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nightlight9 · 22 days ago

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Merry Christsmas, @always-mimits!

Happy holidays! Stay safe and warm and enjoy some Sterek-y goodness

*****

Oh Alpha of Mine

Stiles presses his fingers against his side while he runs, cursing when his fingers come back bloody. He knows that he should keep moving, knows that there isn’t any time to waste, but he can’t keep going like this. The pain is making him go crosseyed and he knows it won’t be long before his legs give out.

Being shot is up there with one of the worst injuries he’s had. He can’t save anyone like this.

Stumbling to stop, Stiles ducks behind a large pine, pressing his back against the rough wood to help ground him. Then, before he can overthink it, he digs his fingers into the wound.

Red hot heat scorches his side like a fire poker pulled directly from the flame. His vision whites out, but he doesn’t need to see to work his magic. Taking a deep breath, Stiles imagines light spilling from the tips of his fingers into the wound to stitch it back together. The threads are cool but not painless as they puncture his skin and Stiles has to bite his lip hard to resist crying out.

It doesn’t even take a minute before the pain fades to memory. Stiles opens his eyes again, breathing hard. With that taken care of, he needs to start moving again, needs-.

A twig snaps to his left, a deliberate sound made by his pursuers. Heart racing, Stiles schools his expression into one of fear and desperation, though it is just a mask to keep him from smiling. Because they think they’ve caught him. This might not have been his plan, but he can work with this. He’s nothing if not flexible.

“Boy,” the woman calls, voice singsong sweet. “Don’t be afraid.”

“This will only hurt a little,” the man echos. The voices come for different directions, one to the left and one to the right, leaving only the space in front of him clear. Or, he assumes, that is what they want him to believe. If there is one thing he’s gotten used to over the years, it’s having werewolves underestimate him because he doesn’t have their advanced senses. But he doesn’t need werewolf hearing to know that this is a trap. The trees whisper to him that the third pursuer is waiting for him to take the bait and make a run for it.

Instead of going along with their play, Stiles freezes and scrunches his face up in fear. “Please,” he says, voice shaking in a believable way. Slowly, he takes a step back so he’s once again pressed against the pine. This way, he doesn’t need to worry about anyone coming up behind him.

The woman shows herself first, walking into the small clearing from the left, gun drawn and pointing at his chest while she smiles. “Oh,” she tisks. “Such a sweet thing, so scared.”

The man joins them from the right. He has a gun in his hand too, but he keeps his pointed at the ground, posture relaxed. “Such a pretty little thing.”

It takes everything for Stiles to bite his tongue. These two are absolutely cracked and it would be so satisfying to sass at them. But he needs the alpha to show face before he can drop his act. The wolf is the real target. His two psycho minions mean nothing if he can’t get him.

A howl sounds from the distance, Isaac’s call echoing through the trees. The sound is far enough away that Stiles knows his backup won’t make it to him on time. But that’s okay. He prefers it this way even knowing that the pack is stronger together. When he’s on his own he doesn’t have to worry about the others getting hurt.

The call is enough to finally draw the alpha out. He’s in his beta shift, back curled into a hunch as he creeps forward. Stiles has to give him props. He’s lasted a lot longer than the other pack leaders come to challenge him for Beacon Hills. It won’t matter in the end, but it is kind of impressive. Especially given how crazy his pack is.

“You’re surrounded,” the alpha says, voice rough around his fangs. His eyes, a bright, piercing red, track Stiles’ every breath. “Surrender this land to me and I will consider letting the betas live.”

How thoughtful, Stiles thinks, nearly giving his act up by rolling his eyes. He needs the alpha a little closer before he moves though, that way he doesn’t risk getting shot again. Not many werewolves use guns, and Stiles gives this pack mental props for being so practical. It won’t be nearly enough to beat him, but he likes their creativity.

Magic gathers in the tips of his fingers, readying himself for the fight. But before he can act, the trees are hissing a warning, and then a large black wolf is breaking into the clearing, throwing the entire area into chaos.

