#and ''super pissed off at scott but not giving him the satisfaction of ending the conversation'' jess (that only happened once but jfc)

[magentagalaxies]

oh my god post production on the buddy cole documentary is 100% going to make me cry lmao

[superwhumper06]

I Only Love You- Sterek Whump

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this, but Stiles had some really bad luck. That, and he was also the only human in the pack (Allison doesn’t count), which meant he was always the one within the bad guy’s radar. This time was no different.

The pack had been out searching for a rogue hunter group that were out slaughtering werewolves left and right with no rhyme or reason. It was actually super disturbing, the lack of humanity behind the kills. Werewolves were ripped in half, but only after they had been stabbed, beaten, and coated in wolfsbane.

Stiles thought it was overkill, but hunters were hunters. They had their ideas and whatever.

After the pack had exhausted themselves searching the preserve and even a few miles outside the town lines, everyone went their respective ways. Scott and Allison went to Scott’s house, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd headed towards the loft, and Stiles and Derek got in the Jeep.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to get into a stupid argument (Stiles can’t even remember what it was about. Probably life and death shit. You know, the usual), which led to Stiles pulling over on the side of the road and practically shoving Derek to out the door. Derek barely got a chance to close the door before Stiles was speeding away, towards his own house, his own bed, and right into the arms of the rogue hunters.

Let it not be said that Stiles is completely helpless, but there is only so much he can do when he’s faced with six hunters, especially when they have at least 4 weapons each. Obviously, it didn’t take them too long to strap him to a chair, and the minute they finished that, they started their questioning.

It was the usual questions.

Who was in his pack? Where was the pack? What were their weaknesses? Why would they let a human be in their pack? Why does Derek deserve the title to this land? Blah, blah, blah.

Stiles could handle the punches. He could take the taunting. What he couldn’t stand, was the blatant disrespect of his mate. The downright disregard of Derek’s right to the land in Beacon Hills. So of course, Stiles got mouthy, and of course the hunters got pissed.

One of the hunters that had been standing in the back for the whole interrogation, stepped forward and produced a wicked looking blade. One minute the knife was in the hunters hand, and the next it was buried deep in Stiles’ side. The fear that gripped Stiles’ heart was nothing compared to the searing pain spreading through his body.

He squeezed his eyes shut and it took everything he had to keep from screaming and giving the hunters that satisfaction. His muscles were locked up in agony, every fiber of his being crying out as he tried to get away from the pure torture in his side. Tears flooded down his face, and it was at this moment, he knew, he wasn’t going to make it out of this alive.

And the last time he talked to Derek, they’d had a fight. He would forever regret this.

When the hunter removed the knife from Stiles’ side, a fresh wave of burning pain rippled through him, and then he went limp, the ropes around his wrists the only thing keeping him from falling over.

Stiles couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel anything but the excruciating agony cascading down his body. Because of this, Stiles didn’t see the lead hunter answering the phone. He didn’t see the fear that crossed her face as whoever was on the other line relayed their message. He didn’t see the hunters hurriedly pack up their gear and bolt out the front door.

What he did see though, was the steady stream of red flowing freely out of his side, dripping into a puddle on the floor. His last thought before everything went dark was of Derek… and how much this was going to hurt him.

Derek was furious. Not really, but he liked to pretend he was so that he could get over the increasingly thick worry threatening to choke him up. It’s been an hour since Stiles kicked him out of his Jeep. Derek really could have just stayed put and refused to budge, but that would have pissed Stiles off more and he really hates pissing Stiles off…most of the time.

This time was different though. There were tears in Stiles’ eyes when Derek looked back at him. Derek had done some awful shit in his life, but putting those tears in Stiles’ eyes is definitely one of the worst things he’s ever done. Derek hated hurting Stiles. Hated it. But Stiles was so goddamn selfless and brave and just all out beautiful and Derek really couldn’t stand to see him hurt.

That’s why they’d fought. Derek had run off ahead of the pack to check the area, even after Stiles had told him not to. When Derek got caught in a bear trap, Stiles had felt the pain. Apparently Scott had to work him out of a panic attack, because when they showed up to where Derek was crouching over, Stiles’ face was splotchy and red and his heartbeat was erratic.

Stiles hadn’t even said a word. He just let the others get Derek out of the trap, let them figure out how bad the damage was, let them help him back to the road. Stiles wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk, and it was then that Derek realized just how much he had scared his mate.

He was so stupid. They were out looking for rogue hunters, and his dumbass got caught in a bear trap, and almost gave his mate a heart attack. No wonder Stiles had reeked of fear. Stiles thought Derek had been captured. Fuck. He really needed to get to Stiles.

As he grabbed his keys, he noticed a sharp pain radiating from his side. He dismissed it at first, writing it off as a cramp, and started down the stairs to his camaro.

As he raced outside, the dull ache in his side suddenly became all out agony. Derek couldn’t blame it on cramps anymore. Something was wrong.

He took out his phone immediately, Stiles’ number on speed dial, hoping, praying, that this was just a weird fluke and that everything was fine. The answering pulse of pain brought him to his knees…and he just knew. Stiles was dying.

