Fic: As Long As You Love Me
Title: As Long As You Love Me
Author: queenofday
Rating: PG-13-ish
Pairing: Derek Hale/ Stiles Stilinski
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: One night Stiles goes out alone and is attacked by an alpha were-cat. Along with his new abilities comes new problems, as well.
Fuck my life!
Stiles internally yells, cursing his own damn stupidity for deciding to go out in the middle of the night; trying to find some clue as to what supernatural creature was terrorizing Beacon Hills this week. Well guess what? It's a fucking were-cat! Yeah, apparently those things are real and they are not cute or cat-like at all. They actually look like the type of things to eat cute little kittens for breakfast, actually it could probably eat a pony and still have room for more. Oh, but they have the same creepy eye thing, you know? Like when the light hits it, their eyes look like the moon or maybe a marble, but still red and fucking terrifying.
Anyway, the thing is fucking ugly, and huge, almost the size of a small horse, it has nasty looking whiskers, grayish and untamed, same for it's dark brown fur, it looks dirty and un-kept. It's fangs are short and sharp, glinting in the faint moonlight filtering through the high treetops.
The were-cat, and an alpha none the less, is looking at Stiles like he's a five-star buffet, and although it is scaring the shit out of him, he knows better than to run away from a predator; it's an open invitation to chase him and eat him whole. So yeah, no running. Like at all. Stiles keeps telling his brain this; that it would mean inevitable death to run away, so he stays put.
"Nice alpha-cat. Nice kitty" Stiles raises his hands up, palms forward, gesturing that he is definitely not a threat. And apparently the thing does not like being called a kitty, because it opens hisses at him, it's hackles rising and it slowly creeps towards Stiles. Reflexively, Stiles takes a few steps back, trying to keep distance between him and this deadly predator.
/\\\/
Seriously! Fuck. My Life!
Now he's running and ducking through the dense underbrush of the woods, narrowly missing branches in his face and trying to keep from tripping over haphazardly placed tree roots. The cold air that Stiles has been sucking in for the past ten minutes is starting to burn,and his legs are starting to tingle from all the over-exertion. The were-cat is still hot on his tail, Stiles doesn't dare look behind him because he knows if he does then he is definitely going to trip. And because he is Stiles stolons, he does end up looking back, and the thing is gone, even though he swears, swears,he heard the thing panting and growling behind him, but he doesn't stop running, he isn't dumb. Stiles has seen way too many scary movies, he knows better than to stop while being chased. He makes is about another quarter mile before the thing pounces in front of him, producing a scream, a manly scream, and stopping him dead in his tracks.
He trips backwards, his feet scrambling for purchase in the dirt, pushing his body backwards and away, but the deadly feline keeps on forward. Stiles must of done something horrible in a previous life, because he has no choice but to stop, a large tree is in his way, the bark is hard against his back. Everything seems to slow down a bit and the world seems to have been put on mute, or maybe he just can't hear past the loud beating of his heart in his chest. The alpha in front of him stops and sits on its haunches since Stiles can no longer give chase. The wind around seems to have gotten colder since earlier and it whips him, his red hoodie isn't doing much to keep him warm, but it doesn't matter, because he's about to get eaten by a fucking alpha were-cat.
He takes a deep breath, calming himself, he just feels the need not go into a panic attack right now. The alpha cocks it's head at him and moves closer, while keeping cautious. Deep breaths, Stiles. They are now almost face to snout? He can feel the things whiskers brushing against his cheek, and Stiles involuntarily shudders, and the thing actually purrs at that reaction. It moves its journey from his face down to his neck and he bares his throat, the thing hasn't killed him yet right? Maybe it's like a t-rex, if he doesn't move it'll go away. Right? Not very like, he rethinks, but it's worth a shot. Then he feels a sandpaper-y tongue swipe over his skin and down his neck, and it feels wrong.
The licks continue two more times, going lower, now near his shoulder, before he feels the light press of teeth again his flesh and Stiles has been trying to breath and keep his heart-rate down, but that little action makes it skyrocket back up from 0 to 60. SIt all happens in slow motion, after he feels the press of the teeth, intense pressure is on his skin and it hurts. A lot. He doesn't realize until a few seconds later that those are it's teeth sinking into the junction of his shoulder and collarbone. And that's probably him screaming, but he doesn't care, because he's just been bit and he's going to die, he thinks he deserves to scream a little. At the high pitched screams, the feline jerks back , and Stiles knows its because it's ears are so sensitive and his screams are too much, and it's hurting the alpha. Fucking good. Stiles thinks it's a little fair that the were-cat feel a bit of pain as well. At this point he feels the blood seeping from his wound, he closes his eyes and wishes for this to end soon. That slow motion feeling is still there, and sadly, it doesn't seem like it's going to end.
