Stiles stares at Scott expectantly, as if his dad hadn’t just outed his secret relationship over the phone.
It isn’t as if Stiles didn’t know it would have to come out, and soon, but he’d sort of just been…not thinking about saying anything. He guesses this is the opportunity he gets, then.
“Scott?” he prompts. “The importance of blah blah blah and how you found weird carvings in the preserve?”
Scott blinks, torn.
Ethan and Aiden look smugly from Stiles to Scott, desperate for the drama, while Isaac looks surprisingly disinterested.
Liam says, “Why aren’t we talking?”
This earns him a lot of looks but no answers.
Kira clears her throat. “Maybe Scott needs to talk to Stiles first?”
“Maybe Scott needs to talk to Derek first,” Aiden says. He looks far too pleased.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “Maybe Scott”—but she glares at everyone around the room—“needs to share what’s going on for those of who couldn’t hear the other end of Stiles’s phone call.”
I adore this trope to death (and you should read the AMAZING
GIFT that was crafted for me by the wonder that is @crossroadswrite. Go read it. It’s
better than anything I could produce). I’m sorry but I’m now going to rant at
you about the thing that I really love about this trope, and that I never read
often enough:
Derek Hale, the werewolf.
(with woves pics, because apparently it’s a tradition when I write now)
In fics, Derek often kinda fails at being human. He’s too violent, too silent,
too creepy. And sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s heartbreaking, sometimes it’s
cute. But I don’t often read fic acknowledging that Derek isn’t
Erica or Scott or Boyd or Isaac. Derek fails at being human because he never was one.
Derek was born a werewolf, grew up with werewolf parents, werewolf
brothers and sisters and uncle and grandparents. He was a baby with fangs, a
kid who fell asleep to stories of little werewolves saving the world, grew up a
teenager fighting with his parents when he had to fake being bad at sports.
And why would the werewolf world have the same social rules as humans? They
have different metabolisms, different hierarchy rules, a different sense of
legacy and territory.
I want to read about a world where a lot of sentences are short and to
the point, because half the informations is olfactory. Where you don’t have to
expand on some subjects, because body language is the norm and the way you will
incline your chin, lower your shoulders, raise your eyes will say more than any
words.
I want a world where letting your eyes flash or your fangs drop might
mean threat or sarcasm or honesty depending on your whole body language. Where
jokes are so, so different from human’s because they are based on a lie obvious
to your public in your heartbeat, in a ridiculous contradiction between words
and body posture. Where personal space is not a polite concept, but similar to
humans yelling at somebody from the other side of the room, since so much of
the meaning comes with scent. Talking to someone from a few feet away forces
him to sniff the air obviously like a pup and it’s rude.
I want werewolf traditions where earth is the more touching gift that
can be given to a potential mate, because it represents territory and pack and
safety. Where flowers are an insult because the scent is often overpowering and
they remind them of wolfsbane.
In their world where bones mend in minutes, pain is a thing that can
be taken away and werewolf walk around with extreme strength, violence is not
frowned upon so much. Pups fight already to the blood, biting by accident with
too sharp fangs. Adults arguing often shove each other roughly. Fighting is
something they learn all their life, just in case, and a part of their life
they are not ashamed of.
And more than all, the werewolf world would be one where touch is a
whole part of communication. Touching strangers is the norm to prove you means
no harm. Keeping your scent to yourself can only mean hidden agenda, and being
afraid of your actions being traced back to you by scent.
And werewolves are packs before being families. So werewolf kids grow up thinking that
touch is something obvious, something they should never beg or ask permission
for. If you sit somewhere, other will organically accumulate around you. If you
are tired, you can fall asleep on others. Hugs are the norm, kisses too. Pack
will touch all the time for comfort, for love, for pack sent.
So, you know. I miss fics where Derek isn’t so much a fail!wolf as a
perfect werewolf, just evolving in a world where he can’t handle social clues.
