#POV derek hale

[mrspasser]

The things he does for his pack

Pinterest showed me a tweet from someone who fed his co-workers pot brownies because he didn't want to be the only one dirty on the random drug test. I had some thoughts about that and the result is this Sterek fanfic :-)

Read it on A03

There’s a chilly wind blowing that he can barely ward off with the upturned collar of his jacket, his ass has gone numb from the hard bench and a few rows below him there’s a man eating nachos with the most obnoxious artificial flavouring Derek has ever smelled. 

The things he does for his pack…

At least the game isn’t a total shit show. He isn’t all that fond of lacrosse - he was on the basketball team himself, but most of his pack plays. Boyd is the newest recruit and though he’s sitting on the bench next to Stiles right now, he’s scheduled to take his place in the goal for the last two quarters. Jackson, Isaac and Scott each usually play the whole game and Stiles plays a quarter here and there - as long as he doesn’t annoy the coach too much.

They’re ahead, with only a few minutes left of the second quarter. The Beacon Hills Cyclones started off strong and scored six goals already, to a meagre two of their opponents. If they keep this up, they’ll win the game by a landslide. Stiles might even get to play. 

Besides him, Erica cheers loudly as Isaac scores the seventh goal, right before the referee blows his whistle. The team gathers around their coach to hear his instructions, though a few of them are more focused on the water cooler than game tactics. They’re laughing and bumping into each other, ignoring Finstock when he calls them to order. It seems like they think the game is won already. Derek hears both Scott and Jackson berate their teammates. If they win this game, they’ll compete in the state championships, so there’s a lot riding on this game.

“Go get ‘m, babe!” Erica yells when Boyd jogs towards the goal after the break. The young werewolf looks back and lifts his stick in response and Derek gives him a supportive nod. Boyd joined the team mostly because of his pack mates and the role of goalie fits him well. He’s not flawless, he doesn’t have enough field experience for that, but his werewolf reflexes make up for a lot.

The game restarts and it only takes a few minutes to see that a good part of the team doesn’t have the same focus as before their break. “What the fuck are they doing?” asks Erica, gesturing towards the field where two players seem to be performing some kind of dance. It’s uncoordinated and barely recognizable as dancing, still, it is anything but lacrosse. Jackson yells at them until they get back in line, which they do with a lot of giggling.

Derek frowns at the spectacle below. The visiting team scores two goals in succession: the first is a clever trick shot that he really doesn’t fault Boyd for not catching and the second shot goes in because one of the Cyclones actually hinders his own goalie on purpose. To say the team isn’t happy with that is an understatement. Within minutes the whole game is in disarray and when one of the players stumbles off to the sideline to be sick, the referee calls the whole thing off. It’s a big mess. Derek’s proverbial hackles go up: this whole thing reeks. Something is wrong, but what?

Down on the field Jackson yanks his helmet off and tosses it down on the ground, swearing loudly. Both Isaac and Scott take it upon them to direct their unruly teammates back towards the locker rooms. “It’s like herding cats,” Derek hears Isaac complain when some of his teammates start up an impromptu game of tag and run back onto the field, leaving the young werewolf standing.

Coach Finstock is almost purple from all the yelling he does and all over the bleachers there’s confusion and amused chatter to be heard. Most people have left their seats and gone down to the field. Erica stands next to her boyfriend, who is gesturing angrily at some teammates who stumble past. 

Derek gets up and scans the field for his pack. He has a nagging suspicion of foul play and it bothers him that he can’t sense any danger. As far as he can tell, it’s just the humans and his own pack on the field. There’s no-one else. The werewolves all seem to be acting normal, which leads him to believe there was something that affected the humans. 

Stiles. Where is Stiles?

Now that he thinks of it, Derek kinda expects Stiles to be at the forefront of this whole mess, yet the lanky human is nowhere to be seen. That can’t be right. The nagging sense of discomfort that sat low in his belly turned into alarm.

The Alpha werewolf lets his enhanced senses work for him as he urgently searches the crowd, though it still takes him a while to spot the Cyclones’ number 24. Stiles is lying underneath the bench, curled up against some bags of sport’s gear. He took his protective gear off and cuddled with the shoulder pads in his arms like it’s a teddy bear. Derek rushes over, unsure of the condition his pack member is in. It’s only when he’s close that he can hear his slight snores over the din of the crowd. Relief swoops through his stomach.

“Stiles!” There’s no reaction, not even when Derek calls his name a second time. He crouches down to shake the boy’s shoulder. “Stiles! Wake up!” 

Stiles wakes up with a mumbled “Huh? Wazzit?” and a lolling search of his head towards the sound. His eyes blink open unevenly. One eye focuses on Derek and a lazy, contented grin appears on his face. “Der-bear.”

Derek rolls his eyes at the stupid pet name, though he can’t hide the relieved smile that breaks through. He helps Stiles roll out from under the bench, preventing him from bumping his head into it when he tries to sit up. “What are you doing on the ground?”

Another loopy grin. “I was sleepy.”

If Derek didn’t know any better, he’d say Stiles was drunk. He’s acting even more uncoordinated than usual and he has trouble focusing his vision. Thing is, he can’t smell any alcohol on the boy, just sweat and sweets. And he knows Stiles isn’t a big fan of drinking, having seen from up close what alcohol can do to a man. Derek has to hold Stiles by the arms to keep him sitting upright; he would pitch right over otherwise. “Stiles? What happened?” 

