juniperwing



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    04 Jun 2021

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Finally, against his better judgement, and having gone in circles for much too long, he blurted out, “Who is my soulmate?”

    The Witch looked disappointed, like he’d fucked up. Like he’d fucked up bad.

    But she answered anyway.

    “Mischief.”

    Derek stared at her, not understanding, because what? “That’s not a name,” he insisted.

    “Not exactly, no.” She offered him a small smile.

    “I don’t understand.”

    “You will.”

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    03 Jun 2021

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”

    The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”

    Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”

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    02 Jun 2021

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    When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

    Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

    Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

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    24 May 2021

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    “Okay.” Stiles glanced at his phone, wincing at the battery being close to ten percent. It was probably time to call Scott. Turning off the flashlight, mostly to save battery and kind of freaking out over how dark it was—though the half-moon reflecting off the snow helped a bit—he opened his contacts with shaking hands and scrolled through to Scott’s name. Once he hit it, he put the phone to his ear, looking around, and froze.

    The phone rang in his ear, but his eyes were locked on something big and moving through the trees.

    Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

    If that was a fucking bear, Stiles was fucked!

    The line kept ringing and ringing, but Scott didn’t answer. Eventually his voicemail picked up and Stiles very slowly lowered the phone and hung up without looking, eyes still on the dark shape in the trees. He glanced down for only a second to turn on the flashlight function again, then lifted it ever so slowly upwards, and felt his breath freeze in his lungs.

    It was a wolf.

    It was a motherfucking wolf.

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    23 May 2021