ve been to Europe in the summer. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot here, but the heat in Poland?” Stiles runs his hands over his face. He can still feel the scorching heat from the memory alone. “And they don’t have AC. I don’t know how Babcia survives — or deals with my aunt. For two days, I was sweating my balls off and had to endure her constant nagging. At the same time.” Huffing out a breath, Stiles leans back onto his elbows. The sky above them is dark and full of stars, giving the night a welcome calmness. The last few days have been a whirlwind of family gatherings and feelings. Derek was right. The nights are a lot clearer in the middle of nowhere. Just lying here, next to him, it’s worth the stress of the last couple of days.   
Stiles flops onto his back with a sigh, absently playing with a string of his hoodie. “She’s nothing compared to Peter.”
Derek chuckles, the sound ever so soft in the gentle breeze of the night.
“She’s still a bitch. I know you shouldn’t call you aunt a bitch, but, like, if we’re lucky and our schedules line up, we see each other once a year for Babcia’s birthday, and she spent the whole time berating me and my dad. Mostly me, though. My accent’s too heavy. I shouldn’t go by a nickname. I need to learn how to sit still.” He gestures towards the sky, squinting his eyes against the light of the stars overhead. As much as he promised himself not to let her words get to him again, Stiles curls his hands into fists either way and sits up again. “She said I won’t make it far at the FBI because I talk too much. Can you believe that? As if the amount I talk somehow changes how good I am at my job.” Stiles pauses and presses his lips together. His heart beats against his ribs, once, twice. He takes a breath, stealing a glance at Derek, who’s remained awfully silent since the rest of the pack left to catch some sleep. After all, they were on the road for almost ten hours.  
Pushing his heads into the pockets of his hoodie, Stiles lies back down again. “I do talk a lot, huh?”
Derek hums in agreement. “But it’s nice,” he tells him, gaze suddenly heavy on the side of Stiles’ face — palpable like a fingertip tracing his cheek. “I like hearing your thoughts.”
Heat creeps up Stiles’ neck. He hopes it’s not too visible in the light of the moon. His mouth going dangerously dry, Stiles turns to look at Derek, whose face has never looked so soft. He smiles, trying his hardest to keep his heart under control. If he’s honest to himself — something he rarely manages to be — he’s been dreaming of a moment like this forever. Not exactly this, but something similar; the two of them, alone, in a somewhat romantic setting, and Derek looking as if he likes him. In a romantic kind of way. Stiles bites his cheek and looks away again. Better to stop right there. He’s jetlagged, hasn’t slept since boarding the plane almost 26 hours ago, and that glass of wine most definitely hit harder than it usually does.
He itches to touch Derek’s face, tracing the curve of his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw.
Fuck.
Stiles clears his throat as he attempts to sit up again, but Derek cups his cheek, successfully freezing him in place. Stiles’ heart leaps into his throat. He opens his mouth, but the words are lodged underneath his jaw, refusing to spill out of the first time in — shit, the first time ever, actually.
Derek doesn't say anything either. He simply smiles, his touch gentle as his thumb glides over Stiles' cheek, then brushes the corner of his mouth. "I like hearing you talk," Derek murmurs in a low voice, shattering the heavy silence around them. "And I don't want you to stop."
“Are you—” Stiles swallows, struggling to get the words out with all of his nerves getting in the way “— are you sure? Because I can totally stop right now. If you want to- if you want me to.” If he’s misreading every single social cue, he still has a chance to deny absolutely everything.
But Derek props himself onto his elbow. “Right now, I want to kiss you.”
“Oh.” Stiles licks his lips, flushing even deeper. “Yeah, that’s totally something I want to do to… wanted to do for like a really—”
Huffing out a breath, Derek pushes Stiles onto his back. Then his mouth is on his, and Stiles is pretty sure his heart stopped. Because Derek Hale is kissing him. Because shit like this doesn’t happen to him. He’s died and gone to heaven. This cannot be real. It simply can’t. As Derek presses his knee firmly between Stiles' thighs, snapping him out of his trance, the reality crashes upon him like a tidal wave.
Fuck.
Stiles grabs at Derek, curling his fingers into the short strands and collar of his shirt. This is very real. This is happening. This is happening to him.  
Holy shit.
Derek chuckles into the kiss.
This man is going to be the death of him, and Stiles couldn’t be happier about it.  
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msmischief101 · 2 years
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