#Case Files: Hale Fire | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchthewriter · 10 months

Text

𝑴𝒂𝒄𝑮𝒚𝒗𝒆𝒓 & 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒐𝒚: 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

Paid story for @alohomorasomnium. Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: swears, talks of emotional and mental abuse, death, death by fire, fire injuries, past gaslighting, talks of PTSD.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶦˢᵗ

There had been an unusual number of cases coming in to the Charming Fire Department. Seemingly, it began as bored teenagers combined with stupidity, or backfiring getting out of hand. But then reports were coming in that fires were coming from houses, most were extinguished. Only part of the houses were damaged.

No one had been hurt, but soon the fires were uncontained. They were ravenous and the firefighters couldn’t take control. Not without the help from the people of Charming.

The Charming Fire Department was extremely worried. This town had many issues, but the police were the ones to handle that. But the fire department – it hadn’t been in this much use since the 80s when kids didn’t have anything else to do. And lighting fires was the best entertainment they could find.

“This hasn’t happened to us before,” one of the younger firemen said in the breakroom.

“Not to this degree,” an older man, in his early fifties replied while scratching his incoming stubble. He was tall, with white hair and an air about him that made you assume he was a man of great authority.

“It’s like the work of a serial arsonist,” a female firefighter said, Linda, who had first joined in her early twenties, now she was turning forty in a month. Her cropped dark brown hair wasn’t far off her skin colour, and she looked much younger than she was.

“That means we’ll have to start working with the police?” the bulk of a man, Brad, added. He seemed … to bulge. Everywhere. It wasn’t just for looks though; he truly was that strong.

As were all the others. They had each passed the training course, but Linda was the one to beat. Everyday she still trained.

The white haired man, Peter, nodded, while taking a long sip of his coffee.

“It will also mean that we’ll have new firefighters coming to Charming,” Peter said as he put the mug in the sink and walked out.

“Shit, didn’t think this would happen in Charming,” Riley said. The newest recruit.

“Huh, neither did I, and I’ve been here nearly twenty years,” Linda said and left the room.

A police report had been filed when one victim was claimed from the flames. An eighty-year-old man with one child who was in a different country. He hadn’t been old enough to escape the flames. And He was found the next morning, well, his house was found. Charred to the ground, nothing left but a mass of soot and blackened wood.

Unser stood with both hands on the sides of his hips. The smell was terrible, and he did all he could not to show it.

“Shit like this just doesn’t happen in Charming.” He mumbled to himself. He stood outside the demolished home, which wasn’t too far off the Charming primary school.

Hale came up beside him, notepad already full of writing. He too could smell the aftermath of the fire. Not just smoke and ashes, but the residual smell of the body.

“Think it’s linked to the club somehow?” He pocketed the notepad and tucked the pen in his front pocket. Handsome and tanned, he was nothing like his older brother.

“They don’t do fires, not like this. And what would an eighty-year-old have to do with anything?”

The pair made their way back to their police cars. Boots crunching on the gravel, dirt and leaves. The smoke was still in the air. But both Unser and Hale were happy to get into their musty vehicle. At least it didn’t smell like roasted body.

It took a week for Opie to tell you about the photos he found. It was a continuous fight between wanting to tell you the truth of the danger but not wanting you to be so scared you felt you had to leave.

He felt like a bastard. A completely selfish bastard for his reasons. He wanted to keep you close to him.

Opie had fixed your car and gave him back to you. It was a bittersweet moment because he adored the feeling of your arms wrapped around him as he tore down the highway. But he knew you needed your own freedom.

The problem with your ex made Opie lay awake at night. What good was being raised in a motorcycle club if he couldn’t handle one jackass? It was basically his duty to get rid of any scum that came into town. And this guy was just that. Some scum. Easily washed away with a whole lotta water.

And this had nothing to do with the club – Opie was sure he could handle this asshole on his own. And these types usually backed off when they knew the woman wasn’t alone. When your ex-fiancé found out you were involved in biker shit, he would hit the road and never return.

When you saw the photos your heart plummeted. It fell straight through your stomach, and down, down, down, to the gates of hell. Where you had escaped from only three months ago.

He used to pull shit like this all the time. Trying to control you, is what it ultimately came down to. Wanting you to be his and only his. That he owned you. You were a possession. Not a breathing, living person who deserved respect, no, he saw you nothing more than a doll to torture.

The voice of your comfort snapped you out of your tunnel vision.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Opie was sat in his living room, watching you in the kitchen. You couldn’t sit down, stand still, you needed to move. Otherwise, you felt trapped, no matter where you were, when you weren’t moving, you felt the walls closing in.

Your words were quiet, but Opie moved so you didn’t have to raise your voice.

“Moving to Charming was the reason why I would never have to talk about him, ever again.” Your voice shook, and you took a sip of your chamomile tea. But you couldn’t stop your body’s visceral reaction. You definitely had PTSD. Because even the thought of him could ruin your day.

Opie nodded; understanding.

“I’m going to help you, if you’re okay with that?” His voice was a solace, and his words…god his words felt like taking off a backpack full of rocks.

“I-how, I want your help but-“ your words came out in a flurried mess, and you rubbed your head with your sweaty hand. The tea had been Opie’s idea, even though he’d never had flavoured tea before.

He thought that what you needed right now was some fucking Valium, not tea. Liquor was the next best answer, but he knew you hated anything that impaired your senses.

So, this is what it was. Some shitty chamomile tea that was in the back of the pantry. Maybe he should ask if Tig has something?

You stretched your neck this way and that, then your arms and your back. Your breathing slowed down a little but not much.

“What am I going to do Ope? Charming was going to be my new home. My new way of life. I could envision my future-“ you spoke, gripping your arms around you.

It was hard to feel safe whenever Opie wasn't near. But what killed you was that your friendship hadn't developed into physical touch. You couldn't just go up and hug him and feel the fullness of safety.

No, you could only imagine it. Or stand a tad too close.

Bella whined as she watched you. And you gave her a sad smile. You didn't notice the tears or when they started falling.

Trying to hide them, you quickly turned away. You didn’t want him to see you so vulnerable. You worked with vicious attack dogs and turned them into fucking sweethearts. You were a badass. A badass with a stalker who wouldn’t let up.

“Don’t worry about it. Just tell me his name and I’ll take care of it,” Opie got up from his seat, walked into the kitchen and put his cup into the sink. Then a strong hand was on your shoulder and you sunk into the touch.

Finally, you thought.

Then he rested his other hand on your other shoulder and bent down to kiss the back of your head.

It sent shivers down your spine. That act alone had such an affect on you. It was insane.

Murmuring, Opie said, “I’ll make sure you’re safe. Everyone here, safe.” He motioned to the pack of animals in the loungeroom, and you laughed through your tears.

The words brought a smile to your face which felt like a foreign feeling. There was only four beings that were able to make you smile right now; Bella, Dobby, Bea and … Opie.

Opie turned you around, so you were face to face. Well, face to … chest. But you looked upwards and into his deep blue eyes. In turn, he looked straight into your hazel eyes. Towering over you, you believed Opie’s words.

But you had one question.

“Why?” you practically whispered it as you stared up into Opie’s own beautiful blue ones. You were a stranger. One that he had no reason to help, yet still he did, day after day.

“Because you feel like home,” you knew he wanted to say more. There was a hesitancy, but you weren’t going to push him. Not today anyway. Not when you barely had enough energy left after a long day at work.

Tig had been in and brought another two stray dogs who were covered in wounds. There were more dogs coming in then being adopted out. And that knowledge weighted on you, amongst everything else.

“His name is Dalton,” you said quietly, almost as if saying the name would make the devil himself appear.

Opie didn’t interrupt you as you told him about your past. How you had fallen in love with the image of a man and not the real thing. How, right after proposing to you in a very public place, you felt pressured into it. And then the relationship turned…deadly.

After that, you called it off with him but he’d never left you alone. Dalton would always find a way to seemingly run into you.

Then you would get phone calls from private numbers, and have letters sent to your parents house, where you were staying at the time. But none of it could be traced back to him. Not only was he possessive, but he was … incredibly smart. And manipulative. Even able to charm the officers who came to his house.

Opie was silent, listening intently, wanting to hear every little detail.

He held out a hand and you took it as he led you to the living room. As you spoke, you realised he had opened the window a little so the sunlight was peaking in.

Even through your trauma, Opie wanted to silently help you. He wanted to help you bask in the dusk.

In the oncoming weeks, there was nothing from Dalton. No letters or pictures, only an upheaval of fires in Charming. It didn’t help your mental health one bit.

But Opie had started his hunt.

Hitting up every one of his contacts, he asked if they’d heard of a guy called Dalton. They had no pictures of him since you had burnt everything he had ever touched. So, they had to use his appearance, and more notably, his tattoos and scars. Dalton had a lion tattoo on his shoulder, and a scar down the right side of his arm, courtesy of you during her escape.

He had photographed the healing process and sent it to you. Doing his best to make you feel guilt. You sure fucking didn’t.

The next part was asking around town, and no one had heard of this man. So, Opie left the contacts of a lone burner phone that was solely for information about the stalker.

And still, the fires kept blazing. And no one knew which house it would be next. Sometimes the woods would be set alight and no one would be near to get hurt.

But a lot of the time, Dalton had targeted young women. The ones in town who lived alone.

Unser had figured that out, and deemed the perpetrator likely someone who was on the road to revenge.

“Motherfucker,” Jax had said one night. He had caught Opie as soon as the club meeting was done.

The night seemed darker than normal. As is a few of the lights had been knocked out. And the chill in the air gave Opie goosebumps. It wasn't even Winter yet.

Jax looked at Opie, but didn't move to get onto his bike.

“I know man, I thought this guy was just an asshole who couldn’t get over a crush. But he’s a fucking psycho.” The tall biker took a long drag of his cigarette than threw it on the ground and crunched it beneath his boots.

“This ain’t on you man. I want you to know that. And you aren’t alone in this. Tell Kaelie that too," Jax's eyes were bright and sincere. And then Opie was off. Off to you. To home.

A week later, you noticed something. The fires seemed to be cloming closer and closer to Opie's house.

One every couple of houses Dalton would burn, always to the point of endangering a person’s safety.

The hospital started to have an influx in patients with burns. Third degree was the least imperative. Now this was becoming more and more of an issue for the whole of Charming. Meaning, the club was going to have to get involved.