“I dunno,” Stiles answers, slightly slurring his words. He grips onto Derek’s forearms and tries to look around him at the field. “Is the game over? Did we win?” 

Derek jostles him a little to get his attention back on him. “Stiles. Focus!” 

Erica and Boyd come up to them, giving Stiles a scrutinising look. “What’s wrong with him?” Erica asks, cocking her head as she looks the boy over. 

“I don’t know,” Derek grits out and tries to get Stiles to stand up. It’s like wrestling an octopus. The boy is not cooperating at all and after a few moments Derek gives up and lets him sit down on the bench. At least that way he isn’t on the ground anymore. Stiles immediately tips over to lean against Derek’s hip, all heavy and loose limbs.

Boyd chuckles lowly. “Dude, is he stoned?”

“Stoned?!” Erica bends over to grab Stiles by the chin so she can look into his face. “He is!” she cackles in delight. “His eyes are all red!”

Stiles grabs Derek’s leg for stability, winding his arm around it, and sits up a little straighter. “I have red eyes?” He looks up at Derek and grins. “You hear that, Sourwolf? I’m the Alpha now!”

Boyd crosses his arms in front of his chest and regards them with a knowing smile. “He’s baked.”

“No, I didn’t!” Stiles flails and Derek has to grab him by the back of his jersey to prevent him from headbutting the werewolf in the crotch. The boy refuses to let go of his leg. “Greenberg did the baking. They were delicious!”

“What are you talking about?” Derek keeps him upright as much as he can, which is surprisingly hard when Stiles resembles an octopus ragdoll. 

“Pot brownies.” The voice of Jackson cuts through and all heads turn to the team’s co-captain that comes walking up to them. He’s looking cross. “Fucking Greenberg fed the whole team edibles before the game.” 

“They were very edible,” Stiles mumbles. His voice kind of gets lost under the astonished exclamations of his packmates. He snuggles a little closer to Derek’s leg.

“Why would he do that?” Derek growls. It’s clear the rest of the team didn’t know anything of this plan, which basically means the guy poisoned his team mates. 

“To fuck with the mandatory drug test they were gonna have us take after the game,” Jackson explains curtly. “A random check. We weren’t supposed to know about it, but Greenberg got into the coach's papers or something.”

Derek huffs. “That doesn’t explain why he fed the whole team drugs. Why risk getting kicked out of the competition?”

“Dude’s a stoner. He didn’t want to get caught.” 

Erica laughs. “That is kinda genius, if you think about it.” At Derek’s ornery look she explains: “Chances are they would dismiss the test if the whole team tested positive. They’d think it was a faulty test, or something.” 

“Yeah, or they would just suspend the entire team,” Boyd corrects her. “Where is that asshole now?” he asks Jackson. That is something Derek wants to know too.

Jackson points a thumb back over his shoulder. “Back at the locker room. Coach is ripping him a new one. Scott and Isaac are with them.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. His first reaction was to join coach Finstock in yelling at this Greenberg idiot, but was it really his place to do so? After all, most of his pack was unharmed and the one that did get affected was just high as a kite. And cuddly. He grips the back of Stiles’ neck to keep his head still, so he wasn’t affectionately rubbing his face on Derek’s hip. He sighs. “Let’s go home.” 

That does get Stiles’ attention. “Home?! I can’t go home!” He clumsily tries to get to his feet, using various body parts of his Alpha as a handgrip. Derek hauls him to his feet with a hand in his armpit before it can get any worse. “My dad can’t go home! I mean, I can’t go there. My dad is at home.” He pauses for a second. “Which means he can’t go home either, because he’s already there. Huh. What was I saying?” 

“Well, you can’t stay here either,” Derek answers impatiently. “You’ve got to sleep this off, or something.” 

“I don’t know, I kinda like him like this,” Erica smirks. She shows her teeth when Derek glares at her.

“I can sleep here.” Stiles tries to turn to pat the bench he’d been sleeping underneath earlier, almost falling over the thing in his attempt. Derek gets a hold of his arm and resigns himself quietly to not letting go until Stiles was safely at home, in bed.

“Guys! We’re getting a rematch next week,” Scott announces from afar, jogging over to them. Isaac follows him in his wake. “What’s the matter with Stiles?” 

“He ate three pot brownies, that’s the matter with Stiles,” Isaac deadpans after one look at his pack mate. 

“He ate three?!” Erica guffaws.

“They were really good!” Scott hurries to say. “Besides, I had two and I feel fine.” 

“That’s because you’re a werewolf, dumbass,” Jackson hisses and for once Derek is glad that Jackson said something so he didn’t have to.

“Oh. Right.” Scott has the decency to look abashed. He moves a little closer to his friend, who resorted back to leaning up against Derek for support. “Will he be okay?” he asks the older werewolf.

“Should be fine,” Derek grunts. “Just has to sleep it off.” 

“Oh, yeah, that should work,” Scott nods sagely. Then his face clears. “Shit! He can’t go home, his dad will know he’s high!” 

“Yeah, Der! Dad will know!” Stiles agrees vehemently, turning fast to slap Derek in the chest for emphasis. “Ohh, I feel sick,” he groans immediately afterward, his face turning white as a sheet. 

Recognising what is about to happen, Derek moves them a step away from the others and holds Stiles steady as he suddenly lurches forward and pukes on the grass. Behind them, the werewolves make various noises of disgust. Derek isn’t a fan of the stench of vomit either, but Stiles is trembling on his legs like a newborn foal and making pitiful noises in between heaving up the contents of his stomach, so he supports him with a hand underneath his chest and rubs comforting circles on his back with the other.

