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caramelcal · 4 years ago

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Sparks Fly

Word Count: 1.26k

Ship: Aiden Steiner x Hale!Reader

a/n: So basically, the soulmate au sort of thing I chose for this was the one where when you’re close to your soulmate (you have to be very close) sparks literally fly. It shocks everyone around you but it feels very recharging for you and your soulmate. I hope this is okay and as always, requests are open and enjoy ! :)

Request: The reader is in the woods but doesn't know that the alpha pack is in the woods as well. The reader bumps into them and the reader is a beta. They don't kill the reader because Aiden finds out that the reader is his soulmate (this isn’t the full request as I asked for a further plot line due to lack of ideas, sorry)

Warning: There is one swear word (sorry!)

Masterlist

You already knew that Derek was going to be seething with anger when you arrived back at the loft but right now, you didn’t care. All he had been doing for days, weeks even, was complain and grumble about the alphas. You could barely breathe in there without being the victim of Derek’s grumbling.

That’s what led you out here. You weren’t annoyed at Derek for being concerned, but you just needed some quiet, and not being constantly riled up by him. However, the Beacon Hills Preserve probably wasn’t the best place to be by yourself at night, but you could hold your own, you had faced enough things in your life so far.

However, the silence you had been enjoying was disrupted when you heard twigs and sticks break from underneath someone’s foot. Your breath got caught in your throat as you hid behind the thick tree you were currently at, claws out and ears listening in to see who it was.

“Patience,” A strong British accented man called out calmly, his voice monotonous. It was the alpha pack. Staying quiet, you tried to figure out how many of them there was behind you by counting heartbeats.

You counted four. However, if you remembered correctly, there were five alphas in the pack. Deucalion, the British man, and Kali, the girl were people that you had unfortunately met before but your brother had told you about Ennis, the extremely muscular man, and the twins. So who was missing?

It was at that moment where you found out, a hand gripping your neck and holding you up, swinging you around the tree and slamming you into the bark. The rough bark pierced your skin as the hand dragged you up the tree. You looked down at whoever it was: Kali. Of course it was her.

The rest of the alpha pack advanced slightly as Kali sneered at you. You would have given it a go, trying to fight off Kali but she was an alpha and you were simply a beta. Plus, she wasn’t alone and clearly had the upper hand here, you’d be surprised if they even spared your soul never mind leaving here unscathed.

“If it isn’t y/n Hale,” Kali scowled, her eyes turning the alpha red color, “I’m seeing the resemblance, honestly. Both you and your brother have the scowl perfected now, don’t you? Did that happen before or after the fire?”

You could feel the anger bubbling in your stomach but your face remained the same, e/c eyes never leaving Kali’s. You wouldn’t tear your eyes away from hers, because that was a sign of submission and there was no way that you were letting this thing have the upper hand over you more than she already does.

Noticing that she wasn’t going to get a response for the deep-rooted childhood trauma you had endured, she continued, “Speaking of your brother, why don’t we get him down here? Let him finish off the initiation to the pack right here right now?”

It was clear that she was just trying to get to you, everyone here knew that Derek wouldn’t kill a member of his pack, let alone his little sister. You struggled to talk due to Kali’s ridiculously long claws digging into your neck, faintly drawing blood.

This time, you decide to reply to the woman. You expect her to get riled up and you know it’s a bad idea but you do it anyway, “Oh Kali you know my brother won’t kill me. He won’t get all jittery and kill his pack because someone asks him like you. He isn’t a little bitch.”

Shortly after you said that, you realized just how bad of an idea that was. You’ve been spending far too much with Stiles and now can’t keep your mouth closed, good job y/n. Kali clenched onto your throat harder and pulls you away from the tree, throwing you like a sack of potatoes onto the grass several feet away from her.

You tumble as you land but ultimately land on your feet, a hand on the grass as you turn, growling. You had briefly contemplated howling but you knew that was exactly what Kali wanted, she wanted your brother involved. But she also knew the deal, that she wasn’t allowed to touch a single member of Derek’s pack until the next full moon and that deal was now null in void.

Deucalion was angry at her; you could feel it and you knew that at the end of the day, even if you were bloody and bruised, she wasn’t going to be left unscathed either. That brought a smirk to your face as she advanced, you doing the same. Pain filled your face as you felt her claws dig deep into your cheek, you subsequently taking yours right down her stomach.

“Kali!” Deucalion shouted but Kali didn’t pay attention as she punched you in the face, making you fall to the ground, but in the split of a second, you were standing above her and she was on the ground; electrocuted.

In fact, most of their pack was now on the ground, but a feeling of rejuvenation filled your body. It was empowering and unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was like you were high, and nothing that anyone would do would affect it. Your eyes didn’t stay on the members of their pack that were on the ground, but instead noticed that there was one that was still standing up; staring at you.

His eyes were turned red, but it wasn’t because he was engaged to attack you and that was when you realized exactly what was going on. Your fangs were protruded with your mouth open, letting out heavy breaths, feeling high on adrenaline. It was one of the twins, they were your soulmate. He made his way towards you and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to back away, he wouldn’t hurt you, right?

He stood about a foot and a half away from you, looking down at you with his red eyes. Kali stood up with a growl, clutching her side as she spoke, “I’m going to kill you.”

Yet, when she went to lunge at you her arms were caught by Aiden, his grip almost being strong enough to crush her bones as he growled menacingly, “You aren’t going to lay a finger on her.”

Kali stared up at Aiden, growling ever so slightly before realizing that she wouldn’t manage to get him to step down. She might have been a lot older than Aiden and had a lot more experience being an alpha but right now he was a lot strong than her due to the strengthening of his powers and weakening of hers because he found his soulmate.

Disregarding her, he turned back to you with a grunt to which you nodded your head in reply, a form of gratitude that only you two seemed to pick up on. As the alpha pack retreated, you were left to your thoughts, Hales were not normally big on soulmates, Cora hadn’t found hers and Derek had been forced to kill his, so you hadn’t had much hope to find yours. Yet, when you met him there seemed to be a formidable bond between the two of you like a promise that neither of you would break; he would see you again soon, you just knew it.

But as you began to walk back to the loft you thought, "oh no, how the hell am I supposed to explain this to Derek?"

#aiden steiner #aiden steiner x reader #alpha pack #season 3 teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x hale!reader #aiden steiner x y/n #aiden steiner soulmate au #aiden steiner x hale!reader #hale!reader #x hale!reader

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years ago

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Secrets in the Moonlight

After the disappearance of his uncle, coming back to Hogwarts is harder than Derek could have imagined. Especially now that he has a secret.

For @overthetopobsessed

“Mr Hale?”

Derek shook himself from his thoughts, straightening in his seat and looking up with wide, alert eyes.

Mr Harris stared at him with the same cold, unyielding glare he always wore, but his voice held a note of irritation—bordering anger.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Derek apologised quietly.

There was a quiet buzz of whispers around the room.

“Can you tell me the difference between a werewolf and an Animagus?” Harris repeated the question.

“No, sir,” Derek replied.

Mr Harris opened his mouth to lecture Derek when a voice called out from the back of the classroom, interrupting him.

“An Animagus is a witch or wizard who can take the form of an animal and return back to their human form at any time and of their won free will, whereas a werewolf – or any were-creature for that matter – changes form against their will based on the lunar cycle.”

Derek glanced over his shoulder at the boy who had answered.

Stiles Stilinski.

The boy met Harris’ gaze defiantly, a smug smile – a common trait among Slytherins – turning up the corners of his mouth. His dark brown irises glimmered with amusement at the professor’s stunned silence. His eyes shifted to Derek, his gaze softening and his smugness fading as a friendly smile played across his lips.

“Correct, Mr Stilinski,” Harris said, his voice tense—as if saying those words pained him. “Although, next time, I would appreciate it if you showed some degree of manners and respect and raised your hand before answering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Stiles replied, but his voice was dry and everyone knew he didn’t mean it.

Harris screwed up his face bitterly, drawing in a measured breath as he held his composure. “As for you, Mr Hale—”

Derek turned back around to look at the professor as Harris took a step closer and stood at the corner of Derek’s desk.

“—leave the day dreaming for outside my classroom and don’t come to class unprepared, understood?”

Derek swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and bowed his head guiltily.

“Yes, sir,” Derek answered meekly.

“Very good.” Harris let out a huff before turning sharply and strutting back to the front of the classroom and continuing the lesson.

Derek waited for a second before glancing over his shoulder.

Stiles met his gaze. Derek didn’t have to say ‘thank you’; Stiles could read it in his eyes and winked mischievously in response.

Derek turned back to face the front of the class, his heart skipping a beat and a soft rosy blush colouring his cheeks, but the feeling didn’t last long.

He looked down at the text book that lay on the desk before him, the pages open to the monstrous illustration of a werewolf. It didn’t look remotely human: its limbs were elongated and its body hunched over. It was covered in fur with the bony nubs of its spine sticking out rigidly. Its arms hung by its side, hands flexed to reveal its sharp claws. The face had been elongated into a snout, the creature snarling and bearing its jagged teeth. But what stood out the most was the bright red ink that had been used to colour in the creature’s irises, giving it the illusion of glowing red eyes that stared at Derek, making his heart fill with dread and terror.

Below the illustration, bold black letters spelt out ‘LYCANTROPY: WEREWOLF’.

Derek swallowed hard against the bile that rose into his throat, burning at his insides. A wave of anxiety and fear clutched his heart. Unease settled in his gut as he dropped his gaze—unable to look at the picture and not wanting to look up in case someone saw the fear in his eyes.

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“What’s this I hear about you getting in trouble with Harris?” Laura asked as she caught up with her brother and walked alongside him through the crowded hallway.

Derek looked at her. She was as radiant as ever; her long brown hair cascading past her shoulder and the bold navy blue of her Ravenclaw tie bringing out the sparkle in her dark eyes.

They used to joke about needing a fourth sibling since the three Hale siblings were sorted into different houses: Laura into Ravenclaw, Derek into Hufflepuff, and Cora into Slytherin. All they needed was a Gryffindor and they had a full house.

“I wasn’t in trouble,” Derek replied. “I just didn’t hear him ask me the question.”

Laura tilted her head slightly as she looked at her brother sceptically. There was a glimmer of worry in her dark eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, trying to gently coax the truth from him.

“I know,” Derek replied, trying to reassure her.

It didn’t work.

She kept her gaze fixed on him.

“I’m fine,” Derek insisted.

“If you say so,” Laura said quietly, backing down; she still didn’t believe him, but she knew him better than to keep prying—Derek would only shut down if she did.

Derek drew in a deep breath.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll see you at the quidditch game.”

“Who are you cheering for?” Laura asked—calling after her brother as he began to walk away.

Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff.

And his big sister was Ravenclaw’s star player.

“You,” Derek answered. “Like I always do.”

Laura offered him a sweet smile, but it fell from her face as her brother turned his back and disappeared into the sea of people. The worry still lingered in her eyes as she watched him leave.

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The library was a large space filled with towering shelves full of old hardcover books, leather bound journals and other books that looked like antiques, all bound in magnificent colours of scarlet, burgundy, deep green, gold, and grey. The spines of the books were decorated by gold or silver lettering that read the titles, adorned with small metal studs and a few were even fastened with small hinges that looked to be made of brass or silver.

The shelves covered all the walls, large ladders on casters were scattered about the room where the occupants had last left them. Higher up, there was a small platform that stretched around the room, a mezzanine that allowed them to access another storey of bookshelves that the ladders couldn't reach. High above everything was a dome-like sky light, the slightly misted glass allowing the golden light of day to drift into the large library and illuminate the shadowed space.

Several books moved on their own, returning to the shelves and sorting themselves into the right places.

On the far side of the room was a small fireplace with a marble mantelpiece. Atop the mantelpiece sat a few of the sturdier-looking books, some candles and a vase of flowers that never seemed to wilt—probably because the librarian hexed them. Before the fireplace sat two arm chairs and a larger couch, each made of beige fabric that were covered in a faded floral pattern. Two Gryffindor students sat on the rug before the fireplace with their books sprawled out in front of them as they talked quietly.

Derek sat on his own among the rows of tables and chairs set up for students to study.

The library was quiet, which was both a blessing and a curse: it was a place where Derek could get away from all the noise and chaos, but it also meant he was left alone with his thoughts.

He tried to drown them out, focusing on his homework.

A stack of textbooks were piled up beside him, several more lying open on the desk before him as his quill scratched at the paper of his notebooks, leaving elegant scrawls of ink in its wake.

“This seat taken?” a familiar voice asked.

Derek glanced up, his aventurine eyes meeting the smoky quarts depths.

“Uh, no,” Derek stammered. He gestured to the seat. “Please.”

Stiles set his books down on the table and pulled out the chair across from Derek. He sat down and opened up his books.

Derek bowed his head and glanced up through his eyelashes, watching as Stiles’ dark eyes danced across the pages as he read the lines of text.

“I didn’t get the chance to say thank you for this morning,” Derek said.

“No need. Harris is an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

Stiles glanced up at Derek, offering him a friendly smile.

Derek smiled in return.

He wasn’t like the other Slytherins that Derek knew—he wasn’t obnoxious, prideful, arrogant or snarky. Maybe that was because he wasn’t a pureblood like most of the others; his mother was a witch, but his father was a muggle—a police officer, apparently. Stiles had grown up in the muggle world, far away from magic. He tried to make up for it—working twice as hard to prove he had what it took to be there, but he didn’t need to; he was smarter and more powerful than any other student. His only weakness was he was powerful, but he had no idea how to control it.

The hiss of whispers reached his ears. Derek turned his head slightly to see two students glance at him before turning away and gossiping.

“Ignore them,” Stiles said softly.

Derek turned back to his text book, feeling his chest tighten and his heart hammer against his ribs.

“They’re talking about my uncle, aren’t they?” Derek asked.

“Most likely,” Stiles replied.

Peter Hale was well known in the wizarding world, but he disappeared the week before Derek and his sisters went on break. No Aurors had been able to track him down and many believed he was dead. When the Hale siblings returned to Hogwarts, everyone looked the other way or talked behind their backs. The whispers followed Derek everywhere.

Derek looked up at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles lifted his head, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “What for?”

“For not treating me different.”

The corner of Stiles’ lips turned up in a kind smile.

Derek bowed his head, trying to focus on his homework, but his mind kept going back to the monstrous illustration.

“You know a lot about werewolves,” Derek remarked, unsure of how to start the conversation.

“I guess so,” Stiles said modestly. “I tend to take in a whole lot of information—most of it is useless.”

“Is it possible for a werewolf to become an Animagus?”

Stiles sat back in his seat, thinking it over for a second. “I don’t know for sure, but I did read something about a werewolf gaining control of their shifts by defying their alpha. But that either means defeating them or finding an anchor strong enough to keep your humanity in control of you psyche.”

“An anchor?”

“An anchor is something meaningful to you; you bind yourself to it to keep your human side in control,” Stiles explained. “It can be a memory, a person, a place or an object—it just has to mean something to you. At least that’s what I read about Animagi Transfiguration, so I guess it would be something similar in the case of a werewolf controlling their transformation.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully.

“A werewolf becoming an Animagus is extremely rare and probably very difficult,” Stiles continued. “But I don’t think it’s impossible.”

Derek felt the tension in his gut ease, letting out a sigh of relief as hope found its way back into his heart.

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He felt the burn of power flow through his veins, setting his nerves on fire as the lure of the moon hummed ignited his senses.

He made his way out of the castle, sneaking out through the passage his uncle had told him about back in his first year—the one Peter had found during his time at Hogwarts. The cool night air met him, offering little relief to the searing heat that flooded his veins.

Beads of sweat gathered on his brow, soaking through his shirt and making the fabric cling to his skin.

His breathing grew heavy as he staggered towards the shelter of the forest that bordered the school.

A piercing howl rang out through the night, making Derek’s heart leap in his chest.

There was a sharp rush of air as a figure appeared before him. His dark hair a tousled mess and his clothing dishevelled. He clutched his fir wand, the pale wood standing out against the darkness.

“Stiles?” Derek rasped, feeling fear clutch his heart. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know,” Stiles replied. “I nearly got caught sneaking out of the dorms. I was trying to get to the Gryffindor dorms; seems like I missed the mark.”

Stiles froze, his eyes widening as he looked at Derek.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice edged with worry. “You don’t look too good.”

“It’s not safe out here.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, his voice catching in his throat as hesitation and anxiety filled his chest.

“You have to go.”

“Derek, you’re starting to scare me.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something but his words caught in his throat as a low growl echoed from the shadows.

Stiles wheeled around, his eyes wide and his heart hammering in his chest.

The bushes rustled, clumps of leaves and low hanging branches crackling, shaking and breaking as a big black shadow slinked into the open, broad feet thumping the ground. Their claws dug into the mud, upturning the dirt and releasing the sweet earthy scent.

A pair of glowing red eyes emerged from the shadows, the thin veil of moonlight illuminating the creature’s figure as it stalked forward. The creature rose up onto its hind feet. Its large form was unhuman; standing tall on curved, slender legs. The bright red eyes were set above an elongated snout. Long arms hung at its side, disfigured hands – hairy like a wolf’s paws – stretched, thick, curved claws lit by the bleeding streams of moonlight.

Stiles froze, eyes wide.

It snarled, baring its ivory teeth as it focused its glare on Stiles.

Stiles staggered back slightly, his mind screaming at him to run but he couldn’t move; his body was frozen in place.

“Derek?” he rasped, glancing over his shoulder.

The clouds parted, exposing the moon.

Derek winced, doubling over in pain.

“Derek?” Stiles called, alarmed.

Derek’s eyes flew open, his pale adventuring irises glowing crimson.

“Run,” he growled.

Stiles flailed about, stumbling backwards. His feet pedalled beneath him. He lost his footing on the uneven ground, falling against the damp earth. He turned, using a hand to steady himself as he leapt to his feet and tore into the darkness.

He ran along the tree line, glancing over his shoulder as he saw a dark figure charge towards him.

He sprinted through the dense forest, weaving his way through the labyrinth of thick tree trunks. He sprung over the fallen trees, broken branches and thick shrubs, his nimble legs and spring-locked ankles projecting him over the large logs. The thick undergrowth and claw-like twigs dragged at his feet. He tried to keep himself upright, struggling not to stumble or trip as he sprinted away from the massacre.

The sounds of low growls and spine-chilling howls drained away, disappearing behind him as he ran further and further into the dense forest.

He took a sharp turn, heading back towards the castle grounds. He broke through the tree line, slowing his pace as he neared the Whomping Willow. He turned, running on the spot as he looked back at the forest—checking to see if anyone – or anything – had followed him.

He let out a sigh of relief, letting his nerves calm. He drew in heavy breaths, trying to slow his breathing.

Stiles was tackled to the ground, letting out a pained wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. His eyes flew open wide, looking up at the glowing red irises of the werewolf.

He thrashed about, letting out a vicious animalistic cry as he tried to fight the creature off.

The werewolf pinned him to the ground, sharp rocks tearing open Stiles’ pale skin as the werewolf pushed them against the ground. Stiles felt a sharp wave of pain flood his arms, his bones near breaking.

Then, all of a sudden, the weight was gone.

There was a rush of air as the second werewolf tacked the alpha off of him, knocking him to the ground and fighting him.

Stiles rolled onto his side, scrambling to his feet and sprinting towards the swaying branches of the Whomping Willow. He dodged past the branches that swung at him, the thick wood hitting the earth with a heavy crash that snapped off twigs, shook the earth, and sent dirt flying through the air.

Stiles dove towards the trunk, something catching his eye. Among the twisted aged wood of the tree was an ancient door.

Stiles pulled open the small door that was built into the base of the tree. He pulled the ricket wooden door shut behind himself, staring at it for a second before slowly backing up.

He made his way down the flight of rickety stairs, following them into a large room. The windows were all boarded up, the moonlight bleeding through the thin gaps enough for Stiles to see.

He drew in steady breaths, calming himself as he looked around. The wind that blew past the windows echoed like screams as it rattled the glass and a draught blew through the warped wooden walls.

“Shrieking Shack,” Stiles muttered.

The wooden panelling of the doors were broken in, some doors lying off their hinges. The walls had patches of plaster missing, exposing the wooden framing beneath. The decorative wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the wooden floorboards warped, worn down with time and covered in stains. Every piece of furniture was moth-eaten and broken—as though someone has smashed it in a fit of rage.

There was a thin layer of dust over everything.

He stepped through one of the other doors, looking down the old staircase and into the foyer of the Shack. There was an old chair that had one of its legs ripped off.

He stepped back into the room. Beside him was an old four post bed, the wooden base snapped in half and the frame that had once held up the canopy had fallen down.

He edged over to the bed, lowering himself into the shadows that dwelled in the corner where the bed met the wall. He shrunk down into the darkness, pulling his knees up to his chest.

He waited.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, stopping him from falling asleep, but his eyes grew heavy as he stared at the warped hardwood floors.

The light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the boarded-up windows.

There was a loud crash as someone came sprinting down the stairs that lead up to the Whomping Willow.

Stiles’ heart leapt into his chest. He shifted, crouching behind the bed as he readied himself to run.

“Stiles?” a familiar voice called out.

Derek stumbled into the room, his shoulders heaving with heavy breaths as he frantically looked around the dark, decrepit interior of the Shrieking Shack.

Stiles shifted slightly, rising to his feet and stepping out from behind the bed.

Derek let out a sigh of relief. “Are you okay?”

Stiles tightened his grip on his wand, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. His voice was quiet and raspy, but firm as he said, “Explain. Now.”

Derek dropped his gaze. “When my uncle went missing a few weeks ago, I stupidly thought I was the only person who could find him. I ran away from home to go look for him. A few hours after walking through the woods behind my family’s estate, I was attacked. It was a rogue werewolf.”

“One that holds its shape,” Stiles confirmed.

Derek nodded.

He fell silent for a minute, feeling his chest tighten and his gut twist in knots.

“It bit me,” he admitted.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles said. A thought struck him, a look of realisation washing over his face. “That’s why you asked whether a werewolf could become an Animagus.”

Derek nodded.

“And the, uh—the other werewolf. Was that the rogue that bit you?”

Derek nodded again.

“I’m so sorry… I never meant to put you in danger,” Derek said, his voice breaking and full of pain.

“You didn’t put me in danger,” Stiles replied. “I just have a tendency to stumble right into it.”

“Are you hurt?” Derek asked, his voice full of concern.

Stiles looked down at himself, his pale flesh was caked in mud and covered in bloody welts where sticks and stones had scratched open his skin.

“Just a few bumps and bruises,” Stiles said dismissively. “Nothing too bad. How about you?”

Derek seemed taken back by the question.

“I—I’m fine,” he said. He glanced down at his arms, the tan flesh marred by dark bruises and faint pink lines where thick gashes were stitching themselves back together. “Werewolves heal quickly.”

Derek glanced back over his shoulder, up the stairs at the door that lead back outside.

“We should gat back,” he said. “Everyone will be waking up soon.”

Stiles nodded, slowly edging towards Derek.

Derek took no offence to Stiles’ hesitation; he was surprised that he trusted him at all. He led the way up the stairs and pushed open the rickety door at the base of the Whomping Willow. He squinted slightly as he stepped out of the cool shadows and into the world lit by the golden glow of the morning light. He looked up at the thrashing branches, feeling his chest tighten anxiously.

Stiles stepped up to Derek’s side, both of them keeping their back pressed against the thick tree trunk. He held his wand out.

“Immobulus.”

The branches stilled, frozen mid-action.

Stiles drew in a measured breath and took a step forward, and then another, making his way across the divots and dirt holes that covered the ground beneath the Willow.

He and Derek made their way back across the open field and up to the gates of Hogwarts, where Mr Harris stood, his arms crossed over his chest and his cold eyes staring down at the boys. Beside him stood Coach Finstock, his dark unkempt hair sticking up at all angles.

“Mr Stilinski, I expect this kind of behaviour from you, but Mr Hale – I must admit – I am surprised to see you,” Harris said, his voice cold.

“Everyone’s looking for the two of you,” Coach added. “I hope you have a good explanation for this.”

Derek bowed his head, his stomach twisting in knots as a sickening wave of bile rose into his throat. This was it; he’d be exposed and sent to Azkaban.

“I was helping Derek study,” Stiles lied. “We nearly got caught outside of the dorms after lights out and we panicked, so we apparated and ended up outside where we were attacked by a werewolf.”

Derek blinked in surprise, glancing out the corner of his eye at Stiles.

Harris looked at him, his face deadpan with disbelief. “A werewolf?”

Stiles met his gaze defiantly.

“A werewolf,” he said firmly. “We were chased into the Shrieking Shack and hid there until the sun came up.”

“That’s quite the fanciful story, Mr Stilinski.”

“It’s the truth,” Stiles insisted.

Harris opened his mouth to say something but Coach Finstock held up his hand, interrupting them.

“We’ll decide what to do with the two of you later, for now go back to your dorm rooms and clean yourselves up,” Coach instructed. He turned to Mr Harris. “Why don’t you go tell the others that we’ve found them.”

Harris let out a measured breath and turned sharply, storming off down the hall.

Stiles and Derek turned the other way and began to head down the hall.

“Mr Hale, a moment,” Coach called after him.

Derek stopped, glancing at Stiles before turning back to Coach.

Coach lowered his voice. “I know things have been tough for you since your uncle went missing, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to start acting recklessly and breaking the rules. It’s not going to change anything.”

Derek bowed his head.

“Your sisters were worried sick when they found out you were missing,” Coach continued. “I know things are hard for you, but you’re not alone; think about them.”

Derek nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Coach said. He gently patted Derek on the shoulder “Now, go get yourself cleaned up.”

Derek nodded again, turning and making his way down the halls. He made his way to the shifting staircases, the buzz of chatter reaching his ears. He glanced up to see crowds of students gathered on the stairs and the landings, staring at the walls and talking quietly.

Among the crowd he spotted a familiar face.

“Cora,” he called out, hurrying over to his sister’s side.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cora growled.

“It’s a long story,” Derek dismissed. “What’s going on?”

“The paintings,” Cora said.

The crowd parted and Derek saw what she meant. The paintings that hung on the walls were destroyed—the canvases were slashed, the frames broken or hanging crooked, and the living portraits injured and cowering in fear.

“What happened?”

“The paintings say some kind of wolf tore through the castle,” Cora replied.

Derek’s heart sank into his gut.

“A wolf?” Derek repeated, his voice catching in his throat.

His eyes followed the trail of destruction, a path winding around the walls and leading up to the higher flights of stairs—to the Slytherin dorms.

“Stiles.”

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Stiles dragged his feet across the smooth wooden floorboards of the dorm room. His eyes were heavy and his movements slow and lethargic as he shrugged off the mod-stained hoodie that he wore. He tossed it over the end of his bed, stepping over to his trunk and pulling out his uniform.

The sound of footsteps reached his ears. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion; no one else should be in the dorms.

