Honestly, sterek fic prompts people. Get on it.
Sterek prompts? Shoot them my way people! Needing some motivation to write and fic ideas would be awesome
Everyone thinks that Stiles hates hospitals, because, well, he should, shouldn’t he? After all, that’s the last place his mother was alive, the last place he saw her, and it certainly was not a pleasant memory. None of it was, the walking the desolate hallways of the building for the sick and dying. He was just a child, and he had spent hours upon hours, days upon days, in the hospital, hoping, praying that his mother would survive, and then, finally, saying goodbye to her as she took her last breath.
But, the thing is, Stiles doesn’t hate hospitals, he doesn’t resent the hospitals, isn’t scared of hospitals. He doesn’t because, that was the last place he ever saw his mother alive, it was the last place he ever held her hand. It was her last place. It’s where so many of his memories of her are. When she was well enough to sit up, they would play cards together, she would let him eat her dessert, they would snuggle as they watched T.V and his father would be sitting next to the bed, watching them with a fond smile.
Stiles does not have the typical fear of hospitals, despite every reason to do so, because he spent so many hours, days, months wandering the halls, sitting in the hard plastic seats, laying on the uncomfortable beds, playing in the courtyards traipsing towards the cafeteria… He has spent so much time in the hospital that it had become much of a second home.
Because, after his mother died in the hospital, he himself spent an awful lot of time there, being the accident prone child he was. Broken arms, sprained ankles, the flu, his ADD, all different reasons for him to be in the sterile building that aimed to heal, to help, not to hinder and kill.
Stiles knew no one would understand, because, that was not the normal outlook people have on hospitals. But, Stiles had never claimed to be normal, and the hospital was familiar and safe and home and memories and Stiles couldn’t hate the place that tried to help his mother.
And so, Stiles wouldn’t correct people when they assumed he hated hospitals, because it was just easier to let them think they knew, when in fact, they didn’t. He also would not correct people in their assumption, when it meant Derek Hale sat next to him, eyes dark and sad, holding his hand, whispering comforting words into his ear as he was treated for a severe concussion after a fight with a rogue hunter who couldn’t differentiate between supernatural and human.
Stiles only added to the memories as Derek’s thumb traced his bottom lip gently, before pressing a chaste kiss against his mouth, and a whispered promise of forever in his ear.
Title by Panic At The Disco
Guys, I just realised, that none of the people in the pool scene had been photographed by Matt, so why was the Kanima there? Surely he should’ve been on the lacrosse field, where Gerard was watching?
So why was the Kanima at the pool attacking Stiles and Derek?
(was Gerard ultimately controlling the Kanima all along?)
(does that mean that the translation of that word mean both master and friend?)
Idk guys, just rambles.
I want like, an established Sterek relationship fic, where, they are like, maybe mid to late twenties, maybe even early thirties, and they have taken in foster kids.
IE Scott, Jackson, Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Lydia, just a group of like, random orphans or whatever, and are raising them as their own. (Scott meets Allison at school or something.. Keep that bit the same) With lots of pack-daddy/momma feels and domesticness and Isaaccccccccccc! you know what I mean?
Someone do this for me?
“Why are you so hell bent on making sure you don’t have friends?” Stiles asked, curiously.
“So I never have to listen to their inane ramblings at two o’clock in the morning,” Derek said, pointedly.
“You’re talking to me at two o’clock in the morning though,” Stiles said.
“Exactly,” Derek snapped.
“Oh,” Stiles said quietly.
“What is it that you want, exactly, Stiles? It better be goddamned important, I was sleeping,”
“I just want to be your friend,” Stiles said, feeling lame at his comment, but, choosing to just go with honesty.
“Why would you want to be my friend? I threaten you all the time, we have nothing in common,”
“You would never seriously harm me, we’ve saved each other too often for that. Scott and I have nothing in common yet we are still friends. And, because, you are even more lonely than I am,”
“I want to be lonely, it keeps people alive,”
“I keep you alive, Derek, you keep me alive,” Stiles said softly, his voice just a whisper over the phone.
“You are also one of the most stupid people I have ever met,”
“You have met Scott right? That is the most stupid person alive,”
The only response Stiles got was Derek breathing heavily.
“You know, sometimes, I have these weird nightmares, where, I go to see you, at your house, and I walk in because you didn’t answer the door when I knocked… And I see your body just lying there, with blood pooling around you, because, you killed yourself… Not even letting the Argents having the satisfaction of killing you, no, you killed yourself. And you had written, with your own blood, next to you, that it was better this way, that it would keep people safe. Derek, we are safer with you alive,”
Stiles rambled, his voice quiet and broken and desperate.
“Derek, please don’t kill yourself, you are much too important for that and I never want to be the one to find you,” A sob broke through.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Derek said, and ended the phone call before Stiles could respond.
The teenager just sat and stared at his phone absently, tears streaming down his face, waiting.
It was only a matter of minutes later that Derek was climbing through his window, a scowl on his face.
“You really know how to press all the wrong, or right, buttons, Stiles,” Derek says, looming over him.
Stiles looked up at the werewolf.
“I had that nightmare just now, I needed to hear your voice to know you hadn’t done anything stupid,” Stiles said softly, reaching a pale hand out towards Derek, who grabbed hold of it and entwined their fingers together.
“I wouldn’t do anything stupid, Stiles, someone has to keep your troublesome ass alive,” Derek muttered, crawling onto the bed and laying down next to Stiles.
“You can do whatever you like to my ass,” Stiles muttered as he lay his head on Dereks chest, already drifting off to sleep in Dereks safe arms.
