That original Derek pic demanded a complementary piece, so here they are!
Derek’s hell is dark and made of memories, of the crushing weight guilt, pressing in on him. It’s made of shadows that drag him down, down, down, crushing him, drowning him.
Stiles’s hell is made of light, not because it’s any less painful, but because he’s becoming weightless, becoming nothing. He’s losing himself, adrift and dissolving, consumed by the cold fire of the Nogitsune.
day 337: my otp is still not canon
He’s been running wild, ragged and dirt-streaked, clothes torn and eyes flashing between bright gold and amber.
“I can’t.” His words snarl out past too-long teeth, claws lashing out to swipe deep gashes in another tree. “Can’t think, can’t… everything smells too much, feels too much, I want—”
“Stiles.” The boy halts instantly, whole body seizing up in a reflexive shudder, and Derek can’t deny the deep thrill that he can do that, that he has the power, now, to stop someone in their tracks.
To stop Stiles in his tracks. Because sometime in between Derek getting captured by Kate and killing Peter, Stiles had been bitten.
“Come here,” he breathes, and Stiles does, head ducked and breaths shivering out fast and wild to go with his pounding heart. He comes to stop in front of Derek with his neck tilted, revealing a long stretch of pale skin.
Submitting to his Alpha.
Derek’s next rattles out a snarl, and he has Stiles’ nape cupped in one hand before he can even think about it. The other goes to his waist and his head ducks down to breathe deep that heady scent of surrender, of obedience. Of pack.
Stiles is shaking when Derek touches him, whining faint and fearful and confused. But he doesn’t move away, and as Derek’s nose drags up his neck the air is thick with all the things he’s wanted for weeks but never thought he’d have again.
Pack. Pack, his, his beta to protect and command and do with as he pleases.
“Derek…” Stiles finally whimpers, and Derek can hear the want in his voice past the fear, the same longing for pack, for family, for the approval of his Alpha.
They’ve both only been this way for a few hours, the new power singing in Derek’s blood and he can’t think straight from the rush of it, from the need to build his pack, to protect his borders, to protect his betas, to take.
How Scott had resisted this, Stiles can’t begin to guess. How he hadn’t been crawling at Peter’s feet, begging for any scrap of attention his Alpha would give him. Stiles had been lost in the woods for who knows how long, ever since he’d woken up in the back of his Jeep with his wrist healed and sleeve bloody, and a new strength singing in his veins. A lost, lonely, confused wolf… until Derek had appeared and Stiles had known.
Known that something had changed. That Peter wasn’t his Alpha anymore, that Derek was.
And all Stiles had wanted in the entire world was to make him happy.
So when Derek’s fingers drag across Stiles’ healed wrist like he can still feel the other Alpha’s teeth, frustration coloring his scent, Stiles finds himself breathing “he forced me, I didn’t want… but if you’d asked me I would have.” He doesn’t know if it’s true but it feels like it is. And it makes Derek’s scent go warm and pleased and Stiles wants to bathe himself in it, roll around in it, cover himself in it and wear it proudly.
He made his Alpha happy. He made Derek happy.
He pulls Stiles against his chest and those arms, that warm, rumbling body, becomes his whole world. The restless beast that’s been writhing in his chest for hours (days?) starts to settle, until he feels almost human again for the first time since Peter’s teeth had sunk into his skin.
“Let me fix it,” Derek breathes, and it might be phrased like a request but there’s no question in his tone, like he knows (of course he knows) that Stiles will never disagree. “Let me bite you.”
Stiles shudders, going limp and responsive all at once. He can’t breathe for how much he wants it, wants Derek’s teeth sinking into him claiming him, erasing Peter’s invisible but still tangible mark with one of his own.
“Yeah, yes.” He’s whining, arching his neck, pressing into Derek lewdly and he knows it but he doesn’t care. He needs Derek to know he’s available for whatever his Alpha wants from him. “Please Derek…”
Derek growls, clutching his nape with just a hint of claw, and Stiles corrects quickly: “Please, Alpha.”
And Derek pulls back enough to grin, eyes flashing red as he lifts Stiles’ wrist to his lips.