When his stomach is finally empty, Stiles leans forward with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Scott helps his friend drink a cup of water from the team’s water cooler. Stiles is too out of it to do much to help. “I feel like shit,” he says in a wobbly voice. 

“Yeah,” Derek agrees gently. “Let’s get you home, alright? You can stay at the loft until you feel better.” The boy will probably be alright after a good sleep.

“Thanks,” Stiles sighs and closes his eyes. He even starts tipping forward alarmingly. 

“That’s it,” Derek decides out loud and scoops Stiles up so he can carry him to the car. “We’re out of here.” He walks off in the direction of the parking lot, Stiles dozing in his arms, trusting the rest of his pack to sort things out when it comes to grabbing their stuff and finding their own way back to the loft. 

Stiles wakes up a little when Derek positions him carefully in the front seat of his car. “Der?” he asks, his head lolling back against the seat. 

“Hmm?” Derek reaches across him to fasten his seatbelt. From the corner of his eye he can see Stiles following him with his eyes, a smile on his face that’s a cross of loopy and fond.

When Derek leans back, sitting on his haunches next to his car, Stiles strains forward in his seatbelt conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Scott, but you’re my favourite werewolf,” he whispers.

Derek huffs a laugh despite himself. He shakes his head and gets up to close the car door.

“You gotta promise, Der,” Stiles urges. “You can’t tell Scott!” 

The werewolf nods indulgently. “Sure.” 

But Stiles isn’t happy with that answer. “You gotta promise!” When Derek doesn’t react to him sticking out his pink, he shakes his hand in front of his face and urges: “Pinky swear that you won’t tell!” 

“Stiles, come on, lets just get you home.” Derek is a grown ass Alpha werewolf. He isn’t gonna pinky swear with a teenager that’s still pretty baked. 

Stiles points at him with a stern finger. “Pinky swear or you’re no longer my favourite werewolf!” 

And Derek…. Well, he can’t help it. As much as Stiles can be annoying and a handful, he’s also smart, loyal and, God help Derek, funny. 

“Can’t have that, right?” Derek chuckles and hooks his pinky finger around Stiles’. He’s awarded with a bright grin when he declares solemnly not to tell Scott that Derek is Stiles’ favourite werewolf.

With Stiles satisfied, Derek can close the car door and finally get into the car himself. Stiles watches him start the car with bleary eyes. He’ll probably fall asleep soon. 

“Don’t puke on the upholstery,” he warns his young packmate, just to be sure. 

“I promise,” Stiles responds, as serious as he can while breaking into a yawn. He’s still a bit pale around the nose, though Derek suspects he can keep himself collected during the short ride to the loft.

It’s quiet for a bit as Derek navigates the school parking lot and drives out onto the main road. “Hey Der?” it sounds softly from the seat next to him after a few minutes. 

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek signals for a corner.

“Am I your favourite human?” 

The tentative way the words are spoken makes Derek look over. Stiles actually seems bashful, it’s an odd look on him. 

Derek hesitates for a second, but… Whatever. They’re alone and there’s a chance that Stiles won’t remember this conversation by tomorrow anyway. The werewolf puts his hand on the boy’s knee and squeezes. “You are, Stiles.” 

“That’s nice,” Stiles says in a whisper. He sounds pleased. And half asleep, that too. However, half asleep as he is, Stiles still holds out his hand with his pinky outstretched. “I won’t tell Scott,” he promises when Derek hooks his own pinky in after just a short moment. 

“Good,” Derek agrees with a smile. The childish secret between them makes him feel oddly giddy. 

The boy sleeps for the rest of the ride and doesn’t wake up when Derek lifts him from the car and carries him up the stairs. He gently tucks Stiles in in his bed, figuring he can stand to have his bedding smelling like his favourite human tonight. When he gets back downstairs, his betas look at him questioningly, but they don’t say anything, especially not after he gives them his credit card to order dinner. 

Stiles wakes up around nine PM, hungry like a wolf. He scarfs down the pizza the pack left for him in a remarkable show of restraint and resigns himself to their teasing easily. It looks like he indeed doesn’t remember all that much from what happened. More importantly, besides ‘feeling a bit crunchy’ - Stiles’ own words - he’s not much worse for wear from the whole thing. Perhaps Derek really doesn’t have to go after that idiot of a Greenberg. 

By eleven, Derek evicts his pack from his home. He loves them, honestly, but there’s only so much teenage bullshit he can stand. He makes Scott drive Stiles home in the Jeep, not listening to Stiles’ protests and even flashing his red eyes when the boy doesn’t give in quickly enough. Stiles wrinkles his nose at him, though he complies easily after that. 

Around midnight, when Derek is reading in bed, his phone lights up with a message: [ FYI. I changed your name in my contacts from Sourwolf to F.W. So now we match! ]

Derek texts back a question mark. It’s a common occurrence when texting with Stiles.

A moment later there’s a reply. [ Can’t have Scott find out, can we? ;-) ] 

It’s only then that Derek notices that the name on the texts doesn’t say Stiles, but Favourite Human. He has no idea how or when Stiles got a hold of his phone this evening.

He thinks about changing it for a second, but puts his phone back on the nightstand instead and shuts off the light so he can go to sleep.