He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see who was there. His heart dropped.

He barely caught a glimpse of the alpha’s glowing red eyes before he lunged at Stiles.

Stiles dove aside, reaching for his wand, but the werewolf tackled him to the ground. He thrashed around, his elbow colliding with the creature’s jaw as he tried to fight back or break free.

The werewolf pinned him to the floor, pressing their weight against the teen’s wrists until his frail bones threatened to break. The alpha’s jagged talons tore through the pale skin of Stiles’ arm. The bitter metallic smell filled Stiles’ nose as streams of blood coursed across his skin, the searing pain igniting every nerve in his body and flooding his veins.

Stiles cried out in pain.

The alpha let out a low growl, his teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he leant in closer.

Stiles felt the heat of the creature’s breath against his skin, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell from his eyes.

He let out a broken sob.

There was another growl, one more fierce than the alpha’s low, threatening rumble.

Stiles hesitantly opened his eyes to see the alpha tackled off of him. He turned his head to see Derek thrown back.

Derek let out a stifled grunt as he hit the solid wooden frame of one of the beds. He bared his teeth in a vicious snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he charged at the alpha.

He slashed at him blocking his bows and fighting back as he put himself between the alpha and Stiles; protecting him.

The alpha snapped and snarled, his claws tearing at Derek’s clothes and clawing open his skin.

Streams of red stained Derek’s skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He fought back, but the alpha was too strong for him.

The alpha threw Derek back against the far wall. His head slammed against the rough bricks, bursts of light and colour blinding him as he dropped to his hands and knees.

The alpha grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet.

Derek let out a strangled breath, kicking out as he tried to free himself.

The alpha’s grip didn’t waver.

The crimson glow of the creature’s eyes was full of bloodlust as he raised his arm, flexing his claws; ready to kill Derek.

The alpha froze, his body stiffening.

His grip weakened.

Derek fell to the floor, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for breath.

The alpha collapsed, hitting the ground with a solid thud.

Derek looked across the room to see Stiles, half slouched against his bed with his other arm outstretched and his wand in his hand.

Stiles slowly lowered his wand, his shoulder rising and falling with heavy breaths.

There was a thundering crash as the door to the dorms was thrown open.

Harris and Coach rushed into the room, skidding to a halt as they looked around the room.

Harris’ eyes fell on the werewolf, growing wide.

“Quite the fanciful story, huh?” Stiles said bitterly between broken breaths.

Harris shook himself from his stupor, straightening as he looked between the two boys. “Let’s get you two to the infirmary.”

Derek sluggishly pushed himself upright, bracing himself on the wall and he rose to his feet. He staggered across the dorm room, holding his hand out to Stiles and helping him to his feet.

A crowd od students gathered behind Harris, craning their necks to look in through the doorway.

A small figure shoved her way through the crowd, pushing past Harris and into the room despite his objections. She rushed across the room, throwing herself into her brother’s arms.

Derek let out a small sigh, wrapping his arms around Cora’s narrow shoulders and holding her tight.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“Oh my God,” Coach uttered, his quiet voice catching their attention.

Cora stepped back. Derek and Stiles turned, following Coach’s gaze to where the alpha lay on the floor, shifting back to his human form.

Coach grabbed a blanket from one of the beds, draping it across the man’s body.

Derek couldn’t take his eyes of the man.

The slender body lay bare on the ground, his fair skin covered in pale white scars. His chest slowly rose and fell with even breaths. Black ink stood out on the underside of his forearm, the Slytherin crest tattooed into his skin and a bold black triskelion on his wrist. His light brown hair was streaked with grey and longer than Derek remembered, but the man’s weary face was the same as always.

Derek’s heart stopped.

“Peter.”

#sterek #sterek au #sterek hp au #sterek harry potter au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #sterek fic #long post #text post #slytherin stiles #slytherin!stiles #hufflepuff derek #hufflepuff!derek #please read the tags on ao3 #for overthetopobsessed #overthetopobsessed #sorry it took so long

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maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

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You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 21

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What the hell....

Blinking slowly, the wolfsbane finally leaving my system. And I was not where I had been before. I was back at the Hale house in Derek’s bed. I pushed up on my wobbly arms and slowly slid out of the bed, stumbling to the hall and trying to find whoever did this to me-

Heart beat. It was strong, but there was a slight skip, bad heart. It couldn’t have been the Argents or else they would have taken me to the Argent’s. I slowly walked to the stairs, looking over the landing and down into the living room.

“Yes, sir, I have located Miss (Y/L/N).” That voice. That damn cocky voice. It was him.

Michael. That sly son of a bitch was alive. Why was it that all the psychos in Beacon Hills were coming back to life?

“Uh... Good evening.” He was looking up at me with those grey eyes of his. I knew them well. I had seen them so many times before, through good times and bad. And these were the worst times, weren’t they? Those grey eyes widened when I shifted. I jumped down from the top of the stairs, landing on my feet. He backed up a few steps, a nervous smile on his face.

“Ah... I see you’ve finally shifted. And you’re an alpha. Congrats.” He chuckled nervously, “I know you’re probably wondering ‘how is he alive? Right? Well it’s a very interesting story.”

“I don’t care.” I growled.

“L-Look, I can explain everything. Please.” He licked his lips, “Let’s talk.” If my heart wasn’t beating hard then it was now. All of my fear had turned to rage. He was here and alive. And he was a weak human man. And I’ll be damned if I let him get out of here alive. Not after what he’s done.

My roar was loud and long, enough to make him cover his ears. His heart was beating rapidly and he smelled of fear.

"Ok, um, how about we tussle a little, would that make you feel better?"

"I’m gonna rip your throat out with my teeth.”

His eyes widened, "Ah, well, uh, we can't do that, ya see, I'm... I’m supposed to be taking you to Scotland.” He was my guide? To take me to the Lunar Circle? I don’t think so.

I grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall. His back slammed against the wall, the same area that Peter had fallen through. He moaned in pain, struggling to sit up. I stalked closer, grabbing his shirt and roaring into his face. He was terrified and rightly so. I am a powerful werewolf alpha and I want him to be scared, to instill the fear he put in me by kidnapping me. The fear of death.

"(Y/N), please, listen to me, this is all a misunderstanding!" He pleaded. I pinned him down to the ground.

"Misunderstanding?" I spat, "You murdered my family! You tried to kill me!” I opened my mouth wide, rearing my head back to strike.

"PETER! IT WAS PETER!" His words made me pause, my fangs grazing the skin of his jugular. I pulled away from his neck, causing him to breathe a little easier.

“Start talking before I change my mind.” My grip tightened on his wrists that were pinned on either side of his head.

“I’m a part of the Lunar Circle. My family were hunters but I wanted out. You parents got me involved. I was a double agent. Until.” He swallowed thickly, “Until, a few years ago when Peter started using his influence to get into my mind. He wanted me to use my connection to the hunters to bring Kate Argent out of hiding and... Your parents became collateral damage.”

“Why would Peter do that?” I growled. It did sound like something Peter would do, but I couldn’t trust his word.

“Why wouldn’t Peter do that? He’s a total psychopath that wants mass hysteria.” He panted, “You believe that, don’t you?” Dammit, he’s right. I stood up, grabbing Michael by the collar and dragging him across the room. I shoved him to sit down in an empty chair.

"You're going to tell me everything.”

“O-Okay. Well, uh where do you want me to start?”

“The Lunar Circle.”

Michael let out a small laugh, probably in relief, “They, well, they’re a society based in Scotland meant to create a network of werewolves in communication. To keep families and clans protected from hunters and other things.”

“Other things?” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’ll get to those later. Anyway, I was assigned to your clan to keep them and, most importantly you, safe. Originally in two-thousand-four.”

2004

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He grinned. I looked him up and down, shaking his hand with my thumb and pointer finger instead of my whole hand.

After a long day of training with Talia and Laura, I walked through the front door. My parents were in the kitchen, talking seriously with someone, he looked around my age. He had dark hair and grey eyes. Average looking, seemingly ordinary.

”What’s going on in here?” I dropped my gym bag on the counter.

“This is Michael. He’s a representative from the Lunar Circle.” Dad said, patting the boy on the back. Michael stepped forward, holding his hand out.

Mom shook her head and laughed a little, “Well, yes, but he’s going to go into your school and watch out for you there.”

“Isn’t he a little young to be a representative?” I stepped around him, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

“Why? Dad has an agreement with the Argents.” I said before taking several long gulps of water.

“(Y/N), you can never be too careful.” Dad said seriously. His tone made her lower the bottle from her lips.

“How come the Hales don’t have a representative?”

“They didn’t want to join the circle. Talia thinks she can handle herself.” Her mother said, washing dishes in the sink. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“She can handle herself. Even with werewolves,” I looked at Michael, “It’s a man’s world, and women fight tooth and nail to get to the top.”

Dad smiled in a way that told me to straighten out my attitude, “Just humor me.”

I closed my eyes, blinking away the vision. My memories were coming back. But how? Maybe because he was here, he knew everything, it was jogging my memory.

“Tell me about the Hales.”

“Well,” He leaned back in the chair, “I know that they had an agreement with your parents, a treaty if you will. But they had to give up their alpha status. Alphas bring attention, sometimes it’s the bad kind. They gave their alpha sparks to you, thinking you would never turn.”

Tossing and turning, in and out of sleep. My parents had been on edge all day after a meeting with Talia. This would be a night that my parents told me I had dreamed about. They thought I had been asleep, but I was awake.

“Don’t wake her. This is going to hurt her, I can’t look at her when I hurt her.” Mom’s voice quivered, “(Y/D/N), do we really have to do this? Maybe if we talk to Talia-”

“(Y/M/N), we are drawing too much attention as it is being a two alpha pack in a town where there is already a large clan.” He said, “My agreement with Chris is strictly with him. I can’t say the same for the rest of them. The Hales are a powerful ally. This needs to happen now.”

“But what if she turns?”

“She won’t. We made sure that her change would be delayed.”

“Her dose a wolfsbane keeps going up. Her tolerance is going up. I don’t want to kill her by accident.”

“Well... There’s always the Wolf Eclipse...”

“No.” Mom said hurriedly, “I don’t know how that would affect her memories. She would forget Derek, he’s her best friend.”

“She has Stiles.”

“I love Stiles. you know that. But Talia would be furious.”

Dad sighed, “I’m tired of running. I want to raise her here. We have a home, friends. Plus... with Stiles’ mother being sick... it’s only a matter of time before the pain we take from her gets to be too much. It would kill Noah and Stiles to take (Y/N) away too.” He grunted, “Now. On the count of three.”

“One.... Two.... three.” A sharp pain stabbed into both my hips, pulling a shrill scream from my throat.

I held my head, all the new memories were pushing at a barrier inside of my head.

“What else?” I said, looking towards him as I paced back and forth in front of him.

“They tried to arrange a marriage between you and Derek.”

Derek and I couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, spying on our parents in another one of their serious meetings. They sat at the kitchen table, Talia with a devilish smile on her face. Her husband besides her, he was mostly a silent figure.

“(Y/D/N), (Y/M/N), I’m sure you know what this is about.”

“No, Talia.” Dad said, “Peter’s invitation was... vague.”

Talia chuckled, “My brother does have a touch for the dramatic.” She hummed, “You and I both know that your clan has diminished with (Y/N) as your only heir.” We were a small clan but I never realized that we were all that was left. Derek looked at me out of the corner of his eye, putting a hand on my back. We continued to listen in.

“We’re aware.” Dad said grimly.

Talia leaned forward, “Then I would like to propose... A proposal.” She tapped her fingers on the table, “Your daughter to be arranged with my son. In the event that anything happens to my daughters, (Y/N) would become the matriarch.” She smiled fondly, “Derek and (Y/N) already share a bond, why delay the inevitable?” Derek and I shared a glance. Us? Get married? Gross.

“No.” Dad shook his head, “Our daughter should choose her life partner.”

“Her mate?” Talia asked.

“An outdated term.” Mom chimed in.

“Hmmm.” Is all Talia replied with.

“What. Else?” I said between gritted teeth, leaning my head against the wall.

“Before the treaty, Talia tried to sneak you into their clan for you to train since your parents had no interest in training you to fight. She tried once when you were young, that’s when the treaty started.”

I was six, sliding down the big green swirly slide at the playground, at the bottom was Peter Hale. He caught me in his arms. He was twenty then.

“Well hello there.” He smiled.

“Hi Peter!” I opened my mouth wide, “Look, I lost a tooth!” I pointed to the gap in my teeth where my canine had been.

“Well, well, well, look at that. Making room for your big bad wolf teeth to come in.” He growled and snapped his teeth. I giggled and shook my head.

“My mommy says that I should have turned by now, I think I’m a dud.”

“Now I don’t think that’s true.” He set me down on my feet, “But I do know that a lost tooth means we have to celebrate.” He leaned down, “How about we go get some ice cream?” I looked around the playground, seeing my mother reading a book on a nearby bench.

“But mommy says I can’t go in a car with anybody but Uncle Noah and Aunt Claudia.”

“Your mommy knows me. Besides, we’ll only be a minute. Trust me.” He held out his hand. As a small child, there are only a few things in life that make you disobey your parents: the promise of a new toy and ice cream. I took Peter’s hand and we walked towards the diner in town.

Once at the diner, Peter sat me down in a tall booth at the bar. The man behind the counter looked us over.

“What can I get for ya?” He asked gruffly.

Peter looked down at me, “How about a hot fudge sundae with two cherries.” I squealed in my seat, swinging my legs wildly. My body couldn’t sit still at the thought of an ice cream sundae.

Soon the sundae was placed in front of me with a large spoon. I gripped the spoon tightly, awkwardly getting a large scoop and placing it in my mouth.

“Did your mommy and daddy tell you that you were a dud?” Peter asked, grabbing a cherry off the sundae by its stem.

“No, I overheard them talking with Miss Talia.”

“Did you?” He hummed.

I nodded, talking around another spoonful, “I’m not gonna turn.” I swallowed, “I would have shown signs by now.”

“Well that doesn’t mean you can’t get the bite.”

“Peter.” A deep voice made us both turn. Standing there was Chris Argent. Daddy and him had an agreement about something. It was adult stuff.

“Argent.” Peter said back.

Chris looked down at me, “Hi (Y/N).”

“Hi Mister Argent!” I grinned, a ring of ice cream around my mouth. Chris smiled, reaching onto the counter and wiping my mouth with a napkin.

“There you go. Your daddy called me to take you home.”

“I’m taking her home.” Peter said with a strained smile.

“Well, I’m already here.” Chris lifted me off the stool and took me by the hand.

Chris brought me home to my parents who were incredibly worried. Maybe Peter wasn’t someone that her parents trusted.

“After that your parents realized that Talia wasn’t going to take no for an answer when it came to training you.” Michael said, resting his arms on his legs. His feet was shaking. He was still holding something back. But I didn’t know if I could handle any more memories. My brain was already fried as it was. But how could I just stop remembering... One more memory... Then the dam would break.

I rubbed my temples, “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“(Y/N), removing the block on your memories like this isn’t safe.”

“I don’t care.” I snapped, flashing my eyes at him, “My whole life was taken from me. Now tell me!”

“Okay.” He sat up, holding his hands up in surrender, “Okay.” He lowered his arms slowly and sighed, “They put the Wolf Eclipse spell on you after the Hale house fire...” He looked up at me through his lashes, “Because you were there.”

All of my pacing and other nervous movements stopped at this revelation.

I licked my lips, “I was there?”

“The night of the fire, you were there.” That’s what broke it, the dam in my brain. I shouted as searing heat spread through my head. Leaning against the wall for support, I squeezed my eyes shut.

2006

I stormed through my house, stomping up the stairs to my room. My parents had picked me up from school instead of letting me stay after for Derek’s basketball game. I had plans with Laura and Derek to go to their house and train afterwards. But no such luck. My parents wanted me to stay home and they didn’t want me training with the Hales anymore.

“This isn’t fair!” I shouted at the top of the stairs, looking down at my parents, “Talia says I have the right to train with them just like any other werewolf can!”

“It’s too dangerous now to train with Laura and Derek, they don’t hold back.” Mom held her hands together, “Look what happened to your arm.” I looked down at my arm. There were thick bandages from Deaton that hid the wounds from Derek’s claws from the rest of the world. It had put me on the bench from lacrosse, but that’s what happened sometimes.

“It was an accident.” I said, “Derek didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Yeah?” Dad put his hands on his hips, “Well, this’ll hurt. You’re grounded. You go to school, you go to practice, you do your homework and that’s it.”

I scoffed, “You can’t do this! I have to train so I can defend myself for when I turn-”

“You’re not going to turn, (Y/N)!” Dad shouted, his eyes were stern and dark, “You would have turned already and I refuse to continue this conversation. Go to your room. Now!” Tears burned at my eyes as I glared down at them. Letting out a little sob, I ran from the steps and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I leaned against the door, sliding down it as I cried.

They knew how insecure and odd I felt about being the last of our clan and a human. It felt like I had failed my ancestors. I wouldn’t be able to carry on our legacy. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how they treated Derek. Paige was dying and the only way to end her pain was killing her, it wasn’t his fault that this was deemed as killing an innocent person by the natural laws of lycanthropy. He was my friend, he had been through enough.

The car starting made my head perk up. I ran to the window in time to see my mom and dad pulling out of the driveway. Probably a meeting with Michael about the stupid Lunar Circle. But since they’re gone....

I opened the window, carefully jumping to the roof that covered the first floor, then using the bushes to break my fall to get to the ground. Now it was just a matter of walking to school... Or I could meet Derek and Laura at their house after the game. That was better and less likely to cause me to pass out.

I knocked on the door of the elaborate manor and waited. It was getting dark out. Hopefully, Derek’s game would end soon. Talia opened the door, a beautiful smile gracing her face.

“Well, this is certainly unexpected. But not unwelcome.”

“My parents grounded me from training.” I said, realizing I was very much going to be in trouble if they found out, “But I want to fight.”

Talia nodded, “Of course.” She ushered me inside, closing the door behind us, “I’m happy you came, I was just on my way out to see you.”

“You were?” I looked up at her as she led me through the house and into the kitchen.

“I was. I wanted to discuss your future.” She opened the fridge and grabbed a pitcher of water. She motioned to it, I nodded, she poured a glass and handed it to me.

“My future? Like... College?”

“No, my dear.” She chuckled, “While education is important, I had something else in mind.” It was around the time I noticed Cora, sitting at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“You know that we love you, the whole family thinks of you as one of our own.” She came around the counter, “And I think you have the ability to become an amazing alpha someday. So my offer is this: I give you the bite and you join my pack. I know how you feel being the only human in your pack.” Getting the bite seemed like a no brainer. Maybe I just needed it to get my juices flowing.

“What about my parents?” I asked, setting my water down on the counter.

“They could join us too. One pack, all together.”

I wasn’t sure how my parents would react to assimilating packs. The Lunar Circle certainly wouldn’t like it.

“Could I have the day to think about it?” I said after a while.

“Of course.” She smiled, “Take as long as you-” Glass breaking cut her off and the flames caused her to back away from the kitchen window. Talia grabbed the pitcher of water from the counter and threw it on the flames. But they only spread. More and more windows breaking, more and more flames. From the next room, Peter ran in through a cloud of smoke.

“Talia, they’re setting the house on fire.” Peter said, coughing. Talia looked down at the basement. Flames spread rapidly through the house. The fire was already traveling down the stairs from above.

“Get them out.” Talia shouted, running towards the basement. Peter led both of us towards the front door and opened it. A glass bottle was thrown at us, hitting Peter in the face. His skin was ignited by the Molotov cocktail. He screamed, trying to put out the fire but it only spread on his clothes. Cora and I screamed, taking off in separate directions. As I ran I heard her scream again. I should have gone back, but I was afraid. I just ran all the way home. And when I got there, the danger hadn’t ended. My parents were out in the lawn, seeing the smoke.

“Mom! Dad!” I called, I stopped just short of them, panting heavily, “Hunters are attacking the Hale, you have to help them.” Evidently, they didn’t understand the urgency of the situation. I grabbed my mom’s hand and tugged, “Come on! They need our help!” The next thing I knew, the world went black.

When I woke up I was on my bed, candles gave the room a warm glow. I saw my mom sitting in a chair beside my bed, my dad was putting what looked like hair into a glass bottle. My hair.

“Hey... What is this?” I tried to sit up, but saw that my arms had been tied to my sides. I looked at my mom, eyes wide, “Mom?” Her lips were pressed tight together and trembling. She was crying.

“We’re sorry, sweetie. But we had no other choice.” She whispered. I looked at my dad, seeing that he had a spell book in his hands. It was an old family book dating back a few hundred years. What spell could they be-

It hit me. The Wolf Eclipse spell. They were going to take away all of my memories. Once my dad sealed the jar and said the incantation, I would lose everything. I would lose Derek. I can’t.

“No! NO!” I screamed as dad poured hot wax over the cork top of the glass bottle, “NO PLEASE! I promise I’ll never sneak out again!” Tears started pouring down my cheeks. Dad started the incantation.

“DAD! DAD DON’T DO THIS!” I looked at my mom who was avoiding looking anywhere near me, “MOM!” I could feel it, like a drain of energy. I was losing memories already, precious moments where the Hale family that were gone forever.

“NO!” I screamed, my fate sealed with the blowing out of a candle and a few words of Latin.

So, they were back, everything I forgot was back. And Michael was able to get me there. That dick. Everything still hurts though: my head, my body.

Michael stood up slowly, closing the distance between us, “Hey are you alright?” He asked before the door was kicked open. Derek stood in the doorway, huffing. He was covered in blood and looked like he wanted to shed more. His eyes flashed to red when he saw Michael in the room. He roared loudly.

Michael sighed, “Not again.” With inhuman speed, Derek pounced on Michael, his claws catching Michael’s cheek. Michael shouted. I ran over, grabbing Derek by the shoulders.

“Derek, stop!” He looked back at me, angry and confused.

“What?!”

I let out a shaky breath and cupped his hairy cheeks, “I remember.” I said softly. His werewolf features slowly morphed away, leaning the face I loved. He looked on in wonder, like seeing a meteor shower for the first time.

“You remember?” He whispered. I nodded slowly, smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. He grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tightly. I wrapped my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair.

The next day was made for decisions. Michael had gone to a hotel near the airport and probably to be as far away from Derek as possible. It took a while but eventually Derek understood. That night had been... eventful to keep it PG. We both needed it honestly. The night as we slept in his bed, loud howling woke us up.

“What was that?” I said, very much awake. Derek sat up, looking towards the window.

“They’re coming.”

I parked at the high school after I saw Stiles’ Jeep parked there as I was driving towards the Stilinski’s. Derek said I needed to talk to Uncle Noah and I had to agree. Especially if I decided to go to Scotland. But I probably wouldn’t, not with the new threat of an alpha pack. He said he would meet with me tonight to talk.

Scott and Stiles were on the field, Scott in goal while Stiles was shooting pearls.

“Now, remember-- no wolf powers.” Stiles said, positioning himself.

“Got it.”

“No, I meant it! No super-fast reflexes, no super-eyesight, no hearing-- none of that crap, okay?”

“Okay. Come on!”

“You promise?”

“Would you just take the shot already?” Scott shouted. Stiles took a few steps forward, shooting the pearl. Scott caught it with ease.

“I said NO WOLF POWERS!” Stiles shouted.

“You don’t need wolf powers to know that was a bad shot.” I smiled as I walked towards them. They both looked over at me. Scott seemed a little surprised, Stiles didn’t really meet my eyes.

“Hey, what happened to you last night?” Scott asked, coming out of the goal to meet me in the field.

“Long story. But Derek filled me in. Y’all fought the kanima, you killed Gerard, Jackson is a normal werewolf. Win win.” I looked over at Stiles, then Scott, “Can you give us a minute?” Needing a few seconds to figure out what I had said, Scott nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” Scott walked over to where they left their lacrosse bags. I walked to stand in front of Stiles.

“I was just kidding, by the way. That was a great shot.” I smiled.

“You should have seen the game I played. I actually made us win.” He said with no emotion. He was pissed at me and so was I. I missed the first game he’s ever played and I should have been there.

“I know, I should have seen it.” I tinkered with my locket, snapping it open and closed again, “I’m sorry.”

“It was to protect him, wasn’t it?”

“They were going to kill him, Stiles. If I had gone, they would have taken me to get to him. And odds are I would be in a shallow grave somewhere.” He didn’t seem to care much, “Come on, would you please look at me?”

He looked up at her and sighed, “I understand. I know that you really care about him. And if things weren’t as crazy, you would be around more.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” I glanced back at Scott, “I’m heading home right now. Gonna talk with your dad. I’ll see you for dinner?”

A small smile, better than nothing, “Sounds good.” I softly punched his shoulder.

“Go to his left side.” I whispered, “Make him work for it.” I winked, walking back to the car. Now was the hard part, talking to Uncle Noah.

-------------------

Read part 22 here!

Please comment down below or message me to be added to the taglist.

And there is the ended for season 2 in the canon and the end of the second “book” of the series. Will I get back to writing my other series soon? We’ll see.

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

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free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

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folklore - isaac lahey {7/?}

Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait I’ve been ridiculously busy the past few weeks 😓BUT!!! As compensation I made this part super long and fluffy with sooooooo much Isaac/reader content (enjoy it while you can because shits gonna be messy from here on out 🤭🙈)

Having said that, I don’t have my laptop right now as I moved houses and my stuff got put into storage so I’m working with the mobile version 😓 sorry in advance if formatting is weird I tried to make it better 😓 also there’s no continue reading button so sorry if this comes up on your dash 😭

Let me know what you think tho I’d really appreciate it 💕

Word count: 5.5k 🙈

Warnings: Fluff 😳, mentions of blood, Derek being a PAIN IN THE ASS, Isaac being the cutest 😌✨, ✨kissing✨, swearing

Masterlist

Tag list (open as always): @makeusfreefromthisfandom om, @cece-lives-here here, @chocolate-raspberries , @belsandthings , @dancing-tacos-23 , @truly-dionysus , @britty443 , @tanyaherondale , @furiouspockettoad , @yunsh-17 17, @random-thoughts-003 , @gloomybrieyxb , @futuristicslimemongerbanana , @linkpk88 , @big-galaxy-chaos , @im-a-stranger-thing , @riaisnotcool (I think u had a username change but idk let me know and I can fix it), @its-evita-here , @pad-foots , @sweetpeabellamyblakedracomalfoy , @bookswillfindyouaway , @what-the-hap-is-fuckening , @awkwardnesshabitat , @pieces-by-me me, @wreny24 , @kerosene-angel (if this is the wrong username I’m sorry it wasn’t working the way I had written it down so I’m assuming I just took it down wrong 😳 it it’s not you let me know and I’ll remove you), @marveloucnco o, @babypink224221 let me know if you’d like to be added <3 (strike through means tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

The days you’d spent in Mystic Falls bled into weeks and soon enough you were being beckoned back to Beacon Hills with a head full of things you hadn’t had a clue about two weeks prior.