Both betas turn their attention to the intruder, shots going wide as they react to the new threat. Seeing how off their shots are, Stiles wonders which one of them was lucky enough to actually hit him. He doesn’t have long to think about it though before the alpha is lunging for him, teeth first. Stiles moves on instinct, letting the magic take over as he finally stops pretending to be afraid.

This is his land and he will kill anyone who comes to challenge him for Beacon Hills. It’s finally time to show this pack just who they’re messing with.

Catching the alpha around the throat, Stiles lifts him off of the ground, effortlessly dodging the claws aimed at his chest. Digging his fingers into the alpha’s skin, Stiles pushes magic into him like a tree taking root, using it to lock his enemy’s muscles so he can’t move.

When he realizes what’s happened, the alpha’s eyes widen in fear. “What are you?” He hisses, forcing the words out as best as he can without being able to move his jaw.

Pulling him closer, Stiles smiles. “I am the alpha of Beacon Hills, a monster of it’s making. You never should have come here. You said that you would let my betas live. I am not nearly as merciful.”

With those words, his Spark flares, burning through the alpha until the light in his eyes fades. Emotionlessly, Stiles drops the body. His power is nearly drained. That kind of magic takes a lot out of him, and he’s grateful for the tree at his back as he leans into it. He knows he should dispatch the betas too, knows that he still has enough energy to finish this fight, but he’s interested to see what this new player on the board will do.

Across the clearing, the wolf fights both betas with unnatural speed. It is a sleek creature, it’s movements fluid as it bites and scratches. The man falls first, screams cutting off as he hits the ground and stops moving. The woman is able to hold out for longer, but Stiles can tell that she’s starting to panic. She knows that the rest of her pack is dead and that it’s only a matter of time before she is too.

In an act of desperation, she turns her back on the wolf and makes a move toward Stiles. She only gets two steps closer to him before the wolf is on her, teeth ripping into her neck with a sickening crunch.

The body falls, and the clearing goes quiet. Not even the trees react. Stiles watches the wolf closely, waiting to see what it will do. But when all it does is sit down, Stiles huffs. “Took you long enough,” he mutters, pushing himself off of the tree. Fatigue rushes over him as soon as he moves, making him stumble. The magic took more out of him than he realized. But, as he feels himself tip toward the ground, he isn’t too worried. He trusts the wolf to take care of him.

———

Stiles’ head is pounding when he returns to consciousness and he groans, throwing an arm over his head to press against his eyes. Without looking, he knows that he’s back at the pack house. The bed underneath him is familiar, though the weight pressed tight to his side is new. He remembers the fight, remembers the burn of magic leaving him drained, so either the wolf brought him here or the pack found him.

Whichever it is, Stiles is grateful. He always wakes up with twigs in uncomfortable places when he passes out in the woods.

Somewhere deeper in the house, a door slams. Stiles can hear someone shouting, but it isn’t loud enough for him to make out any words. Given the way the lump next to him stiffens, he can imagine what’s going on though. It makes him sigh. An alpha’s job is never done it seems.

Moving his arm, Stiles opens his eyes and sits up. From beside him the wolf watches closely as he swings his legs over the side of the bed. His body is sore but it isn’t anything he isn’t used too. It defiantly isn’t enough to keep him in bed. Especially when the shouting gets louder.

He takes one moment to address the wolf, rubbing his fingers through the fur on his head. He really is a beautiful creature, with thick black hair and intelligent eyes. Someone must have cleaned him up before letting him into the bedroom because there isn’t any blood matted in his fur or on the sheets, a fact that Stiles is grateful for. As much as Stiles would like to freeze time just to stay in this moment with him, he has work to do. “Time to face the music.”

It isn’t surprising when the wolf rises and follows him from the room, staying only a foot away from Stiles as they make their way downstairs.

As expected, Stiles finds the source of the commotion in the living room. Scott is standing just inside the front door, hands curled into fists, glaring at the Erica, Boyd and Isaac who stand together in front of the couch. He would like to say that their opposition is a rare occurrence these days, but that would be a lie. And Stiles knows that this won’t help. It’s just a reminder of a time before they were friends. But it is what it is. And Stiles has been preparing for this for years.