It’s hard, sometimes, thinking about those you lose in your life, the fact that, no matter how good you are, no matter what you do, ultimately, at some point, you will lose someone important to you, someone so close to you that the mere thought of losing them tears holes straight through your heart, and, really, it’s not even that they aren’t there with you, it’s the fact that they never will be ever again, it’s the fact that you will never see that person ever again, for as long as you live…. It’s like staring down into the dark abyss, knowing you cannot see the other end… Knowing that you will never see that person, hear their voice, smell them, feel the touch of their hand, have them in your life at all.
For Stiles, the loss of his mother was the single hardest thing he had ever had to endure. The day he watched her be lowered beneath the ground, in that wooden casket, he felt his heart shatter for the first ever time, and as the tears slipped, unchecked, down his small cheeks, he had considered, truly considered, running away and finding somewhere that no one could ever find him, so he could be alone with his debilitating grief, and never have to lose someone ever again.
Even years later, having spent so much time living life after his mother had passed away, after the disease had eaten her, destroyed her, killed her, even after so much time, he knew that his heart would never mend, knew that time still stretched on before him, time he would never get to be with his mother.
Choked sobs wracked his frame as he let the black, devastating thoughts roll through him.
Stiles lay on his bed, curled into a ball, letting the tears fall, once again, for the mother he lost, for the innocence he lost the day she found out about her disease… He cried about how the day his mother died, something in his father died with her. Stiles didn’t just lose one parent that day, he lost his father as well, despite how alive he was, how loving he was… Stiles still lost, his father still lost…
Curled into a ball, with his eyes clenched shut, as the tears dripped down his face, hands clenched into tight fists and his body shaking with the force of his sobs, Stiles did not hear anyone climb through his window, didn’t hear the soft, surprised, intake of breath, didn’t know that someone was watching him.
Until a hand landed on his shoulder, firm, comforting and familiar. He rolled over to face whoever had intruded into his solitary space, and wasn’t entirely surprised to see Derek kneeling next to the bed, staring at him with concerned eyes.
“What is it, Stiles?” the mans tone of voice was not one Stiles was used to hearing coming from him, and his sobs and shakes stilled abruptly.
“I’m just… thinking,” Stiles managed to stutter past his surprise, trying to sit up. Derek helped him up, his hand not leaving his shoulder.
“Thinking about something… huh? Thinking about something that makes you cry, makes you feel pain? I could smell your pain from half a mile away, Stiles, what is it?” Derek said, not rudely, not harshly, just… said it.
Stiles laughed bitterly.
“It’s really nothing, in the scheme of things. You’ve been through so much worse… Had so much more loss, and look at you, you don’t curl up in a ball any time you think about everything everything you’ve lost. No, you’re strong, and you don’t let it hold you back,” Stiles said. There was a bitter, self-deprecating tone to his usually joyous voice.
Derek sighed heavily, pursing his lips, shaking his head.
“No, Stiles, that’s where you are wrong. I’ve let the death of my family turn to anger. I feel the pain and loss every day. I can’t escape it…” he said. “Everyone is entitled to their pain Stiles, everyone, no matter how big or small. The loss of your mother, the loss of the most important person in your world, is just as important and as painful as the loss of mine, of all the loss I’ve had. Don’t belittle your loss just because I’ve lost more, you are justified in your pain, Stiles,”
Stiles stared at Derek through tear filled eyes.
“How do you not cry all the time? How do you manage to keep going, even when everything seems so lost, so broken, like there is no hope left at all? How are you not filled with despair?” he begged.
“I used to,” Derek said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Oh, god, I used to. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about them all, that I didn’t cry, that I didn’t hate myself for what had happened. But… I don’t know, Stiles. I wouldn’t say ‘it heals with time’ because it doesn’t, man, it really doesn’t. It just because distant, you just live with it,”
“Life really sucks, you know,” Stiles murmured, leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder hesitantly. Derek laughed slightly, slinging an arm around Stiles.
“As my mother used to say, ‘Live in hope, Die in Despair’. This world is a fucked up place, Stiles… But, don’t let it destroy you,”
It wasn’t the first time, and it probably certainly wouldn’t be the last time, that Stiles was woken by Derek thrashing around in bed beside him, trying to escape the demons inside his own head. The whimpers tore at Stiles’ heartstrings, for they were filled with such pain, such heart break.
“Derek, Derek, wake up, it’s okay,” Stiles said, leaning over Derek, hands on his face, trying to wake him up, calm him down. It took a moment, but then Derek was pulled from his nightmares and was staring up at Stiles with tear filled eyes.
“It’ll never be okay,” Derek whispered brokenly, for only Stiles to hear. Stiles was the only one to ever see this side of Derek, this weak, broken side that the man tried to hide so badly. Stiles was the only person in the world that Derek would allow his walls to be lowered enough to show that he wasn’t always the big brave wolf he pretended to be.
“No,” Stiles agreed, readily. “It’ll never be okay, but, you will always have me, and nothing will ever change that,”
Stiles pulled Derek into his arms and held him close, his fingertips running through the mans hair soothingly.
“I love you Derek, even in your nightmares, I still love you,” Stiles whispered, feeling as Derek slowly calmed down, the shivers of a repressed fear slowly calmed, leaving the older man still in his lovers arms, head resting against Stiles’ collarbone, Derek breathed slowly.
“Even through my nightmares, Stiles, I will always love you,” Derek said once he had calmed down enough. Because, Stiles would always be there for Derek, and Derek would always be there for Stiles.
Even after all the years they had been together, it was only Stiles that could calm Derek after a nightmare, after he was left with nothing but fear and pain, it was always Stiles.