Derek roared, every ounce of pain and fear coursing through his body flooding into his scream. There was only one running through his head: Save Stiles. Bypassing his car, Derek raced on foot to the house that had become his second home. The place where his mate grew up. Where his mate was currently dying, alone, and terrified. Fear pushed him harder, pain pulled him in, and soon he was standing on the steps of the one place he never thought he’d see through fearful eyes. He slammed through the front door, not even bothering to check if it was unlocked, and was assaulted by the thick cloying scent of Stiles, of his mate, bloody and unconscious. The reek of fear soaked the house around him, and underneath the fear was the pain. Stiles was in so much pain. If Derek hadn’t been holding onto the doorway, he would have fallen over and never gotten back up. He could barely breathe through the smells around him. His head was swimming, his hearing was muffled, everything rippling around him like newly disturbed water, and suddenly he couldn’t take it anymore. Derek leaned over and threw up everything in his stomach. He heaved and heaved, and then…he was sobbing. Fat tears dripped on the floor, snot running down his face but Derek could care less. This was his mate. And he could no longer feel him. Terrified of what he was going to discover, he slowly made his way over to where Stiles was slouched over, unmoving. Derek’s hands trembled as he approached, so scared that when he reached for Stiles’ pulse point, that it wouldn’t be there. That it would just be silent and gone and empty. A few more steps and then Derek dropped to his knees, face to face with his bloody mate, fear wrapping around his heart like barbed wire. Slowly, he reached up, hands shaking, and felt for Stiles’ pulse.

One second.

Two seconds.

Five long seconds passed and nothing. There was nothing. Nothing but silence.

“No no no no no, you cannot do this to me. Wake up Stiles. Wake up!” Derek was screaming. He was shaking so hard he could barely keep his body up. He ripped through the ropes around Stiles’ wrists and ankles, gently lifting Stiles out of the chair and onto the floor, letting his head fall on his lap. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. On the floor, on the chair, on Stiles. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, pulling him up and rocking back and forth as the grief finally hit him. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to adopt a few kids, make fun of the pack, grow old together. Not this. Never this. Stiles was Derek’s rock, he couldn’t lose him. Not now, not ever. Derek put his head on Stiles’ and sobbed. He could no longer hold back. Sobs ripped through him and all he could do was sit and rock, hoping, praying, for some kind of miracle. Something other than this god awful emptiness in his chest where his heart used to be. Through his tears and the cotton that stuffed his ears, Derek didn’t hear the sluggish thump thump of a heartbeat below him. He didn’t hear the gasp of pain from his mate. In fact, he didn’t even realize what was going on until a hand gripped his bicep. Time seemed to slow down, speed up, then stop all together when Derek realized just was happening. Stiles was alive. Stiles was alive! He was breathing, moving, groaning, and…oh shit. “Oh my god, Stiles! Holy shit, you’re alive. You’re alive! I love you oh my god I love you so much. Wait, don’t try to move, I’m gonna set you down.” Relief sliced through the fear around his heart and soon Derek felt like he was floating, too relieved to even pretend he wasn’t crying. Stiles was alive! He gently set Stiles down on the floor, careful to cradle his head. Stiles’ answering groan was almost enough to knock Derek over, but he had to stay strong. He had to stay up for Stiles. Had to save him. Had to tell him…

“Stiles. Oh my god, Stiles, baby I love you so fucking much. Don’t ever, ever do that to me again. I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.” Derek spoke through his tears, eyes never leaving Stiles’ face as it scrunched up in pain.

Now that Derek wasn’t crippled with grief and pain and fear, he realized that he should probably get something to stop the bleeding on Stiles’ side. Unable, and unwilling, to leave Stiles’ side, Derek just shrugged off his jacket and pressed it against the angry red wound.

Stiles whimpered, and Derek whispered sweet nothings to him, and then Stiles was looking him in the eyes.

“That’s…that’s your favorite…favorite jacket.” A laugh burst through Derek, unsuspected and unwanted, but present nonetheless. It was so like Stiles to be worrying over Derek’s favorite jacket even though he was bleeding out on the floor. So like Stiles that the laugh became tears yet again, because he almost lost this. He almost lost Stiles.

“This jacket means nothing to me if you’re not around to steal it.” Derek winced internally. If Stiles was at full glory, Derek would never, ever live that comment down. He can only hope Stiles doesn’t remember it. (Yeah right)

“You know what, forget I said that. I’m gonna call an ambulance.”

The smile that graced Stiles’ face then, though pained, was one of the most beautiful things Derek had ever seen and Derek was determined to see it every day for the rest of his life. “I love you. You know that right?” Stiles’ strained voice spoke up, and as Derek thumbed in the numbers for an ambulance, his other hand still pressing his jacket onto Stiles’ side, he felt a warmth grow where the emptiness had been not two minutes ago.

“You better fucking believe it. I love you so goddamn much. Let’s never fight again.”

Stiles’ answering chuckle was music to Derek’s ears, even though it started up a coughing fit that left Stiles breathing hard and uneven. A constipated look passed over Stiles’ face and he said, “I’m sorry.” Derek just shushed him, told him everything was gonna be alright. They could talk about this later. Derek could hear the sirens down the road, could hear the slow breathing of his mate below him, and he just breathed. Just let the noises surround him and caress his still aching chest. The feeling of Stiles dying would stay with him forever, and he would never get over it, but for this one night, he would just enjoy the fact that his mate was alive, breathing, and ready to fight another day.

Derek would never survive without Stiles. Good thing that at least for today, he won’t have to try.

On Ao3 :)- http://archiveofourown.org/works/13709553