Where a few years in school only means that he learned to imitate human attitudes but doesn’t
really understand it, like a second language he can only use clumsily.
Kate the hunter makes so much sense like this. She would have known
everything about werewolf behavior and would have played right into it to
seduce Derek. On the other hand, when we actually see Derek try to seduce a human
in the show, it just so over the top that it looks like he’s trying to imitate
something he saw in a TV show…
So you know. Maybe Derek is not silent, but simply surrounded by people
unable to understand him. He speaks a dead language in this town now.
Stiles,
Allison, Lydia are humans. Scott, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Isaac are humans that just
took on a wolf pelt.
And when Derek jokes, with a terse phrase but a playful raise of his
shoulders, they only hear the terse phrase.
When he raises his eyebrows, they
can’t read the meaning in his scent. He’s only raising his eyebrows.
When they
fight, they only see the violence, they don’t associate with the way pups play
fight.
When he sits somewhere in silence, they will not come naturally to touch
and Derek will not think of asking because they are pack.
Pairing: Sterek Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7349 Warnings: References to Allison dying, and some minor/general talk about domestic violence (in an oblique fashion)– these opinions are mine and come from personal experience, but if this is triggering for you maybe give this one a miss. Summary: After running into Stiles at the late night movies, Derek realises just how badly Stiles is handling the post-nogitsune fallout. He knows the feeling.
He was already tired by the time he got to the cinema, but tired and sleepy were two sides of the same coin, and Stiles knew only too well that you could be the one without the other. He stood out in the lobby, glancing up to confirm the spelling of one of the foreign movies with a one a.m. start time as he googled it to see what it was about. He had just settled on L’Atalante and turned in the direction of the ticket counter when he felt a presence behind himself and spun, flinching, as he lashed out with a closed fist.
He wasn’t sure who was more surprised at the fact that he landed the punch: him, or Derek, who stood with a palm pressed to his chin and a look of stunned, wide-eyed surprise.
“What the fuck?” Stiles exclaimed, startled.
“Stiles? What are you doing here?”
His heart still thundering from the thick, cloying fear that had suffused him at sensing something behind him, Stiles looked incredulously around them at the very obvious setting they were standing in.
Derek frowned as the sting of contact faded. “What are you doing here, alone, after midnight, on a Saturday night? Does your dad know you’re here?”
Stiles scowled. “Thanks for your concern, dude, but yes , Dad knows I’m here.” He seemed content to ignore the rest of Derek’s questions in favour of shifting his weight awkwardly and trying to pretend that his shoulders weren’t actually as tight as the stiff line of them indicated.
Derek just waited, but instead of cracking and beginning to ramble like he once would have, Stiles shrugged and moved away, purchasing his ticket without looking back at Derek. After a moment’s hesitation Derek followed, maintaining a respectful distance, and purchased a ticket of his own. He was surprised when Stiles skipped the concession bar and headed straight into the theatre, but bought his own bag of Skittles and followed Stiles down the hall.
Of course they ended up in the same cinema, watching the same movie, and it was just the two of them and an older guy who was already asleep. Derek focussed his hearing to make sure the guy actually was just sleeping, then settled in a row towards the back, just behind and to the right of Stiles.
The kid looked worse than the unconscious man in the second row, Derek thought. Pale, wan, and with deep, purple circles beneath his eyes. After everything that had happened with the nogitsune, though, that was probably to be expected. But the vitality that Derek had always found so synonymous with Stiles, the life and the energy just seemed to be gone, like all the joy had been sucked from him at the same time the nogitsune had been expelled.
Watching closely and feeling like a creeper for doing so, Derek frowned at the way Stiles slumped down in his seat, defeated, then scolded at himself for his degree of concern. He was a teenage boy dealing with some crazy supernatural shit– of course he was going to have down periods, even someone as vaguely manic as Stiles was capable of being.