“Jax, what is going on? What are you not telling me?” Tara asked one afternoon. She was a part of one of the surgeries of the fire victims.

Usually nothing shocked her, but this ... this did.

“I have no idea, babe,” Jax shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

“This has to be some sort of-“

“Well, it’s not! This isn’t some retaliation. This is…different. Clubs don’t target entire fucking towns.” There seemed to be a simmering to Jax that Tara could feel. A heat: anger.

“I’m getting … scared, Jax. What if something happens to one of us, or someone at the club. I’ve never thought of a situation like this before.”

“No, no. Nothing is going to happen to you. Okay? Nothing.”

And Jax meant it. Now it wasn’t just an Opie investigation, the whole club was apart of this too. They had a common enemy, and any issues they had with each other would be pushed aside.

Two weeks later, after the fires, you were told by Opie that the club wanted to help. Embarrassment had flooded you. It felt like something so dirty had now been aired out.

“Opie-“ you started, turning to him, but he continued talking.

“No, they want to help. They truly do. Because we all know who is lighting these fires. It’s all connected, and once we take him out, everything will be fine again.” His arms were on either side of your shoulders and when you looked up at him, you sighed. Leaning your head against his chest, he wound his arms around you and held you tight.

“We’re in this. And that dickbag isn’t going to touch my- uh- you.” Opie coughed at the end there, trying to conceal his mistake. But he did see you as his Kaelie. His girl. He wanted to be your protector, your provider. The one you could rely on no matter what.

He wanted to be your other half.

Not used to physical attention, you leaned into the hug, and grabbed at him just as fiercely. You thought your feelings for Opie were obvious. But it was like he didn’t have a clue.

How long did it take for a man to realise another person’s feelings. And it wasn’t all one sided? He had let you come into his home. Live with him. This was more than friendship, right?

Right.

But neither of you would dare admit it.

“You’re just going to have to trust me, okay?” Opie said when he explained the plan to you.

Jax, Tig and Chibs were involved, and you had to suck in a breath when you heard the details.

It took you a moment, but you nodded and agreed.

“Now, go pack a bag, we’re going away for a while. And while we’re gone, the boys are going to look after the house. Gemma’s even going to come by.”

Your heart dropped, it ached. You didn’t want to leave Bella, Dobby and Bea. They wouldn’t handle strangers, and what if they thought you had abandoned them?

But Tig would take good care of them. You knew that. But what about your cats? They only liked one dog.

You guessed they just had put up with this until Dalton was caught and everything could go back to normal.

With your pack full of things you would need for a couple weeks, you got on the back of Opie’s bike and held on tight. Just as you were leaving, three bikes turned up. Jax at the head, with Chibs and Tig trailing him.

They all stopped.

And Jax handed Opie an envelope.

“Be safe, brother,” Chibs had called, and nodded towards you as well.

“Will do,” Opie replied, and gave you the envelope. Jax gave you a sad smile.

“I wish we could’ve gotten to know each other on better terms,” he said with that prince charming smile.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this-“

“We know,” Tig interjected, “but I haven’t seen a person care more about the dogs I bring in than me. And I have to say, that’s fucking badass. So, don’t worry. Everything is going to be handled.”

You almost shed a tear. Who thought a bikie club could be so … caring?

“We’ll see you later,” Jax said and Opie flew off into the night.

With the shining bright stars above you, and the blur of ground beneath you, how could you feel anything but delight?

Especially when you got on the highway and flew and flew.

You felt like you were flying. A moment of freedom. Something that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

The Charming Fire Station was bright red and looked like any other towns'. There wasn’t anything special about it. Nothing than the red chipping paint that Dalton sneered at as he walked into the building.

He had been everywhere in the world, with the most beautiful scenery. France, he remembered, when he proposed to Kaelie. In the moment she had said yes. And his heart was full. Or what he thought was his heart. But then she left him. She packed her things and wasn’t even going to say goodbye until he showed up during his lunch break.

She hadn’t been counting on that. Dalton had noticed the change in her disposition. And he was weary of her. Luckily he had caught her. But she was still able to escape. But not without leaving a memory.

The scar on his arm tingled and as soon as he saw someone his demeanour changed.

He kept on walking into the station with a grin on his face and a pack over his shoulder. Blonde, tall, tanned and muscled, he was the perfect face for all firefighters.

“Well, you must be the new transfer,” Riley said, and shook his hand. Keening, Riley tried to keep just as much power in his own shake as Dalton did with his.

“Sure am,” his Southern drawl made women swoop to him like birds to a call. And some men too.

Riley nodded his head and beckoned him forwards, already enchanted.

As he walked through the red fire house, he was greeted by a few faces, none he would ever care about. Although he would remember their names and birthdays. But when the fires started, he wouldn’t care who got hurt. It wasn’t his fault anyway.

If Kaelie had just stayed where she was supposed to, none of this would have happened.

#witchthewriter #macgyver & wonderboy #opie winston #opie x kaelie #opie winston x kaelie #witch the writer's stories #paid stories #commissioned stories #commissions #story commission #writing commissions #paid story #moodboard #sons of anarchy moodboard #jax teller #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa #soa fanfic

24 notes · View notes

ao3feed-peterstiles · 9 months

Text

Case Files: Hale Fire

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49164727 by WingsnWhimsy What if the real MVPs of the show (Stiles and Peter, obviously) started off without the teenie-bopper drama and Scott’s particular brand of useless morality? What if Stiles, trained and capable FBI agent, came back to his hometown only to get saddled with every cold case Beacon Hills and the surrounding county had to offer? The Hale Fire, and it’s farce of a cover up, land in lap and his first lead is the comatose Peter Hale, who’d been in the hospital all six years since the fire. What if he notices that six years is a bit excessive for a werewolf, no matter how grave the fire? What if he decides to do something about it? Because we all know Stiles - once he sets his mind to it, nothing and no one is going to stop him. Not even - especially not - common sense. ' --- Peter Hale knows only of burning and loss. Until one day a persistent and oddly compassionate FBI agent comes through the door and brings Peter into the present for snatches at a time. The days pass, and Agent Stilinski's rambling commentary paint the picture of what happened after the fire. Justice and vengeance are still unmet. Weeks later, Peter comes out of his comatose state, packless, near-feral, craving vengeance for his family. Words: 5014, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: M/M Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Rafael McCall, Melissa McCall, Lydia Martin, Kate Argent, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Allison Argent, Chris Argent, Victoria Argent, Gerard Argent Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Wolf Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Peter Parker, Aged-Up Character(s), BAMF Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Peter Hale, no beta we die like men, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49164727

#ao3feed #fanfic #teen wolf #steter #peterstiles

11 notes · View notes

hotgirlstiles · 1 year

Text

the way stiles’ character, at its core, is a very obsessive character where it’s both his weakness and strength .. his obsession with lydia, obsession with case files, the implication of obsession w/ anything dementia after his mother’s diagnosis, obsession w/ solving the motw to the point where he loses sleep over it..

even the implications of how much he’d obsessed over the hale fire case files to INSTANTLY recognize derek hale upon first meeting after TEN years of derek being gone like........ i don’t even know where i’m going with this but the way stiles is such an obsessive person that it absolutely consumes him......

#txt #when i finish ballerina au THEN you will all see.........#just read earlier 'the discipline required in ballet is obsessive' AND LORDDDDDDDDD #i was mostly thinking of ballerina au as silly but god. the way i NEED to write ballerina au #as also a char study for stiles #my godddddddd i will never ever fucking shut up about stiles character

41 notes · View notes

justanothersterekficgirl · 2 years

Text

Missing Son of Beacon by mrdcoolblue

Teen | 41k | 4/4

Sensing Stiles’s obvious discomfort, Peter used one well manicured hand to open a file folder in front of him and gleefully asked, “Shall I read to you these anomalies?”

“Please don’t,” Stiles begged.

Peter ignored him and slid the papers closer to read them. “Stiles McCall. Eighteen years old. Resident of Beacon Hills. Supposedly arrested for—” He hesitated with a quirk of his mouth.

“Possession,” Stiles groaned.

Peter downright leered. “What was that, Mr. McCall?” He was enjoying this way too much.

“Possession of sick abs,” Stiles finished, feeling miserable.

. . .

Beacon has three ruling families: the Martins, the Argents, and most importantly the Hales. No one really talks about the Stilinskis—who used to rule over them all—since Queen Claudia tragically died in a fire eight years ago and her only heir, Prince Mieczysław, went missing.

Of course, royal drama and unsolved arson cases were far from Stiles’s mind when he arrived at school with his brother Scott and best friend Danny like it was just a normal day. That is, until representatives from the royal palace show up looking for something.

#Sterek #sterek fics #sterekrecs #ao3 sterek #eternal sterek #derek x stiles #derek hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #stiles stilinski #royaltyAU #everyoneishuman #alivehalefamily #JASFGrecs #sterek<50k

41 notes · View notes

hddnone · 1 year

Text

WIP Ask Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips.

Tagged by the wonderful @27dragons!

Admittedly it feels a little like that one storage closet where everything gets stuffed in to deal with later and opening it up Vanna White style and saying BEHOLD THE MESS.

I’ll do the Marvel & Teen Wolf fandoms and skip the Merlin & Witcher.

I don’t think I know 40 people, hahaha. but ummm @polizwrites @riotfalling @iam93percentstardust @rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter @shi-toyu and anyone else who sees & wants to play.

#tumblr ask game

2 notes · View notes

sterek-roundrobinchallenge · 2 years

Text

In the shadows of karma

Chapter One

Written for @sterek-roundrobinchallenge

Author: @greyhavenisback

Team: #2

Ship(s): Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale

Tags: Post canon AU, FBI!Stiles, Wolf!Derek, future fic, meeting up again, angst, angst with a happy ending

Warning(s): None, I don’t think - references to a bad case connected to Stiles’ work in the FBI but nothing detailed, and this chapter has a slight horror feel to it

Summary: An angsty post canon fic featuring FBI Stiles and wolf shaped Derek who both move away from Beacon Hills and meet up again several years later

Stiles runs.

He runs from Beacon Hills the first chance he gets. It isn't the same once Derek's gone anyway. The world is a little darker. A little less colourful. Like a spark has gone out. Sure, he has other important people in his life but no one who really sees him. Not like Derek did.

So he runs.

Not far enough to escape the shadow of the nogitsune. No amount of distance will do that. The darkness he carries, he carries for life; it walks behind him with every step he takes.