The things he does for his pack.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

READ IT HERE ON AO3

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excerpt:

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes good coffee, is all. He really should've asked the barista to find out not just the coffee's brand name but the supplier's address, too, because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged on the matter.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… A green thing. It's sort of feather shaped, and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth—at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body. His stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the fucking infuriating Google searching to not have registered the smell of his mate's distress when Stiles first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

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YOU CAN READ THE REST HERE ON AO3

[ghostieblr]

Peter's Vows

When Derek is born, there is an earthquake. Beacon Hills is many things, but it is not a place of earthquakes. This is an anomaly, this sudden shaking of the land, and Peter watches Talia go through the pain of birthing a cub, and he makes note of how her cries resonate with the moving earth. As the baby is brought to the world of the living, the earth shakes more; giddy, Peter thinks of the land. Giddy at this baby's birth. That's what it is.

The town reels with the destruction, however minimal it seems to be. It is the strangeness of the earthquake that has the people in a panic, and it takes two days of Mayor Yukimura calling for council meetings and community barbecues that they begin to somehwat calm down.

The baby is named Derek on the first day itself, born underneath the Nemeton, his pale blue eyes reflecting the moonlight in silver hues. Talia sobs with relief, Nathan beside her, stroking her hair. Laura is back at the pack house, safely tucked in the bed, the rest of the pack members keeping watch. Talia had wanted to bring her with them, fearing the worst of the anomaly, but their mom had convinced her to not do it. The birth of the Alpha's cub is a big deal, but it is also private: only the Mate, Emissary and Left Hand are allowed to be present, for comfort, safety, and protection, respectively.

It has been tradition since ages, and Talia is the last person to break it.

Derek is a calm baby. Sleeps through the night, doesn't cry for attention. Only does it for feeding, his survival instinct as strong as his lungs. Peter adores him, even if he may never admit it to anyone.

He is also curious about the boy. Why an earthquake? It cannot be a coincidence. Truly, he wonders how some people can be so dumb. Calling it a coincidence is insulting to the Powers That Be, which must have called upon such a natural reaction of the land for a reason. Derek is a special boy, and Peter vows to find out how.

Besides his incredibly compassionate heart, that is.

It is in his eyes, which have slowly turned into a kaleidoscope of colors, the kindness of him. Derek's trust is not so easily earned, but once it is, it is extremely difficult to dislodge it.

Derek is a boy destined to become a kind man, one that will be an Alpha with mercy in his heart but cunning in his mind. Peter sees the makings of it right from the beginning, the way the boy will procure solutions to his own problems as well as those he deems important to him. Laura is the first born and thus has the claim to being the next Hale Alpha, however Peter knows, somehow, perhaps instinctually, that Derek will be the Alpha.

Another piece of the puzzle falls in place when their emissary falls pregnant. She's an amazing woman, Claudia. Peter likes her wit and humor, and he enjoys the perspective of her husband, the deputy, and if luck is on his side, soon-to-be Sheriff of Beacon Hills. Peter is happy for the couple.

He is, also, astonished to see an almost five-year-old Derek climb onto Claudia's lap one morning, his small fists rubbing against his eyes, and his nose scrunching determinedly to find a scent.

Peter remembers the conversation well.

"Derek, honey? What are you trying to find?"

"Mine," is what Derek growls in reply to Claudia, and shoves his nose against her barely-showing belly.

Peter's laughing figure is shot out of the end of the couch and onto the floor by Claudia's impeccable throw of one of the decorative pillows from said couch.

Thereafter, it was peculiar but not unseemly to find Derek following beside Claudia, his whole little being focused on the life forming inside her. And when the night came, Peter wasn't at all surprised to witness the thunderstorm.

Claudia had plans of giving birth in the hospital, but due to miscalculated steps, or simply because of reasons not privy to them, the best possible option left for her seemed to be below the Nemeton.

John had lost his damn mind at the prospect. "It's raining! Heavily!"

"Talia gave birth in an earthquake," Claudia says through gritted teeth, "And the baby doesn't care, nor do I, John. It is—"

Her words are cut off by another scream, and she is right, of course. It is time.

Talia, John, and Peter are the only ones who should go with her, but Derek, the little sneaky wolf that he seems to have become, follows them. It isn't until halfway through that John, the human, realizes his presence first.

They move forward with the determined little boy, who is all sopping wet in his wolf onesie, and really, this is no laughing matter. Except it is.

Claudia is brought below the Nemeton, and the tree, big and branching and beautiful, hums in their presence. The canopy of it sheds them some, but not completely.

And so, under hard rain and sharp thunderstorms, Mieczysław Stilinski is born, his little body almost white under the moonlight, and his eyes, when they open, a shock of topaz, like a glinting jewel; a fallen angel, Peter thinks.

Derek carefully wraps the baby in the blanket Talia removes from the packed bag, her movements locked onto her son's and the baby's, while John tends to his wife.

Peter watches. He notes the way the baby is calmest in Derek's arms, the way Derek is mesmerized.

This is more than just being True Mates.

True Mates itself are the rarest of occurrences, but something tells him this is more than that. The earthquake, and this sudden rain, in April of all things, simply cannot be coincidence. There must be a reason, one that Peter must uncover.

In the coming years, he dedicates his time to the quest, and finds that, oh, this is something unique indeed.

Unique to the point of legend.