There, of course, was the matter of Peter- who was now dead, well technically, he was murdered.

Derek’s first course of action as Beacon Hills’ new alpha was to break the news to you. He’d killed him but due to Scott and Stiles’ constant text updates, you knew it would’ve had to be done sooner or later. But still, you had a feeling that this wouldn’t be the last of him. That small intuitive feeling in the back of your mind told you that you’d see him again soon. You just hoped your next meeting wouldn’t be happening because you ended up buried next to him.

Over the course of your stay with Alaric, who had left you in the care of the Salvatore brothers- Stefan and Damon, you’d honed several new vampiric powers. As it turned out, some of the powers you possessed were completely unfamiliar to the vampires of over a hundred years.

You had super speed, it wasn’t just enhanced as you’d previously thought. As well as that, you’d discovered that you could run circles around both Stefan and Damon Salvatore, who were obviously a lot older and therefore should’ve been a lot faster.

And for that matter, they should’ve been stronger than you, they should’ve been able to snap you like a twig. They should’ve been able to. But they weren’t. Because not only were you faster, you were stronger too.

While having super speed and super strength was nice, mind compulsion, your most recent discovery, now that was incredible. All you had to do was look into someone’s eyes and they would become completely entranced to do whatever you told them.

Despite being over a hundred years old, neither Stefan nor Damon had ever seen a vampire quite like you.

They’d never seen a vampire who was also an empath, that, apparently, was usually more of a witch thing. Neither of them had ever come across a vampire bite which had a euphoric effect either. But having said all of that… they’d never heard of someone being turned from a wolf bite. Or a vampire who still had a beating heart, for that matter.

Your only real downfalls were that, for one, your blood’s healing capacity didn’t operate at the same speed for you as it did when being used to heal others. You’d put this down to the possibility that maybe your system had just grown too used to it. To be perfectly honest, though, you had no idea.

Secondly, your empathic tendencies were beginning to bring you down, but it wasn’t just that… it was the way in which you’d been instructed, by Damon Salvatore himself, on how to make them stop.

The plane ride home to California dragged on longer than you would’ve liked, the flight was delayed and you were absolutely starving by the time Derek picked you up from the airport. Your parents were still away, they’d travelled to Romania in search of answers to your predicament and they wouldn’t be home until at least next week, so that left Derek on chauffeur and babysitting duty.

“How are you?” He’d only spoken up thirty minutes into the car ride, you let out a sigh from the passenger seat and gave him a tired smile, you could feel the nerves radiating from him. He was afraid you’d be mad at him for killing Peter, and maybe you should’ve been, but again, you had a feeling he’d be back, and besides, spending time with Damon had helped you realise that everything wasn’t so black and white. It finally registered with you that people like Derek and Damon, the dark mysterious bad boys with secret hearts of gold- they sometimes did bad things but with good intentions.

Once you discovered this, you decided amongst yourself that you’d ease up on your not-really-big-brother in the future. Even if it meant you got hurt a little in the process. If hurting you was what he needed to do to learn his lesson then you’d be willing to make that sacrifice.

So you gave him a soft smile and answered, “Hungry.”

Derek let out a chuckle at that, nodding his head towards the backseat, drawing your attention to the three full blood bags laying on the leather seats.

A delighted gasp left your mouth as you snatched the plastic bags into your hands, wasting no time you stuck the attached tube into your mouth and began gulping the first bag down- it was definitely Stiles’ blood you were drinking, you’d gotten so used to the taste of it you were sure you could recognise it anywhere.

Letting out a happy groan you threw your head back against the headrest, “Stiles Stilinski you are a doll.”

Derek chuckled again, glancing at you fondly before his steely eyes returned to the road ahead.

It was only another 30 minutes before you were back in your driveway. “So are you staying here until my parents get back?” You questioned from the porch as Derek got your bags from the trunk of his car, the wolf shook his head with a smile, “Nah, I’ve got some stuff to do at home.”

“Derek, that home isn’t even structurally sound.” You chastised softly. Surely he’d be happier spending time with the family he still had breathing rather than living in the remnants of what used to be his.

Walking up to the porch, Derek placed your case down gently by your feet and moved himself to stand in front of you. A genuine smile painted his lips as he gazed at you, “New rule.” He stated, placing both of his hands on either of your forearms before going on, eyes staring affectionately into your own, “From now on, I will be doing all the worrying about you, alright? Not the other way around.”

With a defeated sigh, you nodded your head. “I’ll try my best.” That had been a lie. Unable to blind you with his unusually sweet sentiment, through the physical contact you could tell he was scheming.

“Good. Now, go get some rest I’ll come check up on you in the morning.” He kissed your forehead and then made his way back to his car, speeding out of your driveway and out of sight before you’d even unlocked the door.

The house was cold and empty when you’d re-entered. A shiver ran up your spine the second your feet stepped past the threshold. Something was very wrong, and unfortunately, you couldn’t tell what exactly it was that was so wrong. The feeling was unnerving, it was dark and it was agonisingly heavy. Like anxiety on steroids, lots of steroids.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped -more like clawed- at your chest. Nails scraping your skin as you attempted to catch a single breath, though it seemed that oxygen was determined to outrun you as you glanced around helplessly.

Almost twenty minutes has passed as you heaved and gasped frantically, overwhelming dread flooded your chest while simultaneously tears flooded your eyes, and still you didn’t have even the slightest idea of what it all meant.

And then it hit you. That panic- it didn’t belong to you.

Within a second you’d risen to your feet, breathing still staggered while you rushed out the front door, your vampire speed being put to good use as within seconds you were where your panic had led you. Night had fallen by now and it was completely dark, not to mention absolutely freezing, the hoodie you had on doing nothing to protect you from the biting cold in the air. The trail of feelings you’d been chasing had led you to Beacon Hills cemetery and before your eyes, there it was, the something that was very wrong.

Derek and Isaac. More specifically, Derek’s teeth buried in Isaac’s arm. You hadn’t even registered what you were doing when you ripped Derek from Isaac and violently threw him across the cemetery, the impact in which the Hale hit the tree all the way at the edge of the graveyard was a testimony to your strength. You hadn’t even used half it.

Without hesitation, you inspected Isaac’s body frantically, eyes lingering on the bloody bite across his right arm. Slowly and mournfully, your eyes met his, which were wide with shock. His heart was beating out of his chest to the point where you couldn’t ignore it.

“What did he do to you?” The question slipped out as a whisper, your anger melted away only to be replaced by dread as Isaac began to speak, “He offered me the bite and I- I said yes.”

“Isaac…” Your gaze drifted to the bite and you weren’t surprised to see it already healed. “I’m sorry.” You heard him mutter from above you, his anxiety pooling in your chest and mixing with his guilt.

Shaking your head softly you pulled him into you, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders while his own arms held you tightly against him as you kissed his temple to release him of the intense anxiety plaguing him. “Don’t be sorry. I understand.”

He relaxed against you upon hearing your words, the two weeks you’d been gone made him realise something, he was utterly useless without you, or so he thought. He felt weak. He felt as though if he didn’t have you as emotional support he was defective. Derek had honed in on that and manipulated it to his advantage, convinced Isaac that the bite was what he needed in order to be strong by himself. To keep you safe instead of you protecting him all of the time.

“Was that really necessary?” Derek’s voice broke the moment and you found anger was surging through you once again. You separated from Isaac to face Derek.

At this point, you didn’t care what his intentions had been, you weren’t going to let him away with this.

“I’m going to give you three seconds to explain why you did this.” As Derek moved to speak you ruthlessly cut him off. “Too slow.” And with that the back of your hand met his cheek, again sending him flying, only not as far this time.

His fangs were barred now, as were yours. Both of your eyes glowing, his red ones threatening as he attempted to demonstrate his power. And yet again, you had a revelation.

You couldn’t stop the laugh that fell from your lips, a synacal and sarcastic lilt to it as you towered over Derek’s form on the floor.

“Oh I get it!” You exclaimed, lip held between your teeth in mock disbelief you pressed your palm to your forehead as you spoke, “You thought you’d go around and stalk some kids so you could add to your big bad pack. Right?” He growled at you and attempted to pick himself up, only for you to give a swift, hard kick to his chest, returning his back to the dirt.

“I guess you told him it’d make him stronger? That it’d make all of his problems go away? And what about the Argent’s, huh? Did you tell him that you were manipulating him?” It was then, again in panic, Isaac spoke up to your surprise, in Derek’s defence.

“(Y/n), I promise it isn’t like that! He told me everything, it was my choice I said yes!” You spared him a glance before crouching down to Derek.

“Well did you tell him how you usually treat your pack?” The words were dripping in venom and the guilt that radiated from the man didn’t deter you from moving forward with you verbal attack, your head turning to Isaac, your eyes sparkling with sadness as you locked eyes with him, speaking hoarsely you wondered out loud, “Did he tell you that he’s a liar? That he doesn’t know how to run a pack? That if he doesn’t understand you he’ll leave you in the dust?”

The look on his face spoke volumes as he recalled the state Derek had put you in the weeks previous.

With a final sneer in Derek’s direction you delivered your parting words, “You better treat him better than you continue to treat me or so help me Derek Hale I will tear you to shreds.”

As you angrily stormed away, Isaac stood in confusion for a second before he began to chase after you, leaving Derek on the dirt floor to help himself.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) please wait!” He shouted as he was just starting to catch up to you. When you felt that you were at a good enough distance away from Derek you finally slowed your pace.

When Isaac finally made it to your side, he was panting slightly, swallowing the lump in his throat he nervously grabbed your hand.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, his eyes resembling those of a puppy and you could already feel your composure slipping away from you as you looked at him.

It’d been almost three weeks since you’d seen him, three weeks since you’d made out in the school basement and this definitely wasn’t how you were expecting the reunion to go.

“Isaac it isn’t your fault. I’m not mad at you, ok? I get it. I’m just worried, this town isn’t exactly kind on the supernatural.” You reassured him gently, squeezing his hand and giving him a sad smile.

“Don’t worry about me.” Isaac told you and you had to laugh, “Sorry, babe but I will not be taking my eyes off you until this town becomes normal.”

Isaac’s face was then taken over by, what could only be described as, a Cheshire Cat smile, “Did you just call me babe?” His voice was teasing and you felt your face heating up despite your freezing temperature.

Sucking on the inside of your cheek you tried your best to conceal your growing smile, you shrugged innocently, “Yeah. What about it?” The playful lilt in your voice had his smile widening even more as he began to lean down to you, his face getting closer to yours by the second.

His breath fanned across your lips when he spoke next, “I liked it.” With that, his lips pressed to yours cautiously, as if he was still unsure of whether or not it was okay to do so.

His uncertainty melted away when he felt your lips begin to reciprocate his actions and your hands moved to cup his cheeks.

The both of you could agree that this kiss was different than the last one you’d shared a few weeks ago. “Why is it that we only ever kiss when one of us is coming out as a supernatural creature?” Isaac laughed against your lips as you pulled away with a sigh.

“It would be us wouldn’t it.”

After a few minutes of nagging at Isaac you managed to put all the pieces of Derek’s plan together. Isaac himself didn’t actually know all that much, just that he was the first to be turned, but that alone told you everything that you needed to know.

Derek was now an alpha with no pack, so logically, a pack was what he was building and that would have been perfectly understandable- if he hadn’t started with your best friend.

“There’s a full moon coming up, did he tell you what would happen?” You questioned gently, ready to throttle Derek when the boy in front of you shook his head.

Heaving a deep breath you squeezed his hand reassuringly, the initial excitement of being turned had worn off and Isaac was beginning to radiate anxiety once again.

“Don’t worry okay? I’m gonna call Scott, he’ll be able to help you.” Isaac’s eyebrows came together in confusion, “Scott McCall?”

You nodded your head, “He’ll know how to help.” You tried to convince Isaac without spilling Scott’s secret. Not that it was going to stay a secret for too long, but it wasn’t your secret to tell.

Isaac shook his head rapidly, his hands moving to hold your forearms, his panic at your suggestion hitting you like a freight train as he stared into your eyes, a wild look in his own.

“No no no no. You can’t tell anyone. (Y/n) promise me you won’t tell anyone okay? If my dad finds out I’m a werewolf he’ll-“ The words came out almost as fast as you could run and his panic only intensified when his father entered his mind.

Quickly catching on to his looming panic attack as his eyes began to glow yellow you cut him off, “Isaac.”

He didn’t hear you as he kept rambling, claws growing past his nails and digging into your arm, “No he’ll kill me. Oh my god he’s gonna kill me. (Y/n) he’s go-“

Yes, it would’ve been easy to rip your arms from his grasp that was causing you quite a lot of pain as his nails sunk into your skin as his hands held onto you desperately. However, you had a feeling that his hold on your now bloody forearms was the only thing keeping him from spiralling completely out of control.

“Isaac! Look at me!” Your voice was strict but served to make his amber eyes finally settle on yours.

Gently, you finally slipped your arms out of Isaac’s clawed grip, although you were sure it would’ve been less painful to just leave them, his claws dragged down your arms while you lifted them slowly and cautiously until you replaced them with your hands, using your new grasp of the boy to provide him with some peace of mind.

You focused your energy on shifting a sense of relaxation from your own palms to Isaac’s sweaty ones as you spoke, voice soft again, “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s just you and me, alright? Focus on me, yeah?” Isaac nodded his head, still slightly frantic but calmer than before as he did as you told and simply focused on you, “Take a deep breath.” You instructed, breathing steadily along with him until his eyes returned to their natural blue colour and his claws retracted.

A moment of silence passed with Isaac slumped against you, hands held tightly in his while he steadied his breathing. You placed your lips to his cheek and then again to the bruise forming beneath his right eye, you hadn’t noticed it earlier. You’d almost forgotten it’d been nearly three weeks since you’d been together, he’d probably been though it with his demon of a sperm doner over the time you were away.

“I’ve missed you.” It was Isaac that broke the silence when your lips disconnected from his injured face.

“I missed you too.” You replied simply, there was so much you’d planned on saying to him while you were in Mystic Falls but at the moment, you felt there were more pressing matters to discuss and again, it was Isaac who spoke.

He pulled away slightly to look at you properly, hands still clasping yours, he gave them a squeeze before he started speaking, “This pack that Derek’s building… I’m guessing you’re not in it?”

“I was never asked. But I’ve kind of already got a pack, which you are more than welcome to join.” You responded hopefully, wishing he’d agree but you knew he wouldn’t. As such a fresh beta he’d stay loyal to his alpha, but, you had to ask.

Isaac nodded his head sadly, “Scott McCall?” You let out a small laugh, at how quickly he’d caught on, “Yeah. He’s not exactly an alpha but he’s helped me out a lot, more than Derek has.”

“Derek told me that wolves are stronger as a pack, he didn’t say anything about vampires though.” Isaac went on, a confused lilt in his voice.

“I found out in Mystic Falls that vampires rarely belong to packs and by vampire nature I don’t need one, but Ric figures that it’s in my nature to want one since it’s all I’ve ever known.” You relayed the information to Isaac.

“Then why not, you know, join mine?” His lip was pulled between his teeth and he was looking at you with a hopeful expression.

“Isaac I just told you…” You said pleadingly, you didn’t want to upset him any further but you also couldn’t throw away the pack bond you’d built with Scott and Stiles when you’d first turned. If it was a matter of Isaac’s pack being made up of just Isaac there would’ve been no problems, it was the fact that it wasn’t Isaac’s pack but Derek’s.

Scratching what you’d decided about Derek earlier, you came to a new agreement with yourself: all of hell would freeze over before you even thought of easing up on Derek Hale.

Isaac threw his head back with a groan, “Come on, (N/n)! We are not going to let our love play out like Romeo and Juliet!” The way he spoke was humorous but it was obvious that he wasn’t really joking.

With a sigh you moved your shaking hands, that were now covered in scabbed over cuts as opposed to their previous status of raw and bleeding, to Isaac’s face. Your thumbs moved gently along his cheek bones as you took him in with an encouraging smile on your face as you told him confidently, “I refuse to let us become a modern day Romeo and Juliet, that’s not happening.”

You pulled him closer to you, slipping your arms around his shoulders and doing your best to ignore the butterflies rioting in your stomach when his arms wrapped tentatively around your waist.

You brought your lips to meet his briefly before fixing him with another determined look, “But listen to me, we might be loyal to different packs but I’m on your side, no matter what.”

Isaac nodded his head in understanding, “If it comes down to it, I’m always gonna choose you.” He responded honestly, arms tightening around you to hold you against his chest, his height causing his chin to be tilted downwards so that he could meet your eyes.

“I meant what I said to Derek, by the way.” You informed, Isaac’s eyebrows rose in confusion again, “If he mistreats you I’ll tear him apart.”

“Should I give Scott the same warning?” Isaac asked humorously and you had to shake your head in order to hold back a laugh.

It wasn’t until you’d separated from your embrace with Isaac that you took into account the fact that your body was now shaking with the cold.

“Come on, I’ve gotta call my dad and probably the sheriff and you’re freezing.” Isaac stated, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you back to the cemetery where you noticed his overturned excavator and the dug up grave plot.

You listened with curiosity while Isaac spoke to his father on the phone, trying to explain exactly what had transpired in the last couple of hours since his shift started.

“How the hell does an excavator just flip over, Isaac?” You could hear his fathers anger through the line and Isaac fumbled for a response, “Someone, or something- I don’t know it could’ve been an animal, but it got pushed from the side and tipped over. I fell into the plot I was digging and that was it, I didn’t see the rest.” He explained weakly.

“You still stuck in hole, you idiot?” You watched as Isaac clenched his jaw and motioned to yourself when he was finally looking at you, “No. No, um, (Y/n) just got back from Virgina, she came looking for me and helped me out.”

“She still there?” His father questioned, seemingly cooling off at the mention of your name. You hated how much that man seemed to like you when he should’ve held that affection for his actual son.

“Yeah, she’s with me now.” Isaac confirmed and you offered up a fake cheerful, “Hi, Mr Lahey!”

“Invite her over while I call the sheriff and see about getting this mess cleaned up.” With that, he hung up the phone and Isaac sighed, “You’re starting to look like Mr. Freeze, let’s get you warmed up.” His arm stayed comfortably wrapped around your shoulder and as you reached up to hold his hand that was hanging over your shoulder you stopped dead in your tracks, “Isaac, I can’t go and greet your father looking like this.”

You motioned to your torn and bloodstained hoodie, immediately regretting it when his eyes widened in shock, “Did I… oh god (Y/n) did I do that?”

Not missing a beat you grabbed his hands and made sure you soothed his panic before you got a rerun of earlier.

“It’s not your fault. You’re new to this, okay? Mistakes happen and that’s fine it’s all part of the process. And look!-” You pulled off the hoodie to reveal your now completely healed arms and hands, nothing but dried blood to show that the claw marks were even there in the first place. “‘M all healed up! No harm done.” You reassured him, bringing his lips to yours to further convince him that you were okay and distract him from the guilt you could feel building within him.

Your arms, although no longer cut, were covered in goosebumps as Isaac ran his hands affectionately down the length of them. “It won’t happen again.” He promised and you gave him a shaky smile, teeth beginning to chatter, “Let’s go home?” Isaac nodded his head, nothing short of ripping his own hoodie off before pulling your arms through the sleeves and moving himself in front of you to zip it up.

You watched completely content as he fumbled with the zipper. His curls were falling in front of his eyes and his eyes were squinted in concentration. The quiet, but triumphant, “got it” he let out when he finally finessed the zipper had you grinning like a fool.

When he moved his focus from the zip and back to your face, he smiled bashfully, “What’re you looking at me like that for?”

The sleeves of his hoodie, that was miles too big for you, hung far past your wrists and brushed against the nape of his neck, your fingers finding a place tangled in his hair while you stared at him, grin ever present.

Your other hand was otherwise occupied being placed firmly against Isaac’s chest, enjoying the feeling of his rapidly beating heart, and you didn’t know it entirely. But in that moment it was beating for you and you alone.

Isaac’s hand made itself comfortable holding your waist, the other holding your own against his chest, keeping it in place.

Neither of you needed to say it. You could both feel it. But still, you found yourself uttering the words, “I love you.”

Not half a second had passed before Isaac echoed your declaration, “I love you.”

“I feel like if I kiss you right now I won’t be able to stop but I’m still freezing my ass off so… your place?”

Isaac nodded his head in agreement, “My place.”

Upon arrival at the Lahey residence, Mr. Lahey had greeted you with a wide smile and ushered you into the kitchen where he instructed Isaac to make you some tea, to which Isaac had to restrain a grumble as he’d been planning on doing it anyway.

Mr. Lahey was happily chatting away to you when Isaac set down two cups of tea, one in front of his father and one in front of you, his eyes lingering on you with a certain kind of glint before he turned back to the counter to grab his own cup and returning to sit beside you at the table.

Isaac was, in all honesty, losing it. He didn’t even know why. You were just sitting there, wrapped up in his hoodie, nose ever so slightly pink from the cold, talking politely to his father. It was nothing out of the ordinary but he was finding it hard to think about anything other than how his hoodie would look splayed on the floor of his bedroom.

He wasn’t very good at hiding it either, you could feel it as clear as day. Teenage boy hormones mixing with teenage werewolf hormones were causing havoc and it’d be a lie to say it wasn’t having an affect on you.

Trying to return your attention to whatever Mr.Lahey was babbling about you clearing your throat and took a sip of your tea, keeping your expression neutral as Isaac’s hand slipped to your knee under the table. His attempt to pull you into his mess of hormones was obviously successful as you found yourself ready to yell out in frustration when his hand stayed put on your knee for a solid twenty minutes before his father finally rose from the table.

“I’m going to check out the situation at the cemetery, you’re welcome to stay tonight, it’s pretty dangerous out there these days.” Mr. Lahey offered and you smiled innocently at him as he stood in the doorway, “I think I’ll take you up on that. Thank you.” The older man gave you a nod but said no more before walking out the front door.

“What the hell are you doing?” You finally burst when the front door clicked shut, whipping around to face Isaac.

“What?” He asked as if his hand didn’t start sliding further up your leg the second his father left the room.

You groaned, “Don’t ‘what?’ me when you’re about four centimetres from having your hand between my thighs!”

“Sorry.” He immediately retracted his hand, eyes wide as he realised how close his hand was to reaching the top of your thigh, “I, um, I didn’t mean to- I mean, I did mean to but i won’t do it again if you don’t want me to-“

“Isaac.” You cut him off, lip pulled between your teeth, “I want you to.” You declared and he let out a heavy sigh full of relief, “Thank God.” He muttered before he was pulling you up off the chair and right against his chest.

His lips immediately found yours and his hands were gripping your waist like there was no tomorrow.

At this point, the butterflies in your stomach were going absolutely bat shit feral when his lips began to trail past your lips, to your chin, then to the curve of your jaw. It was when his hand slipped deftly up your side to settle against your jaw that you realised just how much you’d been wanting this.

Isaac’s lips fell further to your neck and you couldn’t stop the hum of approval that escaped your mouth at the sensation of his soft lips sucking and licking at your pulse. “It this okay?” He asked in a mutter, the dainty and nervous nature of his voice contrasting greatly with the confidence and ferocity of his actions.

Your hands tugged gently at his hair to get him to meet you clouded eyes, when he looked at you you were sure that his eyes had flashed yellow, his breathing was getting heavy and you had an inkling that his lips on your neck was the most exciting thing that was going to happen between you tonight.

“It’s more than okay.” You told him with a dopey smile, letting out a laugh when he dived back into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin through a smile.

Despite your words your hands moved to his chest to push him away slightly, “But…” you started as Isaac threw his head back with a groan, “I think we should stop, and maybe revisit this after the full moon passes.”

After taking in a steadying breath Isaac nodded in agreement, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” His hand slipped into yours and he intertwined his fingers with yours, he spent a moment just looking at your linked hands with a fond smile and the look of achievement on his face. It was easy to tell, with the help of your empathic powers, that Isaac was proud of himself.

You yourself couldn’t quite pinpoint why he was feeling so prideful in the moment, but he knew. To be truthful he wasn’t just proud of himself, he was downright ecstatic. He’d been nothing more than your best friend since you were both eleven, and now, six years later he finally crossed the threshold from being your best friend to being your- well actually now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure what he is to you now.

A few hours passed before Isaac worked up the courage to ask the question that had formed in his mind after his make out session with you earlier.

The pair of you had since gotten comfortable in his bed, which was nothing particularly new. You laid on your side with your back to the bedroom door, Isaac was behind you, his chin tucked in between your shoulder and your neck with his arms around your torso holding you close to him.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice broke through the silence and you responded with a tired hum, adjusting his arm so you could snuggle closer and tried your best to stop yourself from falling asleep while he murmured softly in your ear.

“What are we?” He kept his eyes trained on the dark room ahead of him, his hand grabbing yours as you readjusted his arm and he absentmindedly began playing with your fingers, the action being successful in calming his nerves.

“What do you want us to be?” You asked sleepily in response, a small smile forming on your face as you heard his heartbeat speeding up.

Isaac let out a nervous breath against your neck and you held back a shudder at the feeling, “I was kind of thinking that all the kissing would make us a couple.” Letting out another sleepy hum, if it was even physically possible, you snuggled deeper into his hold. You sluggishly turned your head to place a light kiss against his cheek, “Then we’re a couple.”

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #teen wolf x reader #folklore i.l #derek hale x reader

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traekenimagines · 4 years ago

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You’re New: A Theo Raeken Imagine

Request from Anon: Hey! Love your writing! So pretty much the reader is Scott’s sister and she does know how about Theo being all bad and betraying the pack but she was staying with her dad since Scott wanted her to stay away from the supernatural stuff. So this is after Liam brings Theo out of hell and Scott is trying not to kill Theo pretty much and they are all just talking. The reader comes downstairs and Theo notices her and he’s immediately in awe and Scott is like eyes off and all overprotective over her.

Hey guys, so as I’ve said before and as I’m sure you’ve figured out, updates aren’t going to be as regular as usual but I am opening requests again, so there’s that! Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

You had heard plenty of stories from Scott about life in Beacon Hills, the supernatural side of life to be exact. You had insisted on coming home multiple times whenever your brother was in trouble, whenever there was a threat to his life, but being the older sibling that he was (only by ten months, you were always quick to remind him), he protested against you leaving your father. But now you were back in Beacon Hills, taking a short break from your studies to spend time with Scott.

In true McCall style, you had arrived at a pretty inconvenient time, one of Scott’s friends having gone missing.

You were upstairs when you heard Liam enter the house, and as you listened on, you heard a voice you couldn’t place. Whoever it belonged to, Liam certainly didn’t like and based off that fact, you were pretty sure Scott wasn’t going to either.

Well, if that didn’t give you the motive you needed to get involved in werewolf business, then nothing would.