It's with him as he interns at the FBI each summer. It's with him as he attends college and as he graduates top of his class with his tearful father watching him cross the stage. It's with him as he heads to Quantico for the 20 week training program that makes him an FBI agent.

He's a good one. There's talk of fast track and promotions and making Agent in Charge before he's 30. His closure rate is excellent, better than anyone else in the New York office, and his speciality lies in interviewing children. Whether they're victims or witnesses, Stiles is able to connect with them even when other agents and department psychologists can't.

He keeps tabs on Derek, as best he can. He buries a few files that relate to the whole Derek is a wanted serial killer thing. He tracks him as he travels the country but loses him in upstate New York.

And then Stiles' world turns upside down.

A bad case. One of the worst. His boss is an asshole. Stiles knows who did it, he knows without a single doubt who did it, and he suggests a 1-1 approach. One agent, wired up, goes in and arrests him. His boss disagrees. SWAT are sent in. The perp dies, several agents die, and there's no way to find the victim before they die too.

Stiles is devastated. He's angry. He says a few words to his boss that he probably shouldn't, which descends into a very loud and very public screaming match that turns him into the scapegoat.

So he unwillingly takes the blame for the operation failure. For the deaths. He carries them on his conscience anyway, he might as well shoulder it.

Somehow, he doesn’t get fired. Perhaps he should have been. Perhaps he should have quit.

He doesn’t, but emotionally he checks out. He isn’t engaged with the work anymore. He can’t trust his colleagues or his boss. What’s the point?

So he puts in for a transfer. His career is dead in the water now anyway so he requests a field office in a small town and ends up in Portland, Maine.

It's fine. It's all fine. His career is fucked, he lost track of Derek, he barely speaks to any of his friends (are they even still his friends? he isn't even sure he's still part of the pack), and he knows that monsters are real. The human ones, and the supernatural ones. The tangible ones, and the ones in his head.

The ones in his head are the loudest.

He finds a small house to rent on the edge of town. It isn't much; it's shabby and the second bedroom isn't so much a second bedroom as it is a box room. Which is fine. He doesn't have guests come to stay anyway. He shoves some boxes in there, the ones he can't be bothered to unpack, and closes the door.

It isn't much but it's quiet. His neighbours are quiet, the street is quiet; even the neighbourhood dogs are quiet. Everything is quiet.

It's so quiet that Stiles can hear the blood whooshing in his ears. It simultaneously drives him mad and comforts him. It's too loud. Too annoying. Too all encompassing. But he's alive. He's real.

Sometimes he doubts that. The body he lives in isn't exactly the one he was born with; it’s a construct that he forced a thousand year old demon to give him. He looks in the mirror and he knows it's his face looking back at him but sometimes it feels like a stranger. He doesn’t know who he is anymore.

At the quiet end of the quiet street he lives on now, there’s a trail into the nature reserve. Smaller trails crisscross with the larger trail, giving miles upon miles of different routes. It's a good place to run.

So Stiles does.

Every day, he pulls on his running shoes and hits the trail, along with the shadow that he always carries. Some days it's heavier than others, so heavy he can barely move. He does anyway. He has to. Otherwise he'll never move again.

Today isn't so bad. It feels like something is behind him. An unseen presence that's watching his every move. Eerie and unsettling like the fog that clings to the trees. But that's better than when it's filling his mind with storm clouds so dark he can't see through them and has to fight his way to the light.

He glances behind him as he runs. The feeling is so strong that he has to keep checking, he has to be certain that there’s no one following him. If there is, they’ve faded into the autumn fog; the trail is empty as far as he can see and it’s quiet enough that he’d hear footsteps if there was anyone there. So there isn’t. It’s just his shadow. With him as always.

At least he isn't alone, he thinks bitterly. At least he has someone. Even though it's this invisible, shadowy presence.

Somewhere around mile three, he glimpses a dark shape in the trees. It’s there and gone, swallowed by the fog and the undergrowth before he can make out what it is. Probably an animal, he tells himself, and he pays it no more mind.

Until he’s halfway through mile four and he sees it again. More clearly this time.

A wolf.

Specifically, a black wolf.

Stiles flails to a stop and stands there, breathing hard but not gasping for air like he would have been doing on a high school cross country run. The wolf turns, hauntingly familiar blue eyes fixed on Stiles for a second that feels like a lifetime before it runs deeper into the trees.

Minutes pass as Stiles stares at the spot where Derek disappeared just moments before. His heart gallops against his ribcage and Derek must be able to hear that and probably smell Stiles’ confusion, but he’s gone. He’s still gone.

So Stiles shrugs and carries on running. If Derek is wolf shaped then he clearly doesn't want to make contact and that's fine. It's fine. It's really fine. After all, no one else wants to be around Stiles either. Why should Derek be any different? It's not like Stiles would have died for him back then. (And still would.)

His legs are like elastic, barely holding him up under the weight of the shadow that has enveloped him. But he finishes his run. The ever present shadow has now been joined by the back-of-the-neck prickle of unseen eyes watching him. Following him.

The sensation should frighten him. Terrify him. But Stiles has faced the worst life has to offer and besides, it’s vaguely comforting knowing that Derek is there and still his usual creeper self. He’s always been good at lurking in the trees.

Some things don't change.

Like Stiles' temper which finally snaps loose after an entire week of a wolf shaped Derek stalking him on his morning runs.

"Oh my god, you're an asshole!" he shouts into the trees. He knows Derek's there. The prickly sensation has its hooks into the back of his neck. Ok, so maybe he's shouting at the wrong patch of undergrowth and if anyone else is out here, they'll think there's a weirdo in the woods who's shouting at nothing, but Derek will hear him. "Stop fucking stalking me and just come out and talk!"

There's no answer. No movement. And that's fair, really; if Derek shifts so he can speak, he won't have any clothes and while the woods are generally devoid of people, they are on the main trail and it's entirely possible someone will walk past and then it's indecent exposure and he might get arrested and -

Stiles makes an indeterminate sound of frustration because Derek could at least show his wolfy face properly, and then he runs on.

Maybe tomorrow.

But the rest of his run is hollow, somehow. The only invisible presence following him is the shadow that he can never leave behind. There's no comforting-yet-prickly Derek presence to counter it and now it feels heavier than ever. Like it isn't just dark and shadowy, but the total absence of light.

The rest of his runs that week pass in the same way. Empty. The same way Stiles feels.

He's fucked up.

He should have been more patient, given Derek more time, but his mouth ran away from him in a way it hasn't since he was a teenager.

So he gets to work early, almost an hour before his shift and he absolutely definitely doesn't use the FBI database in a highly questionable manner which absolutely definitely won't get him fired if anyone finds out.

Ten minutes later, he has Derek's address.

He lives out towards the coast, on the opposite side of the preserve to Stiles' house. Only a couple of miles away as the crow flies. Or the wolf runs.

An uneasy feeling settles over Stiles again. Is this a coincidence? Derek has been living there for over a year, since before Stiles left New York City. Did something draw Stiles here? Is it one of those weird things that happens sometimes or is it some unseen force acting on them, pulling them together like magnets?

(Will the same force switch and push them away from each other again?)

There's no time to worry about it during his workday but Stiles mulls it over that night when he's trying and failing to sleep because the dark is too dark and the quiet is too quiet.

Eventually, he decides to put it to one side. It's not like he made a choice to come to Portland; it was the only available posting to a smaller office. So if it is an unseen force, some sort of karma or chaos or something, then it's acting on the entirety of the FBI which means there's no point at all in worrying about it. Or, given that worrying about things is deeply ingrained into Stiles - deeply - at least making the choice to not worry about it when he should be sleeping.

So he worries about how to apologise to Derek for yelling at him instead.

That's marginally easier to sort out and he finally gets to sleep in the early hours of the morning.

Food seems to be the best way to make it up to Derek so before his shift, Stiles stops by the bakery and picks up a selection of pastries. He isn't sure which ones Derek likes - he's never even seen the guy eat before but presumably he does and who doesn't like pastries, right? Right.

He drives over to Derek's house, which is in completely the wrong direction and he'll probably be late and get fired but fuck it, this is more important. He scrawls a message on the top of the box of pastries - Sorry. Call me - adds his cell number and leaves the box on Derek's doorstep.

He doesn't bother knocking. If Derek is home, he knows Stiles is here. So he's either out or avoiding him

Stiles has done what he can so he gets back into his car and drives away.

It's in Derek's hands now.

#sterek rrc #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #prompt two #round one #round one prompt two

645 notes · View notes

thebigoblin · 2 years

Note

i wish you’d write a fic where fbi agent Stiles receives his first (or maybe not first) mission and it’s to investigate the happenings in Beacon Hills (and Derek is in the middle of it all)

Firstly, thank you dear anon for the prompt. I'm having Ideas, but I'll probably only write a tid-bit and leave it at that. But never say never ;)

Second, Tags: Alternate Universe, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Canon, Season 1 Rewrite, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Fluff and Angst

can be read on ao3.

A Case To Remember

The corridor is painted a blank white, and it makes him think of an existence that wasn't remembered; It's depressing, and as he winds through it and then through several archways that would confuse a man who doesn't know the dramatic ways of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he remembers what his dad had told him when he'd left their hometown nearly six years ago.

People don't like the FBI, kid, they come in and demand and take, but I want you to be different. Got it?

It doesn't matter if the FBI thinks their agent's days are numbered, an existence so minute it's barely worth remembering, because Stiles Stilinski isn't here to be a puppet for them. He's here to help people, and god damn it, he's going to help.

He knocks on the door that he finds at the end of the corridor, a gray plaque nailed to the off-white door, the only two other colors he's seen in this building other than his own dark hair and black slacks; They even made him wear a white shirt. He tugs at the collars, tries to flatten them when a voice calls, "Come in!"

Officer Rafael McCall looks at him disdainfully as he enters. He thinks (hopes) it's less to do with how he presents himself and more about the rivalry between his dad and McCall. Stiles doesn't exactly know all the details, but ever since McCall heard his full name two weeks ago, he's been getting some serious side-eye from the man. And his dad had been less than helpful, too busy to talk to him amidst the chaos that Beacon Hills has apparently become in the past few months or so.

Murders. A serial killer on the loose. Why couldn't this have happened when he was still living there?

"Stilinski, are you even listening?" Stiles jumps at his name, and watches as a deep sigh comes out of McCall's mouth. He's probably wondering how someone like Stiles even graduated, and with good enough marks that he's here to be briefed on his first field mission.

