Let me tell you a story of how I had to rewrite an essay in twenty minutes because when I turned the page of the first essay over in my notebook I discovered that I’d written Les Mis fanfiction on the back.

Cas knows that Dean thinks he is asleep, when he hears the quiet murmur begin. Dean’s voice is soft, breakable in the silence, and Cas holds his breath, doesn’t stir. Listens to Dean pray.

“I’m not too good at this sort of thing so…sorry if I screw it all up. And I don’t know if you’re listening. Hell, I don’t know if you even care…” He trails off, and Cas opens one eye slowly, carefully, studies Dean’s outline in the dark, the way his head is bowed and his hands clasped before him from where he sits up in the bed, calling to the father who abandoned them both. “But if you are there…I guess I just…thanks, you know? For…this. I…just thank you.” His voice gets lower, rougher, and Castiel has to strain to here it. “Just let me keep it for a few more years? Keep him? Just this one thing, please God? Just him and Sam, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Cas feels the bed shift, feels Dean lay down behind him and scoot up so he can mold himself to Castiel’s back, one arm flung across his waist. “You gotta owe me something by now,” Dean mutters sleepily into Cas’s neck, squeezing him a little tighter and releasing the last word with a sigh: “Amen.”

(Source: moonstiel)

Rereading the Fourth Wall series and trying to snort/laugh silently. It’s not working too well.

basiacat:

bad day at black rock physical graffitea

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◥ fic: a place only you can go

◢ Hostage Situation

dylanobilinski:

Title: Hostage Situation

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Summary: Stiles lurches up when he hears ‘hostage situation,’ ‘Beacon Hills Bank,’ and ‘Detective Hale,’ in the same sentences and his fingers start trembling immediately.

Warning/Tags: Sniper!Stiles, Police officer!Derek, human AU. 

◢ Cancer!AU pt 4

pt 1 l pt 2 l pt 3 l AO3

Inspired by this gifset.

Scott shows up the next day. He looks contrite and anxious, and there’s not a hint of the trademark confusion that usually covers his face.

“So,” Stiles says when he opens the door and sees Scott standing there, “what can I do for you, stranger?”

It’s a remark that Scott doesn’t really deserve, but the lack of communication between them for three days is actually a record. One that Stiles isn’t happy about.

“I just…” Scott begins, shuffling his feet on the welcome mat nervously and looking two seconds away from wringing his hands, “I could smell you were sick. That something was wrong, and- and Stiles, you’re my best friend and I know how sick you are, and I couldn’t deal with it. I’m sorry, Stiles.”

Stiles does a little feet shuffling of his own, feeling like an ass, because Scott’s face is earnest and sad puppyish, and yeah, maybe Scott didn’t text, but Stiles didn’t either.

“S’okay, bro,” he says, shrugging, and he jerks his head towards the open door. “Let’s go inside.”

——-

“So it’s incurable?”

Scott’s eyes are wide, but not with surprise. Sadness, maybe, but Stiles knows that Scott knows how sick he is. And Scott knows that Stiles knows, so this whole conversation is just a way to ignore the fact that Scott can use his wolfy powers to find out everything.

“It’s not incurable, but I can’t, uh. My chances aren’t that great, y’know? I’m younger, which helps a little, but it’s a really aggressive form of cancer, and people just don’t survive it.”

Like my mom didn’t survive it, he almost says, but doesn’t, because his mom doesn’t need to be involved in this.

Scott is silent for a moment, eyebrows crinkled together in his ‘thinking very hard’ face.

“Maybe-” Scott begins, and then stops, which is something Stiles didn’t know Scott could do, but apparently he can.

“Maybe what?” Stiles asks, and Scott shakes his head and sprawls back on the couch.

“Never mind. C’mon, dude, let’s play Halo.”

brotherlovin:

i feel like actors should use fanfic to one-up each other

‘um i raise your coffee shop au with this angsty death fic’

◢ Sterek Prompt Fill #2

halffizzbin:

ladyw1nter asked you:

Derek and Papa Stilinski have A Conversation about starting to date Stiles and that’s when the whole Kate thing is slowly, painfully made clear to Papa Stilinski, because he had no clue.

“So,” says Sheriff Stilinski, raising one eyebrow. “You decided not to play video games at Scott’s, after all?”