You were at the top of the stairs, ready to make your way down when Scott walked into the house. He didn’t notice you, clearly too involved in whatever was going on now, and so when he had turned into the kitchen, you began to make your way down the steps. It was when your brother stopped talking in the middle of his sentence, anger brewing in the air, that you sat down, taking the time to listen to this new person that Liam had introduced.

“Somehow I don’t think we’re going to work this out.”

You racked your brains for someone that Scott had expressed clear disdain for when he told you about the threats that faced him. It took a few moments before it hit you.

Theo Raeken. It had to be. The guy that had tried to kill your brother only a few months earlier. You clenched your fists as you resisted the urge to run in there and break the chimera’s nose.

What the hell was he doing here? Why was he back? Maybe before you broke Theo’s nose, you would break Liam’s too, chiding him for being so unbelievably stupid.

And then you heard it.

“He remembers Stiles.”

Stiles. Scott’s friend. Yours too, you could gather. You couldn’t ruin that chance of getting him back, couldn’t ruin your brother losing his best friend.

So it appeared you would just have to deal with Theo assisting. Well if he was, so were you.

You walked down the bottom half of the stairs before waltzing into the kitchen. You leaned against the doorway, coughing slightly to alert the pack to your attention.

“If he’s helping, I want to.”

“Well, you’re new,” Theo spoke before your brother got the chance to object to your declaration. You glared at him with narrowed eyes to which he seemed to stare back in what you presumed to be amusement. “Who are you?”

“Y/N McCall, and you should know that I’m pissed at you for trying to kill my brother, Theo Raeken.”

“Well, technically I did actually succeed at killing your brother, but I suppose I should be flattered that you know my name.”

A hand flew to your chest as Scott proceeded to hold you back from approaching Theo with clenched fists. You peered at the chimera over your brother’s shoulder, your blood boiling at the sight of him standing there, a flirtatious smirk on his face.

“Calm down, Y/N,” Scott turned to Theo, “I’d shut up if I were you.”

Theo sniffed despondently, eyes still very much on you. If you hadn’t been so inclined to want to kill him, perhaps you would have found him attractive. He was certainly your type, which usually meant that he was no good for you. Not that that had ever stopped you before.

You shook off Scott, drawing your eyes away from Theo, trying to pretend as if he didn’t exist.

“Whatever, I’m going to get ready. We’ve got Ghost Riders to find, right?”

“I didn’t say you could come along,” Scott’s words fell on what he thought were deaf ears as you turned and left. You were halfway back up the stairs when you heard Theo speak again.

“Your sister’s definitely protective of you, McCall.”

“Yeah, and I am of her, so back off.”

“What?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at her. She’s off limits, understood?”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the lie that so easily fell off Theo Raeken’s tongue.

Masterlist

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf imagine #theo raeken #theo raeken imagine #theo raeken imagines #theo raeken x reader #cody christian

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halinski · 5 years ago

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Red Light, Green Light

I lost the original ask when I tried to post the other day but thankfully I had this saved! Thank you to the anon who sent this!! It was a great challenge and obviously it took me a long while (so I hope you’re still around!) but I’m actually quite happy with it :D I might finally be gaining some confidence with writing hehe lots of thanks to @kcfriedchicken for always putting up with me and cheering me on, and also to @livinginfictions for the thorough beta!! <3

[Read on AO3]

Derek blinked lazily at the clock on Stiles' desk, wishing he could close his eyes and keep dozing, pretend he hadn't seen how late it was getting because that meant putting an end to this. But...an alpha missing out or being late to his own pack meeting would not do. Especially if he popped up around the same time as Stiles, both of them smelling distinctly of each other.

No. This...whatever it was—well, relationship, yes, in a way—it was just theirs for now. Stiles’ and his. They hadn't put a name to it, mostly because Derek feared to bestow a cursed title upon Stiles. Connections like this generally ended badly. But this was something that was just theirs, safe and secure behind four walls, or car doors. For now.

Another minute ticked by, striking Derek's ears, drawing attention to the impatient little black hands, swinging further on and on, tempting Derek to dig his claws into the plastic and tear it apart, as if that would eradicate the concept of time so that he could continue to lie here with Stiles on his shoulder. If that was all his life consisted of from this day forward, Derek wouldn't mind. He'd always seen himself bleeding to death at the hands of an enemy, enduring inexplicable pain but now...

He could spend eternity here in Stiles' room, on his tiny bed, and not be bothered at all, or alternatively, and more realistically, die happy on the spot in a good way.

He was half tempted to go public with their...relationship but it also made the fear of vulnerability stir inside his chest. It was one thing to have Stiles see his cracks and edges: to let him soothe them like balm in privacy, but revealing this thing with Stiles would mean letting the rest of the world know about his weakness. He knew the pack didn't mean him any harm, and yet...

Derek was working on giving the softness inside him space. It was a work in progress.

He sighed, another tick and tock of a minute having gone by, the planned event creeping closer. Stiles snuffled against Derek's shoulder at the sound, rubbing his scent into the worn grey shirt. His arm re-adjusted around Derek's torso.

"If you keep up with that all my shirts are gonna be shoulder free - but only on the right side," Derek said, amused and hell, proud even, at how quickly so many wolf-like behaviors had grown on Stiles; faster than anyone else in the pack, when he wasn't even a wolf. It spoke volumes of Stiles' understanding. Sure, he had been tactile from the start, searching for contact, and Derek had seen the hugs and shoulder pats he shared with his dad but this...it just felt right.

Derek was glad the human's eyes were closed because the smirk he was wearing may have been closer to a smile, and he didn't dare encourage Stiles’ ideas further. If he gave his cheesy thoughts too much room he would ruin their balanced give and take. They both found a necessary challenge in the other. Derek couldn't just surrender.

"You can buy new ones," Stiles mumbled, not caring to lift his head even the slightest bit. "Shit, it's not like you're poor. Don't be stingy. Let a guy enjoy himself."

Derek let out a light snort. "You've enjoyed yourself plenty. It's time we get ready."

Stiles just whined, slightly high pitched and grating, but a wordless communication Derek appreciated, if only for the fact that Stiles didn't necessarily need his words around him anymore. When he didn't want to, which...wasn't very often.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, giving Stiles' a vigorous little back rub to try and get his system going, after which he managed to pull him up into a sitting position with him.

"This sucks. I'm going to excommunicate from the pack. Both you and me so we never have to deal with any responsibilities ever again," Stiles said, blinking unhappily into the room.

Derek swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stretching his back. "And then I'll whisk you away and we'll live in a cave like real wolf-men for the rest of our lives," he quipped.

"Exactly!" Stiles exclaimed, a grin splitting his face. "This is why I'm dating you."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You only want me because I'm a werewolf." Derek let out a put upon sigh after slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. Stiles joined him then, taking hold of Derek by wrapping his fist in the hem of his shirt.

"Come here, hot wolf-man," Stiles mock-growled, pulling him in. Derek went along easily, lips finding Stiles' blindly and letting himself sink into the warmth. Stiles' hand stroked over his cheek with the tenderness of a sunlit daisy.

God, Derek was a goner.

Derek gently nudged Stiles back, righting his head. Stiles followed his movement with a subtle lick across his lips, pupils all wide and open, as if he had a whole world in there for Derek alone to make his home in. But he couldn't let himself get distracted by Stiles again.

"I'll race you," he blurted out to shake himself out of this delirious high. A challenge: one of the strongest motivators for Stiles. On cue, Derek watched the spark ignite in his eyes.

"I'm listening." Stiles smiled at him defiantly.

"I bet I can make it home, shower and be ready before you are."

"On foot? No way! I'm so going to win this."

"Oh yeah?"

"You're a goner, Hale." Stiles was right about that on one count.

Derek met his gaze with equal glee. He held the moment just for a second longer, fingertips brushing against Stiles' nape. Stiles' pulse jumped beneath his thumb and Derek couldn't put the feelings in his chest into words, nor actions. The most he was capable of was resting his forehead against Stiles', just breathing him in.

Resisting the tangible temptation to give in to Stiles once more, Derek merely parted his lips to whisper, "Go!"

He ripped himself from the human and fled, holding fast to his next objective.

"Hey!" Stiles objected after a heartbeat, but Derek was already out the window.

--------

Stiles screeched into the parking lot, foot on the break and hands pulling the steering wheel for a sharp left. He skidded to a halt next to the familiar figures at the entrance to Derek’s building - he still couldn’t believe his boyfriend had bought a whole building just to maintain his social isolation. Then again, having to listen to your neighbors do literally everything couldn’t be great. It would drive anyone insane. Stiles yanked the emergency break as he parked and left the car running, jumping out in one smooth move.

Isaac could shut it, he was totally smooth.

“You asshole!” Stiles ranted, pointing at Derek in frustration. “You cheated.”

Derek did nothing but smile smugly, eyebrows openly laughing at Stiles.

“I don’t cheat,” he declared, arms crossing over his chest, now wearing a nice bright blue shirt. There was a light, earthy cologne crawling up Stiles' nose as he stood in front of this man of brawn. Stiles knew intimately how solid and strong Derek was beneath that sturdy dark blue top but instead of indulging said train of thought he had to expel it. The pack was probably used to his hormonal responses to Derek but he was supposed to be growing out of that phase.

Thank goodness for strong deodorant, Stiles thought,watching Derek's nostrils flare. He breathed in relief at the small nod that deemed him clean enough. Any lingering scents of each other scrubbed away, and a change of clothes. Dating a werewolf on the down low among other werewolves was a pain in the ass. Especially when assholes like Jackson would sneer and complain about the "ghastly stink" of artificial scents only when it came to Stiles. Naturally, he didn’t dare talk smack about Derek in his presence.

"There's no way. You absolutely cheated," Stiles insisted and jabbed at those abs, just under Derek's elbow, where he knew he was ticklish. Then he bit his tongue lest he let anything incriminating slip and whirled around, grinning to himself at the quiet wheeze behind him.

"You done?” Lydia asked with an audible eye roll. How was it that all of Stiles’ favorite people had perfected that movement?

“Yup!” Stiles declared, making a beeline for Erica to hook his arm into hers. Erica was bound to try to interrogate him about what kind of cheating Derek had done but Stiles was a sheriff’s son, and he had all his evasive techniques down. Of course, Erica had her own theories about him and the alpha, which may or may not have resulted in him confessing to her about his crush. Despite not being able to tell her about any of the developments, he found comfort in the fact that he could be sure she was rooting for them. “C’mon, bestie. Let’s go!”

Stiles didn’t miss the grin Erica sent Derek’s way before they turned and headed up into the loft, making a pit stop at the still running Jeep. The rest of the pack slowly shuffled after them.

--------

Somehow... no matter how organized Derek tried to be before a pack meeting or how sternly he glared and attempted to keep the pack in line, pack meetings always resulted in chaos and headaches. Right now, there was a discussion going on about cats and full moons that weren’t based on any scientific (or supernatural) evidence and Derek couldn't even recall when the conversation shifted.

Even Stiles was getting tired at this point, rubbing his forehead vigorously as he hung over the laptop. Derek hadn't heard him typing for the past 15 minutes and it hadn’t been long after that Stiles had stopped sending sullen looks his way and started stubbornly picking at the permanent stain on the table.

"Okay, let's wrap this up and get something to eat before I start tearing out throats," Derek sighed.

Stiles' laptop snapped shut before Derek finished the sentence.

Boyd smirked. "We haven't heard that one in a while," he commented.

"So, we're done, right?" Lydia declared, already packing up her things and slipping her shoes back on.

"We're done when I say I'm done," Derek said. "Any other questions left?"

Erica raised her arm from her lounged position.

"Yes."

"Are we done?" she asked, without as much a hint of amusement, and Derek was. Derek was 100 percent done trying to deal with these teenagers.

He gave her a long blank stare. Just to prove how much he meant it, before he turned from where he had been pacing and pointed at Stiles.

"Patty's. You're driving."

Then he marched upstairs to his private bathroom, just to buy himself some alone time, hanging out the tiny window and staring out at the tree tops.

He loved his pack, he did. Sometimes it was all a bit much and he needed to breathe, though. He'd been the same even as a kid.

He waited until everyone had made their way into the stairwell before taking a deep breath and following. A small part of him was hoping Stiles would linger behind so they could have a moment but he quickly buried that thought with logic. They would be heard and how could he even already miss Stiles when they had just spent hours together?

Grabbing his jacket, wallet in the pocket, he pulled the door shut and ambled down the stairs. He didn't bother locking it. There was nothing to protect, and Derek made sure to chase off any stupid teens who wanted to screw around and vandalize the place. Any supernaturals wouldn't be bothered by a lock anyway.

The only exception was, of course, when Stiles was around.

Of course, the kids weren't even close to figuring out a seating order by the time he joined them. What did Derek even expect?

But upon approaching the Jeep, he found one seat occupied. The passenger seat. Derek stopped short.

"Erica." Because of course.

Her curls bounced as the young women turned to look and flash a grin at him.

"Derek, hi! Would you look at that, we're matching," she said, shimmying in her own leather jacket, just as black as his, but newer and shinier. Derek wouldn't really say they matched, because Erica was a fashion statement in herself, a force of her own, and Derek was just…wearing a memento because it was comfortable. Whatever.

Derek crossed his arms.

Stiles came over to his side, leaning on him and in toward Erica. Stiles let his fingers tap lightly against Derek's pec. Thank God Stiles had always been reckless with physical contact and there was no sudden change in intimacy that could cause suspicion. Derek just had to make sure he didn't preen too much.

"Eyebrows basically mirrored, matching, with only a slight degree of tilt, I would say maybe like a good… 19%. And then we have a non-flared nose but alert ears and oh, dare I say… that freshly trimmed stubble really drives the point home,which is…Erica, I think you better move," Stiles warned, voice lifting from dramatic broadcaster to a cartoonist sing-song tune.

Derek chose not to acknowledge Stiles, because encouragement would surely only escalate this situation. Either in the manner of Stiles' antics, or instead with the fondness trying to bloom in Derek's chest.

Erica only proceeded to lean further into her seat, eyes flickering between the two of them with a certain glint.

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"Because I say so," Derek muttered.

"And he's the alpha," Stiles finished for him, straightening with pride.

Erica gazed back between the two of them, lips pursuing with evident consideration of pushing further. Then she sighed.

"You know it's really not fair when you gang up on me," she said, but a smile still snuck its way onto her face. She turned towards the middle console and hiked herself up to clamber into the back. Halfway there, she stuck her hands out and called for Boyd's assistance, who gave a small shake of his head but quickly came to his girlfriend's aid.

Derek bit back a comment while Stiles laughed at his side, and then detached himself from him. Before Stiles left to go grab his own seat, he left a gentle pat on Derek's back.

--------

Two and a half hours, 12 burgers, 7 large fries (4 regular and 3 curly), 2 cartons of onion rings, some chicken, multiple stacks of pancakes, 4 waffles, 8 milkshakes, and a juicy mixed berry pie later, they were back in the cars, making the 20 minute drive to Beacon Hills. Sure, there were plenty of places to eat in town but after discovering Patty’s diner one early morning while dealing with some kind of manticore-like creature nearby, they had deemed this the best reasonably close diner. Now, it was a regular thing.

Jackson led the way in his Porsche, of course, with Lydia right at his side and Scott and Allison in the back, while Jeep tailed them with Stiles at the wheel. Erica was splayed out in the backseat with her head resting in Boyd’s lap, quietly humming along to the radio. Isaac was smooshed over on the other side and yet still somehow found a way to rest his head on Boyd's shoulder and close his eyes.

Hungers sated, stress digested and drama enacted all through dinner, everything was starting to slowly settle. Even Derek's restless soul found sanctuary in the familiar scents of his pack and the rhythm of Stiles' fingers against the wheel as they corresponded with his heartbeat. Derek allowed himself to find comfort, sinking further into the seat and stretching his arm casually out to rest on the back of Stiles' seat.

He watched Stiles' eyes flicker his way but halt and return to take in the sight in the rear view mirror. A small smile tugged at his lips and Stiles hummed along with Erica as if the swell of affection radiating from him was not at all related to Derek's action.

Derek followed his gaze back out to the street in front before he could get lost in retracing the slope of Stiles' nose and the starry path of moles down his cheek. The Porsche was growing ever smaller, occasionally disappearing from view entirely.

"You're going to lose them," Derek remarked. Not that it really mattered; everything still felt safe enough. As safe as it could, that was.

"If Jackson wants to flash his bougie car as some sort of compensation even though he didn't even buy it himself, he can be my guest. I'm not pushing my darling today," Stiles said, making a show of stroking the wheel. He smirked. "Unless you want to pay for a full on “Pimp My Car” session?"

Derek snorted. "In your dreams."

"One day. Just you wait. You'll see."

"Upgrading anything about this—this—" Derek reconsidered calling Roscoe a piece of crap whenStiles threw him a warning glare, "—hunk of metal…would cost more than buying a brand new SUV, including A/C and all the good stuff."

"You know, if you give me that in cash, I could totally start saving up for that upgrade." Stiles gave him an impish little smile.

"Absolutely not."

"C'mon, Hale. Fork over the cash," Stiles sang, holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together. "Otherwise I might have to start charging by the mile, along with a service fee."

Which Derek had absolutely offered Stiles before. Well, not payment by the mile but he had happily suggested taking care of all charges for the usage and maintenance of the Jeep. He had repeatedly insisted and it was Stiles who, more often than not, refused.

"I think we might have to switch over to transport by taxi. That'll be cheaper as well as a smoother ride," Derek countered.

"What are you, 50? Have you ever heard of Uber? It's what all the—"

"Eyes on the road, Stiles."

"I am paying attention. Jeez, relax."

"And both hands on the wheel."

"Stop acting like my dad—"

"Oh my God, Stiles. I am not that old. Stop comparing me to your dad, of all people."

"Then stop acting like it. You're out here lecturing me like I don't always get you right where you need to be. With special bodyguard services, if I may add, which you will never get from any carpooling service."

Derek shook his head at the smug smile on his mate's face. There was time for sweet praises to be whispered into burning ears from within warm embraces in bed later. For now, he just preened at the familiarity of the interaction. Nothing like some good old bickering to help digest a feast.

"It's red." Derek pointed out to the street light ahead.

"I have eyes," Stiles said, easing down on the brake a little harder. The Jeep eventually rolled to a stop before the empty intersection, the hanging mist seeping from the tall dark trees radiating a gleaming red.

Derek loved it when the world made it seem like time stood still.

Stiles turned to him.

"Red light," Stiles proclaimed, voice suddenly open and unguarded. It was like the silvery shine to full moon nights when they encased Derek in protection. He reacted to the words on instinct, habit pulling him forward. Derek leaned in without hesitation.

Letting his lips meet Stiles' didn't require any guidance. He'd probably find his way home to Stiles' soft touch blindfolded from the opposite side of the world. Kissing Stiles was sweet like honey and warm like a fireplace in the dead of a Siberian winter.

It wasn't a peck, definitely a longer interaction, but it was still soft and sweet. They were encapsulated in their own little world until they finally parted. Derek found those beautiful amber eyes and smiled.

"Green light," he said softly, having registered the quiet click and the now lightened fog outside.

Stiles breathed out between parted lips, a corner of them hiking up. He was just about to shift the car into motion when—

"What the ever loving fuck was that?!" Erica burst between them with a shout, nails digging into their sleeves. "What? I mean, this! You kissed!"

Stiles brought his foot down on the brake again hard, but he forgot the clutch and killed the engine instantly. He'd let out his own shout that fell quiet as the car came to a rocking stop.

Derek winced at the volume before he could register what was going on and then… froze.

"Erica! What the hell," Stiles breathed out, throwing his hands up to his hair. His discomfort couldn't solely be attributed to the surprise from the backseat, Derek figured, chancing a look over to see the blush climbing up Stiles' face. Derek knew all too well how it started; with the pink gleam budding just beneath his collarbone before it expanded like smattering star dust all the way up his neck that found its heart in his cheeks. Right where Derek found the source of his happiness when they tugged up and bunched around Stiles' smile.

"No." Erica shook her head. "Not me. What is going on right here?" She tugged at their arms. "When did this start? How long has it been going on?"

"And how in hell did you manage to keep this a secret, Stilinski?" Isaac threw in, his head popping up beside the bouncy curls.

Stiles looked over at Derek cautiously. His heart was clearly doing double time and well, so was Derek's. They had always avoided discussing the possibility of an involuntary reveal so, honestly, it served them right. Derek should've known the universe would have a trick up its sleeve as soon as he relaxed.

But…this wasn't necessarily something bad. He was pretty sure that the pack wouldn't mind about this development. Chances were, it would bring them all closer together. Somehow.

Still, doubts remained. Fear crept through him on spindly legs, ready to strike with its black widow fangs at any moment. There was so much that could go wrong. So much-

There was a deep intake of breath from beside him.

"It's not what you think," Stiles said then.

"Oh, so Derek wasn't just shoving his tongue down your throat?" Erica hummed, and she leaned forward to place her chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"There was no tongue involved!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing up an arm.

"There was a kiss though," Boyd intercepted.

Stiles glared at him through the rear view mirror. "You too? Betrayal."

"I am pretty curious about this," he replied, gazing over at Derek as best as he could past Erica's and Isaac's heads.

"Oh my god," Stiles breathed. "It was just…a game! It was—it was just a game."

"A game?" Erica had nearly perfected the signature Hale eyebrow lift.

Stiles was not fully successful at covering up his jealousy.

Nor the shame and upset at having to play the incident off. Derek wasn't having it.

"Yes, a game. The red light game. You spend hours on your phone. How have you not—" Stiles started.

"No," Derek interrupted. There was a quiet hitched breath as all heads turned to stare at the Alpha. He tried to remain calm, and turned to look at his mate.

"It's not just a game. It is our game but we're also dating." Derek swallowed, keeping his breath and words steady. "He's my boyfriend."

Erica's squeal almost drowned out Stiles' beaming joy, but all Derek could see was Stiles; and the unfiltered, sunshine-bright love shining off his exhilarated face. There was surprise there, and some hesitance, but it was overrun by excitement.

"I fucking knew it!" Erica laughed loudly, smacking a kiss to Stiles' cheek and quickly infecting him with her laughter.

It wasn't long before most of the car had joined in, searching for touch all around. Derek felt both pats on his shoulders as well as a grip near his neck, grounding him to pack amidst all the congratulations. It seemed funny now, worrying about the reception of this news. Derek ducked his head to hide his burning eyes.

Relief, happiness—he wasn't even sure what to feel first, but he almost felt like he didn't need to name it. All he had to do was let himself feel it for now. Stiles put his hand over his, squeezing it lightly. Derek took it.

"Wait, so this is why we found you two cooking together that one time!"

Derek smiled, looking up to the road ahead with a lighter soul.

#eternalsterek #sterek #eternal sterek #sterek fanfiction #fanfic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #secret relationship #prompt fic #anon #ask #red light green light #i wrote this

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cracked-pean · 4 years ago

Text

Not Knowing Pt.1

Characters: Derek Hale, Female! Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Kate Argent, Deaton (small appearance)

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: Kidnapping, Torture/Punishments(?), Angst.

Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: So it’s been a while. Um, this really came at me out of nowhere and turned into a whole damn novel, not really but it was LONG. So cut them down to two parts. There’s one scene from two shows that inspired this and I just to write it. One is from ‘Criminal Minds’ and the other is from ‘Leverage’. I’m sure y’all have figured them out by the warnings I posted but hope y’all enjoy them. Sorry for any errors and any warnings I missed (let me know if I did so I can tag them) Leave me your thoughts. Ok, enjoy!

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The door to the loft made a loud noise as it slid open and made contact with the wall. The small group of friends stopped mid conversation as they turned their attention to the sound. A look of confusion written on their faces quickly changed to concern. Stiles appeared barely holding himself up against the wall, his left arm wrapped across his torso holding onto his right side and slightly out of breath. Scott being the closest to him, quickly made his way over and caught him before meeting the ground. Stiles was in bad condition. He was covered in dirt and his shirt was torn in random places. There was a nasty bruise forming around one of his eyes. His bottom lip had a gash across it and the werewolves could smell fresh blood on him. There were wincing sounds coming off him as he tried to move.

"Stiles, what happened? Who did this to you?" Scott asked, helping guide his best friend into the loft. A small groan escaped his lips as he took a seat on the red couch in the living room, the others slowly making way over too.

Derek being up in his room quickly finished getting dressed after hearing the bang of the loft door open. Thinking that the two friends had arrived with the food made his way down the spiral staircase, but the alpha's face instantly hardened. Everyone was surrounding the long couch with an injured Stiles laid across it, and Scott beside him gripping one of his hands drawing out the pain. But their female friend was nowhere in sight.

"Stiles, what happened? Where's [Y/N]?"

Derek walked over to them and stood in front of the pair, arms crossed. The worry was there, but right now he had to remain calm and figure out why there was an injured pack member and another missing.

Stiles kept his eyes on the ceiling not wanting to look at them. Throughout the whole drive to the loft, was filled with nerves and fear. He thought of how he would explain to his friends that he had lost their friend.

"Stiles," the boy winced at Derek's tone of voice.

Letting out a shaky breath, sad whiskey brown eyes made contact with concerned dark green ones.

"They came out of nowhere. I wasn't able to save her."

The two friends turned the corner of the store making their way to Stiles’ Jeep with a cart full of groceries. It was Friday and their turn to do the supply run for their weekly get together. Not like they see each other almost everyday already but who could stop them.

“You think we have enough?” [Y/N] asked as she neared the vehicle.

Stiles scoffed and grabbed a few bags, “[Y/N/N], we basically purchased the whole store. I think we’ll be fine,” he assured her.

Once they had finished loading, she offered to take the cart back to the rack by the doors while he started up the Jeep. Stiles buckled in and looked out his window seeing [Y/N] turn the corner to put away the cart. He glanced down to his phone, ready to text the pack they were on their way, when the passenger door opened and closed.

Still looking at his phone he spoke, “That was fast. Did you ru-” He turned to look at his friend but was greeted with something worse.

Kate. They hadn't seen her since Mexico. They thought she had bled out by the nasty cuts Derek had given her. But then, Argent had informed them that he and a few of his men had seen her down in New Orleans. That was 4 months ago. Somewhere along the way, the hunters lost track of her. She most likely caught onto them and hid. Now they didn’t know where she was. They didn’t pay much attention to her, thinking the Werejaguar wouldn’t make her way to them, but still stayed alert and asked Argent for updates just in case.

“Aw, what’s the matter Stiles, not happy to see,” she gave him a pout.

“At the moment, no. But who ever is really,” he bit back.

She made herself comfortable in the seat. Stiles watched her every move, not really sure what her intentions were. "You know it wasn't very smart of you to park beside the building. Where it's dark and away from the public eye." She gave him a knowing look, “I’d be careful if I were you,” she glanced at the outer rear view mirror. “We would hate for your friend to get hurt.”