He places his hand up to his wound, trying to cease the flow of blood. He's cold and it hurts and everything is dizzy and his chest feels so full of air, he's sucking it up like it's running out of style. When he opens his eyes again the were-cat is gone, and that's one good thing, he guesses, he's not going to get mauled to death, just death by loss of blood. At this point, he's not sure which is worse.
/\\\/
He's staring up at the stars and they are just so beautiful, it's like he's right there with them as they dance for him, a smile creeps its way upon his lips. He doesn't feel cold anymore and the bite on his shoulder doesn't hurt either, he feel likes he floating on a cloud. The bark against his back is no longer hard, it feels like a big cotton log now, supporting him up. To be honest, this is the most relaxed he has felt in weeks. And its nice. His eyelids feel heavy and Stiles is just so tired and he swears he hears his mom singing for him, like she used to do so many times when he was little. His insides feel warm and he feels safe as he closes his eyes again.
Stiles is floating in and out of consciousness, his blood loss is significant, he's about to just slip and left the blackness take over before he feels warm hands cup his face and tilt his head back again the cotton feeling tree, his eyes flutter open and he can see Derek in front of him, concern all over his face, it's a new look, it's strange.
He smiles, "Hey, Deeereek". His words are slurred and drawn out, there are gray and white dots clouding his vision, he tries to follow them around and that's when he notices the rest of the pack is there and that they all look pale and scared, which is stupid, cause he's the one dying, not them.
He doesn't realize Derek is speaking to him until he looks back and see's him lips moving, but he can't hear, it's like when you're underwater, you can't really hear anything, Stiles cuts him off, mid-sentence, because just the motion from Derek's lips in making him dizzy, and plus it's pretty pointless, it's not like Stiles can even comprehend what Derek is saying.
"Hush!" And he slaps his palm lightly over Derek's mouth, to keep him from talking anymore. Then he promptly passes out, his head falling against the trunk.
Author: queenofday
Rating: PG-13-ish
Pairing: Derek Hale/ Stiles Stilinski
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: One night Stiles goes out alone and is attacked by an alpha were-cat. Along with his new abilities comes new problems, as well.
Fuck my life!
Stiles internally yells, cursing his own damn stupidity for deciding to go out in the middle of the night; trying to find some clue as to what supernatural creature was terrorizing Beacon Hills this week. Well guess what? It's a fucking were-cat! Yeah, apparently those things are real and they are not cute or cat-like at all. They actually look like the type of things to eat cute little kittens for breakfast, actually it could probably eat a pony and still have room for more. Oh, but they have the same creepy eye thing, you know? Like when the light hits it, their eyes look like the moon or maybe a marble, but still red and fucking terrifying.
Anyway, the thing is fucking ugly, and huge, almost the size of a small horse, it has nasty looking whiskers, grayish and untamed, same for it's dark brown fur, it looks dirty and un-kept. It's fangs are short and sharp, glinting in the faint moonlight filtering through the high treetops.
The were-cat, and an alpha none the less, is looking at Stiles like he's a five-star buffet, and although it is scaring the shit out of him, he knows better than to run away from a predator; it's an open invitation to chase him and eat him whole. So yeah, no running. Like at all. Stiles keeps telling his brain this; that it would mean inevitable death to run away, so he stays put.
"Nice alpha-cat. Nice kitty" Stiles raises his hands up, palms forward, gesturing that he is definitely not a threat. And apparently the thing does not like being called a kitty, because it opens hisses at him, it's hackles rising and it slowly creeps towards Stiles. Reflexively, Stiles takes a few steps back, trying to keep distance between him and this deadly predator.
/\\\/
Seriously! Fuck. My Life!
Now he's running and ducking through the dense underbrush of the woods, narrowly missing branches in his face and trying to keep from tripping over haphazardly placed tree roots. The cold air that Stiles has been sucking in for the past ten minutes is starting to burn,and his legs are starting to tingle from all the over-exertion. The were-cat is still hot on his tail, Stiles doesn't dare look behind him because he knows if he does then he is definitely going to trip. And because he is Stiles stolons, he does end up looking back, and the thing is gone, even though he swears, swears,he heard the thing panting and growling behind him, but he doesn't stop running, he isn't dumb. Stiles has seen way too many scary movies, he knows better than to stop while being chased. He makes is about another quarter mile before the thing pounces in front of him, producing a scream, a manly scream, and stopping him dead in his tracks.