“What a nice wake up call,” Stiles drawls, crossing his arms over his chest when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Not one of his betas seem reprimanded as they look from him to the wolf and then back to each other.

Scott is the first person to speak. “You can’t just let him in here,” he snarls, pointing at where the wolf sits at Stiles’ feet. “They never should have let him through the front door. And then they left him alone with you!”

“Like he would hurt Stiles,” Isaac says, pushing around Erica and Boyd. His eyes are glowing gold, a sign of just how close he is to losing control. Seeing this, Boyd reaches out and rests one hand on Isaac’s neck.

Scott is not deterred though. “You don’t know that for sure! Stiles was passed out and vulnerable. You left him unprotected with a potential threat and-.”

“You weren’t even there,” Erica interrupts. Her posture is relaxed as she rolls her eyes, but Stiles can see claws in place of fingernails and knows it’s time to step in.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you guys agree? It’s been a tense morning but-.”

Scott snaps his head around to look at him, “You didn’t follow the plan! What were you thinking, heading out into the woods like that! We-.”

Stiles steps forward, power surging through him. He knows that his eyes are glowing, one bright purple the other alpha red, as he glares at Scott. “Are you questioning me?”

Instantly, Scott backs off. “No!” He exhales. “No. I know that you can handle yourself, obviously. I’m just upset that they’ve let him in here.”

“They were right letting him in, Scott. The wolf is welcome here.”

That makes Scott’s eyebrows draw down. “Stiles, that’s D-.”

“The wolf is welcome here,” Stiles says again, interrupting him. “And it isn’t up for debate. It’s not often that I put my foot down like this, but it is nonnegotiable, Scott. This is my house and I am the alpha of this pack.” Releasing his magic, Stiles smiles down at the wolf. “You are welcome to stay. I would like you to.”

Scott groans, but whatever complaints he has he keeps to himself. Still, Stiles isn’t done with him. “You are more than welcome to join us for breakfast, if you’d like, but do so knowing the wolf will be here.” It is the only olive branch he can offer. Well, that and, “If we’re lucky, Boyd will make some French toast.”

Boyd rolls his eyes. “Subtle. Do you think you really deserve French toast?”

“Duh. I took care of the threat to our town, managed not to have the police called on us this time, and made it back in one piece. I’m like, the best alpha ever.”

Erica settles onto the couch with a snort, apparently over the whole ordeal. “Oh yes, because passing out after overexerting yourself is so responsible.”

Very responsibly, Stiles sticks his tongue out at Erica and then turns wide eyes on Boyd. “Please?”

He knows he’s won by the long exasperated sigh Boyd releases.

—————

It’s been three weeks since the incident in the woods. Like Stiles had hoped, the wolf stays at the pack house, acting as his constant companion when he’s home. The betas let him know that the wolf stays in his bedroom when he’s gone, and as much as he would like to press, Stiles knows that this is something he has to let play out on it’s own. Just having him in the house is a win, and he won’t risk running him off because he can’t wait.

Exhausted after a long day at work, Stiles comes home on a random Tuesday to find half of his pack piled in the living room. They’ve gathered up all of the extra blankets and pillows bought specifically for this purpose and are sprawled across the floor with a movie queued up, talking amongst themselves.

This is a normal occurrence, and it’s one that Stiles is more than ready to sink into in order to ease the stress of the day. Kicking off his shoes, Stiles slots himself between Isaac and Scott, sighing in relief when Boyd wraps a hand around his ankle and Erica links their hands together. The rest of the pack are absent, but that is normal too. Lydia and Jackson are attending college out of state, and Allison and Kira work odd shifts, but he can still feel all of the pack bonds when he focuses on them, and it is enough to settle him down.

Once he’s comfortable, Boyd starts the movie, not that Stiles could tell you what it is they’re watching. His attention is solely focused on the way the wolf is creeping closer to the pack pile, crawling on his belly over the floor with his ears pressed back against his head like he’s waiting to be scolded. Scott is the first of the betas to notice him. Stiles can feel how he stiffens up. But, surprisingly, after he pinches Isaac’s arm to show him what’s happening, Scott’s entire body relaxes again.