Realization dawned on him. [Y/N]. He glanced at the rearview mirror and saw her trapped in the arms of a large guy, with his hand over her mouth. He quickly scrambled out of the Jeep and stood near the rear. Her eyes were wide with a few tears running down her cheeks. She had a few scratch marks on her cheek, Kate's doing most likely and the knees of her Jean's were dirty.

"Let her go you big lug," a pair of hands came up behind him holding on to his arms, keeping him in place. Stiles glanced at the guy, knowing well that there was no chance he'd win that fight but he would sure as hell try. Kate came into view and made her way to [Y/N] and her minion. She leaned closely to the scared girl's face and grinned. She brings up a hand to caress her hair as [Y/N] shuts her eyes flinching and tries to move away.

“Now isn’t she a pretty face. I see why the big bad wolf is fond of her,” she smirked.

Stiles noticed two more guys appear from behind the building. He was out numbered and had no chance from getting out of the guy's grip, “Just tell us what you want.”

A cackle left her lips. What she wanted? What she wanted was for them to feel the hurt and loss that she went through. She obviously couldn’t get her old life back. She lost her niece, her home, her family. And these rugrats got to live on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened.

“What I want, you can’t give to me. So I'm going to do the next big thing,” she gave a look to the guy holding on to the boy and then a slight nod. Stiles was thrown onto the ground following a kick to the stomach. [Y/N] thrashed in her captor’s grasp as she tried to get out of his hold to get to her friend and help, but was no use. She winced as they began to kick and punch him. Blow after blow and all she was able to do was watch as the look on Kate’s face showed satisfaction from the outcome. Once the blonde thought he had had enough, she made her way to him, the men stepping aside as she kneeled down to his level. Kate placed a hand below his chin and made him look at her.

“I lost my niece to you monsters. Now it’s my turn to make you feel my pain,” she leaned closer to his ear, “but worse.”

After Stiles had explained what happened at the mini mart, it was safe to say the group was pissed. The wolves more than anything. They had called over Deaton to check on him to make sure he didn’t have any sprained or broken bones. He had a few bruised ribs and some deep cuts on his head and on his arms, but nothing that a few stitches and some rest couldn’t fix. He shortly fell asleep on the couch after the vet had cleaned his cuts and given him some pain killers and left.

“Why would she only take [Y/N], why not both,” Malia questioned glancing at Stiles.

Lydia slightly rolled her eyes, “She was clearly keeping tabs on us. [Y/N] is the glue of this group, Kate must have known it would hurt us more if she went after her. Also, didn’t you hear what she said? She obviously knows [Y/N] is Derek’s weak spot even if [Y/N] herself doesn’t know it.”

The group took a glance at Derek, he was standing by the window looking out with a frown on his face and arms crossed. It was true. Derek did have a soft spot for the girl. She was his weakness and she didn't even know it. The pack knew he had feelings for her, but Derek chose from the beginning to not act upon them. But he was whipped. The small glances he made her way when she wasn't looking. When the pack would train together, Derek was still strict with the rest but just a bit less with her. He would always seem a bit lighter when she was present in the room and it took for her to be gone a whole week visiting family for the pack to notice his change in behavior and connect the dots. During fights, no matter what, he would always try to keep an eye on her. Making sure she was holding her own and at the ready to jump in if needed to. But like Kate and his friends said, he had a soft spot for her. He didn't want to act upon his feelings and have something start between the two of them for this very reason. If word got out that the alpha of The Hale Pack had a significant other, then everyone, allies and enemies would use her against him. Now, even when not getting together he had failed to keep her safe.

Derek closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh. Standing here and moping wasn’t going to help [Y/N] and the pack in locating her. He uncrossed his arms, got into alpha mode and made his way to the metal table where they were all gathered. He needed to treat this situation with a calm and clear mind, even if he was equally as scared as the others on the inside.

“Let’s split up and search the area for her," he began. "I’ll go check the store’s parking lot to see if I can catch her scent. Scott, Isaac, go to Argent’s house and see if you can get any info on Kate. Her last known location, previous ones, contacts, properties, anything. Malia, Peter, you check the woods. You’re more skilled in the outdoors, they could have taken a path through there. Erica and Boyd, you search the edge of town. Maybe Kate’s scent could be caught if she did leave the area. Lyd-”

“I’ll stay with Stiles and keep an eye on him," the redhead finished for him.

He gave her a slight smile and turned towards the others with a determined look.

"We'll find her, and bring her home. Now let's go."

[Y/N] woke up in a cement wall like room on the cold floor. After the whole parking lot incident, Kate and her goons had knocked her out and tossed her into the trunk of the car. She was in and out in between so she wasn't able to tell how long they were on the road or where they were going.

The room wasn't very spacious. The door was made of metal, bolted shut with no way of opening it from the inside. Typical. There was a small dirty cot in the corner. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickering and slightly swinging back and forth. The walls had markings all round it. [Y/N] crawled closer and her blood ran cold. Claw marks. It seemed like this wasn't a normal room. There wasn't a window or any way for outdoor light to get in. They must have used it for other wares, keeping them locked in on full moons, which could explain the claw markings.

What the hell was going on? Why would Kate take her? Out of everyone in the pack she chose her. Not that she would want one of the others to be in her position. But, it just didn't make any sense.

"I see why the big bad wolf is fond of her."

Big bad wolf? Derek? No. She's probably working for someone else and was referring to them. Yeah that's it. Not Derek. But, this is Kate. She doesn't take orders from others, she makes them.

"-it's my turn to make you feel my pain, but much worse."

Much worse? How could she make it worse than death?

[Y/N] was still on the floor when the metal door opened. The same guy that had beaten Stiles walked in. There was no emotion on his face, it was just stone cold. Her eyes went wide and she slowly crawled backwards until her back hit the rough wall.

"Oh stop it Daryl, you're scaring her," a female voice made itself known. Daryl stepped aside. God, how she wished he hadn't.

Kate stepped forward with a menacing grin plastered on her face. There was seriously something wrong with her. Peter really should have made sure she was dead.

"What do you want with me?" [Y/N]'s voice shook a bit.

Kate began to stroll around the room, "Do you know what your part in all this is? The pack I mean," she asked. The woman glanced at the girl on the floor and saw fear written on her face. When she didn't respond, she continued.

"No? Well lucky for you, I've done my research. What I've observed is that you're an ok fighter. Not bad with research. But the main thing," she kneeled down close to the girl. [Y/N] tried to scoot further away but the wall wouldn't allow her to. "You're the alpha's weakness."

A confused look appeared on [Y/N]'s face. Her? Derek's weakness? That can't be true? Can it?

"Oh. You had no clue? Huh," she stood back up.

"They'll come after you, you know."

"Oh I count on it. But they won't find you anytime soon. Not till I say they do." With that, she and Daryl exited the room.

[Y/N] was left with her thoughts as so many unanswered questions loomed in her mind.

Three months. That's how long it's been since [Y/N] had been taken and held captive by Kate Argent.

The whole time had been miserable and just plain torture. Literally. The first few days [Y/N] fought. She’d fought and rebelled against them. They asked her questions about the pack, Hale secrets, the vault, everything they thought she'd know. In truth [Y/N] did know, but she would never talk. But it had all gotten too much for her. She no longer had any fight left in her to fight back against them anymore. When she wouldn't answer their questions or gave a snarky comment, she would get punished. They'd chain her up which would leave her wrists red and sore. There would be days where they wouldn't feed or give her water and make her starve as punishment or for their own amusement. They'd tie her up in a chair and make gashes on her skin, with either knives or their claws. The cruelest thing they've done was, in the secluded area where the house they held her at, they would set her free giving her the chance to escape and while they hunt her down. And it was always at night. They'd even take her out on full moons so the wares had something to do and let out their energy.

[Y/N] would be running in the dark, barely able to see anything. Tree branches would scratch her, logs and rocks would be tripping her and worst of all she'd be barefoot. Her shoes had worn out after the first few times. The weather hadn't been kind to her at all though it all. She'd run in the rain, nights were cold and the wind would be blowing, causing her scent to the wolves be more easily tracked.

She'd climb tree branches if she was able to and hide behind bushes, but she couldn't hide from them long before either red, yellow or blue glowing eyes came into view. That was another thing. Kate was never present while the others had their “fun” with [Y/N], always had her men do it for her. What [Y/N]’s noticed is that, no matter what damage they cause her, what pain they’d make her feel or just by simply being in her presence, they’d always be shifted. Claws and glowing eyes visible, staring right at her.

The light bulb had gone out a while back, must have been an old one if it burnt out so soon, so the only light that could be seen was from underneath the door from the lit up hallways outside. [Y/N] was shivering on the cot and the thin blanket provided for her wasn’t helping at all, especially not after being chased again in the rain the previous night. Or was it earlier this morning? There was no clock to tell time nor windows in the room to tell if it was day or night. [Y/N] was just wasting away, at least they had given her some food before the chase. But didn’t last long in her system as she threw it up between runs. Though today was different.

She hardly sleeps nowadays so when the loud noise of the padlocks from the door were heard, she didn’t flinch anymore like before. Kate had told her goons that once they were done with chases to give [Y/N] a rag and a bucket of water to at least clean herself. So when those very items were presented before her, she wasn’t surprised and gladly took them. Though she had noticed the person handing them to her was not as built and rough looking as the others. [Y/N] hesitantly looked up and straightened up a little. Kate hardly ever came by to see her. She must have come by three times, not counting the time when [Y/N] first got situated in the room that first night. This wasn’t going to be good.

“Wow, they really roughed you up good out there didn’t they.”

There were a few twigs and leaves in her hair, too tired to care she left them in not bothering to pick some out. Her right cheek was scraped from slipping down the tree trunk while climbing up, and her feet were never in good condition since the loss of her shoes. Believe it or not, this was nothing compared to previous one’s. She had a sprained ankle and a broken arm once, all in the same night.

“Well, go on clean up. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend and friends to see you all messed up now would we.”

[Y/N] was about to dampen the rag when she let what Kate said fully sink in. To see me? She looked up in Kate’s direction and let a look of confusion appear on her face.

“What do you mean,” her voice croaked. It came out raspy, hardly ever needing to use it since she never talked or made any noise. “To see me?”

Kate grinned and leaned against the wall with a foot propped up behind her. Her silhouette could only be seen as she was near the door where most of the light was let in from the hallway, but her feline, green eyes were the only thing that could be seen.

“Today’s your lucky day, Dorothy. You’re going home.”

[Y/N] froze mid wash. Home? Really?

“You’re Lying.”

Kate smacked her lips, “I could be or not. Up to you if you want to find out.”

[Y/N] continued to wash herself with her captor in the room while contemplating over the idea. [Y/N] didn’t know what to do. Of course she wanted to see everyone again, she missed them so much. But this was too easy. Kate couldn’t easily just hand her back over to them, she must have something in store for her and her friends. At this point [Y/N] didn’t have much to lose though, she in a way is already dead while not being so. Whatever Kate’s play is on this, [Y/N] was going to risk it. She had to try.

So [Y/N] set aside the rag and bucket and looked at Kate, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Kate uncrossed her arms, pushed herself off the wall and made her way to stand in front of [Y/N]. She had this look on her face mixed with amusement and curiosity. The girl had guts Kate will admit.

“You sure? This could be all some trick of mine to kill you without even knowing,” she leaned closer to her face. “You willing to risk your life?”

[Y/N] glanced up and looked her straight in the eye, “Yes.”

Kate grinned. She began to walk away but turned around and made [Y/N]’s vision go dark.

Three months. It’s been three months since the night their packmate was taken and the pack wasn't able to find much information on Kate or [Y/N]. They for sure knew that she wasn't in Beacon Hills anymore.

The night [Y/N] was taken, Erica and Boyd were able to track down her and Kate’s scents on the edge of town. But after 3 miles, the scent was gone. They assumed they were taking her East, where the land got more deserted.

The pack was on edge. Lydia and Stiles worked with Argent most of the time, trying to figure out Kate's location. They would get in contact with some of her old hunting buddies and try to get any information they could get their hands on. Some would talk, others wouldn't, in fear of what Kate would do to them if she found out they blabbed on her.

Malia, Scott, Erica and Boyd would make calls to other packs they have come across in their times traveling and inform them on their situation. Hoping they may have seen Kate or [Y/N] wandering around their areas, or seen anything suspicious relating to the werejaguar. All they would get were that there were no sightings of such but would keep an eye open. Some had seen Kate but kept their distance not wanting to engage, but had commented that it was months ago before kidnapping [Y/N].

Derek was the one pushing himself too hard. Having the feeling that this was his fault, was searching none stop. He would look up surveillance cameras everyday, hoping to get a glimpse of the werejaguar or one of her men. He would drive to neighboring towns and do a few rounds sniffing out empty buildings in hopes that Kate might have planted something or slipped up in some way that would lead them to finding her. But had no luck. Peter began to worry about him going alone and decided to join him on these searches.

It was 10:45 at night and the two Hale men had just pulled up to the loft, finishing up a search that had taken them all day and night to drive from. Derek shut off the car and leaned against the steering wheel, letting out a sigh. He was beginning to lose hope in ever finding them. Kate was smart. She would never leave any tracks behind. This was her game, with her rules. She was probably watching them right now laughing at their pain and they would never even notice.

Peter hated seeing his nephew so broken. They may not get along much but pack was pack. As much as he hated to say it, their friend had grown on to him. She was the youngest after all, following Stiles by a few months, so he felt more protective over her.

Peter glanced at his nephew, and looked back out the front window, “We’re going to find her nephew. She’s pack, surely we would have felt her loss through the bond at some point these past few months,” there was a pause “especially you.”

Derek sat up and turned to his uncle, “Why? Because I’m the Alpha and it’s my re-”

“Because you’re in love with her,” Peter gave him a stern look cutting him off.

Derek’s eyes widened but returned back to their normal gaze. In love with Donnie? He couldn’t be, right? Sure he liked her, but Love? Love was a sensitive subject for the young Alpha, never did give it much of a chance. Not after Kate. He had thought she was his forever but when he found out she was just using him, the simple thought of finding his forever partner was just not in the books anymore. Thinking back on it, Derek never did feel anything of the sort that would indicate Kate was the one, let alone love her. The need to protect them, the constant worry when they weren’t in sight or near them, the slight tug in their chest being drawn to them. None of that was felt with Kate. However, when [Y/N] came into the picture, that’s exactly what Derek would feel when the thought of her would cross his mind. She was everything he didn’t know he needed. [Y/N] was playful but knew when to get serious, was cuddly and very loving but stepped back when need be, and was just a light in Derek’s dark world. So, maybe he was in love, just didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to risk his heart and end up being broken again.

“I know that you were aware of that detail and were hesitant about getting close to her for this very reason. But you have to understand. Even if you had initiated something, something was bound to happen. Whether to her or the pack, danger is all around us dear nephew,” Peter began to remove his seat belt and turned to him. “I know we haven’t had it easy, especially you. But don’t let the unknown stop you from trying to find peace, to be able to find love and happiness again. It would only make you more miserable.”

The young Hale stared ahead as his uncle got out of the vehicle before he followed after him to the building’s entrance. Halfway up the stairs to their floor, a familiar scent made them stop and look at each other. The two sped up the stairs and paused in front of the door. With a slight nod from Peter and claws drawing out, Derek pulled open the door.

“You really should get a new security system,” a mental box with wires stringing out of it was tossed at their feet. “This one’s broken.”

They followed the direction it was tossed from and their gaze was met with a certain blonde that they had been tracking down. There laying on their couch, as if she hadn’t just taken one of their packmates hostage, was Kate Argent in all her glory giving them a playful grimace.

In one quick sudden motion, Derek had lunged at her and pinned her to the wall by her neck. Peter was left there in shock, debating whether to let the man do damage to the woman or pull him away to figure out her play.

The woman chuckled, “Oh, now this brings back memories.”

“Where is she?” Derek demanded. His claws extended around her neck, canines barring at her, along with his crimson red eyes.

Kate batted her eyes at him, “Whatever do you mean Derek, I just came by to say hello.”

“Don’t play any games here Kate. Where the Hell is [Y/N]?”

“Derek, as much as I would prefer you to continue. But, you need to let her go,” Peter slowly made his way to his nephew, but stood back a few feet. “She has [Y/N], we need her alive to figure out where she is.”

Derek’s gaze never shifted from the current anger he held towards the woman. Nothing would satisfy him more than finally getting rid of Kate from his life. But, Peter had a point. [Y/N] was more important right now. So in defeat, Derek let her fall to the ground with a little more force than needed to be and walked away from her taking out his phone in the process. She wouldn’t be going anywhere, not without giving them answers, so the rest of the pack had to be here too.

Kate rose from the floor while rubbing the soreness away from her neck, “Always such a gentlemen.”

Half an hour later, the others had arrived and had kept their distance from the woman, but still a watchful eye on her as they discussed how they would go through with this.

“We could always beat it out of her.”

Everyone gave Stiles a look.

“What? She’s done it to all of us, what’s wrong with giving her a taste of her own medicine.”

“What’s wrong is that she wouldn’t break. It’d be useless on our part,” Lydia pointed out.

“I could always tell you where she is,” the pack looked at her. She was leaning against one of the wall windows, picking her fingernails, well claws.

They all returned their gazes back to each other, “Seems too easy if you ask me,” Erica spoke.

“She came to us,” Stiles glanced at Kate, giving her a death stare, over everyone’s shoulders while Peter began. “There must be something in return she wants. Something we all aren’t going to be willing to accept so easily.”

There was a cackle, “Old man’s right. But, you all better decide quickly.” Kate strutted her way near them and placed her hands on her hips. “Clock’s ticking. Not sure how long she’s got left, before little ole [Y/N] goes night night,” she bared her canines at them. “For good.”

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roscoeobrien · 5 years ago

Text

No Control With You | Stiles Stilinski

Author: @roscoeobrien

Pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader

Summary: in which stiles stilinski’s girlfriend receives the bite after a terrible turn of events and begins to ignore him. when confronting her about it, he soon learns the truth and the reason why.

Warning: light swearing, hinting of smut- but nothing actually happens and i guess the mention of mates/mating along with angst and fluff near the end? idk? i’m bad at this.

Prompt: “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

A/N: this is for @stiles-o-dylan24 and her writing challenge for hitting 1k! if you’re reading this, i hope you like it and know you’re very talented and your writings is one of the first things i ever read on tumblr. you really helped inspire me to be brave and write my own stuff in the first place and i’m so sorry you even have to read this bad imagine because you deserve better. i have also read over this a few times but there may still be mistakes so i am so sorry for that in return xx

Words: 6933 ( i don’t have anything to say other than i am so, terribly, sorry )

Stiles’ leg bounced anxiously as he waited for Scott to walk out of the dreaded hospital room he had been in for what seemed now like an eternity, his clammy hands clasped in front of his mouth. His cheeks glistened from the salty tears still falling from his bloodshot eyes, the only sound he made being the quivering of his sharp/shaky breaths and the sniffles his nose forced out.

It had only been an hour or so since he had been holding your body- your bloody body- close to his chest, hearing his frantic heartbeat even with your human hearing thudding rapidly with panic against your ear as the pack made a break for the hospital to hand you in Melissa’s care. Your wound was black when you had arrived with little time left so it seemed, your voice weakly fading out into nothingness as you cried out his name, the sound causing Stiles a deep, mental pain.

How could I have let this happen? Was the question the teenage boy kept asking himself over and over again like a broken record, his brown eyes casting to the hall he hoped Scott would come running down any second now. This whole situation felt like a dream- more like a nightmare- that he desperately wanted to wake up from.

Many of his friends tried to comfort him, offering him their gentle touch and consoling words. It all fell at death ears, however, for they weren’t what he needed most in that moment. In that moment, all he needed was her and to know she was okay.

“Stiles,” Scott jogging down the hospital hallway to the awaiting pack brought everyone out of their own wandering minds with all the tragic outcomes which were close to becoming a reality so it seemed, specifically eyeing his best friend as his steps faltered.

The boy called was up on his feet in an instant, his hands feeling sweaty as he begged with his crystalised, honey-brown eyes. Please be alright. He prayed, feeling the tears swell in his eyes once more.

“She’s awake. It worked . . . the bite worked.” Scott released in the tense air, staring at his friend with his dark eyes holding the expression of stunned amazement as the rest of the pack released noises of what could only be described as relief. “Her eyes . . . they’re red. She-She’s an alpha, Stiles”

That statement should’ve stunned the boy, cueing his mouth to spill with an endless interrogation of how and why . . . but it did not. In fact, Stiles Stilinski remained stone cold.

His heart was thudding loudly in his chest, pounding his ears as he felt small breathes escape his dry pink lips. His mind felt like it was going one hundred miles around him as it focused on the fact that she was awake. Her body had accepted the bite. She was breathing, she was healthy . . . he could hold her in his arms again.

She was going to be okay.

“(Y/N)!” Scott’s foot nudging yours under the lunch table you and your friends were currently sat at in the school cafeteria gained your attention, snapping you out of your daydream to the present. Your firey gaze met his, the boy shooting you a wide-eyed look. “Your eyes are shifting! Calm down.”

“Yeah, you’re hurting your sandwich.” Malia chipped in with her usual deadpan expression, pointing to the now crushed sandwich suffering the consequences of your mighty grip.

With a weak growl, you closed your eyes and shook your head in hopes it would make your red alpha eyes go away. Thankfully, it worked and no one saw anything except your group of supernatural associates . . . but that didn’t make your anger dissolve in the slightest.

“Who does she think she is?” You snarled bitterly, glaring at a blonde-haired girl you shared a few classes with across the cafeteria. You hoped your stare alone would make her combust! Sadly, it did not. “She isn’t fooling anyone with that short skirt and bold makeup.”

Lydia took one stab at her salad as she rolled her eyes and released a scoff. “You’re just saying that because she’s talking to Stiles.”

Your werewolf hearing allowed you to hear the mentioned boy’s melodic laugh, the sound washing over you like a sweet heat wave as you bit your lip. This was beginning to get unbearable.

“You know, he’s been really worried about you.” Scott informed, shooting you a sad look which you adverted your eyes too. You already knew what he was going to say. “All he wants is to talk to you, (Y/N).”

“You don’t understand, Scott.” You grumbled under your breath, watching the hazel-eyed boy adoringly across the room. You admired his side profile and the way his cupid-shaped lips curled up in a polite smile. He was so enchanting, even from the beginning of your relationship . . . but now he was becoming irresistible to you. “Things are different now.”

“Oh come on, Stiles.” Your ears ringed with the head aching voice of the blonde as she advanced towards the Stilinski boy, her hand reaching out to caress his forearm lightly. She let out a little giggle. “Just one date. You won’t regret it.”

“That’s very sweet, Heather, but I-”

“He’s busy.” Stiles’ eyes lit up at the sound of your sudden voice, a small smile coming into place when he turned round to see you standing now right beside him. He took notice of your serious state, your arms crossed over your chest defensively with a glare.

“Oh, well,” the girl, Heather, gave you a short glance of snide before her attention was set back on Stiles. She let out a short, flirtatious giggle once more in a second attempt as she played with her hair. “maybe some other time then. I’d love to see you around sometime, Stiles.”

The teen opened his mouth to politely answer back, only to be cut off by your scoff. “Yeah, I don’t think you will.” You rolled your (Y/E/C) eyes at the girl, a bored look taking place.

When Heather scoffed and strutted away from the pair of you, Stiles turned to give you a friendly smile . . . only to see you now walking away from him quickly. The Stilinski boy jogged up to you as fast as he could, his hand gently finding its way into yours. “Hey,” his soft voice and touch made you whirl round in alert, feeling your body react. “It feels like forever since we’ve last spoken. I’ve missed you.”

“Well . . . umm.” You were quick to draw your hand away, biting your lip as you felt it rise. In an attempt to hide it from the boy, you scratched the back of your neck as a distraction. “I’ve been busy.” Lie.

“Well, when do you think you’re gonna be free next?” Stiles sweetly asked, tilting his head as he reached forwards to tuck a strand of stray hair back behind your ear. “I was wondering when we can have another one of our movie binging date nights.”

A lump grew thick in your throat, all instincts inside you screaming to be let out . . . but you had to hold back. You couldn’t do that to Stiles. You had to get away.

“I don’t know, Stiles.” You instantly felt a guilt claw at your stomach with the way the mentioned boy’s face fell. Her mind mentally shamed her, but she stuck to her gut. She had to remind herself again why she was doing all of this, why she couldn’t give in . . . no matter how much she wanted to. “It’s kinda complicated at the moment.”

“Oh,” Stiles’ eyebrows raised in question, his face edging closer to yours. You leaned back slightly, hoping that it would help keep yourself at bay. It didn’t, leaving you to suffer as Stiles innocently tilted his head. This boy. “Anything I can help with?”

You began to immediately feel warmth, releasing a deep breath you didn’t even realise you were holding until you stepped away from him some more with a shake of the head. “N-No. Nothing.” You denied, your breathing now hollow, feeling the sweat beginning to build up on your face.

“(Y/N),” Stiles noticed the weird behaviour setting in, taking a few steps closer until his hand gently came to rest on your forearm. Little did he know, he was making the problem way worse. “are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You gritted your teeth as your eyes closed, fearing what may soon appear beneath your eyelids. The temperature only seemed to rise within you when a familiar hand was delicately set on your forehead, your eyes widening as a rugged sound weakly escaped you.

“Babe, you’re burning up!” The amber-toned eyes of your boyfriend’s went wide with a sudden surprise, unable to hear the curses you let out under your breath at the realisation as his concern wafted through your nostrils.

A low growl tore through your throat as a sudden need surged through you, causing your arm to throw itself forwards before you could even stop to think. With your fingers now gripping onto the fabric of his plaid shirt, Stiles was suddenly brought closer to you until your noses bumped.

The deep breaths emitting from your lips made Stiles rendered speechless, unable to take his gaze off of your eyes. There was something different about them- and he wasn’t even talking about your wolf eyes which were yet to make an appearance. Something was hidden behind your (Y/E/C) irises, something that made your eyeballs darken as the teen found himself getting almost entranced in them.

“(Y/N)!” Scott was suddenly by your side, practically ripping you away from his best friend. You fought the grasp at first, everything around you sounding muffled as the Filipino muttered a short excuse/apology to the boy before he dragged you further away from the only thing your brain could focus on: Stiles Stilinski.

The thoughts raging through your mind only faltered when your alpha friend had placed you into the closest room; which happened to be a classroom, thankfully, not in use.

Once released, you grasped desperately at the wooden desk to support yourself in the act of getting back into focus. How could you have made such a fool of yourself, (Y/N)? You scolded, gritting your teeth as a growl was set free.

Scott, who had been watching you with careful eyes, turned his gaze sorrowful as he sighed and approached when you slumped against the back of the desk to rest. “Fighting it and running away won’t change a thing. I don’t know why you’re pushing it to the limit.”

“Shut up!” You bit back, ducking your head lower as you began to feel only the slightest bit at ease. This didn’t disperse the anger you held for yourself however.