Maybe it’s that he’s already a wolf, or maybe it’s that this time isn’t against his will, but Derek’s teeth sinking into him feels nothing like the way it did when Peter had done it. He clutches Stiles’ back in one strong arm, holding him up as his legs threaten to buckle.
Stiles feels his own eyes flashing gold in response, his wolf rising up, and everything in him is hot and want and yes, yes, this is the way things should always be. Him and his Alpha, his pack.
Derek’s mouth lingers, the bite turning into something else. The teeth draw back, the pressure softening, Derek’s lips sucking over the skin like a kiss. His tongue laps gently across the wound that Stiles hopes won’t heal too quickly. He wants to see it there, his Alpha’s mark, the sign of his favor.
“Mine,” Derek growls, and Stiles is moaning, nuzzling against Derek’s shoulder before he can think about it. He freezes, but Derek just hums approvingly, and Stiles starts moving again, bathing his Alpha in his scent.
Your beta, your pack, your family.
Just as Derek is his protection, his companion, his Alpha.
They won’t ever have to be alone again.
Just one more fanfiction then I’ll go to bed.
*2 hours later*
[for bree, who was feeling sick today]
Stiles wakes up, and his head is pounding viciously inside his head, and it’s way too bright. He flops over, reaching to grab a pillow, but meets a warm, solid chest instead.
Stiles blinks. He’s not in his bedroom, he realizes immediately. This is— this is Derek’s loft. Derek’s bed.
And that’s Derek, sleeping next to him, bare chest rising and falling. Stiles looks down at himself; he’s wearing only his boxer shorts. Is Derek also—? Stiles picks up the blanket, and sees a broad expanse of skin and quickly sets it down, heart pounding.
Okay, okay, so Derek is naked and Stiles is almost ….just what happened last night?
Stiles wakes up naked and hungover, skin too hot, a horrible buzzing noise vibrating between his ears. He groans wholeheartedly and flips onto his stomach, kicking a leg out from under the blankets to try to cool down, grimacing at the sticky-sore feeling of his thighs.
“Dude,” he sighs into his pillow. “You fucking wrecked my ass — in the best way possible.”
There’s no response from the dude he brought home last night. Stiles lifts his head from the pillow and scowls when he sees the bed’s empty next to him. He raises himself up higher, scowl deepening when he sees no note on the nightstand, the dude’s jeans gone from the floor.
“Fucker,” Stiles mutters, flopping back down onto the mattress. He probably shouldn’t expect any more - or less - from a hookup, but he can’t help the unhappy twist of his stomach. The guy from last night - Derek, he’d said in the cab home, almost shyly, like he hadn’t just had his tongue down Stiles’ throat. He’d been different than the guys Stiles usually went home with; there was the fact that Stiles had brought him home, for one, usually a huge no-no for him. And yeah, there’d been that usual frantic round of sex when they first got through the door, but after, Derek hadn’t even pretended to think about leaving, drawing an arm across Stiles’ chest and shoving his face up against his neck. They’d watched two episodes of Bob’s Burgers on Stiles’ laptop and then they’d fucked again, and it’d been so different that time, quiet and slow. Derek kept touching his face and kissing him like it meant something. It’d felt - well, it hadn’t felt like a hook-up, so Stiles feels like he can’t be blamed for hoping the dude would still be there when he woke up.
Sterek AU: The Hale Farm Pumpkin Patch - Derek’s family runs Fall festivals on their farm, where they sell pumpkins, host pumpkin carving contests, and give hayrides. No one knows that Derek’s been secretly dating one the seasonal employees, Stiles (and stealing kisses (and more) out in the woods).
graphic (and au idea) by foreverblue-navy
Derek loves fall. He loves the colors in the trees, all the bright reds, golds, and oranges surrounding him, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, the crisp chill in the air. Loves Halloween and Thanksgiving, and the anticipation of Christmas. But mostly, he loves working in the pumpkin patch on the Hale Farms’ Fall Fun Days.