Of course, he gathers facts before telling anyone. Derek's control goes onto the list, as does his ability to switch between his shift as easy as breathing. Having such control at the age of seven is almost impossible, but he has it without the growing ego that would have inflated anyone else's with the amount of praise he gets.

Stiles, as Derek had nicknamed Mieczysław almost immediately post his arrival in the world, is no human. His mother's line has some pretty strong magical abilities, but the kind of power that this boy exudes surpasses imagination. Nobody notices at first, not even Peter, until Stiles is a couple of months past his third birthday. It truly isn't until Derek, almost nine, comes down from his room one day into the kitchen, says, "Which packet, Stiles?" that they realize it.

"Honey, he isn't a wolf. He cannot hear you," Nathan tells him, but Derek just shrugs.

"He is for today."

Peter hears the, "Blue one! Blue one! Blue is sooo pretty, Derek!" from Stiles, who is definitely sitting in Derek's room, upstairs.

Derek grabs the blue packet and goes upstairs, and Peter follows, followed by Talia and Nathan, who beckon Claudia as well.

Stiles sitting on the floor, a myriad of toys around him, while the packets of chips sit beside him, torn open, evidently by Derek's claws, who himself is playing with Stiles.

And they're both being fed flying chips.

The three wolves turn to Claudia as one. Her shaking head and awed face is enough to clue them in, and really, Peter thinks, this is fucking incredible.

Powers don't manifest as early as this in magic wielders. They're more of the puberty package, tied to emotions at the beginning rather than will.

This is... defying it.

Peter loves to see when the next piece of the puzzle will fall.

And it does oh so enticingly.

Years later, when Derek is fourteen and Stiles is almost nine, comes the first trial. The Alpha Summit & The Argent Treaty.

Peter doesn't believe Gerard's words to do no harm, so he sets up precautions in place. It pays off, because during the summit, he almost ends up blinding Deaucalion — something that could have turned super bad if left unchecked.

Gerard's attack is met with swift retaliation, but somehow, only his goons end up dead. Gerard himself remains free, and through sheer will, maybe, the old man manages to kidnap Laura.

By the time the adults sniff out their cub, they're too late.

Not in the sense of Laura being hurt, but in the terms of missing the action, somewhat.

When they enter the warehouse, they are faced with Gerard being held down by a black wolf, fangs around his neck, the eyes of the creature a deep, ruby red. Deeper than Talia's. At first, they all assume it to be one of the visiting Alphas, but then they realize Stiles' presence, too, and it clicks.

Stiles frees Laura from the painful looking electric rod, and comes back to Derek, coaxes him back to his human form as Peter and Nathan take care of the psychopath.

Laura lets Talia mother her, and then says, "We'll have two Alphas."

Talia looks at the now human Derek, and eyes shining with pride, she nods. "Come here, both of you," she beckons, and the boys run, Stiles' chattering a comforting sound for all of them.

A few weeks later, Derek admits to everyone he has a new friend, and talks about her often. Paige this, Paige that. Laura teases him, restrained in her words, trying not to upset Derek's control. Even Cora pulls back. Stiles, though, is almost worse.

He riles Derek to the point of him using his Alpha voice to shut up, and the whole Pack silences itself, even Talia. Stiles, though — an exception to all things sane — doesn't back down. The voice doesn't work on him, and Derek isn't phased by it. However, the smell of guilt filters through their home, and Stiles' sigh is followed by comforting words. There is no apologizing though.

Soon, they'll learn from Derek himself that he hates that everyone is walking on eggshells. That is why he kept bringing up Paige, so that someone would tease him, uncle Peter, Laura, Cora. Or that Stiles would rile him up.

"Why would he, though? He should be happy for you. I am." Cora's words are met with a laugh from Derek, and a groan of embarrassement from Stiles.

"He's weirdly possessive — don't push me, you know you are."

"Alright," Stiles sighs, "I am."

"And Paige is a great friend, but I don't nearly think about her as much as I might have let you all believe."

And that is when Peter sees it. The blink-and-you-will-miss-it purple flash of Stiles' eyes. Peter doesn't put thought into why now; he simply focuses on completing the puzzle.

And he does. True Alpha and Purple Eyes? That's easy.

That's legend.

Set in stone as the first Alpha and the first Emissary as well as Spark, who, arguably, also set in stone the sword of Excalibur.

That part of the legend has questionable sources, though. Sure, Merlin Emrys is, as per theories, the most powerful sorcerer of all time, and Arthur Pendragon the greatest ruler, the once and future king, but it doesn't have as much merit.

What Peter is sure about is that somehow, the Powers That Be decided that this is the pack to send these two to.

He watches Stiles argue about the best type of pasta with Derek, and thinks, suddenly, that perhaps this is their happy ending. What legends end happy? None. So this must be their time to be happy.

Peter vows another quest, then. To always protect Derek and Stiles.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any recommendations for fics with Sheriff Stilinski? Like as a major character not just showing up in the background? Or ones that focus on him and Stiles' relationship?

There's not a whole lot where he's the main character. So I have some with sheriff!pov.

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller

(1/1 I 2,699 I Teen I Sterek)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside.

"I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Why deja-vu is a dangerous thing by MsCee

(1/1 I 2,887 I General I Sterek)

When something makes his new deputy seize up like only true love can, John Stilinski is prepared tease the ever-living hell out of him. He’s prepared to look up and see some pretty girl with a bit of an edge, with a loud laugh and a bright smile that could coax even his sullen deputy out of his frown.

What he’s not prepared for is to look up and see a very familiar face ambling towards his desk.