“You need to tell him, (Y/N).” Scott protests strongly, his stance becoming more stern as his gaze felt like fire seizing your skin. “Things will only get harder going forward. You understand that, don’t you?”

When his words fell upon death ears, Scott knew it was pointless even trying to get an answer out of you. He didn’t blame you, of course not, he just wished you wouldn’t make this situation more hard for yourself; for Stiles.

And when he walked out of the classroom, he could hear your cries of annoyance filled with raging emotions he pitied you for. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. This doesn’t feel right. He thought, clutching his fists as he exhaled. He had to do something, and although he knew he’d get shit for it later . . . he knew he couldn’t leave it like this. He couldn’t leave them like this.

The sound of Scott’s voicemail coming through the speakers of your nearly dead phone for the seventh time that night made you let out a noise of defeat, sighing up to the pouring sky causing you to be drenched head to toe from above.

After the fellow werewolf had texted you asking for your assistance in werewolf business, who were you to say no? You wanted/needed the experience, no matter how much you tried to deny it at times. Plus, part of you was hoping the McCall boy had summoned you with a way to finally get rid of your problem for good- but you knew that was hopeless thinking.

Hours had passed, yet there was no sign of Scott. No message. No call. No voicemail. Nothing. It was a complete radio silence.

This struck you as odd. Scott McCall was a lot of things, but he was never one to just ditch a friend- or even a stranger, for that matter- without a good reason or a serious hold up.

Part of you worried for the boy. Was he okay? Did he need your help? What if he was already here, possibly injured and just waiting for you to swoop in and help him? You fussed over every detail, resting your head back with a soft thud on the bark of the forest tree behind you to stop your mind from going too far. You had to remind yourself to stay calm, or else things would spiral out of your control and you would be alone with no assistance.

Not keen on giving up just yet, you waited fifteen more minutes before you decided to call it quits. It was getting dark, and the rain was making your clothes and hair stick to you like a second skin at this point.

Walking away from the tree you were taking refuge under left you exposed to the harsh weather, feeling your body beginning to become a victim to the pericing rain once more. And, with no ride to get yourself back home and a phone that would most likely die the second you unlocked it, you knew the bullets of water wouldn’t stop until you reached shelter.

Part of you had wished you had pushed Scott to teach you most of the werewolf basics like using your super speed and super hearing; because most of that would’ve come in handy now. The super speed would’ve helped you make your way home faster than any human ever could . . . and the hearing would’ve helped you identify whatever sound was screeching in your ears before it was too late.

A baby-blue powdered jeep pulled up right in front of you, a familiar head poking out of the rolled down window. You gawked at him, watching as he beckoned a hand over as his words had to raise so you could hear him over the rain. “Get in!”

The twisting feeling that entered your mind told you ‘no’ the minute a subtle heat began to rise- becoming more noticeable in the ice cold rain. However, debating all options, you knew better. The rain was getting worse, the rumbling of a possible thunder storm beginning to head your way as your teeth began to chatter from standing still in the freezing inviroment for so long. And with the way Stiles was watching you carefully, his eyes basically told you that arguing with him was pointless. Classic Stilinski, you guess.

He opened the door for you when you sighed and made your way over to the passenger side of the vehicle that had seen better days, his face beaming when you hopped up on the seat. However, a possible change of ways between you two that he had been holding out for was put down when you folded your arms in a closed off manner; staring at the rainy front of the car. “Take me home, please.”

Stiles wanted to say something- he oh so desperately did- but he knew that would only destroy the little progress he had made with you by actually having you sit in his jeep for the first time alone together in many weeks. So, with his keys now plugged in to start the vehicle and activate the windscreen wipers, you were setting off.

Throughout the car ride, stolen glances were shared between the two of you- yours appearing more discreet than the boy across from you. An itch in your stomach made you feel bad once more as your (Y/E/C) bore into his side profile again like before, admiring the scatter of moles dancing across his skin that you used to trace over gently with the tips of your fingertips when you both would have the rareity of relaxing together. Oh how you’ve missed the many nights of doing that.

“Something wrong?” The sudden voice of Stiles made your spaced out expression twist into that of a confused one, humming in question. Stiles took his eyes off of the road for a split second to turn to you. “You’re staring.”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You nodded smoothly, looking down at your hands resting on your lap. With a question pawing to escape in your mind and an urge to at least say something to the boy, you asked him a simple question. “What were you doing out at this time anyway?”

“Scott called me. He said he was busy with Kira, or something, and asked me to pick you up.” The Stilinski teen explained, shrugging with his hands steady on the wheel.

Son of a bitch. You rolled your eyes as the final piece of the puzzle as to why the McCall boy had not turned up at all coming together. It was a set up. That asshole had set you up. “Oh.” Eager to keep your gaze on anything but the boy currently gazing into every inch of your face, your head rolled to rest on the window to stare at the scenery.

You must’ve fallen asleep at one point during the journey home, for all you could remember next was being woken up by the crack of thunder as you lurched up to meet the familiar front of a familiar house. You frowned when the car stopped, your eyebrows knitting together. “Why are we at your house?”

Stiles shrugged in an innocent manner, but the proud-like smile he was displaying told you everything. He knew exactly what he was doing. “The rain was making it hard to see the roads clearly. Plus, with the thunder rising, I figured- since my house is closer- it would be safer if we just stopped here.”

A panic set in amongst your brain, the instinct to get away just like before in the cafeteria setting in. “B-But it’s late.” You tried to reason, staggering through your words.

The boy shrugged. “You can just stay over. I have some spare clothes you can borrow.” He hoped out of the car, opening your side to offer you his hand.

You ignored it, jumping out yourself regardless as you both walked to the front of the door; feeling the boy’s hand brush against yours a few times as you did so. The action caused you to freeze up and panic once more. This was all red flags, warning you at the possible disaster that was to come. You were sure of it.

“Isn’t your dad home? I would hate to intrude. I’d be okay walking home from here, Stiles.” Clutching at straws now, your steps faltered when Stiles began to unlock the door to the house that was like a second home to you. Scratch that, it was a second home to you.

Stiles let out a scoff with a small snort. “My dad’s on night shift tonight, (Y/N), remember?” You cursed under your breath when it dawned on you. It was Friday, the house was a Sheriff Stilinski free household. “Besides, he wouldn’t care anyway; he loves you. And don’t even bring up walking the rest of the way to your house in this weather- it’s not happening.”

Stepping inside, you were overcome with a feeling of sweet nostalgia. The Stilinski house was basically the same as you had least remembered it- the only new thing being the family consisting of a father and son had thrown away the takeaway boxes which normally greeted you and your boyfriend when stepping in around dinner time.

Stiles set a gentle hand on the small of your back, the tingling touch leaving as soon as it came as the boy began to descend up the stairs in the direction of his room. You weren’t far behind either, watching rather nervously as he shot you a quick grin over the shoulder when the door to the bedroom was pushed open.

Stiles’ room had remained the exact same, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. All the strings connecting to the latest supernatural crime happening in Beacon Hills was still up, the crime board itself being decorated with pictures and post-it notes belonging to none other than you.

Small steps forward carried you over to the board, your lips curling up in a soft smile as your eyes scanned over all the cheesy pictures of you and Stiles that had been taken on a Polaroid camera he had gotten you for your birthday one year. They all held such a special memory in your opinion- ranging from your first date to one of your many movie nights.

A specific picture caught your attention in particular, your hand gently plucking the item from the board. You were met with a wide grin that had not been mirrored in weeks by you as the Stiles in the photo sloppily kissed your cheek, his arms wrapped round you as his blue bedsheets kept you both warm.

“I remember that.” Present Stiles was now right beside you, staring down at the picture rather fondly as you were. “It was the night I finally convinced you to watch Star Wars with me.” He grinned, recalling the memory of all the pleading and begging that had led up to that moment.

“Yeah,” A small, unexpected chuckle escaped your lips as you nodded, tilting your head to smile brighter at the photo. “I don’t think you would’ve even allowed me to date you if I hadn’t of watched those movies.”

“I missed those nights, ya know?” The short hum of Stiles made your gaze look away from the picture, your heart hammering in your chest at the look that was now plastered on the Stilinki’s face. “Those nights were all our worries would just vanish- as if nothing supernatural related could harm us.”

Now it was your turn for your face to fall, unable to help yourself as your eyes returned to the picture once more. He was right, of course he was. Yet . . . he didn’t see what you saw in that picture entirely.

In that picture, you saw two humans. You saw your human eyes that would now turn red if you wished and a smile that could now produce fangs when angered. The picture contained two human beings in a loving relationship . . . unaware that that title would soon change in a matter of weeks.

“I miss those nights too, Stiles,” The pad of your thumb smoothed over the photo, your shoulder now flaunt against the Stilinski’s clothed chest. “but I don’t know if we’ll ever have one of those nights again.” You had to be open about the future with yourself, and it tore you in half doing so in front of the boy.

“Sure we can.” Stiles was quick to shoot pack, turning around to signal for you to do the same. Your eyes connected as he stared at you softly, the temperature of the room beginning to rise at the sight. “We can have all those nights: all those moments again if we wanted.”

“Stiles-” your own jittering lips were the ones to cut your sentence short, the after effect of the rain only beginning to kick in now as you suddenly felt as if you were in a freezer of a room.

Stiles noticed the action immediately, his arms coming to rest on your forearms as they rubbed up and down gently in an attempt to warm you up. It worked probably better than it should’ve, admittedly; for the feeling of dreaded warmth in the cafeteria came again. Shit.

“I’ll get you a change of clothes.” You shivered when his arms left you- whether that be from the cold or something else was beyond you- leaving you to stand and watch his retreating back as he dug through one of his drawers before making his way back over to you. “Here.”

A smile became present on your lips when you immediately noticed the familiar design of the Mets hoodie that had become a quick favourite on your list of clothes that you liked to borrow- and sometimes steal, but we ain’t talking about that- and wear on the many nights that you stayed over. “My favourite.”

“Yeah,” Stiles let out the lightest of laughs as he scratched the back of his neck, making his way over to the drawers again to pick out clothes for himself. “I thought you’d like it. It’s been awhile since you’ve worn one of my shirts or hoodies.”

There it was, the guilt of your actions setting in. Your fingers subconsciously curled tighter round the fabric as you stripped off your clothing, leaving them in a damp bundle on the carpet floor before you slipped the bigger item of clothing on your body that reached just below your thighs.

It didn’t take long for the tiredness to catch up on you both, Stiles being the one to suggest that you two hit the hay after he witnessed you letting out a big yawn. He was quick to leap onto his bed, his eyes appearing to be excited until he saw you made no move to climb in next to you. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Yeah. It’s just, I think I’m just gonna,” you shifted on the balls of your feet, an awkward feeling igniting as you gestured over your shoulder to the boy’s desk chair. “I think I’m just gonna crash on the chair tonight.”

Stiles laughed at first, thinking it to be some weird joke. You always shared a bed, even before dating. It wasn’t weird or out of the ordinary for you two, so why you were so hesitant now only fueled his concern. “You’re serious? But we always sleep in my bed.”

“I actually think I’m coming down with something from that rain.” You lied, going as far as to fake a sniffle as you waved it off. “I don’t want to get you sick, it’s fine.”

“You think I care about getting sick?” Stiles smiled, his eyes watching as you stubbornly planted yourself on his desk chair and shifted to remain comfy. “Come on, (Y/N), lay with me.”

“I can’t, Stiles.” You shook your head, nuzzling your head in the leather material that differed far from the comfortable pillow you were used to. “Goodnight.” You hoped that would somehow cut things off, your mind left to wonder just how torturous tonight will be.

A small ‘oomph’ left you when a soft material collided with the back of your head. Whipping round, you now had one of Stiles’ pillows resting on your lap. You were about to shoot the boy a look, but Stiles had already beat you to it. “Stop. No takebacks. Take the damn pillow.”

With the boy across from you beginning to settle down for the night once more, you chose to try and get some rest yourself as you tightly stuffed the pillow into the comforts of your arms. It took awhile for you to find a comfortable position in the chair, but eventually, you managed a decent spot. The feeling of warmth surging and clawing like a monster in your chest was still there, but you tried to shake it off.

It would go away, right? The night would fall and you would get some rest, leaving all your problems even if it was for only a moment . . . oh how wrong you were.

The feeling grew like a fungus, spreading to every inch and crevice of your body until it felt like a fire was starting from within your body and would not die out until it got what it wanted. The smell of your boyfriend’s shirt and pillow just underneath your nostrils didn’t help either, your enhanced smell making the scent stronger and unable to ignore.

The clatter of palms slamming on his desk so suddenly gained the awake Stiles Stilinski’s attention, sitting up on his elbows as he watched your breathing pattern grow ragged. “(Y/N)?” He asked slowly, seeing your body tense.

“I-I’m fine.” You grunted out, your eyes hurting from how much you were scrunching them up to hold back. You knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have entered the house. “J-Just stay back and give me a minute, Stiles.”

“Are you sure? Babe, you don’t seem to look so good. Why don’t you come into bed with-”

“Its fine just give me a minute, Stiles!” A sudden outburst of loud anger mixed with panic flooded through when you heard his soft movements of getting out of bed behind you. You held out a hand in warning, vaguely shaking your head. “Just don’t come any closer . . . please.”

Thankfully, the boy seemed to listen as you didn’t hear him move any closer. Unfortunately, he didn’t silence himself as you heard his voice softly flow over to you. “Why are you acting like this around me?” His voice was in the early stages of breaking, your head lifting up but not yet facing him at the tone. “Why? Why are we like this now? Is it something I did? Is it my fault?”

“No.” Things were taking a bad turn and you were scared. The feeling was clawing harder and harder, and you didn’t know if you could fight it anymore. Scott was right, it was only getting worse the more you trapped it deep inside. “No, it’s not you, Stiles. You did nothing.”

“Then why do you push me away?” There it was; the break in the voice. God, it felt like your heart had been given an abrupt tug when you heard the sound. “Why do you act so weird around me now, as if you’re scared to be around me? Is it the bite? Because, if this is about you being a werewolf then, (Y/N), I couldn’t care less what you are. I just want us back.”

“It’s more than that, Stiles.” You shook your head, letting out your first noise of pain of the night. You didn’t know how long you could fight this and if you even could anymore. Your body was being pushed to its ultimate limits, and the walls were crumbling fast.

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you, (Y/N). You’re breaking my heart by seeing you like this. All I want is to just take you in my arms and help you forget all your problems like you do with me, yet you refuse. Why?” He’s almost pleading with you now, pleading with you to let him in; to allow him to understand.

“Because I don’t have control with you, Stiles!” There it was. The icebreaker that felt like someone had popped a ballon swelling up in your chest with a needle. You fell back against the chair, tears beginning to build as you hugged the pillow closer to your chest and clung onto it as if you were hugging someone. “I-I can’t be around you because . . . because I can’t control myself from going into heat and wanting to . . . wanting to,” you trialed off, your words becoming softer as you felt the tears blur your vision.

“Wanting to what?” Stiles’ tone didn’t give you any hint as to how or what he was feeling after your words, so you didn’t know if that helped or made it harder as you answered.

“T-To mark you, Stiles. To mark you . . . as my official mate.” Silence settled across the room, the tension metaphorically suffocating you with the words now loose in the air. I shouldn’t have said anything. You thought, closing your eyes as the feeling died down until it became a tiny flicker of light compared to the fire it had been beforehand.

“W-What?” There was a slight tone of emotion to his voice how. Surprise? Fear? Anxiety? Excitement? It was hard to tell with the way your mind was unable to focus. “I’m . . . I’m your mate?”

There was no point taking back what had already been given. With the tears now fading into nothing but salty wet lines on your cheeks, you turned your back to the boy and hugged the pillow to your chest once more as if you were hugging him. You didn’t give into the need to look, because you knew looking would only make it all the more difficult to forgive yourself for ruining one of the few normal things you had going on in your life.

Deep down, you knew no one was to blame but yourself. You could pin the blame on any of your friends as much as you wanted, but they weren’t the ones who had made your mistakes. They weren’t the ones to have locked the truth up for so long that it caused them physical pain and in the end quite possibly made things worse.

“You know,” Stiles’ voice was like the sun coming through the clouds as it made something in your chest- butterflies?- feel lighter than it had been seconds before. “I read that when you cuddle a pillow you’re missing human affection, so maybe you can cuddle me?”

You feared you may have received whiplash with how swiftly you spun yourself around to witness the sight of Stiles smiling- adoringly, for that matter- as he lifted up the covers of his bed, patting the spot next to him welcomingly.

That was when- for the first time in this situation- your feet called the shots. It rose you from the chair slowly, allowing you to collect the plump pillow before it carried you forwards in tentative steps; stopping only when you were now right in front of the Stilinski boy.

Stiles looked up at you and- even with the moonlight being the only light source provided- gave you a look that made you melt. It was the look that you had received before the rise of your relationship. It was the look that calmed all the waves that damaged you through life.

It was a look that made you forget about all your problems . . . and that nothing supernatural related could hurt you.

Gingerly, The Stilinski boy’s hand tangled with yours as he pulled you down gently until you rolled to be placed on top of his chest. From, there, his hands hugged around your waist; trapping you there so your eyes were forced to meet.

“I thought it was impossible for a werewolf and human to be mates.” Was all that came out of his cupid-shaped lips, his nose coming up to nuzzle and brush cutely against yours.

You hummed in a form of happiness at the action, your fingers crawling up to tangle and play with the messy brown hair of the boy. “No, it’s not impossible- just rare. You have to be born human to have one.”

“How long have you known?” Stiles pulled away from you ever so slightly, his thumb drawing patterns as the hoodie you were wearing rode up ever so slightly, exposing your skin.

“Since my birthday.” You honestly answered, seeing your boyfriend tilt his head in the cutest manner. “It was when the pack surprised me, you were in the kitchen, so you missed the cue . . . but when you walked out to greet me . . . I knew.”

Stiles’ lips quirked up softly, edging closer so his lips brushed lightly over yours. “You knew?”

“Well, not until Scott properly explained it, but I remember the feeling of just wanting to be with you, celebrate with you, laugh with you, cry with you. I just- I wanted our relationship, Stiles.”

Two fingers came under your chin, Stiles’ eyes glinting with a prideful joy at your confession. The look made your stomach heat up, but, this time, it was different. It didn’t cause you pain. In fact, it just caused you to feel one thing . . . and that was a deep lust.

“You didn’t have to want our relationship, baby.” Stiles mumbled after clashing his lips onto yours, pulling away as the sound of lips disconnecting sounded through the bedroom. “Not when you already have it and every peice of me. Well, every piece . . . except one.”

Thud. Your heartbeat rises dramatically, causing you to sit back from the position you were currently in which was lying down on his chest. “Stiles . . . are you,” you trailed off, unsure of what your gut was telling you.

“I am.” Stiles Stilinski answered back as soon as the question was fired, his gaze too becoming almost needy as his amber eyes scanned you over before he met your eyes once more. “I want this, (Y/N).”

“But-But what if-” Regardless of the reduced pain, you still had your doubts. What if you went too far? What if things got bad and you could no longer stand on the fine line of human and werewolf? What if-

“Hey,” gentle hands held yours, squeezing one time with a thumb swipe over the knuckle as your breathing hitched at what it meant to you both. When things got more serious and, well, passionate between you both, the pair of you opted for hand signs. One squeeze with a swipe over the knuckle meant that they were okay, they weren’t harmed or scared to take things further with whatever they were trying. They were okay with what was happening, and they wanted it to happen. “You’re not gonna hurt me, okay? Remember that.”

Unable to grasp at formidable words, your lips did all the talking for you. Launching forwards, you captured his lips in yours. A short hum of pleasure escaped him, his hand beginning to travel to the bottom of the hoodie to slide it up. You smirked. “I love you, Stiles Stilinski. So much. I’m sorry.”

The Stilinski cupped your cheek and admired you as if you were the all the stars in a boring galaxy, his legs tangled with yours in an act to become closer. “Don’t be sorry, baby.” He whispered comfortingly, feeling you lean into his touch. “I love you so much, (Y/N), no matter what.”

You grinned at him. “Even if I haven’t seen the last Star Wars movie?”

“It’s a god damn miracle I haven’t left your ass for that and if you don’t mark me as yours forever right now, there’s gonna be trouble!” Stiles exasperated, only quieting down when you silenced him with a lustful kiss.

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Sti.” You laughed at the way his face beamed at the nickname you hadn’t used for him in weeks, the sight allowing you the comforting, cushioned thought that even after all these months; nothing had changed. You were still (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Stiles Stilinski . . . the only change would be that Stiles would now have a permanent mark on his neck on display for everyone to see.

Stiles Stilinski was a sight for sore eyes, and there was no doubt you were absolutely mesmerized by everything about him. You had no control, yet- as you laid later on in the night not only in the comforts of the bed you had been missing for weeks on end, but also the pair of arms that felt like a sweet home to run to when things got tough that could now be given the label of your mate- you were learning to accept.

Little by little, you were learning to accept that you and Stiles could still be the couple you had thought to have vanished the minute the wolf fangs pierced your dying skin. You were learning that you had always been you- werewolf or not . . . and it took a loving Stiles and one hell of a mating problem to realise that.

━ 𝐑 𝐎 𝐒 𝐂 𝐎 𝐄 𝐎 𝐁 𝐑 𝐈 𝐄 𝐍

#stilesodylan24celebrates1k #writing challenge #dylan o'brien #dylan o’brien imagine #dylan o’brien x reader #dylan x reader #stiles imagine #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf imagine #imagine #stiles stilinski imagine

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

Mate

Summary: Derek reveals the real reason he avoids the reader.

Pairing: Derek Hale x black!reader

Warnings: Mentions of smut & violence

A/N: My Derek fic is finally finished! Now I gotta work on Peter’s

Moving to Beacon Hills wasn’t your choice. Your mom told you she had a dream and that Beacon Hills is where you’ll find your destiny. She was right, well at least you think she was. It’s hard to tell when your destiny refuses to spend time with you.

The first day you got to town you bumped into him. You just walked out of the gas station when you saw a group of familiar hunters harass him and vandalized his car. Immediately, you knew he was a werewolf if the hunters were messing with him, but you weren’t gonna let them treat him like that.

Your family was probably the only group of hunters who didn’t have an immediate distaste for werewolves and thanks to that you were blessed. A long time ago, an ancestor of yours saved a werewolf, who was being framed for murders in his village. Grateful for his compassion, the werewolf’s witch lover casted a spell on your bloodline. It allowed your family to be enhanced: faster, stronger, faster healing, and better sight and smell. Basically, your family was like Buffy the Vampire Slayer for werewolves. Except, most of the time you spent protecting werewolves instead of hunting them. The only time you hunted them were when there was strong evidence that one was killing people, like the Alpha here in Beacon Hills.

So, when you saw hunters messing with him, knowing he couldn’t do anything about without putting himself at risk, you had to do something. Just a flash of your new deputy badge and an utterance of your renowned last name had them scattering. And you what did you get in a return? A gruff thank you and he drove off without giving you his name.

Derek Hale was his name. You learned it the next day, when Chris Argent came to your house. The only Argent you’ve ever met was Kate and you couldn’t stand her, but her brother didn’t seem too bad, just another judgmental hunter. Kate on the other hand seemed certifiable crazy.

He warned you there was an alpha werewolf running loose and killing people, and he would love to have a hunter of your caliber to help him hunt the thing down. You declined his offer in a heartbeat. After working with his sister once you vowed to never to work with an Argent again.

The next time you saw Derek Hale was when him looking half dead and your boss’s son showed up on your doorstep. He been shot by Kate and the poison was working through him.

While Stiles raided your kitchen for snacks, you inspected Derek’s wound. Being that close to him, you got a better smell of his scent and it was intoxicating despite the poison in his blood. As you inspected it, he leaned in closer to you and you could’ve sworn he growled, “Mine,” but you disregarded it.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have what you needed to cure him, so you had to wait for Scott to find it at the Argent’s household. And in true Scott fashion he showed up at the last minute with the cure.

The downfall of Derek Hale is he’s a grumpy and pushes people away. You noticed it when you first met him, you noticed it with his interactions with Stiles, and you noticed it after he got smart right after Scott just saved his life. His disposition didn’t make him the easiest to trust, so you understood why Scott would rather trust the Argents. But both you and Derek knew the truth about them. They were a dangerous group of hunters.

Surprisingly, Derek dragged you along with him to show Scott the truth about the Argents. The three of you, ended up in a hospital room that housed Derek’s injured uncle. After Chris Argent told you about Derek, you looked him up at work and found out about the fire that killed his family. You had no doubt the Argents had a hand in it.

Soon after that, Derek and you spent more time together. Most of the time, you two were trying to figure out who the alpha was, but it was still quality time. He even let you talk him into watching a movie with you once.

With you, Derek wasn’t his usual grumpy self. He was reserved, never really opening up to you, but he could be really kind. The only time he seemed to cop an attitude with you was when you talked about the lawyer, who was always flirting with you.

That’s how you ended up at the Hale house. Last night you got stood up by lawyer bae and when you bumped into him at the grocery store, he scurried off. There’s only one person you know that makes people run off like that and his name is Derek Hale.

The tirade you had planned died out as soon as you saw Derek’s bare back as he was doing pull-ups on the doorframe.

“Well,” he said as his only acknowledgment to you. He didn’t even turn back to look at you, when he jumped down to do some impressive one-armed push-ups.

You didn’t like being ignored, so you sat on his back hoping to mess up his push-ups. Did it work? No. But were you impressed? Hell yeah! You weren’t a light chick; you had a curvier body that most wouldn’t think could keep up in the hunter lifestyle.

“Well what?” You asked, getting tired of only hearing his grunts, which by the way gave you some very naughty thoughts but that’s beside the point.

“You gonna cuss me out or what? I can smell your anger,” he held his push-up as he thought if he should finish his sentence, “…and other things.”

“What other things?” Your voice went up an octave.

Abruptly, Derek stopped his push-ups, jumped to his feet, and caught you before you could tumble to the ground. For balance you had to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

This was the closest to his face you’ve ever been to his face. Derek was even more beautiful up close. Unconsciously, you ran your nose along the length of his neck, and he smelled amazing, but there was something underneath his natural scent. Taking another sniff, you knew what you were smelling. It was arousal. Derek was aroused and you think you had a hand in it.

Smiling down at you, he asked. “Like what you’re smelling?” Derek Hale should smile more because it was dazzling.

“No! You stink!” You tried to unwrap yourself from him, but he gripped you tighter and put you against the wall. There was no guessing if he was aroused, because you could feel it between your legs and boy was it big.

“Aren’t you tired of this little dance?” Derek’s face was getting dangerously close to yours and if he got any closer you wouldn’t be responsible for what you did next.

“What dance,” you asked, entranced by his lips.

Gripping your chin, so your eyes met his, Derek replied, “The one where we pretend, we’re not attracted to each other.”