“Uh,” Stiles says. His eyes are wide and caught-out, and he’s got his arms wrapped around two giant tubs of popcorn. Beside him, Derek Hale—the same Derek Hale that the Sheriff last saw in his interrogation room—is handing a $20 bill to the cashier and clearly trying to appear as casual as possible. He fumbles the change three times before he gets it into his pocket, though, so it’s a lost cause. 

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““Okay, look, Derek, you have to use words. I know that Scott likes to think I can hear his thoughts, but it’s mostly because they’re ridiculously transparent. Yours, however, are not. Unless you, too, care so much about Allison that the look you’re giving me means you miss her so much your heart, it aches,” and here Stiles puts a hand to his heart and leans back like it’s a physical pain.”

-x

Scott was never really one for subtlety. He’s more or less a potato in human form, only with less tact.
-x

◢ Cancer!AU pt 3

pt 1 l pt 2 l AO3

Inspired by this gifset

So Scott, as it turns out, as some phobia of cancerous people or something. Probably thinks it’s contagious, the idiot. Stiles knows this because he spends the first two days after tentative diagnosis sitting in his room, alternating between feeling frustrated, melancholy, and really wanting to get a few more levels on his Orc warrior in WoW. And Scott doesn’t visit, or call, or text.

Derek, of all people, does decide to visit, because he’s not a terrible friend like some people. He’s still Derek, though, which means that he crawls through Stiles’ window at two in the morning, startling Stiles from his chair.

He recovers pretty awesomely, pushing himself off the floor and saying “Well if it isn’t Stalky McSourwolf-“

That’s broken off by a coughing fit that makes Derek narrow his eyes in annoyance, because of course Derek is the type of person annoyed by sick people, as opposed to the far more preferable being turned on by them. For example. Stiles wouldn’t be opposed to a few makeout sessions. That’d be an awesome cancer perk.

Anyway, Derek just let’s him sit there and cough for a few minutes, because he’s a complete jerk. It’s only after Stiles nearly chokes on his tongue while trying to force oxygen into his body that Derek moves from his standing position.

To pick Stiles up from the floor and deposit him on the bed.

Stiles is pretty sure that his entire head is a combination of blue from oxygen deprivation and red from embarrassment. Derek just had to carry him across his room, it’s literally the most pathetic thing that’s happened to Stiles this week. Actually, considering the mess that is Stiles’ life right now, more like the most pathetic thing that’s happened today, but still.

“So, uh…why are you here?” Stiles wheezes after he’s been propped against the wall behind his bed. “Not that it’s, y’know, not good to see you, but you being here usually means you want me to research things, or convince Scott to not do stupid things or just other things that I shouldn’t really be doing at two in the morning, actually I think my dad has his suspicions about me sneaking out, and after this last appointment he doesn’t really want me to be doing strenuous activity, which means no lacrosse, and I don’t really mind that because I’m not that good, but still it kinda sucks becau-“

“Stiles,” Derek says, thankfully interrupting the words streaming out of Stiles, and really how much can he embarrass himself in one night? “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

The guy actually manages to sound a little hurt about that, like it’s Stiles’ fault that he hasn’t shouted out the fact that he has freaking cancer from the rooftops.

“I kinda thought Scott would tell you. Not that he knows explicitly, but the fact that he hasn’t been around at all for the last couple days can’t be a coincidence. Also, I didn’t think you would care. Not that you’re some jerk who doesn’t care about stuff like that, but we’re not exactly buddy-buddy, and okay, you’re giving me a Glare of Doom, what’d I say?”

Derek’s eyes are glowing red, and Stiles is pretty sure that if he risked a look at the guy’s hands, they’d be claws.

“I care about my- the people who are important to me.” Derek says stiffly, sounding uncomfortable.

“Oh, you came here to tell me off because my dying will inconvenience you because I’m the only person with brains in this operation? Geez, thanks Derek.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Derek says, scowling at him. “I meant-“

“Dude, I don’t really care what you meant. It’s late, I’m tired, and your concerns or apologies or whatever just don’t matter. Not right now.”

Stiles knows he’s being an asshole. Knows, and yet he lets his tone grow sharp and annoyed, doesn’t do a thing as Derek’s eyes fade from red and his face turns back to its usual stoic scowl.

“Fine,” Derek says curtly. “Get some sleep, Stiles.”

And then he slips out of the room and Stiles is left with some guilt and the knowledge that he screwed up whatever was happening.

Before he falls asleep, he jots down another epitaph in his notebook.

“Stiles Stilinski
Managed to ruin things without even trying”