The Morning After by mikkimouse

(1/1 I 3,635 I Teen I Sterek)

After the night he'd had, John just wanted a quiet cup of coffee and some toast before his son woke up. This, he felt, was not too much to ask from the universe.

Apparently the universe disagreed, because John came downstairs at 7:30 in the goddamn morning to see a man he'd previously arrested for murder grinding coffee beans in his kitchen

Promise You'll Look After Him by DiscontentedWinter

(1/1 I 9,901 I Mature I Sterek)

Sheriff Stilinski is used to dealing with victims of violent crime. He knows how to approach kids who've been beaten and sexually assaulted.

Except this time it's his son.

It's Stiles.

Adult Wolf by KouriArashi

(56/56 I 232,475 I Teen I Peter/Sheriff)

As if Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have enough to deal with, now he's been attacked by some enormous dog in the forest, and that's normal compared to what happens next...

Re-telling of seasons 1-3B with Sheriff Stilinski being bitten instead of Scott.

[littlesarcasticdemon]

Okay so we all know the fics where stiles is kicked out of the pack or the ones where he kind of just becomes part of Derek’s pack after the torture incident really just Scott being a bad friend

Anyway just imagine how funny that shit looks from an outside view like imagine being his classmate and living like across the road from him just being confused why someone who was previously wanted for murder is practically living at the stilinski house or like a person who is known to be dead(Peter) one day just walking out of stiles house or like witnessing Erica Boyd and Isaac sticking to stiles and constantly like touching him at school or like one day this person like overhears one of the pack or Liam calling him mum or whatever

Like I feel like it would be so funny to read just the utter confusion and like I have got to find out what the fuck is happening of that

[outtoshatter]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @dear-massacre, @raisesomehale, and @rosieposiepuddingnpie thank youuuu this is fun!

i'm doing only my last ten over-5k fics, just as a fun little experiment :D

Kingdoms Fall (WIP, M, sterek)

Stiles leaned over the jewel-studded bowl, fluttering his lashes as he breathed in the smoke from the burning herbs at the bottom.

The Price we Pay (66k, T, complete)

Stiles ripped the velvet strip off his face and winced, blinded by flames.

Pulling Strings (53k, M, complete)

Stiles bounced on his toes to fend off the creeping chill of the night, gaze darting impatiently between the road and the clinic.

The Stilinski Method (6k, T, complete)

Derek crept along on the balls of his feet, following tiny paw prints in the soft dirt.

Fractured Starlight (64k, M, complete)

The stretch of road between Beacon Hills and Willow Pass was almost always quiet, although Stiles wouldn’t quite call it peaceful.

Every Step You Take (8k, T, complete)

On a typical day, Stiles Stilinski would say his impulse control was shaky to moderate at worst.

The Next Chapter (105k, M, complete)

The photo ripped down the middle.

End of the End (90k, E, complete)

Stiles spotted the group with difficulty.

The Bright Side of Disaster (5k, T, complete)

The Beacon Hills spring farmers market was never small.

Keep Moving (10k, T, complete)

Derek squinted up, eyeing the clouds creeping in from the west.

okay, i'm not sure what all this says about me or my stories, but. there's at least a little variety here. I think? LOL

tagging uuhhhh @cephalog0d @2dents and @halevetica and anyone else who wants to play!

[jocollins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Hearing Loss, Disability, Disabled Stiles Stilinski, Sign Language, Protective Derek Hale, Music, Grief/Mourning, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is a Nice Thing, Derek Hale is a Softie, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Light Angst, Dual POV, Relationship Goals Summary:

Stiles is struggling with missing music, Derek being amazing love goes out of his way to cheer Stiles up.

[hellameyers]

There are still so many people who blindly accept Scott's view of Derek Hale as a villain without questioning it, and it shows.

It was a bait and switch to keep you from seeing the real villain.

[the-liminal-place]

[stereknation]

It's A Matter of Holding On by hayesgeneration 

Summary: Derek’s scared. The anxiety is wedged firmly underneath his sternum, a quick thump of thud thud thud he can’t tamp down no matter how hard he tries. Cora is never late. She’s never late, it’s just fact; it’s fact, and while Derek is pretty sure that once in a while, people with normal, healthy relationships with their brothers and sisters are late or forget or, or, whatever, this is not one of those times.

Rating: Explicit 

Main Character(s): Derek Hale

Additional Character(s): Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Alan Deaton 

Pairing(s): Derek Hale / Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent / Scott McCall

Tags: Magic!Stiles, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alive Laura Hale, Actual Wolf-Werewolves 

Words: 32,156

Chapters: 5/5

[stereklyrics]

Outsider POV on the Pack/ Sterek is so fucking good and we need more fics like that. Like people thinking the Pack is some kind of cult, when they're actually just doing their Supernatural shit.

Or when Derek is talking with Stiles in the phone and people can just tell he's talking to someone special.

Or when Stiles is in College and Derek goes to visit him, everyone just knows Derek is Stiles boyfriend 'cause Stiles won't shut up about him and won't stop showing pictures of him and Derek and the Pack or just him and Derek or just Derek.

Or when the Pack is at a restaurant or something after they just did some Supernatural vigilantism and they're talking about it and the waiters are just like "WTF are these people talking about?"

Anyways... Outsider POV is amazing and we need more of these.

[hedwig221b]

sterek. hs party. outsider's angsty pov

Paige hated parties.