Since, he was so closed off, you tried to ignore your feelings for him, but never in a million years did you think Derek felt the same. “When did you-,” abruptly Derek covered your mouth to silence you. It was a little faint to you, but to Derek you knew the sound of 3 hunters were crisp to him.

Quickly, he bounded up the stairs and stuffed you in a closet. “Stay here.”

Apparently, your face said that you weren’t gonna listen, because Derek had to repeat himself with his blue eyes glowing.

From what you heard, Derek took down the first two hunters with ease, but the third caught him off guard. Focusing your hearing, the hunter’s voice became clear. It was fucking Kate Argent. Now there was no way you were staying put.

“Put it down,” you ordered while drawing your gun.

“Wow, you really are here. I thought Chris was lying when he said you moved to town and working as a deputy. What a waste of talent. We could really use your help tracking down the Alpha.” The thing about Kate that irked you the most was that she always had that stupid smug smirk on her face and right now, you wanted to knock it off.

Ignoring her, you looked over her shoulder to Derek, “You ok?”

“I thought I told you to stay in the closet.” Derek’s ungrateful ass growled at you. That’s why you can never do him a favor.

Kate looked between you two. “Oh, am I interrupting a lover’s quarrel?”

At the same time, both of you said, “We’re not dating.”

Kate turned to you, ignoring the gun you had in your hand. “Just between us girls, me and him dated once.” Her little revelation left you stunned to the point where you didn’t notice her pull out the machine gun.

Derek threw you over his shoulder and ran to the woods. Once, he felt there was enough distance he stopped and set you down. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you answered, but it didn’t matter. Derek was inspecting your body making sure there were no wounds. Eventually, he was satisfied, and he hugged you like he never wanted to let go.

“I can’t believe I thought this could work,” Derek whispered to himself, letting you go.

His pacing made you feel bad. There was only one emotion you were truly used to see Derek have, which was anger. But to see him nervous made you nervous.

To qualm his and your nerves, you tried to hug him, but he shrugged out of it. “That can’t happen. We can’t happen!”

“Why not?” You shouted. This was the first time you acknowledged to Derek that you were indeed attracted to him.

“Because everything good in my life ends up dead! Most of my family, my sister, and if you keep hanging around me, it’ll be you too eventually. I can’t let my mate die because of me.”

Mate? A werewolf having a soulmate was just a myth. Derek had to be confused. “Excuse me, did you just say mate?”

Derek looked up at you from his spot on the ground. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re my mate.”

“Derek that’s impossible. There hasn’t been a mated bond in centuries and its only between two werewolves, not one,” you tried to reason with him.

Hopping to his feet, Derek stalked towards you until your back hit the tree and he trapped you. “When did you meet me?”

The heat coming off of him was too much, you had to look down at your feet to be comfortable to answer. “The first day I moved here.”

Firmly gripping your chin, Derek forced you to look at him. “And since that day, has there been a day you haven’t thought about me? Because I can tell you, I’ve thought about you every single fucking day since that day at the gas station. Do you know how much restraint it took me not to kill Dale? What kind of name is Dale and who would even name their kid that?” Derek rambled on.

Was Derek actually jealous? To test your theory, you decided to test his buttons. “I don’t know. I think Dale is a cute name and it fits him so perfectly. Like have you seen him smile? It’s a work of art. I’m really upset that I didn’t go on that date with him.”

Derek was sporting his signature scowl and you had to stop yourself from laughing. It was too easy to rile him up. “Mines,” he growled and this time there was no tricking yourself that you misheard him this time.

Your mom did tell you your destiny was in Beacon Hills and you believed it was Derek, but you didn’t think it would mean him being your mate. When you found out about Derek, you thought you were to help him find the Alpha that killed his sister and maybe break him out of that hard shell of his, but being his mate was something that never crossed your mind.

The mate bond hasn’t happened in so long most thought it was a myth. And it certainly didn’t occur between a werewolf and a human. The closest connection between a werewolf and a human was for the human to be an anchor.

The mate bond is just a much stronger version of an anchor. A werewolf could share a telepathic bond with their mate, but more importantly it made each wolf physically stronger. It had to do something about the two wolves becoming one and complimenting each other strengths and weaknesses.

Logically, it made no sense for you and Derek to be mates. What strengths did you have that he already didn’t?

“You make me a better person,” Derek interrupted your thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s no doubt I can be asshole, but you straighten me out. You mellow me out. I’m a lot more sympathetic than I used to be. It doesn’t matter if I can break a door down, you are by far the strongest of us two.”

Derek had you shook. How did he know what you were thinking? “Did you uh- did you um, read my mind?”

“Yeah, um, sorry. I didn’t mean to. Our connection can be so strong at times and it lets us share a telepathic bond.”

“So, you mean to tell me that we’re not even properly mated yet, but we’re already sharing the telepathic bond!? And you still want to keep me away!?” You shrieked. You were in disbelief because a telepathic bond between mates only occurred after they’re formally mated, and it happens only to the strongest of mates. Thus, Derek Hale was royally fucking up.

Gripping your chin tightly, Derek made you look at him. “It’s for your own good. Even being friends with me is risky and I don’t think I’ll survive if something happens.”

Pissed that Derek thought you were some fragile little being, you decided to give him no choice but to be with you. “I guess I’ll just have to call Dale and screw his brains out. At least he’ll appreciate me.”

Barely five steps to your car and Derek tackled you to the ground. He hovered over you fully wolfed out.

“Aww, is the big bad wolf mad,” you mocked him, making him wrap his hand around your throat and lifting you up to him. “Last time I’ll tell you this: you’re mines.”

Five simple five words sparked something in him. “Then prove it to me.” Derek flipped you over on your knees and pulled you flushed against him.

He trailed kisses down your neck until he abruptly stopped. “If I wasn’t so picky about our first time, I’d fuck you right here and show you who you belong to.” Derek claimed before lifting you to your feet.

Once he heard the hunters leave, he walked you back to your car silently. “How about this Friday we go to an early dinner and then go to Scott’s game?” Derek offered once you got back to your car.

You smiled up at him, happy he was finally coming to his senses. “And Stiles’,” you corrected him.

Immediately Derek’s face went sour at the mention of the goofy teen. “Admit it, you love him.”

“He’s annoying.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s a pain in my ass.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

Derek’s forehead crinkled at the insult. “Fine. We’ll go to dinner then to Scott’s and Stiles’ game.”

“Great and you’ll be nicer to both of the boys,” you negotiated.

“We’re not even together and you’re already bossing me around.” Derek groaned, rubbing his temple.

Punching him in the shoulder, you scoffed, “I’ve been bossing you around, I just had to be more manipulative before.”

“True.” Derek leaned down and kissed you. “Well, as part of my demands, you can’t talk to Dale anymore.”

“Fine. It was your fault I was talking to him anyway. If you would’ve told me sooner, then I wouldn’t have to worry about him.”

“Fair point,” Derek ushered you into your car. “Call me when you get home and if you see Kate in public please don’t say anything to her.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll just beat her ass instead.”

Derek smacked his forehead at your stubbornness. “Y/N,” he growled. “Aren’t we teaching Scott how to control himself?”

“Yeah, what’s that gotta do with me?” Your upper lip snarled like you smelled a dead animal.

“Then shouldn’t you be a good example by showing control?”

Nodding your head side to side, you thought about your answer. “Yeah, I’ll show control by not beating her ass in front of Scott and her niece. How about that?”

Giving up on the conversation, Derek gave you a kiss on the cheek through your window. “Remember to call me. I don’t trust them not to attack you since they know you’re on my side.”

“I will.” You secured yourself with the seatbelt and stared at Derek, pondering if you really wanted to say what was on your tongue. Making your decision, you went for it as you put your car in drive. “Bye, mate.”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue and he returned the same departing words with a smile. “Bye, mate.”

Tags: @twistedcharismaaa @titty-teetee @chaneajoyyy @chasingsunlight @black-is-beautiful18 @princessshanae14 @pananegra @missdforever

#black!reader #derek hale #derek hale x black!reader #derek x black!reader #derek hale x reader #derek x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf #teen wolf fandom #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale fanfic #frizzlefic #frizzlesfic

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, wildamongwolves!

For @wildamongwolves. Hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Towels Are Cold, So Am I

Chapter 1

It's weird, but Stiles likes hanging out with Derek.

Sure, the circumstances are less than desirable: they're looking for Boyd and Erica, unable to locate the wayward Betas. And since Scott won't help Derek, Stiles decides he needs to be the one to bridge the gap.

They spend the last few weeks of July driving around and eating fast food in parking lots as they ponder over maps of the area.

Sure, Derek snarls and bitches that Stiles is annoying, touching everything in the car and leaving traces of his scent everywhere. He makes fun of Stiles' choice in music and calls him a monster when he sees how many curly fries he can stuff in his mouth.

But Stiles has fun, watching the lines form between Derek’s eyebrows when he’s mulling over something Stiles says. Like he can't believe Stiles is as ridiculous as he is. But he listens, no matter how much Stiles talks.

Like now, for example. He’s running through a list of things that he needs to get from the grocery store before they head back to the loft and Derek gives what Stiles calls his “Encouraging Caveman” sound. It means he’s listening, but he’s mildly distracted by something.

Stiles, vaguely amused that he's gotten so good at Derek's version of communication, notices immediately when Derek’s eyes glaze over.

“Dude.” He snaps his fingers near Derek’s face. "We need to get some more snacks before we keep researching."

Derek glances at him, his eyes dark and haunted. “Okay.”

Stiles studies him, thinking of all the things that must be lurking in Derek’s mind to make him look like that.

He's not one for empty platitudes, so he just leans forward and turns up the radio a little, lightly scuffing at Derek’s shoulder in a way that he hopes comes off as reassuring.

Derek glances at him again before looking back at the road.

The littlest bit of tension leaves his shoulders and Stiles definitely counts that as a win.

-----

It’s October and it's raining. Like, fucking pouring, and Stiles is debating whether or not he should get out of the Jeep. The parking lot of the library is practically flooded. His shoes are gonna be soaked.

He sighs and leans forward against his steering wheel, thinking he might be able to see something other than gray clouds in the sky, but no dice. When he leans back, he jumps.

Derek is standing next to his window.

Stiles rolls the window down an inch and hollers, “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell is wrong with you? Get in the car!”

Derek rolls his eyes and, a moment later, is pulling open the passenger door before slamming it shut. He doesn’t look at Stiles, just stares straight ahead.

“So…” Stiles drawls, “whatcha doing out in the rain, Big Guy?”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a moment and Stiles is about to roll his eyes or huff or say something sarcastic like good talk as always when Derek says, “I’m leaving.”

Stiles blinks at the side of Derek’s face, mouth moving, but nothing comes out.

At his silence, Derek’s eyes flicker to his face for a second before going back to the windshield.

Stiles turns and looks out the windshield too. “Where are you going?” he asks because he can’t ask the question he really wants to, not yet.

“South America, with Cora,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles hums, picking at a piece of leather that’s peeling off his steering wheel. “Pretty warm there.”

“Still pretty rainy.”

Stiles nods. They sit in silence for a long time, the rain pattering against the Jeep the only sound.

Finally, Stiles whispers, “Why?”

“Because there’s nothing left for me here.”

And he gets it, he does. But it hurts, oh yes it does, it hurts quite a bit because Stiles could have sworn that they were starting to get somewhere, the two of them. Maybe Stiles was reading too much into it, but he wasn't sure he was.

Hell, they'd even hugged the last time they parted ways and, as awkward as it had been, it was nice and he thought... he thought...

“I don’t want you to go,” he confesses in a small voice.

Derek closes his eyes, his hands fisted on his thighs, his face twisted in pain.

Stiles waits, hoping that Derek will say something that means he feels even remotely the same.

A long beat of silence passes, the rain pounding the roof of the Jeep.

Stiles isn’t stupid. He gets the picture. He's seventeen and ridiculous and Derek isn't interested in him like that and god he's such an idiot.

He feels like a fucking joke as he nods, staring down at his hands. “Well,” he finally croaks, “I… I hope you find some place good.”

“Me too.” There’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “Goodbye Stiles.”

There’s the slightest ghost of fingertips against the side of his neck then the door opens and Derek is gone.

And Stiles is alone in his car again, the strong rain-wet scent of Derek making his nose and eyes burn.

-----

The first time Derek reappears in Beacon Hills, Stiles is almost sure he’s hallucinating again. After all, isn’t his brain still a little wonky from the Nogtisune? Derek used to be a frequent star in his visions, after all.

And since he’s in the woods alone at night, looking for a witch’s familiar, of course he’s gonna imagine Derek because why the fuck not?

It’s been two years since Stiles has seen him. More than that.

But, apparently, there Derek stands. His hair is a little longer, he's got the beginnings of a beard, and there are a few more lines around his eyes. He looks so good and what the fuck –

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he almost shouts, the orb of light in his hand flickering.

Derek jerks back, looking vaguely confused. “I had to get something from the vault. I thought I’d check on the house. Then I heard someone out here.”

“The vault? I, what?” Stiles sputters. He’s suddenly so angry, it’s almost blinding. “I thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you fucking vanished and no one’s heard from you for over two years and your luck is astronomically bad! What else were we supposed to think?!”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m fine.” Derek looks down at the orb in Stiles' hand then back to his face. “What’s going on? Why are you out here?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and god, it’s almost like Derek never left. Like This is private property and the long days and nights they spent looking for Boyd and Erica and – focus Stiles.

He starts walking the way he was going, sure that Derek will follow him since there’s no way he’s real anyways. “We have a very angry witch on our hands. She’s not happy that Scott tried to tell her she wasn’t allowed to use the Nemeton to fuel a revenge spell.”

Derek snorts, drawing up to Stiles’ left side and scanning the trees. “Yeah, because that’s always worked well for spell casters in the past.”

He gives a conceding gesture. “Which he tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to listen, so she tapped into the damn tree anyways. It’s given her hella power and she’s killed three people.”

Derek’s thoughtful hum is familiar enough to make Stiles glance over at him.

He’s got to be a fucking figment of Stiles’ imagination.

He glances down at his fingers. Only ten. But the situation still feels so surreal. He decides for now that he’ll talk to his Fake Derek to abate some of his anxious nerves like he used to and examine his mental health later.

“So, anyways,” he continues, “not only is there a body count, the negative power is starting to seep into the land, so I’m stuck trying to figure out what her tether is and what do I find? Her fucking familiar! Which is great, but can you guess what it is?” He snorts. “Oh my god, it’s so stupid.”

“What is it?”

“A fucking mountain lion. She's been using a mountain lion to kill people!” He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Like, what the actual fuck, right?”

Derek huffs. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Stiles.”

“Oh I know, dude, I know.”

Derek frowns again. “Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles is about to snap back that he can call his Imaginary Friend Derek whatever he wants when he’s shoved to the side all of a sudden.

He sputters, looking up at Derek, who’s wolfed-out and growling at a mountain lion.

Can hallucinations shove people? If Derek just shoved Stiles, then he has to be real, right?

But there were plenty of times Stiles was convinced he was awake when he wasn’t and fuck he really doesn’t need to have an episode or something right now –

“Stiles! Now would be a good time to do something!” Derek snaps, jolting Stiles from his contemplation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting up. His hands are pouring blood from his unceremonious meeting with the forest floor. He figures, waste not want not, and licks one of his palms, the dirt and blood a disgusting mix on his tongue. He rolls it around his mouth, jumping to his feet.

“Get out of the way!” he shouts and Derek dives to the side right as the mountain lion lunges.

Stiles catches the large cat’s face in his hands, grunts at the feeling of claws digging into his thighs, and severs the creature’s connection to the witch with a push of his Spark.

An ear-splitting shriek shakes the woods.

The mountain lion falls to the ground, writhing and contorting for a moment before it stills, clearly unable to live without its connection to the witch.

Stiles takes a deep breath, the pushback from his spell like a punch in the gut as his legs give out, and shoves his hands against the ground. He pushes the extra energy along the nearest ley line and funnels the brightness toward the Nemeton. He snaps the link and almost pukes at the feeling.

He floats in the ether for a moment. The others are sure to be able to handle the witch now. He should probably go find them, help them…

“Stiles, Stiles!”

He jerks, his eyes finding Derek’s. “Oh shit, you’re still here.”

Derek stares at him. “You’ve got blood all over you. Where are you hurt?”

He laughs. He grew up in Beacon Hills. He’s fucking hurt everywhere. Derek should know that firsthand.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is careful.

He shakes his head, face still cracked in a smile. “I’m fine, man.” He glances at his palms. “Eh, well, I’ll live this time. Yay me!” He tries to stand but his legs buckle.

Derek snatches him before he can hit the ground.

“I’m good, I just, oohh boy. Too much. Too much.” He sighs, the pounding in his head telling him that he definitely used too much of his Spark with not enough preparation. “I just… need to lie down. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m taking you to the clinic.” He scoops Stiles into a bridal carry and starts back through the woods.

Stiles tries to protest, but he can’t walk, so it seems like he’s along for the ride. He tries to reason, “I need to help the others.”

“You’re in no condition to do that right this second.” Derek tilts his head, listening. “Besides, I think they’ll be fine. It sounds like the fight is winding down.”

"You really look like a puppy when you do that."

Derek's voice is as dry as the desert. "Dog jokes, really? Aren't you a little old for that?"

“Fucking hell, I am so good at imagining things,” he states, closing his eyes. “I even got your Stiles-You’re-So-Dumb voice right.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just tightens his hold and quickens his pace.

He presses his face to Derek’s chest. Derek smells exactly the same and Stiles can’t help but mutter, “Missed you.”

It’s easy to slip into darkness.

-----

Stiles wakes up at the vet clinic, his hands and thighs bandaged, and feels like someone beat him with a baseball bat.

The witch is gone, the others are fine, and he’s got a migraine from Hell.

He goes back to Scott’s house and checks in with the rest of the pack, allowing them to scold him for being reckless and praising him for helping with the familiar. He leaves before the pizza arrives, not so much for socializing anymore.

He almost wants to ask if anyone saw Derek the night before, but stops himself. Surely someone would have mentioned if Derek was back in town, right?

If he was seeing things, he doesn’t want to worry his friends. It could very well be that he made his own way to the clinic, envisioning Derek as a way to keep him upright and moving.

And if he wasn’t seeing things, if Derek was there and helped him and disappeared again…

Well, Stiles has learned that it doesn’t do to dwell on the past.

#wildamongwolves #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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sunmoontruth-stiles · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request an interaction between void stiles and Malia

Ok I was going to save this until I finished the accompanying art, but my drawing schedule is so bad rn. I really enjoyed this one. I definitely feel like a true interaction between the nogitsune and Malia would have been so interesting. I will say though, small warning about this, it’s not super pleasant. All hurt, no comfort ya know?

---

When Malia left Eichen, she knew one thing; she had to help Stiles. In reality, she barely knew him. He'd helped Scott, an annoyingly moral true alpha that was a bit too altruistic for her taste, shift her back from how she'd been stuck for so long. Malia wasn't used to being human. Interacting with people was harder than she expected. She was aggressive and couldn't communicate for awhile. Maybe that's why her dad had been convinced to send her away to that place.

It hurt. When he signed those papers and left her. Malia didn't leave her room for two weeks, refusing to talk and growling at anyone who dared enter her space. When she finally did leave, it was all so confusing for her. The people were absolutely insane, but at least they didn't bother her too much. The endless therapy did help her communication skills. She was just starting to accept her new existence of endless repetitive days, and she was learning that life was just new ways for the world to screw you over. Then he showed up.

Stiles looked like shit. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, fidgeting, and yelling about needing to leave. Before she could think, she was on him. She punched him and intended to get all her anger with the world out on him, but they dragged her off and shot her up with yet another tranquilizer. The familiar weight spread over her limbs and the world went dark.

Malia quickly realized there was something wrong with him. Stiles was unusually on edge when she saw him around Eichen. Eventually, she helped him escape. Malia still wasn't exactly sure why she cared. Maybe she just wanted to believe there were good people in the world after all.

Sleeping with Stiles seemed like a good way to calm him down at the time. She'd been a coyote for eight years, and confidence in her own skin came with that. She liked him, maybe not romantically, but he felt safe and that was enough.

Malia tracked Scott, she had enough information to find him fairly easily. She passed along the information, and he seemed grateful. She wasn't sure what to do next. Scott seemed to pick up on her hesitation and maybe Stiles' scent on her.

"Do you... do you want to help us?" Scott asked her cautiously. He didn't know her well, didn't know if he could trust her, but Scott was always quick to see the best in people. Malia, not so much. She starred at him, searching his face for any signs of deceit or other intentions.

"I want to help Stiles," she said firmly, a simple clarification, but it was an important one. Scott nodded and caught her up on Stiles' situation.

He was possessed. A fox had their hold on him. She'd met the man fighting back, and she saw the toll it was taking on him. Malia knew he wouldn't last long.

She'd interacted with foxes before during her time as a coyote. They were cunning creatures, very tricky and hard to catch.

Malia left without an explanation, leaving Scott confused and slightly irritated. He probably figured she'd decided not to help them, but she never said she would. She wanted to help Stiles.

She tracked his scent, scouring all over town through the night. Eventually, around four in the morning, she found him. As she approached, she questioned that fact. Whatever this was, it wasn't Stiles, and it found her.

He sat calming, hands clasped between his knees, and a smile settled on his face. His eyes were dark. That warm, sunny brown was now cold and flat. The deep purple rings were set around his eyes, cheeks slightly gaunt, and his skin looked sickly. Malia wondered how he could have changed so quickly.

"Malia, glad you finally made it. It took you long enough. Those sharp senses sure have dulled down," his voice was laced with amusement. He was mocking her. Malia's brow furrowed. She held a safe distance.

"You're the fox. The one that stole Stiles' body," Malia said flatly. He only smirked.

"Stole is such a strong word. I prefer repurposing," he got to his feet and strolled over to her. Malia stood rigidly. He moved with purposeful, smooth movements. Everything about him was so different than Stiles.

She growled, eyes glowing blue. He only laughed.

"Oh Malia, don't lose your temper. They'll lock you up again. Poor feral little coyote. Killed her mommy and baby sister. Do you think daddy knows? Wonders why you're the only one who walked away? Wonders where you've been for eight years? Maybe he sees it in your eyes. The eyes of a killer. The monster that murdered his family," the fox smiled wickedly, using Stiles' face like a mask. Malia's eyes widened. Without hesitation he reached out, gripping her arm tightly. She winced. Black veins stretched down him arm and up his neck. He let out a relieved sigh.

"Oh that's the good stuff. All that torment and guilt. Your pain is deep and aged," he looked at her with such satisfaction. Malia looked at him with horror.

"Stiles..." she whispered softly, hoping to see any familiarity in the face just inches from her own.

"Isn't here sweetie," his voice was sickeningly condescending. Her face hardened, and she glared daggers. "What? Were you hoping to track me down, whisper his name like a prayer, and he'd just push his way out for you? You thought you meant more than his best friend? More than the girl he'd been in love with for years? More than his father? Malia, you were a simple screw in a mental institution as his lowest point. He's not gonna come running back to the crazy girl who went through puberty as a dog." The fox laughed in her face.

Malia tried to pull away from his grasp, his fingers only tightened. She willed her claws to come out but her hands only shook in fear.

"God you're useless aren't you? Can't even shift anymore. I bet you can't heal the same either..." he tilted his head and looked down at her arm. He twisted his wrist and forced Malia to the ground in front of him. His cold eyes looked down at her. She winced and let out a soft whine.

"He'll get out. Stiles is stronger than you. You underestimate him, and that's why you'll lose," her voice was like venom.

His face twisted with anger. The fox's eyes seemed to darken in a shadow of rage. Malia looked up with pride and spite.

"Stronger than me? I'm thousands of years old. I can't be killed. Stiles will whither and die in his own mind. He's fighting a war. I'm playing a game!" he screamed with unfiltered hatred and ferocity. Malia just smiled up at him, and she let out a sharp laugh. His eyes looked like they were aflame. He struck her down with his free hand, and Malia hit the ground with a hard Smack.

She pressed her palms into the cool concrete, digging her nails into the rough surface. Malia laughed, blood splattering out from her split lip.

Malia looked up at him, her rage breaking the surface. She lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. She rose her hand to strike him, but she hesitated when she saw the wicked glee in his eyes. Malia's eyes widened as she caught sight of her claws fully extended and readied slash across his throat.

He wanted this.

Malia pushed away from him and scrambled to her feet, horrified at what she almost did. He only flashed a wicked smile.

"Aw, done playing? Didn't want to paint the town red, Lover?" his eyes were fixed on her, still laying casually on the ground at her feet.

He got up and tilted his head, walking closer. She sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back. The fox grabbed her wrist and pulled it close to him. He examined her claws carefully. She tried to retract them, but they stayed adamantly present. He took her hand and brought it to his face. Malia looked on with horror as he dragged one of her claws down the side of his face. The blood dripped down her hand in bold, red streaks.

"Does it feel familiar? The blood of someone you care about soaking your claws?" There was a amused glint in his eyes. She felt sick.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, "Oh come on, darling. You think you can side with Scott's pack? You're not one of them. You're like me. You're a villain. You can't be good," he dug her claws into Stiles' cheek bone. The blood was trickling down his neck.

"They'll find a way to get him back," Malia tried to speak steadily, hold back the waver in her breath that threatened to show her fear.

"Stiles is void," the fox said viciously. He reached up and smeared the blood onto his fingers. He brought his hand to her face, cupping her cheek gently. It was not unlike how she touched Stiles before they kissed. He held her like that for a moment before parting and walking away with his back to her.

Malia watched, her claws slowly retreated, but the blood remained. It covered her hand, stretching down her arm and dripping onto the ground near her feet. A bright red smear graced her cheek. The sharp coppery smell of Stiles' blood surrounded her.

She had no one to turn to. No one in the world that made her feel like she belonged or was safe. Stiles was gone, his face being worn like a shield against his friends and family. Without him, she didn't know what to do next. Without Stiles, Malia was void.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fic #malia hale #malia tate #stiles stilinski #void stiles #Nogitsune #stalia #Malia x stiles #ask

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usermischief · 4 years ago

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no place for promises

chapter 37: heated

Warnings: - (heed tags for further information)

You can read it on AO3 as well.

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Yes, hi, hey, hello. I'm still working on this. I just wanted to pop in and apologise for the wait. I'm really sorry it took forever. The NPFP writer's block chose to collide with SteoSpooktober and I struggled more than I like to admit. The chapter is a lot shorter as well, but I didn't want to let you wait any longer. Thanks for your support. ❤

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“You have got to be kidding me.”

Stiles is fed up. He had one of the worst nights in a while, woke up in a questionable mood, received two threats of detention, and was barely able to resist the urge to punch a lacrosse obsessed Jackson. Brett is the last person he wants to see today. Alas, here he is, his silver sports car and stupid grin included. If the guy didn’t leave before Theo arrives from AP Biology, he's going to blow a fuse - and that’s not something Stiles can deal with today.

