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@roseemrys / roseemrys.tumblr.com

Jessie/ 33 - Forever a fangirl.I used to make gifs *-Not a spoiler free blog but I tag posts.-
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matildajones

I’m scared, but I love you.

Sooooo, I actually managed to write something for sterek week. I wrote it kinda quickly, but I hope you all enjoy this kind of future fic, with magic!stiles and temporary amnesia? I had a bit of fun writing it even though I have no idea what’s going on lol.
STEREK WEEK 2016 || Day 4 || Magic!Stiles

Stiles awakes in an unfamiliar room. It’s not the first time this has happened – he’s had his fair share of one night stands – but normally there’s a sleeping body beside him and he’s wearing a lot less clothing.

Instead, soft pyjamas press against his skin and the blankets are warm and heavy. It’s almost peaceful, like he belongs here, like he has nothing to worry about, until he notices that he’s not alone.

There’s a man curled up on a chair beside the bed like he didn’t quite mean to fall asleep there. His thick eyebrows are drawn together, almost angry, and his chest rises and falls. A shirt is stretched thin over his muscles and he’s far too handsome to be waiting at Stiles’ bedside.

Stiles’ first thought is that he’s beautiful. His second thought – once his brain starts working again – is oh shit he knows that man.

It’s Derek Hale.

Stiles screams and then his bedsheets burst into flames.

“Oh my God,” he says, once Derek has put out the flames. Stiles shuffles backwards on the singed sheets, the awful smell of smoke in the air.

“Stiles – just stop.”

Derek reaches out to touch him and Stiles flinches. He searches for something to defend himself with but he can’t find anything and he’s all too aware of the wary look on Derek’s face.

Derek frowns at him. “Stiles,” he says, voice trying to be calm. “Are you okay?”

“No, I am not okay!” Stiles snaps. Derek takes a step closer, looking worried. “Hey! Yeah, no. You stay where you are. Don’t try any funny business.”

Derek sighs and puts his hands up in the air. He looks annoyed and still a little bit sleepy.

Stiles can hear his own pulse thudding in his ears, but momentarily he’s satisfied. Derek Hale is, at least, listening to him. He lets out a breath. “Good. You – you don’t move. Don’t set the bed on fire again.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. It seems like it’s a well-practiced look. “Stiles,” he says, “The fire was you.”

Stiles glares. “It was very much not me.”

Derek tries to move again but Stiles yells and he stops. His eyes turn frustrated and Stiles hates how pretty he looks in the half-light of the room. He’s not someone he should trust let alone admire.

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