Suddenly she heard a loud and familiar voice.

“Oh, look, here’s the champion of the night!”

Fucking Stilinski. Still in Derek’s jacket.

Apparently, Derek had reached them and now with Erica on one hand and Stilinski on another, he was kissed by both of them on his cheeks rather enthusiastically. The crowd greeted the team captain with whoops and roars and squealing.

Derek was smiling bright and wide. It was truly a breathtaking sight.

Reyes had finally let him go and was now busy hanging off of Boyd. Stilinski had decided that it gave him the free reign over Derek, so he promptly jumped on his back, tucked his face close to Derek’s, so they were cheek to cheek and demanded to be piggy-backed to the drink’s table.

It was pathetically obvious, that Derek was used to this behavior. He rolled his eyes and brought his hands under Stilinski’s thighs to keep him from falling. They were talking about something, but the music was too loud for Paige to hear what it was about.

She convinced herself she didn’t care.

Paige spent the entire evening being a stalker. She was aware of her creepy behavior, but it’s not like anybody noticed her standing in a quiet corner. The desire to eat was never there since the beginning of the game, so she was holding her room-temperature Coke and tried to blend with the wall.

Derek and Stilinski were inseparable the entire evening. Who would’ve guessed.

They sneaked a little bit of alcohol in their drinks, which Paige disapproved of, so they were even more disgusting with each other, than usual. Well, Stilinski was disgusting, Derek was just tolerating his presence, for sure. Stilinski was a clingy mouthy brat, who had apparently glued his hands to Derek’s waist. Derek didn’t have any choice, really, but to put his arm around Stiles.

It was all Stilinski’s fault.

Paige didn’t like how Stiles looked at her boyfriend, with big eyes full of proud fondness. His laugh was loud, boisterous and contagious to all people around him. When Stiles stumbled, Derek was always there to catch him, which made Stiles giggle and cling to him even more.

Paige wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t. That would be beyond humiliating.

Then someone suggested a game of Spin the Bottle. And in typical jock fashion the captain was wrestled into participating immediately.

So, of course, Stilinski was brought along with him.

No. No, no, no.

Enough.

Paige unstuck herself from the wall and started to squeeze through the crowd to get to the center of the living room, where the players were sitting. But there were so many people, burly and strong and she was a rather small girl, so the whole ordeal took her awhile.

When she had finally burst through the first row of eager spectators, the game was already on.

Erica was peppering kisses all over Lahey’s cherubic face, which was puckered and wrinkled from disgust, and also bright pink from Erica’s lipstick.

“Ew-w, Erica, you’re like my fucking sister, sto—“ he didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Erica smacked a wet kiss right on his lips.

Isaac’s horrified wail was buried under the guffaws and roaring laughter.

Next rounds were spent in a similar way; Jackson absolutely refused to kiss Danny, which made Lydia Martin clip him round the ear; the girl then proceeded to kiss Danny herself, which left Jackson pink-faced and thoroughly confused.

Heather got to kiss Stilinski, but was so flustered and shy, she mastered only a dry peck in the corner of his mouth, before going red like a beetroot.

Everybody refused to kiss Greenburg, who was then quickly kicked out of the game.

Then Stilinski took the bottle and spun it with a cheeky grin.

Paige closed her eyes and prayed.

Suddenly there was a roar from the crowd along with hoots and catcalling.

“I want your luck, Stilinski!”

“Get your fucking man!”

“Don’t chicken out now, Hale!”

Horrified and close to bursting into tears, Paige opened her eyes. The bottle was pointing at Derek. She lifted her gaze at her boyfriend.

He was sitting there, looking at Stiles with such intensity and a smug smile, like the cat who got the cream.

“Come here, Hale,” Stilinski lifted an eyebrow and beckoned him with one finger, biting his lip.

“No, you come here,” Derek smiled predatorily. Stiles rolled his eyes, despite the impish grin on his lips.

“As you wish, my champion.”

“Oh, this is gonna be so hot,” Danny announced dreamily and a lot of people nodded in agreement.

Paige didn’t want to witness this, but couldn’t turn away from the trainwreck.

Stiles crawled seductively in Derek’s lap, took his face in his hands and kissed him right on the lips.

The crowd went absolutely wild.

But those two didn’t stop.

Derek put his hands on Stiles’ trim waist, not to push him away, but to pull him in even more. Their kiss, which was never innocent in the first place, turned into an open-mouthed one and even dirtier, as if encouraged by the supporting crowd.

“Somebody, spray them with a water bottle!” Jackson complained.

Stiles took one hand from Derek’s face and gave him a middle finger.

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the show, Jacks,” Danny teased him. “This is a prime spank bank material, right there.”

Finally, the kiss has ended.

The boys were breathing heavily, apparently in no rush to separate from one another. They didn’t seem to notice the claps or the cheers or anyone from the roaring crowd. They stared at each other with something deep reflecting in both their gazes. Stiles’ smile soon turned into breathless giggles the longer he stared at Derek. He closed his eyes and, still giggling uncontrollably, put his hands around Derek’s shoulders to tuck his blushing face against his neck. Derek caressed his back almost reverently up and down and sighed in Stiles’ hair with a self-satisfied smile.

Nobody noticed their little touches and gazes. Or, maybe, they were used to it. Or is that how it is with jocks? All the pent-up energy spilled into homoerotic displays of affection?

Maybe they were just drunk.

Drunk, stupid boys.

Paige couldn’t watch them anymore, or she’ll be sick.