Stiles wonders that, too.

He straightens his spine, takes the offered seat, and puts those doubts to rest as McCall shuffles the papers in front of him, the crinkling of them a background sound to his own breaths.

Derek Sebastian Hale. 24, used to live in New York, and worked as a bouncer for one of the best clubs in the city. But he's been fired from the job because he hasn't shown his face at work in over a month. Why? Because he's back in Beacon Hills.

Stiles remembers the Hales. They were a big family, and they could always be found around the town, milling about, talking to people, helping old ladies cross the road and rescuing cats stuck in the trees. At least, the one with the bunny teeth used to those things; Stiles never learnt the boys name, but he'd always wanted to. But they went to different schools, and even though in Stiles' Freshman year the boy had transferred to his school, Stiles never got a chance to know him.

And then the fire happened.

Stiles doesn't remember much; at that time he was still in the deep pit of grief that's made a home in his stomach forever, but he remembers being so sick at hearing about the news that he'd actually thrown up in Harris' class. (Harris was a dick, so it was fair).

Eleven people dead, the newspapers had proclaimed, and his dad had cried himself hoarse that night.

That pain still isn't enough to convince Stiles that Derek is responsible for all the murders, though.

The files McCall has given him make it seem like Derek is in the heart of it, the murders that are going on in Beacon Hills, or well, that were going on in Beacon Hills, because there hasn't been any new ones in the three days that he's been here.

At least his dad's happy to see him.

Still, Stiles has a job to do, so here he is, subtly following the very recognizable black Camaro around town. It's even more depressing than the white walls of the Bureau, because all Derek does is drive to and fro between the burnt out shell of the Hale House and the High School, where he meets two kids who seem lonely. Isaac Lahey and Scott McCall—now that had been an interesting find.

Today seems to be different, though.

The Camaro slides gracefully into one of the many free parking spots of the Walmart store just a bit out of the town, and Stiles just knows by the looks of it that shady negotiations must go on around here. Even if Derek's not the vicious killer McCall thinks him to be, at least he might lead to a drug ring, or something. It's a win in Stiles' book.

Stiles' nerves thrum in anticipation when Derek gets out of his car and takes a long look at his surroundings, looking left and right like he's afraid to be caught, and then strides into the forest surrounding the Walmart. Creepy; oooh Stiles likey.

He follows behind.

He's read the history books of his town, so he knows that technically this patch of forest is a part of the Preserve too, so that means it's Hale land, but who knows if Derek's sold it? As the sole heir of all the inheritance, he could have done anything.

The forest is suspiciously quiet, like the birds and the animals know something is about to happen and they want no part of it, and it makes Stiles feel like a hero in his own movie. There's no law that says he can't have fun while on the job, so he decides to take pleasure in the fresh air and the accomplished feeling that follows his every step, the mud quelching under his boots.

Today is definitely going to be a big day.

Just as he's thinking it, a blur of a man rushes at him, so fast that Stiles has barely any time to fall back on any of the techniques he's learned to defend himself (he should have brought his gun, he laments mentally), all the breath in his lungs knocked out with the weight that's now resting on his chest.

The face that greets him as he opens his eyes is one Stiles will never forget. A ridged forehead with no eyebrows, eyes shining a deep, deep red, a thick nose and cheeks covered in hair, and a mouth full of teeth—wait, are those fangs?— snarling at him.

"Who are you?" The—thing, asks, and Stiles tries to gulp in some air. It's difficult, what with the heavy hand resting right on his sternum, but he manages to get out one word.

"H-hand," he says, and the thing backs its hand off, just a little down, barely enough for Stiles to speak easily.

"Me? M-me?! Who are you!"

It snarls again, the red eyes somehow shining a deeper red. Stiles can see himself inside them; he looks so small, so scared. He's a prey. Is this what Derek has been hiding? This monster that lives on his family's lands? Before he can contemplate on it more, the thing is picking him up clean off the ground and throwing him against a nearby tree. It makes him laugh.

This is one of the first moves he mastered in his training, just because it looked so cool. He even made a superhero pose (and it definitely doesn't look like Natasha Romanoff's superhero pose).

(Okay, so maybe it does).

He lands on his left feet, the right one stretching on its side for balance, and his fingers have barely touched the ground before the monster is attacking him again. It is vicious, and the blows keep coming and coming, but they aren't polished, not like his are, and he manages to dodge them easily for a good ten minutes. The way he's been attacked makes him feel like the bad guy though, like he's being fought for its survival, and it makes him pause. The sudden change in their dynamic causes the monster to freeze up as well, and Stiles is glad.

"Fuck, I need some air, dude," and he gulps in large chunks of it, inhaling air like it is... well, oxygen.

It growls again. "Who. Are. You."

"If you know English why do you keep growling? Or do you have like, only two settings?" He imitates the growl, albeit badly, and then the phrase "Who are you," without the inflection. It stares at him, blinks once, twice. "Can you understand me?" Stiles asks, pronouncing every word slowly, eager to get this part of his day over with. He needs to be following Derek, not fighting this, whatever it is. Which... "Have you seen a man walk here?" He makes his fingers do the two-fingers-walk thing as he talks. "Black leather jacket, hot guy, but with a perpetual scowl? Oh wait, how would you know what hot means—"

A crow caws at this exact moment. Bad omens, his Babcia used to say, but his mom always called them the signals of new beginnings, Mischief.

It changes his face. Instead of the monster, there stands a man.

Derek fucking Hale.

And Stiles' first question to him isn't how or what the fuck or what the fuck am I going crazy?! But instead it is, "Where is your leather jacket?"

Derek stares at him like he can't believe what he's hearing. And seeing. He scowls, though. And his eyes are still red, albeit a lighter shade. It does things to Stiles' insides.

"I didn't want it to get dirty." Derek says, and dips his chin. Stiles follows the movement, and yeah, the henley is totally dirty. Stiles' own clothes must be, too. "I'm not going to ask this again, who—"

"Mieczysław Stilinski, FBI Agent, now shut up and tell me what are you. A werewolf? Because that's the most logical explanation I can think of and oh my god, am I really saying a werewolf is a logical explanation?! Wait, how many people have you killed?"

Derek doesn't say anything. Obviously, he doesn't want to confess to his crimes. So Stiles changes tactics, and even though Derek starts walking away, Stiles follows.

"How did you know I was following you? Do you have heightened vision? What about smell? Strength? Spee—"

"You drive a baby blue Jeep."

Stiles pauses in his tracks. "Oh. Yeah." He starts running after Derek; Werewolves definitely have enhanced speed.

A month later, Stiles is a part of a Werewolf Pack and he doesn't answer Rafael's calls.

There'll be hell to pay for that later, he knows, but for now:

"Puppy Pile Time!"

"Stiles, for fuck's sake, we're not puppies—"

"Oh, Alpha, my Alpha, just join us!"

Erica is definitely Stiles' favorite. But as Derek sighs deeply and walks over to the new couch in the new loft he's bought and snuggles right beside Stiles, he amends the thought.

Derek is definitely is his favorite, but Stiles will never let him know that, of course.

End Notes:

Okayyyy, so this got longer then expected 😂 But I can't write a fic without a bit of a backstory, so I should have expected it, really.

Anon, I hope you like this, even though I did feels more than the investigative part xD.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #eternalsterek #answered ask #anon #ask games #thank you for the prompt!#sh.writesonmain #tumblr ficlet #should i also put this on ao3? idk guys i'm not sure #so i'll do what the majority says :)#this is unbeta'd (even by me. just finished this and i'm posting it) so!! be gentle please!!

68 notes · View notes

stereksecretsanta · 2 years

Text

Merry Christmas, nerdherderette!

For @nerdherderette. All grammar mistakes are my own and I hope I didn't disappoint :) Also please not that I am not American so apologies if anything is inaccurate!

*****

Dark, Mysterious and Bad at Emotions? Check

Stiles wasn’t there for the final arrest of Mafia boss Derek Hale, he also wasn’t there when he went through court and they sentenced him to prison on some evidence of an anonymous tip handed over to the Agent in charge of the case.

At the time, Stiles was brand spanking new and he wasn’t allowed to be a part of the higher-up cases. He was stuck with the cases no one wanted. He had known all about the case that had Hale finally behind bars. It was the biggest news that has spread around the media like a fire and everyone wanted to know the gritty details. Hell, Stiles wanted to know everything and had been caught trying to read the files that may have gotten a warning for but it was totally worth it to get a brief idea of how it all went down.

Someone betrayed Derek.

Continue on AO3

#nerdherderette #stereksanta21 #*fic21 #*gifts21

16 notes · View notes

alea-says · 3 years

Text

Fix-it Friday - Teen Wolf (x Criminal Minds)

Rating: PG-13

Pairing/s: minor hints of pre-Sterek at the end

Summary: Stiles finds out about the serial killer the same way he finds out most things - by eavesdropping on his dad.

Stiles finds out about the serial killer the way he finds out most things - by eavesdropping on his dad.

Some FBI agents had contacted his dad, saying they were following up on a serial killer and could they come look at some old case files?

The Sheriff, of course, had agreed, and Stiles had spent an entire afternoon lurking around the station waiting for them to arrive. (Scott had declined to join him as the other boy had no interest in FBI agents as a result of his own father).

Two agents had turned up, a tall, lanky young man who appeared to be able to spout off even more facts than Stiles could, and also stay relatively on topic. And a woman with dark hair and 'dont cross me' vibes.

They'd requested some case files before holing up in an interview room to go over them. Stiles had managed to hear them speaking on the phone to someone who sounded absolutely awesome before he was spotted and dragged before his father.

After which he'd ended up sitting in the Sheriff's office until it was time to go home.

But he'd heard mention of something before he was caught that had his mind spinning. Arson.

The FBI agents were tracking a suspected serial killer arsonist.

It didnt take much for his thoughts to jump to the Hales, and the burnt-out husk of a house in the woods.

It'd been years since the fire, but it was a well-known tragedy in the town's history. Even if Stiles himself had been more preoccupied at the time with his mother's declining health.

He tried to find out more from his dad, but the Sheriff was even more tight-lipped than usual.

The agents left after a couple of days, but they'd seemed pleased and he overheard them talking about having a solid lead.

They were back again just a week later, along with even more agents, and they turned the hospital upside down.

Well, not literally, but it turned out they'd found their serial killer. Not only that, but they'd been able to link her to a network of serial killers.