Still, Derek kept a close eye on him, through the movie and then after as they left the cinema together, Stiles with his shoulders hunched forward and his hands shoved deep into his pockets as though warding off a chill. They parted with small nods of acknowledgement and Derek watched thoughtfully as Stiles moved off towards the Jeep, climbed in and pulled out of the parking lot without looking back.
The wedding of Governor Derek Hale to the beloved Prince Stiles Stilinski of Beacon is the first of its kind, after the war. The first Alpha werewolf to marry one of the recently deposed aristocracy.
It’s for the good of their people. It’s an arrangement, one Stiles loathes. But as Stiles learns more about werewolves and his grumpy husband. As Derek watches his proud, clumsy prince– Maybe an arrangement isn’t all it can be.
Maybe what’s good for the people can be exactly what both of them need.
“Governor Hale,” he says, tilting his head just a little, not quite baring his neck for the werewolf, but a gesture of respect nonetheless.
“Highness,” Derek murmurs and–shockingly–does the same.
Stiles blinks, and Derek nods at the chairs. His valet has settled near the door, and Scott is alert, but not stirring, not coming near. Stiles seats himself in his favorite chair and the governor halts redirects to the couch that Stiles knows is uncomfortable and stiff.
“Have you considered my proposal?” he asks, and Stiles is struck by the startlingly soft voice, higher than it should be, almost shy.
He wants to drag conversation from this man, just to hear every nuance of his musical voice, and–Stiles blinks. He hates him. He’s hated Derek since they received word he would be inhabiting the Palace as governor and the king and his court were expected to vacate and renounce their titles.
This man took everything from his father, from his family and he hates him.
“I suppose I’d need to hear it before I dismiss it,” Stiles says, and Derek’s gaze snaps up to him, startled. “The King is not a messenger boy, Governor. If you have something to ask me–ask.”
Derek blinks and his mouth opens, distractingly wet and pink. There is a flush in his cheeks and in the tips of is ears. “I–I proposed an alliance between the royal family and myself.”
Stiles goes still. Scott is still murmuring to Liam, hasn’t quite filtered those words down to what they mean. But Stiles–who has known since he was old enough to declare his love for Lady Lydia what an arranged marriage was and that he was destined for one–Stiles knows what that means. And he thought he was long past this, that the war and the Alpha Council and his meaningless fucking title had made this a long distant worry that would never be his reality.
And yet.
Derek looks uncomfortable and anxious and Society dictates he should redirect the conversation until the discomfort has passed.
But Stiles has always been an especially bad prince with very little regard for the rules of Society, and he blurts out, shocked and disbelieving, “You want to marry me?”
Teen & Up • 16671 words • Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
It was Derek’s turn to blink. He nodded and Stiles stepped closer. He opened his arms and Derek slumped into Stiles’ embrace. He pressed his face into Stiles’ neck and even more tension ran out of him. His words were muffled, but Stiles could understand. “I didn’t know. I remember hearing stories as a kid, but I thought they were just stories. I’m sorry.”
Summary: The sheriff and Derek are spending more and more time together and Stiles begins to feel left out. Meanwhile, people are starting to go missing around town. (10k)
So this is the piece I did for twreversebang this year, and I had the pleasure of working with two lovely authors! This is the first of two fics, the second of which is to come on the 30th of July 🙂
Summary:
Stiles has always been curious about everything he encountered, always on the search for answers about how things worked and why they worked the way they did. The mating runs which take place in Beacon Hills every spring are no exception, but it took some time before he figured out that there’s magic involved.
He doesn’t want to find a mate for himself, not after he saw what the loss of one does to a person. He just wants to know how it all works.
Sometimes, when you take things apart and put them back together, some pieces are left behind.
7051 words
Warnings: Hale house fire mention, Claudia Stilinski’s death mention
Tags: Mates, Mating Run, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Full Shift Werewolves, Mating Bond, Different Take on Mating Bonds, Future Fic, Alternate Universe, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit
“You never have hurt anyone. Not then and not now. You just made Coach piss his pants and that’s funny shit there.” Jackson told Stiles. They all underestimated how responsible Stiles felt for the Nogitsune and what happened. No wonder he was afraid to go near the pack, not to mention the whole no control over magic thing. He felt Stiles huff out a breath at the part about Coach which was a good start.