Stiles presses his lips together to keep from smiling, knowing how crazed it would look if he allowed his grin to surface. He can’t help it though. This is what he’s been waiting for. Months of having to step in when Scott and the rest of the pack got into screaming matches, years of waiting for a phone call. It’s all lead to this moment here, one that feels so fragile but so perfect at the same time.

By the time the wolf makes it all the way to them, all of the betas have turned to watch him. For a minute, it seems like this closeness is all they’ll get, the wolf laying beside them without touching. But when Isaac starts to cry, little huffs of sobs that shake his body, whatever trepidation the wolf was feeling melts away. He steps into the group, mindful not to step on anyone, and nudges Isaac with his snout. When the blond throws himself at the wolf, wrapping around him and dragging them both to the floor, the wolf doesn’t pull away.

That’s all the invitation Erica and Boyd need to join the hug. Scott doesn’t make a move to do the same, but he does smile at the display which is more than what Stiles expected from this moment.

Once the hugging and crying are finished, the group rearranges so that the wolf and Stiles are in the center of the pile while everyone else curls around them. It is comfortable and warm, and as the wolf tucks his head under Stiles’ chin, Stiles finally relaxes. For the first time since he became the alpha, only now does it feel like the pack is actually complete. For the first time in years, Stiles is completely content.

—————

Stiles wakes up with Erica’s hair in his mouth. Spitting it out, he sits up and scowls at where she still sleeps peacefully. Looking around the room, Stiles is surprised to find that all of his betas are still asleep. The only one missing is the wolf.

As carefully as he can, Stiles gets up off of the floor, cursing how his back pops. He stretches for a moment, working out a kink in his neck, before he goes off to search for his missing companion.

Instead of finding the wolf, he finds Derek sitting on the edge of his bed wearing a pair of his sweatpants and holding an old tee shirt in his lap. When Stiles enters the room, he looks up and those multicolored eyes have him stumbling to a stop.

All Stiles can do is drink in the sight of him. Memories pale in comparison to actually having him here, especially because he looks softer than he did before. Time and distance really can heal, and Derek has a relaxed way that proves that.

Stiles can’t say for sure how long they spend just watching each other, cataloging all the ways that they’ve changed. Seconds or years, it doesn’t matter. Because then Derek smiles, and everything else just melts away.

“Should I call you Alpha Stilinski?” he asks, teasing and fond.

Stiles scoffs. “Absolutely not. I mean, you can definitely call me alpha, but leave my last name out of it.”

Derek’s laughter is bright and clear. Stiles wants to bottle the sound to keep for bad days, wonders if he can use his Spark for magic like that.

Having imagined this moment since Derek left Beacon Hills with Cora, he braces himself for the questions he knows are coming, hoping that one of them will be a request to stay. Instead, all Derek says is, “Of course it would be you.”

Just like that, the tables have turned. Now Stiles is the one with all of the questions. He isn’t as shy about asking though. “What do you mean?”

Derek’s huff of amusement is almost better than the full-bodied laughter from before. “Of course you would be the alpha. My mother always said that while it was important for an alpha to be the protector, it was just as important for them to be the heart of the group, and you have always been both of those. You were the one who stepped up when Scott got bit. You were the one who maintained communication with me and the betas after Peter was killed. You were the one who stepped in and helped deal with the alpha pack and the Argents.” His voice gets softer and his eyes gleam when he says, “You were the one I felt safe handing the betas over too after I lost the alpha spark. When word got around about a true alpha in Beacon Hills, Cora thought it was Scott. But I knew better. It could only ever have been you.”

Stiles is damn proud of everything he’s been through. It was hard, and there were moments where he hated it, but he’s proud of who he’s become because of it. He remembers, so vividly, when the alpha spark lit inside of him, how the alpha power felt as it wove around the Spark magic he had been honing with Deaton. It was the best feeling of his life, hands down.

This though, this quiet and confident way Derek compliments him. Well, it might even be a little better.

“Stay with me,” he whispers, unable to hold the words back. He knows by the way his magic flares that his eyes are glowing but he can’t stop.