One of whom had been working in the hospital in order to keep an eye on the sole survivor of the Hale fire - Peter Hale.

Who, once the serial killer's accomplice was removed, had a sudden improvement in his health.

The agents' return had coincided with Laura Hale showing up in town for the first time since the fire, and Stiles had seen one of the Agents speaking rather seriously with her as she held a trembling hand to her lips.

A couple of weeks later, Peter Hale had been transferred elsewhere, Laura Hale clutching his hand all the way to his transport, and all that was left were rumours.

At first, Stiles was upset that the serial killer hadn't actually been in the town. As that would have been more exciting than the capture of an evil nurse in his teenage brain.

But then life had moved on and before he knew it he was graduating school and looking at further study and what it would take to get into the FBI.

Because while he'd always kinda thought he'd like to work for the FBI, he'd been rather impressed by the idea of tracking serial killers, and solving years old crimes that had gone unnoticed.

So, well, Stiles ended up joining the FBI.

His first day at Quantico he bumped into (literally), the hottest guy he'd ever seen in his life, who smiled at him (and oh, dimples!), and introduced himself as Derek Hale.

#fix it friday #teen wolf #criminal minds #teen wolf fix it #fic #teen wolf fic #criminal minds fic #stiles stilinski #peter hale #laura hale #derek hale #sheriff stilinski #spencer reid #emily prentiss #crossover #ficlet

24 notes · View notes

maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 6

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

To say that I was doing well after I left Derek’s house would be a lie. I really don’t understand why it hurts so much. We barely knew each other outside of a few encounters. Was it just me that felt the aching in my chest? I want to believe that he felt the same thing, but that seemed selfish. That I wanted him to miss me. That I dreamed of him showing up at my window and begging to see me. But that wouldn’t be real, that was a fantasy. Derek would never act like that. That was just my fantasy.

I promised Stiles I wouldn’t get romantically involved with Derek, but it was more painful than I have ever imagined.

I sat in Coach Finstock’s office while the school day went on. Relacing the netting on the crosses that were used in case any of the players broke their own. The repetitive movements were mind numbing so it was probably for the best. I could zone out and not think about Derek.

Tonight was parent teacher conferences for some students who weren’t doing well academically, both Scott and Stiles were a part of that list. But who could blame them? One of them was a werewolf and the other was friends with the aforementioned werewolf. The weeks seemed to run together, it didn’t even feel like autumn yet, but we were halfway to winter.

I had stayed away like I promised. The only times I even heard about Derek was from what Scott told Stiles. They were both planning on finding the alpha and taking him down together. That would be good for him. Good for both of them. I have been feeling so many emotions since then. A lot of anxiety and anger. But they never felt like my own. I sighed and rested my eyes for a minute, the repeated movements slowing my brain down enough to sleep on Coach’s desk.

The man in front of me was badly burned, one side of his face was pink and muddled, much of his hair was burned on that side.

“I need your help.” Derek’s voice echoed, “If you can hear me, I need you to give me a sign. Blink. Raise a finger. Anything. Just… Just something to point me in the right direction, okay?” The man, his Uncle Peter, stayed in the same position.

He sighed, “Someone killed Laura. Your niece, Laura? Whoever he is, he’s an Alpha now… but he’s one without a pack, which means he’s not as strong. I can take him. But, I have to find him first.” Still no response.

“Look, if you know something, just give me a sign. Is it one of us? Did someone else make it out of the fire?”

Still getting no response, he became agitated, “Just give me anything! Blink! Raise a finger! Anything!” He growled, reaching for the man, “SAY SOMETHING”!

“Hey.” I jolted at the sound of Finstock’s voice. He stood in the doorway of his office.

“You alright, kid?” He asked, his eyes went from my face to the crosse that I was aggressively fixing the net on. What was that? Was I… seeing what Derek was seeing? No, that was impossible. Insane even.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” I went back to relacing, tugging the knots taut and reaching for a lighter to burn the ends of the string so they wouldn’t unravel.

“Do I need to kick his ass?” He asked, his large eyes looking a little more crazy than usual. He was trying to seem threatening, but I wasn’t threatened by his booming voice and looks anymore. He was alluding to someone not treating me right but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

I chuckled a little, “No. It’s not his fault. He’s going through a lot right now.” I stood up and placed the crosse in the spare locker with the rest of them, “Besides, I probably shouldn’t be dating considering the last guy I was dating murdered my parents and tried to murder me.” The humor was dark, but what a way to cope.

“Any news on that guy?” He stood up straight, walking to his desk.

“Nope. I think he skipped town. He’s the feds' problem now.”

“Does Stiles want to be a doctor?” He changed the subject, he was looking at a paper in his hand.

“Uh… Not that I know of.” I shrugged.

“Because he wrote a detailed history of male circumcision on his economics test.”

I got out late, well past the time the student teacher meetings were over. Filing records, grading a couple things for Finstock and ordering more pearls for the upcoming games since we were running low. These days really run together, especially when you’re trying to forget most of the year that happens.

Speaking of happening, was I really seeing the same thing Derek could? It didn’t make sense. They were just random dreams. Like the one the other day where Derek was speaking to this woman about how she didn’t kill his sister. That was just a dream. But… Why could I feel sadness? Sadness, guilt and pain.

I got home, seeing that Stiles’ Jeep was nowhere in sight meaning that he was off to do more werewolf nonsense with Scott. I trusted Scott to keep him safe, but that didn’t mean I wanted Stiles running around where there was an alpha on the loose.

That night I made dinner, ate, saved two plates for Uncle Noah and Stiles and sat in the living room. They were running a story on another body that had been found. A bus driver killed in an animal attack. They were calling it a mountain lion. A mountain lion was more likely than a werewolf normally. But here we are. Officially werewolf capital of the world. I turned off the TV and laid back on the cushions, closing my eyes. Maybe a couch nap would relax me a little, it would kill my back in the morning, but I would be able to tell when Stiles came home.

Scott and Stiles were walking towards me across the school lawn, playfully pushing each other.

“I’m gonna kill both of you.” Derek’s voice said, “What the hell was that? What are you trying to do, attract the entire state to the school?” He was frustrated and angry, but also a little scared. Finding the alpha is what he needed to do, at the same time though, this person got the jump on Laura.

“Sorry…I didn’t know it would be that loud…” Scott said sheepishly.

“Yeah, it was loud… And it was awesome!” Stiles cheered.

“Shut up.” Derek barked.

“Don’t be such a sour wolf.” Stiles mocked.

“What’d you do with him?” Scott asked, looking around me.

“What?” Derek asked, I turned to see an empty backseat, “I didn’t do anything…” I saw Scott and Stiles’ eyes widen as pain exploded through my back. Blood gushed from my mouth as I was lifted up. I was coughing and choking on my own blood. Pain and fear were running through me, my heart pumping so quickly causing more and more blood to gush from my mouth. The last thing I saw was the world rushing by me as I was thrown towards the school wall.

I woke up before I made impact. My heart was racing and my back ached. I reached behind myself awkwardly. The only thing I felt was the raised bumpy scar from my stab wound. So it was just a dream, but it felt so real. So…Was it real? Did I just experience Derek…

I looked up at the clock and saw it was well into the early morning. I got up and made my way upstairs, Stiles’ door was slightly open and there was still light inside. I just went in, panic already starting to build in my chest. Stiles was sitting at his computer, he turned and looked up. He looked like he had a long night.

“Stiles, is…” I swallowed thickly, “Is Derek d-…Dead?” My lip was trembling. He opened his mouth to answer then closed it. He avoided my eyes.

“I really don’t know.” He explained what happened at the school that night. How the alpha attacked them and chased them around the school and that when they got out, Derek’s body was gone.

“I don’t know if he crawled off somewhere or if the alpha dragged him away before the cops showed up. But I’m pretty sure I won’t have to go back to school until Monday. We tried to blow the alpha up. And we also kinda blamed Derek for it.”

I shook my head and chuckled, “Nice. Throwing a dead man under the bus, after all he’s done for me.”

“It wasn’t my idea!” He shouted in a hushed tone, “We thought he was dead for sure. But now I don’t know. Besides, we couldn’t give up the big secret to a hunter’s daughter, a dick, and Lydia who has been through enough already.” I nodded and left the room. He called after me but I couldn’t be in the room anymore. Just… they could have blamed anyone. A rabid animal even, but they were blaming Derek. I closed the door and leaned against it, slowly sliding down until I met the floor. My chest felt tight and I wanted to cry. I had cried so much lately I didn’t know if I could. My emotions were running so high and it was so confusing? Why was everything so different?

It was Monday morning and tonight was another full moon, meaning Scott was jumpy and could turn at any moment. The night before they had gone off to “hang” but Stiles was really bad at hiding the alcohol he had taken to get drunk with Scott.

I was eating cereal at the kitchen table when Stiles came down. He was groaning and definitely hungover.

“Booze doesn’t pay, does it?” I smiled.

“You’re more chipper than usual.” He grimaced a bit, holding his head.

“Not chipper, just really good at fakin’ it.” I went in for another spoonful. He looked away, hearing Uncle Noah coming through the kitchen on his phone.

“We are watching his family’s house. Maybe he’ll wind up there?” Uncle Noah looked up, seeing Stiles, “Give me a second.”

“Don’t you have a test to get to?” He asked.

“What’s going on? Did you find Derek yet?” Stiles asked, more pep in his voice.

“I’m working on it. You go take your test.” He said firmly.

“All right, Dad, listen to me-” Stiles stood up.

“Go!” He shouted, I had never heard him shout before.

“This is really important! You have to be careful tonight, okay? Especially tonight.”

“Stiles, I’m always careful.”

“Dad, you’ve never dealt with this kind of thing before, okay? At least, not like this.”

“I know. Which is why I brought in people who have. State detective. Go take your test.” Stiles grumbled but grabbed his book bag and left the house. Uncle Noah sighed and went back to his phone call as he followed Stiles out the door.

Later on in the day, Stiles texted me. He probably shouldn’t be, especially with his test.

STILES: Scott had a panic attack about Allison. He said he might kill someone.

I sighed, my thumbs dancing over the phone screen.

(Y/N): Then we’ll chain him up so he can’t get out. I’ll pick up some chains at the hardware store.

After a stop at the hardware store, I got to the lacrosse fields where Coach Finstock was looking over a list.

“How’s the pink-eye epidemic?” I asked. He rolled his eyes.