She turned around and headed for the exit through the crowd with doubled vigor.

“Hale’s turn!”

“Spin it!”

Paige started pushing people aside in a hurry.

“NO WAY!”

“Again! That’s not fair!”

“Stilinski, you’re one lucky motherfucker.”

This was a nightmare.

“HALE! HALE! HALE!”

Paige stumbled out of the house, feeling something wet slide down her cheek.

The triumphant roar of the crowd made her flinch and walk away faster.

Read full version on ao3

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid, irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid, and so damn grateful, and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and is pulling the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision, arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—here, at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space, and his nostrils, and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright, we're doing this, huh, big guy?” but then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm, and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck, and breathes.

Stiles lets him, because of course he does, cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically, then jokes more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh alpha, my alpha.”

Derek shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular. The kid shivers beautifully, but even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat. 

“Okay, shit, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Do I need to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly.

After a few moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's throat, once they're alone in the preserve, other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh!” is amazingly all Stiles has got—although Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, his wolf now howling inside of him at the delicious scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers, after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy.

He finally pulls away from Stiles, but doesn't release him from his grip entirely. Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes, and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face and replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles, kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Stiles doesn't hesitate this time, though. He kisses Derek right back like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes, and he takes, and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it; he is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When he presumably needs to breathe, Stiles tears his lips away from Derek's—swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with post-fight waning nerves and a feverish desire.

Stiles says, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again, and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

.

for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[ghostieblr]

Untitled | Part 2 ->

It feels like an entity of his own, the way his blood rushes inside his body, the way his bones and flesh too small to hold what he's feeling. It feels like he's one of those poor people the alien's egg is going to incubate in, tear through him to become the deeply terrifying, shapeless, haunting monster.

This feeling is overwhelming, something he can't really name. But it's not unwelcomed. It is, in some fucked up way, like a call to him — he feels that rush of power, of trust, too. The call to his magic. The way his breaths come out calmer.

He can't really name it, not really, but he knows this feeling is the most important thing he possesses.

So it's not really a shock when the demon looks at him and only him, one arm out like he's going to snatch it without permission, a sharp grin on its borrowed face. "You," the demon beckons, and Derek snarls, protective. Derek moves in front of him, like it's going to stop the demon. Like there's anything they can do except take this deal. The demon laughs, reedy and evil, and he's sure the person doesn't sound like this; this demon has taken over completely, and Stiles doubts they can save the man who is being possessed at the moment.

"What do you want?" Derek's fang slur his question, but he's understandable, and Stiles puts his hand on Derek's shoulder, pulls him by his soft henley. They were on a walk around the preserve, a routine perimeter check, but here they stand now, in the middle of this clearing where kids had definitely messed around in and found the fuck out.

The camping bags are still warm, but the trail to the kids has gone cold. Unless they take this deal.

"I told you, wolf," the demon sing-songs, and Stiles wonders where he got this body from. The man is clearly in his 30's, light brown hair, hazelnut skin, brown eyes. He cannot be one of the people who summoned the demon, here. "I want what's most precious to your pet."

Derek's been growling all this time, but now he roars, all restraint broken under the clearly verbalized threat.

Only Stiles' hand on Derek's shoulder stops him from leaping at the demon.

"Derek," he says, concerned. They have no idea how to deal with demons that aren't evil fox spirits. "Maybe this is the only way."

And he wants out. He knows what are his most precious things — his feelings. Especially for him. He wants to get rid of it, because there's rarely anything as painful as feeling like your world tilts on its axis when you know theirs stays the same. They're friends, and pack, and that is all they can be.

It would be okay to lose these feelings.

"Listen to him, listen to him!"

"Stiles, don't you dare move!"

Stiles moves around Derek and is again in front of the demon. "Will you leave, then? Never to come back?"

"I'd do you one better — I shall forbid any other of my kind to come back here."

Derek doesn't grab him back, but he does verbally accuse Stiles of being stupid. Stiles is grateful for their relationship to have come to a point where Derek knows better than to stop him when he's set his mind, and he's really fucking gonna miss his bubbling mess of a heart later.

"Deal," he says, and there the lips come, cold and cruel; a quick, dirty kiss that leaves Stiles gasping for breath.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, it's to Derek hovering over him worriedly. It makes Stiles feel packed, so he pushes Derek backwards, and stomps his way back towards the Loft.

Derek follows suit.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey!! I’m looking for a fic that i believe was outsider perspective of Sterek being regulars at a diner or café??? Like I think the employees shipped them but in the end they were already together.

@thecoolkidsareoutcasts! @hedwig221b says it's this one.

Welcome to Rosie's Diner can I interest you in an eye-opener? by crossroadswrite

(1/1 I 1,999 I Teen I Sterek)

When the unfairly attractive couple walks in, at their usual hour, Kat starts humming the wedding march.

Jason elbows her sharply in the ribs, trying to hide his snicker even as he waves nicely at them.

“Fuck they’re so pretty,” he sighs mournfully, “why did they have to be a couple, that’s just unfair.”

“I know,” she commiserates.

(Or: The one where Stiles and Derek are regulars at Rosie's diner and exactly zero of the employees believe they're not actually a couple, I mean come on look at them.)

[magicboyandsourwolf]

I just started tearing up about the death of Paige, the minorest or minor characters, because of a two sentence mention of it in a fanfiction. So, yeah, I'm doing great mentally