Brett gets out of the car. “You look like shit.”

Although Stiles usually appreciates people who don’t hold back more than those who try to sugarcoat everything, his temper is a volatile beast. Cause for that is most definitely the way his own bedroom made him feel. Despite knowing that a break-in can make a person feel unsafe in their own home, Stiles never thought he’d feel so terribly uncomfortable in his own bedroom after everything else he has gone through. But he did. In fact, he tried to avoid it like the plague. He jumped at shadows, flinched at every noise, and fell into an uneasy sleep with more nightmares than usual. Every single time he’s closed his eyes, he’s seen someone he loves getting hurt. Not always by Donovan. In fact, the nogitsune, or rather, a heartless version of him was the one torturing his friends, Theo, or his dad. Nothing calmed him down. Not even knowing that his dad is okay, not even knowing that a hellhound was sleeping two doors over.

Stiles runs a hand over his face then drops it with a sigh. “Don’t take this personally, but whenever you appear unannounced, I automatically expect the absolute worst.”

Tossing a small box from his left to his right hand, Brett huffs out a laugh. “Man, that’s what I love to hear from a guy.” His lips quirk into a smirk, and he holds the box out to him.

Stiles squints at Brett, then the box before he eventually checks his surroundings. There’s a reason he mentioned more than once that meeting at the school isn’t the best idea. For starters, the rumors about them finally died down. However, the rivalry between their schools is very much still thriving. Luckily, the parking lot is mostly empty. Students have either already gone home or are waiting for lacrosse practice to start soon. Stiles will never understand why people are interested in watching them practice.

Sighing, Stiles holds out his hand. “What’s that?”

“Our engagement rings,” Brett smirks at him, not even pretending to be serious about his comment.

Stiles taps the lid of the box, quirking a brow. “I better find something high-carat in here.”

“Only the best for my little nemeton boy,” Brett says. When he reaches out a hand as if to ruffle his hair, Stiles swats it away. There are limits to what he will allow Brett to do, and treating him like a child certainly isn’t one of them. Hopefully, this nickname isn’t going to stick around either. It’s not particularly charming.

Sitting down on the hood of Brett’s car, Stiles flips the box open. To be quite honest, he couldn’t tell what he expected, but he certainly didn’t think Brett would drive here to bring him a wristband, a simple one at that. It’s slim, with a black leathery band and a silver clasp. Drawing his eyebrows together, he raises the box a bit higher. He swallows, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that?” It’s not a normal wristband. He doesn’t know why he knows that, but just looking at it makes him feel queasy.

“It’s an emergency stop,” Brett says, sitting down on the hood next to him. “At least, it’s supposed to be. The clasp is laced with wolf lichen.” Oh, is that what it is? Is that why he doesn’t like the wristband, why he feels weird just looking at it? “Best case scenario, it activates when you use too much power and snaps you out of it.” Despite looking relatively relaxed, Brett doesn’t sound very confident. “Our emissary worked on it over the past week. It’s basically a test run.”

Stiles huffs out a breath, snapping the box shut. “I love to be a guinea pig.”

“How fortunate,” Brett deadpans, leaning back on his elbows. He’s still looking at him, probably expecting Stiles to open the box and put on the wristband. It would be the right thing to do, right? He should try it out. He should. Or shouldn’t he? What’s the right thing to do right now? Because he doesn't want to do it.

Stiles snaps the box open again and stares at the silver clasp, unable to ignore his stomach twisting. It doesn't help that Brett keeps staring at him. What if this is another test? They tested him twice, but that was before his powers got the best of him. It was before he created a mass hallucination and before he attacked the geneticist with magic he shouldn't possess.

But he passed two of their tests.

“Okay,” Brett says, taking the box out of his hand, “you’re making me anxious with your”—he gestures briefly with his hand, clearly struggling to find the right word—“everything.” Brett pulls the wristband out of the box with a huff, making a point of touching the silver clasp. Werewolves are affected by wolf lichen as well, but Brett didn’t even react to it. “This isn’t a test or a scam or another attempt at controlling you.” Not for the first time, Stiles wonders if Brett has some kind of mind-reading powers. He’s eerily good at reading people, of picking apart what he knows and assigning it to the chemo-signals he senses. It’s something Stiles can appreciate in a person, but not when it’s used against him. Not that he’s going to mention it to anyone. People might think he has something to hide, when he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

Brett gestures for his arm and Stiles offers it, even if reluctantly. “Pretend it’s one of those watches reading your pulse,” he tells him, tone lighter, unusually light. It’s most likely an attempt to calm him down. Stiles genuinely isn’t too sure if it’s working, but he’s not pulling his arm away, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much a part of him begs him to.

The wristband is cool against his skin. It doesn’t hurt, but he flinches regardless and curls his hand into a tight fist. “I can open it again, right?” Stiles asks, eyes locked on Brett’s unmoving hands. “I can take it off?”

Brett chuckles. “Unless you want it to catch rust, you probably should take it off while showering.” When Stiles looks at him, he smiles reassuringly. “You don’t have to wear it,” Brett tells him, pulling his hands and with that the wristband away from him. The relief rushing through his body is something Stiles will take with him to the grave. He can't help massaging his wrist, although he's aware that his behaviour is childish. It’s just a wristband. A magic wristband, granted. Maybe even a poisonous one. But still just a wristband. And Brett would never want to hurt him. He’s the nemeton. Hurting or even killing him has devastating consequences.

“Stiles,” Brett says softly, “do you trust me?”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Stiles looks at Brett, studies his ever so patient face, and his quirked elbow. He barely knows the guy, and his reasoning for going to Brett for help usually comes back to his knowledge about the supernatural world and everything around it. But does he trust him? He sent Isaac to live with them. He wouldn’t have done it if there hadn’t been some preexisting trust. He wouldn’t have let him walk away with Nolan if he hadn’t believed Brett could be trusted.

Why is he hesitating now?

Stiles licks his lips. Brett, he trusts. It's the wristband he's hesitant about. For some reason, it feels like a shackle meant to keep him small even though Brett told him he can take it off, that he should take it off when he's showering. Stiles takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing again. “I trust you.” His lips twitch into a small smile. “But I gotta think about this first.”

Brett nods, and if he considers Stiles’ behavior strange, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he simply places the wristband back in the box and snaps it shut before offering it to him again.

Part of him doesn’t even want to take it, but Stiles grabs the box regardless. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Brett leans back again, squinting at the overcast sky. “How are things going with your boyfriend?”

That question comes out of nowhere. “Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity.”

Stiles turns the box around. “It’s going well. He’s—” he stops himself and shakes his head. Something about Brett makes it way too easy to tell him everything. Maybe it’s the bond they share, maybe it’s just Brett himself. It probably doesn’t even matter. For some reason, he feels about Brett the same way he does about Lydia. Well, maybe not quite the same as Lydia, but very similar. Why did he doubt Brett about the wristband? Shaking his head, Stiles sighs. “He doesn’t like you very much.” He would’ve told Lydia the whole truth, but telling Brett about Theo’s insecurities feels like backstabbing him.

Brett pushes off his car and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me something I don’t know.” Smirking, he looks away.

Stiles follows his eyes and sighs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Theo walks towards them, a bit too fast to be casual about it, a bit too fast to pretend he isn’t jealous of Brett being alone with him. “Don’t you have new werewolf to train?” He comes to a stop next to Stiles, tossing his backpack to the ground like he’s getting ready for a fight. This is going fantastic.

Brett smirks. “I thought I’d come over to woo your boyfriend.”

“Please, don’t.” Stiles grabs hold of Theo’s jacket, pulling him closer to him before he even has the chance to move. Not that it really matters. If he wants to jump Brett, he will not be stopped by Stiles’ attempt to hold onto him.

Curling his lips, Theo turns to look at him. “Why is he here?”

Stiles lets go of his jacket and lifts his arm without another word, showing him the box.

Theo stares at it with narrowed eyes. It takes him longer than expected before he grabs the box and snaps it open. Stiles doesn’t even complain. In fact, he’s pretty thrilled about not having to hold it any longer. The farther away it is, the better. “He brought you jewelry.” It’s not a question, and he doesn’t even give Stiles a second to say anything. Instead, he rounds on Brett. “Why the fuck are you giving my boyfriend jewelry?” That’s a joke, right? The first time Theo calls him his boyfriend, and it’s because he’s fucking jealous. Wow. That’s so not surprising, to be entirely honest. It’s still a dick move. He could’ve at least looked at him while saying it out loud for the first time. After all, it’s kind of a big thing, isn’t it? Going from dating to becoming officially boyfriends?

Stiles snorts.

Theo glances at him over his shoulder, brows drawn together.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did.” Brett tries his best not to laugh, but the twitch of his lips is unmistakable. “I drove all the way across town to bring him a wristband and confess my undying love for him.”

It doesn’t even take a second for Theo’s anger to go through the roof, which is not surprising at all.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Don’t provoke him.”

“He needs to learn how to take a joke,” Brett says, looking past Theo directly at Stiles. While he’s technically not wrong, he should know better. There hasn’t been a single interaction between them that didn’t end in at least one of them being a total prick. At this point, it’s most likely not going to change. Unless someday, Theo starts believing that Stiles isn’t planning on leaving him for anybody.

Theo’s shoulders are a rigid line. Stiles doesn’t like the fact that Theo’s ready to jump Brett. He’s going to get his ass handed to him all over again, and while Stiles will be a good boyfriend and mend his wounds and ego. Still, he’s going to very much point out that it’s his own fault and that he’s an idiot for attacking Brett in the first place when he knows that he can’t win. Does that make him a bad boyfriend? He probably should be more supportive. Theo is strong, but Brett has an unfair advantage. There, that sounds better.

A little bit.

Stiles chuckles and tugs on the back of Theo’s jacket. “Come on, Misiu, you know he’s just joking with you.”

Theo bristles. “It’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Brett snorts, but Theo turns around again, now more confused than angry. “Since when do you think this is funny?”

With a shrug, Stiles gets to his feet. “Maybe I’ve just resigned myself to the fate of you two behaving like cavemen every single time you meet.”

Theo doesn’t look convinced.

“Civilized cavemen, if you please,” Brett retorts, and, to his credit, he almost manages to look indignant. If he cared a bit more about what other people think about him, he might actually pull it off one day.

Stiles scrutinizes Brett. “The jury is still out on that.”

“You really know what a guy wants to hear.” Smirking, Brett pats the back of Theo’s head. Unsurprisingly, Theo turns around with a snarl, swatting Brett’s hand away like an infuriating fly that doesn’t want to get the hint.

“Misiu,” Stiles says, curling his fingers around Theo’s chin and moves his head until he looks at him again. “This”—he nods in the general direction of the box still in Theo’s hand—“ is just supposed to help keep another mass hallucination from happening.” He pauses, tapping a finger against Theo’s jaw. “Allegedly.”

Brett scoffs. “Most likely.”

Stiles shoots him a look, unable to suppress the spark of irritation. “In theory,” he says, a bit more insistent than strictly necessary. If they don’t actually know it works, chances are Theo won’t be pushing him to wear it, and that’s his main goal, really. “So, nothing romantic going on. You can keep your claws in check, Romeo.”

Again, Theo studies him with that little frown of his, but Stiles kisses him briefly before he can say something. It doesn’t have the wanted effect. Theo looks even more suspicious now, lips curled into a tight, almost disapproving line.

“Okay,” Brett says, patting Stiles’ shoulder, “I’ll head out. This is something I really don’t wanna deal with.” With a small shake of his head, he gestures in their general direction and pulls his keys out. “See you tomorrow.”

Stiles nods. “See you.”

“Unfortunately,” Theo adds quietly, pushing the box in the pocket of his jacket.

If Brett heard him, he doesn’t deem it worthy of a reaction, and it’s probably better that way. As amusing as their bickering can be, Stiles won’t be particularly thrilled about an actual fight between them. Not after seeing how it ended last time.

Stiles wraps his arms around Theo’s shoulders. “So, you gonna keep being a jealous jerk whenever he’s around?”

“We’re going with alliterations now?”

Humming quietly, Stiles leans forward and kisses Theo again. He smiles when he feels his boyfriend chuckle and pushes closer when one of Theo's hands finds the small of his back. Warmth spreads through his body. He can’t get enough of this, of them, of Theo, and the way he feels against him, the way his mouth fits perfectly against his. It almost feels as if Theo is ruining him for every other person on this planet. He doubts anybody will ever feel this right again.

Theo’s lips part for Stiles’ tongue, and he can feel his fingers twitch against his lower back before Theo moves his hand, slipping it into the back pocket of Stiles’ pants. Another wave of heat courses through his veins. It’s easy to forget that they’re standing by the school’s parking lot where people can see them. Not that it matters. It’s not like they’re doing anything too bad.

But they could.

Maybe they should.

Stiles presses their hips together, grinning as Theo makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat. It’s strange to know how easily Theo turns to pudding in his hands, to know how into him he really is. Mostly because Theo is so composed most of the time. He doesn’t want people to see what he thinks and feels, but whenever it comes to Stiles, Theo loses his mask. Whether it’s because of jealousy, worry, or want. It’s Stiles who makes him crack. It’s Stiles who’s allowed to see everything, to feel everything.

After a moment, Theo pulls away. “You gotta go to practice, or Jackson’s going to lose it.”

“Jackson just wants me to flirt with Brett as a distraction, he doesn’t want me to—”

“He wants you to what?” Theo asks, his tone and expression dark.

Huh. Right, Theo didn’t know about that little bit of information. Not that it matters. Not that Stiles would actually flirt with Brett, and he really doubts Brett would be distracted by him. That’s not the kind of relationship they have. They’re comfortable around each other, but that’s that. It’s not like Stiles can’t see where Theo is coming from. Brett is good looking, he’s a flirt, and his reputation precedes him. On top of that, he just so happened to be interested in Stiles before he figured out that Stiles is into Theo. But, that’s the end of that story. That’s all there is to it, and Stiles isn’t going to go out of his way to make things worse just because Jackson wants to win a stupid lacrosse game for charity.

Theo pulls away, his jaw tight. That’s the opposite of what Stiles wants right now, but it’s not hard to figure out why he does it or what he’s planning; finding Jackson to punch him in the face or worse. Worse is entirely possible as well. Violence is still the option Theo chooses at the slightest inconvenience. It has become a more severe problem because Stiles isn’t as strict as Scott is about only reacting passively. He’s trying to find a balance, he really is. Still, sometimes even he wants to just let it all out.

Right now, however, Stiles wants to keep Theo to himself a little while longer. “It’s hot when you’re so possessive.”

Theo blinks, shaking his head twice as if he needs a second to take in this new information. “You used to get pissed off when I got jealous.”

“Like I said, I’ve resigned myself to my fate.” Stiles raises his brows, grinning.

Theo raises a brow. “You’re in a special kind of mood today,” he says, and he sounds almost exhausted. After a brief pause, almost as if he’s trying to sort through his thoughts, Theo reaches out for him and pulls him close, fingers tightly curled into the fabric of his hoodie. “You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “Shouldn’t you be more excited about me not yelling at you every time you have a jealous fit?”

“Of course, I’m glad. I don’t wanna fight with you.” Theo places his hands on his waist, and he smiles, but he still looks a little hesitant. “I’m just … I don’t know.” His fingers slip underneath his hoodie. The skin contact sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. The school’s parking lot is the last place he wants to be this very second. He’d much rather be somewhere else. Somewhere alone with Theo.

His truck, for example, where they wouldn’t be so out in the open at the very least. Stiles grabs Theo’s backpack and pulls him along. “Stop being such a worrywart all the time,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. Although Theo seems to be a bit confused still, he shakes his head with a chuckle.

“I’m worried about you,” Theo tells him when they’re close to his truck. “I’ll always be worried about you.” Without any warning, he grabs Stiles around the waist and spins him around, pushing him up against the side of his truck. “So, when you’re acting weird, I’ll point it out.” Weird. Weird might be a bit far-fetched. He’s not acting weird, just a bit less annoyed by Theo’s antics.

After dropping the backpack, Stiles wraps his arms around Theo’s shoulders and neck, pressing as close as physically possible. He brushes their lips together, grins when he notices Theo’s fingers twitch and tighten on instinct. The closer Stiles presses, the stronger Theo’s hold gets on him. It’s an interesting observation, and most definitely something to keep in mind. “I can go back to yelling at you if you want?” He presses a kiss to the corner of Theo’s mouth. Excitement zaps through his body as Theo parts his lips. Stiles swallows, trying to resist the urge to bite down on Theo's bottom lip, to hear that sound again. The quiet moan in the back of his throat that made Stiles weak in the knees. “Or we could enjoy our time until Jackson finds us and drags me off to practice." Say yes, please, say yes. Right now, Stiles would even agree to skip practice completely.

Fuck lacrosse, and fuck Jackson. He can deal with him tomorrow.

Theo turns his head enough to press their mouths together, fingers tightening further. “I like the sound of that,” he whispers before kissing him again, a bit harder this time. Almost a little desperate. Stiles can taste it on his tongue. The want. The desire. The knowledge that he’s so close, and yet not totally satisfied. Briefly, Stiles wonders if Theo would make the first move, but finds his answer only moments later when his boyfriend’s grip around his waist loosens significantly. No. Theo wouldn’t make the first move. Theo wouldn’t push him, not after what Stiles told him two nights ago. He’s too smart for that. He’s finally learned that patience is key.

Stiles isn’t big on patience today. Not even a little bit. They don’t have forever. He gives Jackson half an hour tops before he’ll come looking for him. If that. Maybe he should start carrying around mountain ash. That way, he could ensure a bit of privacy. Unless he can convince Theo to drive them somewhere so he doesn’t have to deal with lacrosse or Jackson’s revenge and can get rid of that stupid wristband Brett brought him. He doesn’t like that Theo kept it. Part of him hoped he’d throw it back at Brett.

But that doesn’t matter now.

Well, it does matter. It’s just that there’s something more urgent on his agenda.

Stiles shifts a bit, lets his legs fall open for Theo to push even closer. It doesn’t take more than a second until he does, easily slipping between his legs, occupying the empty space until there’s almost nothing left between them. It’s still not close enough. Stiles wants more. Something. Anything. He cannot tell what it is exactly, but he knows that Theo can give it to him — and that Stiles doesn’t want to wait for it any longer.

Curling the fingers of his left hand into Theo’s short strands, Stiles slips his other hand between them. He brushes a finger along the warm skin above Theo’s jeans, enjoys the feeling of Theo shuddering, of the muscles contracting underneath his touch. Although Stiles is aware of how bad Theo wants him, he never really expected he would fall apart under the slightest of touches. Stiles drags his thumb along the waistband of Theo’s jeans, chuckling as the grip around his waist tightens again, as Theo presses him harder against the side of his truck.

But only for a second. Theo breaks the kiss and stares at him, pupils blown wide. Stiles hates that Tracy was allowed to see him like this. It never quite hit him this hard that she's been so much closer to Theo than he has been.

Physically, at least.

“Slow down,” Theo says, his voice rough, and he clears his throat, looking up at Stiles with a raised brow. “Are you sure about this?” It’s kind of a stupid question. Theo should know better than anybody else that Stiles isn’t going to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s stubborn like that. They both are. Now, however, Stiles is just impatient. It’s sweet of Theo to make sure, it really is. Especially after his confession from two nights ago.

Still, it’s a little too much. “Very sure,” Stiles says against his lips and kisses him again. He can feel Theo’s lips shift into a smile, can feel it pressing against his mouth. It’s making him weak in the knees before Theo’s tongue brushes over his bottom lip. They should probably get in the truck at some point. They so should get into the truck. Theo’s grip around his waist doesn’t ease up, and Stiles parts his lips for Theo’s tongue. Now his fingers twitch, tightening their grip on the short strands. The thought of yanking his head back crosses his mind, of pulling his hair and exposing his throat, maybe biting down until the point of pain. The impulse vanishes as fast as it comes, yet it leaves a lasting impression. Stiles lets go of Theo’s hair and focuses on Theo’s belt buckle instead.

The moment he’s opened it, Stiles senses a shift in the atmosphere, almost like the smell of rain before it even starts. His stomach contorts, his body knowing that something is up before Theo actually pulls away completely and takes every bit of warmth with him. “Wait, fuck, Babe—” Trailing off, Theo shakes his head as if trying to sort out his thoughts. His pupils are blown, lips swollen. He’s breathing just as heavily as Stiles is. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Stiles pushes off the car, shaking his head. “Misiu,” he whispers, “what do you mean?” It’s entirely possible that Theo pulled away because they’re standing in the parking lot, and they’re still kind of in plain view of anybody who walks by. However, there’s a truck with tinted windows right behind them, and Stiles really doubts Theo is too chicken shit to take a risk, especially not with his supernatural hearing. They both clearly want this. Stiles doesn’t understand the problem. “You want … this, right?”

Although Theo doesn’t take a step back, he fumbles with his belt, and the quiet sound of metal against metal sounds strangely final. It’s only undermined in the way he narrows his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. Whatever was about to happen isn’t going to happen anytime soon. “Doesn’t this remind you of something?”

Drawing his eyebrows together, Stiles stares at Theo. He doesn’t understand where he is coming from at all. This is an entirely new situation. He’s never made out with anybody in front of their truck in the middle of the school’s parking lot, and he’s pretty sure he’s never made up a story like this. “I don’t follow.”

Theo rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. “You’re sleep-deprived, and—”

“Oh, Misiu, come on,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. First, he’s worried about his general health, and now he’s worried Stiles isn’t in the right frame of mind to give consent? It’s getting ridiculous. “This is nothing like what happened with Malia.” He stops, studying Theo’s bright blue eyes for a moment, the mouth set in a firm line, the way he has his arms folded over his chest. “Just say if you’re not into it.” They talked about being honest after all, and this, for sure, is one of those moments where they should be very honest with each other.

“Babe, come on, you know how badly I always want you.” Theo cocks his head to the side a bit, but he doesn’t smile or smirk, and the small frown doesn’t ease up. “I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re acting weird today.”

“Weird?” Stiles echoes in a low voice. His heartbeat picks up again. This time for an entirely different reason. “Wanting you is me acting weird?” Really? Fucking really? Stiles swallows his anger down, but it’s resilient. What’s so weird exactly? It’s not like they never made out before, or that they haven’t gone farther than this. Did Stiles stop? Yes, but he is allowed to change his mind. It’s not even unusual for someone to change their mind. He trusts Theo. He wants him.

What the fuck is Theo’s problem?

“No,” Theo says, dropping his arms with a sigh. “No, of course not. It’s just … I don’t know.” That’s not an incredibly helpful statement. Not at all. What is he supposed to make of this? Theo wants him, but he pulls back because he thinks Stiles doesn’t really want to? And then he isn’t even sure of this statement.

Stiles licks his lips, reaching out for Theo. He curls his fingers into the jacket and pulls him close again. Stiles wants to smooth out the lines between his brows. He hates that Theo frowns. He hates that Theo’s fucked Tracy and is now hesitating for some stupid fucking reason. “How often do I have to tell you that I want you?”

Theo swallows and parts his lips, studying his face as if he could look right through him. “At least one more time.”

It’s almost impossible to keep the smirk from his lips. Stiles can feel the tug at the corners of his mouth. It’s nothing he wants Theo to see, so he leans down and kisses him again, cupping his neck as he does. He kisses him until the urge to smirk has left him, and he can look Theo in the eye. “I want you, and I want this, and I—” he cuts off when Theo’s frown deepens. “What?” He can’t keep the sharpness out of his tone. Seriously? Seriously?

“If you’re still sure tomorrow,” Theo says, and he sounds sincere even though he’s clearly not happy about his decision, “I’ll make it worth your while.” But why wait?

“I wasn’t ... you know,” Stiles whispers.

Theo, however, remains stubborn. “I’m not going to hook up with you in public when you’re—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Stiles interrupts Theo, pushing him away in the process. This is bullshit. "Stop acting like you know what I want better than I do."

“I’m not saying that.” Theo narrows his eyes. He still isn’t angry. Stiles would know if he were. He’d feel it. It’s worry gnawing at Theo. Worry and confusion. Why is he so worried? Stiles doesn’t understand where this is coming from. Yes, he didn’t sleep well the past two nights. Yes, he had nightmares. Yes, he’s a bit off today. But it’s nothing newsworthy. It’s nothing Theo has to be worried about. This will happen again because it happened before.

“You don't need to say it.”

Theo cups his cheek. Concern dances in his bright blue eyes. “Babe, I really don’t think you’re okay.”

Frustration claws at Stiles’ throat and he wants to yell at Theo; he wants to make him understand. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s just tired. He’s also hungry, but he’s been hungry since yesterday. He’s still not feeling bad, not bad enough for Theo to be worried like this. Stiles pushes his hand away and shakes his head. “We’re fine.” His words hang in the air, heavy and brutal, a lie so blunt part of him feels terrible for throwing it in Theo’s face. But Theo is pushing him away. Not the other way around. He’s right here. He wants him. He craves him, but it’s Theo who keeps stopping him.

Why?

“I — Stiles?” Theo shakes his head again, confusion lining his features. “What?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“No, you said—”

“Listen,” Stiles interrupts him, pulling away completely this time. “I’m fine. You’re fine. It’s whatever. I have lacrosse practice anyway. And we don’t want to disappoint Jackson, do we?” He couldn’t care less about the charity game or Jackson’s little vendetta, but he doesn’t want to talk about this any longer either. They’re going in circles anyway. If Theo doesn’t want to believe him, that’s his choice, but he doesn’t have to look so confused about Stiles’ decision to leave. After all, he pulled away first.

Theo reaches for his hand again, and this time, Stiles doesn’t pull away. “Do you want me to come over later?” he asks, taking him by surprise. “I really think you need some sleep.”

As much as Stiles can influence Theo’s mood, Theo influences his. His anger burns out, and Stiles squeezes his hand, smiling a little. “I’d like that.” Perhaps lacrosse practice will help him get tired enough that he’ll be able to sleep, and maybe Theo being there will help him to actually stay asleep. Perhaps him being there will even help keep the nightmares away. Stiles is much less anxious about going home now than he’s been the whole day.

But first, he has to survive Jackson. Since it’s the last practice before the charity game, Stiles is pretty sure today is going to be hell.

#steo #steo fanfic #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #no place for promises #*tv:teen wolf #*w:npfp #*s:steo

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cinematicnomad · 4 years ago

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1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun!

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out.

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic.

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T) bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04.

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it.

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway.

“oh shit,” stiles says.

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions).

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M) destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody.

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together.

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it.

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.”

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.”

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth.

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know.

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time.

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content.

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy.

fanfic end of the year asks

#lilolilyr #ask #if i knew an authors tumblr i tried to tag them in this #seriously my reclist got away from me for a bit #also if you're looking for 911 recs #like i said they will be in another ask where someone specified!!#fic rec #about kat writes

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