“Real good, half of my players had to go on the bench. Goddammit, Greenberg.” I looked over the list.

“Who’s Bilinski?” I squinted at his sloppy writing.

“That one.” He pointed his pen towards Stiles.

“You put Stiles on the first line?” I smiled, perhaps my subtle hints had worked.

“Yeah, and we made McCall co-captain.”

I blew air out of my mouth, “I’m sure Jackson shit a brick.”

He shook his head, “Yeah, he’s not taking it well.” I shrugged and made my way over to the bench where Scott and Stiles were in the middle of a conversation. I didn’t join, just listened in.

“Yeah, she likes you. She’s totally into you.” Scott smirked. Stiles grinned, clearly excited. The She in this scenario could be none other than Lydia Martin. But there was something about Scott’s tone that threw me off. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lydia making her way to her seat in the bleachers, pulling out a compact mirror and fixing her lipstick. I didn’t want to believe that Scott would do that to his friend, but the facts were pointing towards it.

Practice seemed to be going well, that is until Scott got pushed over during a practice run. I could practically feel his anger from across the field.

“All right, you’re up, big boy! Let’s go!” Coach called. Scott retaliated this by knocking into another player, and sending him hard on his back. I winced, intaking a breath through my teeth.

“That’s it, McCall! That’s the spirit! You earn it! Earn it, McCall!” Coach grinned. Maybe this is why we had so many players on the bench. Coach could see victory when Scott played. It was Stiles' turn on the offensive against Scott. With the full moon so close, I don’t think their friendship would do Stiles any favors, he shoved Stiles away just as hard and fast as the other player. Each time he got a goal. The next player, Danny, also was a victim of werewolf rage since Scott hit him in the face, sending him to the ground. I grabbed Coach’s whistle and blew it, calling for the play to pause.

I jogged up to Danny and knelt down, some other players surrounded as well.

“Danny, can you hear me?” He nodded slowly, holding his bleeding nose. I stood up, “Take him to the bench guys.” I walked back over to Stiles and Scott.

“Everybody likes Danny. Now everybody’s gonna hate you.”

“I don’t care.” Scott said smugly. Stiles shook his head and went back to the benches.

“What the hell is your problem? You make co-captain and it goes to your head.” I shoved his shoulder. He breathed out, his eyes glowed yellow

“You don’t want to mess with me right now.”

I narrowed my eyes, “Is that a threat?” He smirked, his eyes going up and down my body.

“It could be.” I looked at him in disgust.

“First Lydia and now me? You’re a really shitty friend, Scott.” I made my way back to Stiles who was staring back at the bleachers. Jackson and Lydia were talking.

“He did it.” He whispered. I squeezed his arm lightly. It was going to be a long night.

That night, Stiles and I went to the McCall’s house to get prepared for the full moon. Stiles carried a duffle bag to the best of his ability, even though it had the steel chains and locks I had bought. One of the only reasons I came was so if I needed to I could get him out quickly. The other was because I didn’t know how he would react to the situation with Lydia. Stiles unlocked the door and went inside. Did Mrs. McCall know he had a key?“

Scott?” We heard her call. Mrs. McCall turned the corner and saw us in the hallway. She was in her scrubs, probably going in for a late night shift.

“Stiles.”

“And (Y/N).” I waved.

“Ah.” Her eyes went to Stiles' hand, she pointed, “Key.”

“Oh, yeah, I had one made.” Well, that answers that question.

“That doesn’t surprise me. It scares me, but it doesn’t surprise me” And then, like a buffoon, Stiles dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud.

“What is that?”

“Uh, school project.” He lied. Mrs. McCall, who either believed the lie or just wanted to change the subject, asked: “He’s okay, right?”

“Who, Scott? Yeah, totally.” Stiles lied.

“He just doesn’t talk to me, not much anymore. Not like he used to.” She said somberly. I could only imagine that’s how my mom felt when I went into high school and into a phase where parents were uncool.

“Well, he had a bit of a rough week.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it. Yeah. Um, okay. Uh, be careful tonight.”

“You, too.”

“Full moon.” She looked out the window. Stiles and I stiffened.

“What?”

“There’s a full moon tonight. You should see how the ER gets. Brings out all the nutjobs.”

“Oh.” He breathed out, both of our shoulders dropped.

“Yeah…” She said awkwardly.

“Right…”

“You know, it’s, um, actually where they came up with the word "lunatic.”

We opened the door to Scott’s room. Stiles dropped the duffel and turned on the lights. We both jumped when we saw Scott sitting in his computer chair.

“Oh my god.” I put a hand on my chest, trying to catch my breath.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of us. Your mom said you weren’t home.”

“I came in through the window.” he said blankly. Stiles and I shared a glance.

“Okay, um, let’s get this set up.” Stiles bent down to get into the duffel bag that was near the radiator, “(Y/N) got the heavy duty stuff.” I kept my distance from Scott, staying right by the door, ready to grab Stiles and book it.

“I’m fine,” Scott said, causing us both to stare, “I’m just gonna lock the door and turn in early.” We all knew a door wouldn’t stop him, he had other plans in mind.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, “Cause you got this kinda serial killer look goin’ on in your eyes. I’m hopin’ it’s the full moon taking effect cause it’s starting to freak me out.”

“I’m fine.” Scott repeated, “You should both go home.”

“Alright, we’ll leave.” He stood up then stopped, clearly trying to put his back up plan into motion, ‘Well would you at least look in the bag and see what we bought? You know, maybe you use it, maybe you don’t.”

“Just in case you’re feeling a little anxious.” I smiled. Scott got up and walked to the duffel bag. He bent down and pulled out the thick, metal chains.

“You’re thinking I would put these on? Chain me up like a dog?” He snarled and dropped the chains.

“Actually, no.” Stiles quickly pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slapped him on Scott’s wrist, chaining him to the heater. I grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away when Scott lunged.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Scott growled.

“Protecting you from yourself.” Stiles sighed and glared, “And giving you payback. For making out with Lydia.” And there it was. Maybe I should have checked the bag for other items he bought. He went downstairs, leaving me and Scott in the bedroom.

“(Y/N), uncuff me!” He struggled.

I shook my head, “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I don’t have the key.”

He lunged and growled, causing me to jump. I looked away, embarrassed that I was showing him that I was afraid. But I was afraid. I’ve known this kid practically his entire life and he was turning into a completely different and dangerous person.

“You like that? Hmm?” He hummed suggestively. I shook my head, talking to him was probably going to just make things worse. Thankfully, Stiles had come back…with a dog bowl.

“I brought you some water.” He said, pouring water from a bottle into the bowl and setting it down in front of Scott.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU” Scott roared and threw the bowl at Stiles.

“Stiles…” I whispered. The situation was getting dangerous.

“You kissed her, Scott! Okay? You kissed Lydia. And that’s my…The one girl that I have-'' Stiles shook his head, “You know, for the past three hours, I’ve been thinking it’s probably just the full moon, you know? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing and tomorrow he’ll be back to normal. He probably won’t even remember what a complete dumbass he’s been. A son of a bitch. A frickin’ unbelievable piece of crap friend.”

“She kissed me.” Scott interrupted.

“What?” Stiles looked so betrayed.

Scott grinned menacingly, “I didn’t kiss her, she kissed me.” Stiles glared and walked out of the room, I followed behind.

“She had her hands all over me, she would have done anything I wanted! ANYTHING!” Scott’s voice rang through the house. Stiles paced back and forth outside the door.

“Stiles?” Scott called through the door, “Please let me out. It’s the full moon, I swear! You know I wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. Stiles, let me out. This is starting to hurt. You said it, Stiles, it’s the full moon. It’s Allison breaking up with me. It’s not just a break, she broke up with me. It’s killing me! I’m feeling hopeless. Just let me out.” Stiles paused, looking towards the door. I looked him in the eye, shaking my head.

“He’s just trying to make you feel bad.”

Stiles nodded, “I can’t.” He called.

“No! No no no!” Scott shouted, followed by screaming. And then silence. Stiles opened the door, Scott was gone. Only broken handcuffs remained. I grabbed a set of chains and started going downstairs.

“Stiles, stay here.”

“(Y/N)!” He called, grabbing my arm before I went out the door.

“Stay put.” I glared, shutting the door behind me. Scott was a sweet kid normally. But if I needed to keep Stiles safe and if that meant knocking out a couple of his teeth then I would. I went around back to his window and followed the path of broken grass into the woods. I gripped onto the chains tightly, ready to swing if I needed to. My plan had been to knock him out and chain him to a tree. Not sure how well that would work though.

I stopped in a clearing, having lost the trail. Behind me a twig snapped. I’ve always been an act first, ask questions later in these situations. I swung the chain, cracking Scott across the face. My eyes widened at the state of him. Like Derek, he had coarse hair growing down his cheeks, the bridge of his nose was scrunched up and appeared more animal like, his brow bone protruded. His jawline though? Still weird.

Scott’s head had swung to the side with the chain, he looked back slowly, and glared as he spit blood onto the ground. The scrape on his cheek healed almost immediately.

Ha ha, I’m in danger.

“Scott.” I said cautiously, taking a slow step back, “You know me. I’m your friend.” He wasn’t moving closer, but he also hadn’t stopped looking at me with his glowing yellow eyes like I was food.

“So, uh, you blow off your steam. Do some running, clear your head, that good stuff. And I will see you tomorrow. Okay?” I smiled nervously, he didn’t answer, “Okay.” Now it was time to run since I had gotten myself a decent head start. I turned and ran, hearing a roar and footsteps behind me. I threw the chains back over my head, hoping to trip him or hit him in the head. That didn’t seem to do much since he didn’t slow down.

All at once I was body slammed to the ground and turned on my back. Scott was sitting on top of me, leaning down he roared loudly in my face. His large pointed canines shone in the moonlight.

I screamed, shoving and kicking at him, “SCOTT! SCOTT PLEASE!” He thrusted a clawed hand down towards my chest that I barely caught. He seemed slightly confused, but pushed down. I whined, using everything I had keeping his sharp claws from my chest. I couldn’t even breathe.

“Scott, please don’t hurt me.” I begged through my teeth. He roared again, raising his other arm to strike when something flashed across my vision. Whatever it was, it knocked Scott off of me. I gasped for air, my lungs and muscles were screaming at me. The two began to fight, growling and snarling. I sat up, scrambling to get out of the direction of the brawl. I couldn’t see much in the dark since the clouds had covered the moon, but whoever it was got Scott on the ground, roaring down at him. The other stood up straight just as the moon’s light peaked through. And there stood Derek Hale - tall, proud, and very much alive.

