#listen we were all surprised by the stackson

[elysiumwaits]

Last Line(s) Challenge

So I was tagged by @thepeacering and I’m kinda cheating a little cause I have uuuuh five different fics open and I’m bouncing between them. So here’s five different “last lines.” 

If ever a day comes that I actually stick to the rules of one of these memes, please alert the authorities and search for the pod that took me.

1. Dust to Dust - a complicated during-and-post-Endgame Clint/Darcy fic that deals with grief and mourning and promises made and promises that can’t be kept and all the ones that can. (It’s been sitting for awhile in my brain, but it’s kinda difficult and deals with difficult things).

Clint doesn’t intend to talk to her. This isn’t some kind of reunion, after all. He glances at her, though, just to check that she’s unharmed, and it’s a mistake. Darcy’s eyes are on him, and she’s got blood on her chin where her lip is split. She’s holding a small handgun, a 9mm, the kind built for delicate hands to conceal and carry in purses. Her hands don’t shake as she flips the safety back on after a moment of studying Clint, apparently deeming him not a threat.

God, the world’s changed. 

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,” she says, still halfway out of breath. 

2. God, I Like Your Style - Clint/Darcy pwp that is stupidly kinky and features drummer Clint because I have a dumb thing for drummers.

“Yeah? You think you can, huh,” he goes on, low and rough. “Darcy, baby, I play drums for three and half, maybe four hours. Maybe a couple ten or fifteen minute breaks in there. I’m not the ‘quickie to take the edge off and again in the backseat’ guy. I’m the guy who takes your personal best record as a challenge, the guy who isn’t done until you’re delirious with it, until the only words you can say are ‘Clint,’ ‘god,’ and ‘please.’”

“You’re so fucking cocky,” Darcy breathes. One of her hands has curled in his t-shirt, and she’s only now noticing. 

“Ain’t bragging if you can back it up, sweetheart,” Clint says, pulls back to look at her. “Let me take you home, Darcy.”

3. What My Hands and My Body Done - a Stiles/Jackson fic that bit me in the ass and won’t let go, but I’m not sure if I’m gonna keep working on it or let it go. It’s super angsty but in that cathartic way where the healing is messy.

“I’m not going back,” Stiles finally says when he’s halfway through what he thinks might be his third drink. Possibly fourth. The days run together lately. 

“Alright,” Jackson says, evenly.

“You can’t make me,” Stiles adds without looking at him.

Jackson breathes out a sigh, frustrated. “I’m not going to make you, Stiles.”

“I’m just saying,” Stiles goes on. “You’re wasting your time.” The ice in his glass clinks as he lifts it to drink, glancing over at Jackson.

Jackson nods. “Yeah, well,” he says. “I needed a vacation anyway.”

“Whatever,” Stiles mumbles into the glass.

4. The Unnamed Fake Dating Oh My God They Were Roommates Fic - Stiles/Derek, I posted a bit of it not too long ago, and I’ve added a couple hundred words since?

“How do you accidentally lie to your family about dating your roommate?” Stiles demands. He’s not angry, exactly, more just wildly confused and half-convinced that he’s still asleep and this is an insane dream. “Here’s a better question - why, out of everyone that you know, would you lie to your family about dating me?”

Derek shrugs while reaching up to run his hand through his hair, turning in place to look at the kitchen like he can convince it to clean itself. “Mom was going on and on about how worried she was that I was never going to find anyone I trusted after-” He stops, glances at Stiles, who very carefully does not say anything and doesn’t let his expression change. After a moment, Derek pushes on. “So I just said, ‘Well, I have Stiles,’ without really thinking about it, and she… took that to mean that we were dating. I just never corrected her.”

“When was this?” Stiles is officially in damage-control mode, trying to figure out what to do here. Derek winces a little, and Stiles groans. “Oh my God, Derek, how long have we been quote-unquote ‘dating’? When did you have this conversation?”

5. The Coffee Shop/University AU - Stiles/Derek, I have no idea where it’s going past this meet-cute and Derek’s coffee snobbery

“Can I tell you,” the customer says, with a grin Derek can only describe appropriately as ‘wicked.’ “Can I tell you that I was pretty ticked off about my roommate breaking my Keurig until this exact moment? Because now I’m thinking I should give him a gift basket of some kind. One of those fancy chocolate towers or something.”

“I only serve coffee, not looks,” Derek says in a deadpan, and tries very, very hard not to let his mouth quirk into a grin of its own. His own once-over is hopefully much more subtle - jeans, brown hair, moles, flannel tied around his waist, graphic t-shirt of a cat sitting in a taco shell (how the hell does someone even look attractive in that monstrosity), a few years older than Derek’s usual customers. 

The customer snorts and steps forward to lean on the counter opposite Derek, mirroring Derek’s position of arms folded and leaning in. “I beg to differ,” he says, and jerks his head at the glass case. “You also serve muffins.”

Oh god, okay, I’m tagging uuuuh @novemberhush @jmeelee @evanesdust @nightwideopen aaaaand anyone else who wants to do it, I need sleep desperately and I don’t remember who else I wanted to tag.