Or after the Nogitsune, Stiles keeps secrets, there are new people in Beacon Hills, and the Pack has fallen apart. Stiles starts to figure out his role in the pack, piecing it back together, and trying to keep everyone safe.
The pack realizes they have been injuring Stiles on accident, and completely stop touching him to avoid the problem. Stiles is left touch starved and lonely, and feels he’s no longer part of the pack.
My 2nd entry to the @sterekreversebang 2018! The prompt was famous!Derek & con-goer!Stiles haha
“A Step in Line”written byDexterous_Sinistrouswho is an amazing author and I’m so glad to have a chance to collaborate with ❤ Please give a read when you can!
The playlist is here, and I think it will enhance your reading experience, as the playlist told such a cohesive story on its own, and the lyrics heavily influenced my writing. This story really wanted to be a whole novel, but I hope you all enjoy what I was able to come up with as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Summary: Stiles begins exploring his Spark after almost losing Derek to the horror-of-the-week, but he doesn’t want to tell anyone about it until he’s got it under control. When he and Derek finally come together, the secret gets harder to keep, and his magical studies take a turn toward the dark side.Derek brings him back.
******
Stiles spends a lot of time thinking about the difference between belief, and hope. About the line between wishing for something, and willing into being. Sometimes, he isn’t certain he really wants to figure it all out, because if he did, he’s afraid he’d have to face the reality of a life that’s very different than the one he fought so hard for.
At least, he thinks he fought for it; that he worked hard to build himself into the man he is, into someone his dad trusts, someone that Derek loves. It’s just that he’s also terrified that he inadvertently magicked Derek into wanting him through the sheer force of his desire for the other man to return his feelings.
If he’s honest with himself, that is the reason he hasn’t told anyone that he’s been studying magic, that he’s discovered he’s powerful, more powerful than he could have imagined when he began to research spellwork and tap into his so-called Spark. The fear that he’s somehow stripped Derek of his choice, put the man he loves in a situation far too similar to the abuse of his past is all consuming, some days. So, he does what he used to. Compartmentalizes, ignores the problem. Waits until it’s too big to ignore.
He can’t lose Derek, he’s not strong enough to survive it.
So, he waits. Tells himself he’s wrong; pushes the fear into a deep, dark corner, and promises himself he won’t ever make Derek regret choosing him. Stiles tells himself that he wasn’t practised enough with his magic to influence a butterfly, let alone a whole person–a werewolf, even. It’s enough of a reassurance most days that he can let Derek’s fond gazes melt him, let his touch send comfort and electricity through him in turn, let his presence and his wit and his boundless affection fill up all the places inside of him that felt empty. Let Derek be his home.
It’s enough, it’s enough, I’m enough, he tells himself.
***Eight months earlier***
It’s all too much sometimes. The weight of the knowledge of werewolves, and banshees, and magic. The fear of what would happen if Stiles’ research was faulty, or if his dad was alone when a rogue omega attacked, or if Scott and Derek and Isaac, Erica and Boyd and Malia and Lydia, if any of them were a split second too slow, or took a hit to the wrong place, a place they couldn’t heal in time to survive. The reality of being the only one of them that had no natural defenses against the next big bad. It’s all too much.
The last monster of the moment had come close–too close–to taking Derek out. To leaving Stiles’ world in tatters. And he refuses to let it happen again. Watching Derek’s body struggle to hold itself together, watching the pain drain the light from his eyes, feeling the strength leave him as his grip on Stiles’ hand went lax… It left Stiles feeling hollow and terrified for days afterward, until the fear grew into a burning hot rage.
No one–no thing–would ever hurt his pack like this ever again. He was going to make sure of it.
theproblemwithstardust 