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

Read part 7 here!

Oh boy, who could have seen that coming? Anyone who’s seen season 1, that’s who.

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!

Comment below or message me about being on the taglist :)

You Saved Me tag:

@nyotamalfoy

@fruitloopzzz

@babygirl-angel-love

@aestheticeggs (hi eggy)

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

49 notes · View notes

lavender-lotion · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Writer Asks

I was tagged by @asarcasticwitch - thank you so much!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

737, which is an ugly number :(

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,890,054 words, which ... AH I might actually get to 2mil by the end of the year!

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

thank you, ao3 dashboard for this handy list:

Teen Wolf (TV) (377)

X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies) (187)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (93)

Glee (29)

Young Justice (Cartoon) (11)

Kingsman (Movies) (9)

Original Work (9)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (8)

Criminal Minds (US TV) (7)

Thor (Movies) (6)

Deadpool (Movieverse) (5)

Weird City (TV) (5)

X-Men (Original Timeline Movies) (4)

Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) (4)

Ragnarok (TV 2020) (4)

Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) (3)

Teen Wolf (TV) RPF (3)

Iron Man (Movies) (3)

The House in the Cerulean Sea - T. J. Klune (2)

Venom (Marvel Movies) (1)

Stranger Things (TV 2016) (1)

Captain America (Movies) (1)

Fate: The Winx Saga (TV) (1)

Power Rangers Ninja Storm (1)

X-Men - All Media Types (1)

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan (1)

Riverdale (TV 2017) (1)

X-Men Evolution (1)

Push (2009) (1)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

With You, I Belong

Mates and Marriage Proposals

The Perceptions of You and I

(baby) maybe that matters more

Breathing You In

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

ughh so, fair warning, I have a lot of works. I definitely do not remember all of them, however I do have four works tagged as Unhappy Ending and then another nine works tagged Ambiguous/Open Ending, which is way more than I’d thought I had!

however, there is one fic that stands out in mind when I think about which of my works has the angstiest ending! Heed the tags :)

And Now?

Stiles Stilinski finds out who his soul mates are by setting one on fire.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

ughhhhhhhh I truly do not know???

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t write many crossovers at all! I have some mcu/teen wolf cross overs, I have a teen wolf/glee cross over plotted (that i’ll probably never write), but my strangest is probably this teen wolf/x-men cross over!

what-ifs (don’t fuckin’ matter to no one)

Teen And Up Audiences | No Archive Warnings Apply | M/M | X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)Teen Wolf (TV) | Logan (X-Men)/Sheriff Stilinski | Logan (X-Men), Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski | Memory Loss, Telepathy, Mentions of War, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Neglect, Grief/Mourning, Telepath Stiles Stilinski, Telekinetic Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling

There’s somethin’ there. Somethin’ that has him sleeping curled up on his side with a pillow tucked to his chest, somethin’ that has him splittin’ up his food ‘fore he eats ‘cause he don’t need as much as a baseline. Has him turnin’ to tell someone shit that ain’t there. There’s just...there’s just somethin’ there that’s missin’ and it shouldn’t be missin’.

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

sometimes! I don’t write a lot of smut because I actively dislike writing it, but the smut I do write is super super soft and sappy and full of emotions lol

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to almost all of my comments! comments i won’t respond to: negative comments, unsolicited criticism, comments that aren’t relevant to the fic itself, comments simply asking for more

I love love love responding to comments! I love every single comment that I get and I want to show how much I appreciate getting them, and personally I think responding to comments is the only way to do that! everyone has different comment philosophies, but for me, if someone is taking the time to comment on my fic like I so badly want them to, I think it’s important to respond to show my appreciation!

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aha YEAH I DO. this past weekend I actually got a number of shitty comments and had to file two ao3 abuse reports for harrasment (: I love it

I am no stranger to hate comments. I write copious amounts of age difference fic. I write copious amounts of incest. I am not going to apologize nor am I going to feel bad for enjoying either.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ughhh I sure as heck hope not!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I have a number of them :) I always always do my best to make sure it’s linked to the original fic, AND that I add a tag noting that there’s a translation!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have made a few attempts! the only successful attempt is there's nothing i wouldn't do to make you feel my love which is a collaboration with @flightinflame, not quite a co-write!

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I am unable to answer this lol I don’t have an all-time favourite. mutli-shipping forever.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

god okay this is such a good question! imma ramble about a few so bear with me here! (i may have 700 posted works but I also have a few hundreds wips & ideas floating around in my gdrive, too)

gone & past - this is a starrish wip i’d started in 2017. I ended up deleting it from ao3 to rewrite it and never got there, but I have about 20k of content! I built my home, inside of you - thorki human au with college jock thor and high school dancer loki. i’ve got a start and nothing else Sheriff Stilinski Gets Some Sweet Sweet Lovin’ - massive wip where... well, the sheriff fucks his way through the entire pack. I want to write it but. trans allison au - this is an au where allison is trans and that changes the entire season 1 canon. it features stallison, petopher, and a looooooong ass outline that will never exist beyond my wips You Fill My Heart (With Such a Gentle Love) - this is a stetopher a/b/o au with pregnant omega stiles and alpha pair petopher falling in love. it started as a labour of love to someone I no longer have in my life. I have about 30k, a full outline, but idk. makes me sad to think about it they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered - this is my big x-men first class rewrite that I honestly don’t think i’ll ever finish. I have a few thousand words, a full outline, but no love lost for cherik so. doubtful Physiotherapy (I'll Be Your Baby) - this was a fic I was SO excited about, and then it kinda flopped and stayed a wip because I didn’t have a plan or the motivation to finish it. it’s a winterspider human au with amputee bucky and science twink peter that I adore the premise of but who knows breathing you in chapter 2 - I have a massive second chapter planned for this fic but the first did so good so fast I am way too intimidated to write more in case everyone hates it lmao

there are more arjgoirjeg there are so many more but these are the bigger ones I can think of right now!

16) What are your writing strengths?

ughhhhh I hate answering this because I have, like, seriously bad imposter syndrome around my writing BUT I do think i’m able to weave poignant backstory into narration & i write strong, distinctive narrative voices!

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

literally I can’t write settings at all. I don’t know how people vividly describe settings but I absolutely cannot do that and it’s one of the reasons I haven’t delved into original fiction. I need to write the town my characters live in?? fuck that imma just use a location we’ve seen on screen & let readers fill in the blanks lmao

I am also shit at long fic. I don’t have the mind for long and interesting plots, and I don’t have the focus to write long fic (which is why every long fic i’ve ever posted has taken me literal years to complete smh).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I like it! both as a reader and as a writer. as a writer, I generally only use a few words, or small sentences that can be understood by context, and I generally don’t

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

the last thing I wrote and posted was this one:

Languish

It was a really, really hot Saturday, and most of the school was outback, enjoying the sun, not caring about the heat, and having the time of their life.

Everyone but Bobby, of course, who was melting away.

“I just want to remind everyone that I make ice. I am the Ice Man. I am not built for the heat and soon enough I’m going to melt away into nothing.”

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

this is another impossible question! I have a few I really enjoy, but I really don’t think I have a favourite that stands out above the rest!

i’m tagging: @4magicandmayhem @insertmeaningfulusername @midrashic @wynnefic @ikeracity @stronglyobsessed @elledelajoie @wolfnprey & anyone else who sees it and wants to do it! seriously! go ahead :)

blank questions below the read more!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

3) How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

7) Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

8) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

9) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14) What’s your all-time favorite ship?

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

16) What are your writing strengths?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

20) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

#lavenderlotion #my writing #writing tag #writing meme

23 notes · View notes

redhoodedwolf · 4 years

Note

“Oh shit I just spilled you coffee everywhere” sterek prompt

The first time Stiles made coffee for his boss, he was halfway to a panic attack, which was a weird thing to be anxious over. Except for the fact that his boss was Derek Hale. And Derek Hale liked his coffee made by one person in the office only, and that was Erica Reyes, his old assistant.

Stiles had always been told he was shit at making coffee. It was the one thing he’d lied about being good at in order to get this job.

Thankfully, Erica still worked for Hale Corp, just under a different position, so Stiles had struck a deal with her. She would have Derek’s coffee ready for him every morning so he could pass it off as his own. In return, he had to keep her up to date on all Derek gossip, apparently the one fun thing her new job lacked.

Easy decision. Stiles shook his soul away, but he got Derek his coffee every morning, and had even seen him smile a few times.

All was well for a few weeks, up until Jackson Douchemore came back from an extended business trip. Stiles knew Jackson from outside of the job, because he was friends with Lydia. Jackson also knew Stiles and knew exactly how to ruin his day, just because he could.

Feet from Derek’s office, Jackson rounded the corner, an evil look in his eyes, and proceed to trip Stiles, sending him and the coffee to the floor.

“Whoops,” Jackson crowed.

Derek stuck his head out of his office, stopping Stiles form either punching Jackson in the face or just melting through the ground and ceasing to exist.

Jackson’s triumphant look cowed under Derek’s glare. “Whittemore, call maintenance and have them clean this up before it stains too badly. And bring Stiles your extra shirt.” Jackson opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Derek added, “Now,” and the blond was gone.

“You okay?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and tried to ignore his brain adding angel wings and a halo to Derek’s figure. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Sorry about your coffee.”

“It’s fine. Just rinse out the mug and make it again, after you get changed.”

“Right.” Stiles froze. “Wait. Again?”

Derek smirked. “The company is doing well enough that every employee can have more than one cup a day. It won’t break the bank.”

“Ha! Right!” Stiles jumped to his feet and took the plain white button up that Jackson threw at him as he passed. “I’ll just go change and do that!”

He swiped the mug from the floor and raced for the kitchen. Depositing the mug in the sink, he swung around the corner into the Men’s and undid his shirt, wincing at the stain that would never come out. Stiles was keeping Jackson’s shirt forever, he owed him a new one anyway.

One problem solved. Now...

Stiles stared at the mug of steaming coffee. Easy part done, he just had to press the buttons on the machine. Now came the cream and sugar. How many spoonfuls of sugar does Erica usually add? Three? Dammit, he should have taken notes!

Creamer was easier, at least. He added until the coffee looked like the right lighter shade, then stopped, stirring it all together. Okay, maybe the coffee was a touch lighter than usual, but maybe Derek wouldn’t notice and would just be happy he had coffee at all? Right, sure.