[acaranna]

And the next (very belated) birthday present! This time for my lovely, lovely girl @tryslora. I hope you have some good days, Dear! You deserve them! 

Stackson

Stiles yawned discretely and tried to focus on what the professor explained. It was an interesting subject but he had been pulling an all-nighter to finish one of his assignments. Now he had to pay the price. Some days he really missed his time in Beacon Hills. He had been able to pull all-nighters with only a few catnaps the day after and hadn’t been worse for wear.

“But we all get older it seems,” Stiles whispered before a yawn nearly dislocated his jaw again. He thought he heard it pop faintly but it could have been the bubble gum of the girl in front of him. He wasn’t sure, though. What he was sure about, was the quiet snicker he heard from behind him.

“Oh shut up, Jackson,” Stiles breathed and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help the little smirk that jumped onto his lips, though. “What about your essays? Did you finish them already?” The snickering stopped immediately and moments later Stiles’ phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out discreetly and checked the message.

Shut up, Stiles. You know it’s not due for another three days. J

He snorted and glanced back at the professor who had turned to the projection on the wall. Stiles looked back down and typed out his reply.

Oh please, Jacky. You’re going to wait until the last minute and then you’re going to beg me to help you with it. S

The phone remains silent for longer than Stiles expected and his focus shifted back to what the professor said about evidence and it’s processing. He had read all of the books already and had first-hand experience but it was a little different hearing it from a professor. A different opinion if someone wanted to put a label on it.

His phone vibrated again and Stiles huffed a little. He glanced around the room and then over to the clock. Only fifteen more minutes. He could do it. He could stay awake for that long.

That was only ONE time! I only asked you ONE time for help! J

Stiles snickered softly and his fingers flew across the surface of the phone.

One time? Try one time in every subject we had so far! S

A very low growl answered him this time and Stiles turned around to look at Jackson. Their eyes met and the faint blue glow made him frown. He turned back around and quickly typed out a message.

Dude, your eyes are glowing! I know it’s getting close to the full moon but seriously: Calm down! S

This time his phone stayed quiet for a lot longer and Stiles picked up his pencil again determined to get at least a few notes onto his notepad. Not that he really needed them but it felt good to try and be attentive. Also, he really wanted to pass this class with flying colours. If only to make his dad happy.

He almost expected the message when it finally came.

Sorry. I’m getting itchy already and the perfume of the girl in front of you isn’t helping. It’s strong enough to knock out a wolf. I can barely make you out underneath it all. J

Stiles frowned and glanced at the girl in front of him. He had gotten a good whiff of her perfume when she’d passed him to get to her seat. It had been strong then but over time the scent had lessened. Or, which could be the more likely option, he had gotten used to it and didn’t even notice it anymore.

You need to head outside for a bit? S

Stiles stared at his phone worrying his bottom lip. It had been quite a while since Jackson lost control of his wolfy side. The last time had been when they chased off an overly friendly selkie that tried to get their claws into Stiles. He almost dropped the phone when another message arrived.

Please. J

He frowned and looked around while his thumb rushed across the display.

Then get out. I’ll meet you in five. The empty room next to the elevator. S

There was no further reply but Stiles heard the chair behind him scrape across the floor. He listened to Jackson leave the room, his steps carefully controlled and even. Then he set the timer on his phone to five minutes and waited impatiently. He tried listening to the professor but it was useless. His thoughts were firmly placed on Jackson. It was the first time in a long while that the wolf had been rattled by the full moon.

On the other hand, he wasn’t surprised at all. Stiles had been away for about a week when his dad managed to pull his back badly enough to need help. He had only arrived back two days prior and that first day had been spent curled up with Jackson who claimed that his scent had vanished completely. Stiles grinned when he remembered the way he had been pinned by an overeager werewolf.

Five minutes passed and Stiles almost dropped his phone when it vibrated. He got out of his seat and quickly made his way towards the door. He also made sure to not stumble across anyone’s backpack. The last thing he needed was to topple over and drag some poor sod with him.  

Outside the room he quickly glanced around and made sure that nobody was around. He didn’t want to explain to some professor exactly why he snuck into a room that was unused except for storing additional chairs and tables. That would not only counterproductive but also bad for his record. Thankfully nobody wandered around this part of the building and he managed to reach the room without any fuss.

Stiles barely had time to close the door before Jackson pulled him close and buried his face in the space between shoulder and neck. A soft smile crossed Stiles’ lips and he hugged the werewolf back. He could feel Jackson in- and exhale heavily while he tried to expel the perfume from his nose.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, one hand rubbing the back of Jackson’s neck. The arms around him tightened slightly.

“It is now,” Jackson huffed, still breathing deeply. “Honestly? I couldn’t make out your scent at all. It was like the only thing that existed was that perfume. I saw you but I couldn’t smell you.” Stiles closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against Jackson’s hair.

“It’s alright now,” he said quietly. “I’m here now. Take your time. I’ve already read everything that is necessary for today’s lesson. We can go over it once you feel better.” He yawned hard after his words.

“And after you had a nap,” Jackson chuckled and pressed a small kiss to Stiles’ neck. “You’re going to stay at my place again?”

“You know it, dude,” Stiles squeezed Jackson’s neck. “No place I’d rather be.”