After loading a bunch of large pumpkins in the back of an SUV, Derek walks back into the pumpkin patch where two little girls are looking through the mini pumpkins. He crouches behind them, and they turn to glance at him shyly.
“See one you like?” Derek asks, giving the oldest a soft smile. She grins at him as her sister eyes him warily.
“This one,” she says, picking up a tiny orange pumpkin. Her hand is so small it covers her entire palm.
“I think that’s a good choice,” Derek nods, then flicks his gaze to the sister. “What about you?” The little girl stares at Derek for a moment before grabbing a white baby pumpkin. “Do you know what my grandpa calls those?” he asks. The little girls shake their heads. “Baby boos.” The girls giggle, and Derek grins as they run off to their mother.
“If you treated all the customers that way, you’d sell five times as many pumpkins.” Derek stands and glares at Laura. She’s got her arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the cold air.
“I don’t like people,” Derek growls.
“Those two girls are people.”
“I don’t like big people.” Laura rolls her eyes before turning to help a customer. A hand lands on Derek’s shoulder, and he looks over to see his grandfather smiling out at the large pumpkin patch. Pumpkins are set out and stacked as far as the eye can see. Large pumpkins, tiny pumpkins, carving pumpkins, smooth and bumpy gourds, butternut and acorn squash. The Hales have been selling pumpkins in this spot since right after the depression, back when his grandfather’s father was a boy.
“You’re just like your grandma,” Grandpa says, turning to give Derek a smile. “She loves hard, but she doesn’t like anyone.”
“I like people,” Derek protests, and his grandfather raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Some people,” he amends.
“Only those worth liking, right?” Grandpa asks. “It’s okay. You choose wisely and guard your heart. That’s a good trait.”
Derek nods, though he’s wondering why his grandpa has turned into some kind of fortune cookie in the middle of a pumpkin patch with people all around. His grandpa has always been weird like that.
They’re interrupted when a loud squeak followed by “OHMIGOD NO!” erupts in the middle of the patch. One of the seasonal hires, Stiles, has tripped and fallen onto his back; his arms, however, are wrapped protectively around the pumpkin he was carrying. “I’m okay!” Stiles calls out like everyone cares. “My behind is broken, but the pumpkin is not.”
Grandpa laughs and gives Derek a look before pushing him towards Stiles. Derek tries to hide his blush as he schools his features into a scowl. “Are you trying to break all the pumpkins?” Derek snaps.
“Dude, it was totally an accident. Moonfang tripped me. On purpose.” Derek gives Stiles a withering look. Stiles looks around, arms still around the huge pumpkin in his lap, and speaks to a nearby small boy. “You saw it, right? Back me up.” The boy just looks at Stiles like he’s crazy.
A moment later, a black cat curls itself around Derek’s feet. He bends down and lifts the cat, who starts purring as soon as Derek cradles it to his chest. “Moonfang, are you tripping Stiles?” Derek nuzzles the cat then glowers at Stiles. “The cat didn’t trip you. You just apparently should be cleaning the bathrooms instead of selling pumpkins.”
“Please,” Stiles says, nearly falling over again as he gets to his feet while trying to balance the oversized pumpkin. “No one else, not even you Derek, could save a pumpkin like me.” Derek rolls his eyes and sets Moonfang on the ground.
“Go give the lady her pumpkin before we have to refund her money and take it out of your paycheck.”
Stiles walks by Derek and says, “You have no appreciation for my awesome pumpkin ninja-ness.” He sticks out his tongue, and Derek tries not to stare. It’s hard when Stiles follows that by swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. There are crumbs at the corner of his mouth, and crumbs and a smear of orange icing on the blue plaid flannel shirt he’s wearing. Derek wants to lean in and kiss the corners of that mouth, chase the taste of cinnamon and spice. Stiles catches him staring and smirks, and Derek glares despite his burning ears.
STEREK SUNDAY »
I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive, now I’m dreaming of you.
why are you so pretty
"To be persistent and never take yourself too seriously. It’s easy to be caught up in what the media and the productions that you work on try to present you as. It’s important to remember who you really are, where you come from, and what the important things in life really are."