queerly-it-is:

I’m so here for caring and dedicated nurse Scott McCall, who takes a job at the hospital in Beacon Hills even though he was top of his class and could’ve gone on to a more prestigious position in a big city – because it’s his town and he’s going to keep it safe, and there are more ways to do that than just as an Alpha.

He works shifts he doesn’t have to and longer hours than he always gets paid for, but he remembers all the patient’s names and barely needs to glance at their charts. The other nurses rely on him, feel more capable when he’s around and beaming smiles at everyone even though it’s 4AM and the emergency room is packed. The doctors – even the ones who disrespect the nurses, and Scott’s stared more than one of them down when they do that – recognise how he never compromises on anyone’s standard of care.

If he fudges paperwork and uses sincere, discreet persuasion to get around the bullshit in the insurance system, then it’s for a good cause, and nobody higher up on the administrative side has caught on so far. He’s willing to cheat if it helps people, just like he’s willing to use his abilities to take away the pain of patients who can’t be saved.

Hell he probably even has a stash of lollipops for the little kids who come in with their bumps, scrapes and bruises, and the relief on the parent’s faces when he assures them their kid’s gonna be just fine at the same time that he smiles and says, “See? Just a few tiny stitches, that didn’t hurt at all did it?” and grins when the tiny face looking back at him with so much trust shakes back and forth before reaching for the candy he’s holding out.

Obviously while he was studying he shared an apartment with Stiles, who’s probably on his way to taking over the Sheriff’s office by now and would never even think of using his criminology degree for something else or moving away. Because Beacon Hills needs Scott, and Scott needs Stiles as much as Stiles needs him. That’s just the way it is.

Read More

briecheesie:

Teen Wolf!AU: Laura comes back as a ghost to make sure her brother is okay, but Stiles is the only one who can see her. (x)

Bonus Soundtrack: The Scientist - Coldplay

“Derek…” Stiles tries, hand reaching and pausing in the air between them, not sure where to go. Derek shifts away from any attempt, somehow closing in on himself without moving much at all.

“Don’t,” he mutters, and Stiles’ hand drops. He steels himself, reaches forward again, managing to close the distance until Derek shrugs him off roughly.

“Stiles,” Derek snaps, gaze focused on the ground, like he can’t stand looking up and not seeing his sister when she’s right there, “Don’t.”

Stiles takes in Derek’s defensive posture, the way he’s almost trembling from trying to hold himself together, and nods quickly, making a decision. It’s a hazardous one, but it’s a risk he has to take.

Pushing himself out of his chair, he throws his arms around Derek before the man can stop him, squeezing tightly even though he knows Derek could throw him off without any effort at all.

Derek doesn’t; he freezes, breathing shallow and muscles taut, ready to react if need be.

“Is this from Laura?” he asks after a few tense seconds have passed. Stiles can feel the strain of him fighting not to push away all throughout his body.

“No, you asshole,” he mutters, words muffled against Derek’s shoulder. “This is from me.”

(via archivebriecheesiearchive)

niablackcat:


“Who are you? Why do you smell like Stiles?”“What? You don’t recognize me?” The man didn’t wilt, not even when Derek’s hands twisted the worn leather in his grip. “I’m hurt.” 

Derek’s thought stuttered for a second. There was no chance in hell- “He’s dead,” he spit with a sense of finality that he’d worked so hard on in the past years.
The man in front of him chuckled as if Derek had just told a funny joke. “And yet you can smell it on me, don’t you?” He reclined his head against the wall where Derek had him pinned, baring his throat. But his eyes won’t leave Derek’s. “Come on, get a good whiff.”
The words sounded like a playful dare to Derek’s ears, and that alone made him even angrier, his hold on the man’s jacket tightening as he bared his fangs. “Don’t even fucking try-” he said, ready to tear the man to pieces, rip away from him Stiles’ scent and with it all the lies and the uncertainties that he carried in his pockets.
There wasn’t a damn to be continued engraved on Stiles’ tombstone, no happy end waiting for them around the corner. It was just how things were, and this man was not allowed to pile up all these facts and set them on fire as if they were nothing but origami cranes, as if Stiles’ death hadn’t left an ugly, perpetually open wound inside Derek’s chest, there where his heart kept beating only by sheer inertia-
“Come on, sourwolf,” the man grinned. And Derek’s reality tipped over once again.

aaannnd I’m dead.

niablackcat:

“Who are you? Why do you smell like Stiles?”

“What? You don’t recognize me?” The man didn’t wilt, not even when Derek’s hands twisted the worn leather in his grip. “I’m hurt.” 

Derek’s thought stuttered for a second. There was no chance in hell- “He’s dead,” he spit with a sense of finality that he’d worked so hard on in the past years.

The man in front of him chuckled as if Derek had just told a funny joke. “And yet you can smell it on me, don’t you?” He reclined his head against the wall where Derek had him pinned, baring his throat. But his eyes won’t leave Derek’s. “Come on, get a good whiff.”

The words sounded like a playful dare to Derek’s ears, and that alone made him even angrier, his hold on the man’s jacket tightening as he bared his fangs. “Don’t even fucking try-” he said, ready to tear the man to pieces, rip away from him Stiles’ scent and with it all the lies and the uncertainties that he carried in his pockets.

There wasn’t a damn to be continued engraved on Stiles’ tombstone, no happy end waiting for them around the corner. It was just how things were, and this man was not allowed to pile up all these facts and set them on fire as if they were nothing but origami cranes, as if Stiles’ death hadn’t left an ugly, perpetually open wound inside Derek’s chest, there where his heart kept beating only by sheer inertia-

“Come on, sourwolf,” the man grinned. And Derek’s reality tipped over once again.

aaannnd I’m dead.