He trips backwards, his feet scrambling for purchase in the dirt, pushing his body backwards and away, but the deadly feline keeps on forward. Stiles must of done something horrible in a previous life, because he has no choice but to stop, a large tree is in his way, the bark is hard against his back. Everything seems to slow down a bit and the world seems to have been put on mute, or maybe he just can't hear past the loud beating of his heart in his chest. The alpha in front of him stops and sits on its haunches since Stiles can no longer give chase. The wind around seems to have gotten colder since earlier and it whips him, his red hoodie isn't doing much to keep him warm, but it doesn't matter, because he's about to get eaten by a fucking alpha were-cat.
He takes a deep breath, calming himself, he just feels the need not go into a panic attack right now. The alpha cocks it's head at him and moves closer, while keeping cautious. Deep breaths, Stiles. They are now almost face to snout? He can feel the things whiskers brushing against his cheek, and Stiles involuntarily shudders, and the thing actually purrs at that reaction. It moves its journey from his face down to his neck and he bares his throat, the thing hasn't killed him yet right? Maybe it's like a t-rex, if he doesn't move it'll go away. Right? Not very like, he rethinks, but it's worth a shot. Then he feels a sandpaper-y tongue swipe over his skin and down his neck, and it feels wrong.
The licks continue two more times, going lower, now near his shoulder, before he feels the light press of teeth again his flesh and Stiles has been trying to breath and keep his heart-rate down, but that little action makes it skyrocket back up from 0 to 60. SIt all happens in slow motion, after he feels the press of the teeth, intense pressure is on his skin and it hurts. A lot. He doesn't realize until a few seconds later that those are it's teeth sinking into the junction of his shoulder and collarbone. And that's probably him screaming, but he doesn't care, because he's just been bit and he's going to die, he thinks he deserves to scream a little. At the high pitched screams, the feline jerks back , and Stiles knows its because it's ears are so sensitive and his screams are too much, and it's hurting the alpha. Fucking good. Stiles thinks it's a little fair that the were-cat feel a bit of pain as well. At this point he feels the blood seeping from his wound, he closes his eyes and wishes for this to end soon. That slow motion feeling is still there, and sadly, it doesn't seem like it's going to end.
He places his hand up to his wound, trying to cease the flow of blood. He's cold and it hurts and everything is dizzy and his chest feels so full of air, he's sucking it up like it's running out of style. When he opens his eyes again the were-cat is gone, and that's one good thing, he guesses, he's not going to get mauled to death, just death by loss of blood. At this point, he's not sure which is worse.
/\\\/
He's staring up at the stars and they are just so beautiful, it's like he's right there with them as they dance for him, a smile creeps its way upon his lips. He doesn't feel cold anymore and the bite on his shoulder doesn't hurt either, he feel likes he floating on a cloud. The bark against his back is no longer hard, it feels like a big cotton log now, supporting him up. To be honest, this is the most relaxed he has felt in weeks. And its nice. His eyelids feel heavy and Stiles is just so tired and he swears he hears his mom singing for him, like she used to do so many times when he was little. His insides feel warm and he feels safe as he closes his eyes again.
Stiles is floating in and out of consciousness, his blood loss is significant, he's about to just slip and left the blackness take over before he feels warm hands cup his face and tilt his head back again the cotton feeling tree, his eyes flutter open and he can see Derek in front of him, concern all over his face, it's a new look, it's strange.
He smiles, "Hey, Deeereek". His words are slurred and drawn out, there are gray and white dots clouding his vision, he tries to follow them around and that's when he notices the rest of the pack is there and that they all look pale and scared, which is stupid, cause he's the one dying, not them.
He doesn't realize Derek is speaking to him until he looks back and see's him lips moving, but he can't hear, it's like when you're underwater, you can't really hear anything, Stiles cuts him off, mid-sentence, because just the motion from Derek's lips in making him dizzy, and plus it's pretty pointless, it's not like Stiles can even comprehend what Derek is saying.
"Hush!" And he slaps his palm lightly over Derek's mouth, to keep him from talking anymore. Then he promptly passes out, his head falling against the trunk.