He let Derek go once because he knew that he needed to. He didn’t pressure him to stay because it wasn’t the right thing to do. Now he would beg if it would keep Derek in Beacon Hills. He knows, without a doubt, that Derek is a part of his pack. He knows without a doubt that Derek is his.

Derek smiles but drops his eyes to the shirt on his lap. Stepping closer, Stiles gets to his knees in front of the bed. He wants to reach out and wrap his hands around Derek’s knees, but he won’t touch without permission.

“Please, Derek. Can’t you feel the land in your veins? It’s claimed you like I have. You belong with us.”

“Stiles.”

“I know that, when you left the last time, it wasn’t on the best terms with the rest of the pack. You felt like you had let your betas down. And Scott told me how he told you to leave and not come back. Erica, Boyd and Isaac still hold that against him. Because he never should have tried to chase you off. Beacon Hills is as much yours as it is mine, Derek. I know that you had to go. I know that you needed the space. But you’re back now. Don’t leave again.”

“Stiles.”

“And the rest of the pack, they want you here too. Even Lydia and Jackson know that you belong to us, and they haven’t even had a chance to see you yet. I know that Cora has her pack but Derek-,”

“Stiles!” A warm hand comes up to cradle his face. When he looks at Derek, all he sees is warmth. “Stiles,” his voice is a sigh. “You have to know. Surely, you have to see it.” If Derek’s huff of laughter is any indication, Stiles’ confusion is obvious. Carefully, Derek slides off the bed so that they’re both on their knees. “Cora’s pack is great. South America is beautiful. But when the alpha there offered me a spot with them, I told them no. Because I already had a pack I belonged to.”

Leaning forward, Derek pushes their foreheads together. “Stiles, you were the biggest pain in the ass after Scott got bit. I hated you and I hated that I trusted you so much. But when I walked away from Beacon Hills, I was already yours. You were just a random human kid when I left, barely even a Spark at that point and definitely not an alpha. But I was yours all the same. I can feel our pack bond like a tether in my chest, and I have been able to feel it since that cab took me away from this town. You’re right, I had to go. But now that I’m back, I am not going anywhere.” His eyes glow that beautiful bright blue.

Stiles feels like he’s shaking apart. “Promise?”

This time when Derek laughs, Stiles can feel it on his lips. “No, I just like carving my heart out and offering it on a plate for fun. Gods everywhere, Stiles. Yes, I promise.”

Stiles can’t help it. He never wants to take something from Derek that he doesn’t want to give, but he can’t help tilting his head and leaning in until their lips press together. The hand still resting on Stiles’ cheek twitches, and then Derek groans and pulls Stiles closer, wrapping his arm around Stiles’ waist to hold them together.

It’s hungry right from the start. Years of daydreaming about what this kiss would taste like leaves Stiles hungry and desperate when he finally runs his tongue over the seam of Derek’s lips. Each huff of breath is better than any dream because it’s real. There’s no way he could have imagined how Derek’s fingers twitch against his side or how he growls when Stiles grips his hair tight. By the time the kisses change from biting to languid and deep, Stiles can barely hold himself up.

Derek pulls back finally, laughing in a way that would make Stiles self conscious if he wasn’t still holding onto his hips so tightly. “Erica says that you need to figure out how to soundproof your room.”

Groaning, Stiles buries his face in Derek’s neck. A thrill goes through him when Derek tilts his head a little more to give him more room.

“That’s it, I am disowning all of them.” Even with his human ears, Stiles hears Isaac’s squawk of indignation. “Every single one of them.”

Laughing, Derek gets to his feet, dragging Stiles along with him. “Come on. It will be good to see them now that I’m taller than them again.” Before Stiles can move, Derek links their fingers together and brings their joined hands up so that he can press a kiss against the inside of Stiles’ wrist. “Oh, and Stiles. I agree with Erica. You should work on soundproofing this room.” His voice is a purr when he adds, in a low tone, “We’re going to need it, oh alpha of mine.”

Every lightbulb in the house bursts.

#stereksanta24 #mywriting #sterek fic #alpha stiles #spark stiles #full wolf derek

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