Stiles was going to be fired over coffee.

To amuse himself, Stiles played a funeral dirge in his head as he trudged to Derek’s office, eyes peeled for sneaky Jacksons.

Stiles knocked on the office door, and Derek called him in.

“Coffee!” Stiles declared, lowering the mug onto Derek’s coaster at the corner of his desk.

“Thanks,” Derek said, a small smile given to Stiles. His eyes flicked down, then back up. He cleared his throat. “Shirt looks good on you.”

Stiles glanced down. It was maybe a bit tight. Stiles had shoulders where Jackson had none, so it stretched a bit (it was probably fitted, the rich bastard), but it was wearable for sure.

“Certainly nicer than anything I can afford,” Stiles agreed.

Derek reached for the mug and Stiles flinched back.

“Right, I’ll just...” he jerked his thumb behind him to the door.

“Actually if you wait just a second, I just have to moved the files onto this flashdrive, but then could you take it down to Argent for me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Stiles rushed to say, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Derek brought the mug to his lips, tilted it to sip, and Stiles stared.

Derek glanced up, lips detaching from the mug’s rim. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek took a long drag of the coffee this time and then sighed. Stiles’ shoulders relaxed. Somehow he’d managed it. Miracle of miracles.

Derek handed him the flashdrive seconds later, and Stiles was out of there.

Jackson had not given up, it seems, on his venture to get Stiles fired through coffee, because he struck again the week after.

“Oh, was that yours? My bad, I thought it was old so I dumped it,” Jackson said, Derek’s mug upside down over the kitchen sink, the last drips hitting the metal basin with a sad plop.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Stiles hissed, looking back to see if Erica was still around and could remake the mug she’d expertly crafted, but she was gone. He tore the mug from Jackson’s hands. “Seriously, go to therapy. It’ll do you wonders.”

Stiles violently threw a new pod into the Keurig and shoved the mug under the spout before turning back to the snake of a man. “Who knows, maybe Lydia will take you back then.”

Jackson’s face shut down, and he turned and left the kitchen without another word.

Not letting the guilt get to him, because Jackson deserved what he’d said, Stiles reached for the sugar and creamer, once again going to guess Derek’s flavor combination.

It looked to be the correct shade this time, and Derek hadn’t said anything against it last time, so maybe he wasn’t such a coffee snob?

“I bring good juice and good news, both piping hot,” Stiles declared upon entering Derek’s office.

Derek stared at him for a moment, lips parted, before his mouth snapped shut and he gestured Stiles to come forward. “Hot. Yes?”

“The good news is that someone is going to be calling today about her United States debut,” Stiles sang, setting Derek’s mug down on its space.

Derek’s eyes lit up. “Cora?”

Stiles nodded. “Mhmm. It’s already in your schedule and everything. I scheduled it right before lunch, in case you want extra time to talk with her about, you know, logistics.” Stiles waved a hand.

Derek took a gentle sip of his coffee, eyes slipping closed, clearly happy to discuss his sister’s joining of the company. Stiles may have stared at the happy-bliss look for too long. He averted his eyes just in time.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. “Just my job.”

Stiles left the office then, closing the door behind him and taking a steadying breath. His heart should not be going so wild. Derek was his boss. It was totally unprofessional.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles’ spine went ramrod straight, and he turned towards the sharp voice of Jackson, ready to give as good as he got, when he saw the other man’s face and he paused.

Jackson wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You really think therapy will help me get her back?” He sounded like a broken man.

Stiles groaned loudly and slumped over in half, head pressing against Jackson’s chest.

Derek popped his head out of his office, asking what the noise was about.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to move off of Jackson’s unfairly sculpted torso, just waved his hand in Derek’s direction. “Just releasing my pride.”

Jackson awkwardly patted him on the back, and Stiles raised his head enough to give him a tight-lipped smile.

Derek said nothing for a moment, but then his office door closed swiftly with an audible click.

“Okay, dude, let’s reconvene at lunch, eh? We’ll talk it out then.”

Jackson nodded tersely and then turned around and went back to his office. Stiles wanted to groan again, but apparently Derek didn’t like it, going by the practical slam of his soft-close door, so he held back and decided to save it for later.

The third time was truly all Stiles. He’d grown out of his clumsy ways after high school, but he still had the occasional twitch that caused a commotion.

He supposed he could blame Derek too, but he couldn’t blame another man for his reactive emotions.

It had been two weeks since Jackson and Stiles had met for lunch and Stiles listened to Jackson for perhaps the first time in his life. He’d recommended a psychologist, gently suggested anger management classes, and promised he’d put in a good word with Lydia and assured Jackson that she was single and wasn’t interested in anyone else.

Since then, Jackson had gone back to mostly ignoring his presence, which Stiles was fine with. But they greeted each other in the halls when they passed. The one time Derek and Jackson were having a meeting and Stiles had come in to deliver mail, Derek had stared with wide eyes at the smile Jackson gave him when asking how his day was going.

So that issue was solved. Stiles thought he was in the clear. Shame on him, really.

He held Derek’s mug securely in his hands, reveling in the warmth from the drink. It had been a cold walk from the bus this morning, and the coffee was finally zapping the lingering cold from his phalanges.

Stiles raised a fist to knock on Derek’s door, but heard someone’s voice first. And not Derek’s.

Now, Stiles was Derek’s assistant, so he had a right to be a bit nosy into who was ruining his perfect schedule for Derek, right?

Stiles unashamedly pressed his ear against the door.

“You should take him,” Derek said, then added something else Stiles couldn’t catch.

The other person in the room laughed, and Stiles realized it was Cora. She did start work on Monday, so it made sense for her to be here to get everything squared away. Still...

“... can’t be his boss anymore...”

“Why?”

“Cora... better suited...”

“Sure, that’s why...coffee?”

Stiles startled, the voice much louder than it had been, and he didn’t step away in time before the door opened. The mug flew from his hand, thankfully away from other people, and once more the carpet was stained.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Stiles!”

Stiles recovered the thankfully unbroken mug from the floor and stared dejected at its emptiness. “Nope, that was all on me. I was, um, not paying enough attention to hear you?”

“I’ll call maintenance. You go bring my brother his lifeblood,” she joked.

Derek stood in the doorway, face surprisingly blank, and Stiles wondered if Derek had guessed he’d been eavesdropping.

“I’ll be right back, Stiles mumbled and escaped. Because the look on Derek’s face was worrisome. Why would Derek need to hide his emotions regarding their conversation from Stiles, unless...

“Shit, I made him shit coffee twice and now I’m sacked!” Stiles shouted to the sink. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, but the sink gave him nothing to work with.

Screw it, he was already a gonner.

Stiles mixed the coffee haphazardly, not even sure he’d added sugar. Maybe he’d grabbed the salt. Either way, Derek deserved it for shipping him off to Cora because of two bad mugs of coffee.

“Here,” Stiles offered, voice terse, holding the mug out to Derek a few minutes later. He refused to set it down on principal.

Derek was keeping his neutral face mask on, which pissed him off even more. Still, he took the mug gingerly and then stared down into it.

“Drink it,” Stiles challenged.

“Did you poison it?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

“Do you know of a reason I would poison your coffee, Derek?” Stiles asked batting his eyelashes innocently.

Derek blanched, but clearly had nothing to say. He brought the mug to his lips and took a careful sip. He smacked his lips afterwards and set the mug on the coaster. “I think I’ll live,” he declared, a few seconds later.

“It’s shit,” Stiles spat, throwing himself into the chair across from Derek’s desk. Might as well get the transfer done sooner rather than later.

“The coffee? Tastes fine to me.”

“How can it?!” Stiles exclaimed. “I made it!”

“I’m not picky about my coffee, Stiles,” Derek argued, which.

What?

“But... when I was interviewed, I was told that getting your coffee just right was first and foremost.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Erica interviewed you, didn’t she? I think she went with that excuse to weed out the weaklings, or something.”

So, Stiles had been plying Erica with Derek gossip for months while she just made a random cup of coffee?!

But, wait.

“If it’s not my coffee-making skills, why are you firing me?”

Derek’s eyes went wide. “You were-- Eavesdropping, Stiles, really?” He sighed heavily. “Also, you’re not getting fired. I’m suggesting you transfer over to Cora’s assistant because she’s working in a division that suits your job advancement better. This was never a permanent position for you at Hale Corp, Stiles. You’re far too smart to organize my calendar all day.”

Stiles’ head was reeling. “Wait, so... wait. I’m. You think I’m smart?” he squeaked.

Derek chuckled and stood, walking out from behind the desk. “Yes, I do. And so does the company. But I also think you’re very attractive and if I’m your supervisor I can’t do anything about it. So?”

Derek leaned over Stiles, arms bracketing him in as the clutched at the arms of the chair.

Stiles swallowed thickly, eyes bouncing all over Derek’s face, looking for any sign of a joke.

“How--” he cleared his throat and felt his face burning in embarrassment over the crack in his voice, “how fast can we get the transfer paperwork done?”

Derek grinned. “Fast enough that you’ll be under Cora by Friday night. Say six thirty?”

“Rather be under you Friday night, but yeah, Sounds great,” Stiles spoke on a exhale as Derek rocked closer, the foreheads touching.

“Gross.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Jackson,” he snapped, eyes sliding closed as he felt Derek pull back. “I thought we were done with the bullshit.”

Stiles turned in the chair to look at the blond who simply shrugged. “I already got Lydia’s forgiveness, what more do I need you for?”

Dammit. Lydia was fickle in love. Then again, who was Stiles to judge?

“Forget it. What do you need?”

“It is the middle of a work day, in case you forgot,” Jackson pointed out, and Stiles felt the urge to punch him rising.

“I’ll be with you in a second, Jackson,” Derek said, managing to sound not pissed off.

Jackson backed out of the office, but left the door wide open.

Stiles glanced back at Derek. “Look, I know he’s the illegitimate son of your wild and estranged uncle, so technically, despite the fact that he was adopted into a different wildly rich family, he is Hale by blood, but does he have to work here?”

“You should meet Peter’s illegitimate daughter.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “No thanks.”

Derek smirked. “Get back to work, Stiles. We can iron out Friday’s details later.”

Stiles grinned, bubbling happiness filling his chest. “I’ll pencil it in.”

#sterek #fic #eternalsterek #fanfiction #asks #ninjanervana

433 notes · View notes