Derek Hale's life sucks so bad. Imagine you're nineteen your entire family is dead and your continued survival hinges on working with two of the most annoying sixteen year olds you've ever met who won't stop framing you for murder
Late at night across the country, Stiles dreams. He dreams of Beacon Hills, of its small town lights glowing in the dark, mirroring the stars above. He dreams of the preserve, of its trails and wild animals, its magic and secrets. He dreams of the moon, glowing brightly, reliably, like an anchor.
He dreams of his father, safe and sound in bed. Of Melissa, sleeping next to John. Of… of Derek, face smoothed of lines of stress, looking peaceful for once.
Stiles moves closer, reaching out to touch Derek, to lay a hand on his bare shoulder. But all Stiles grasps is the empty air in front of him. His fingers catch on nothing, and an invisible barrier keeps him stuck, unable to reach the wolf.
Stiles struggles, kicking his feet in bed and beginning to writhe, a feeling of dread stirring deep in his gut, threatening to rise up. The fear sticks in his throat, choking him, rendering him unable to speak as his mouth opens and shuts silently. His breathing comes labored, now, as he tries to reach out again and again, lips parting around a silent yell.
Derek continues to sleep.
At last, Stiles breaks through, his spark shooting through his torso and running down his arm, alighting his fingers with magic. His skin collides with Derek’s at last, and Derek’s eyes shoot open as he’s forced straight up in bed. Their eyes connect, and Stiles’ world goes black in the swirl of a hazy tornado behind his closed eyes.
Stiles tries to breathe, tries to awaken, but it’s a lost cause, as the man feels himself being chained to his bed by invisible ropes, by paralysis.
His only option is to keep dreaming.
His mind’s eye brings him a field of purple. It fills his gaze, and the stench of wolfsbane floats up his nose, and Stiles knows within a second that he will die if it continues to suffocate him. He has no say in the matter; it’s just a fact.
Beacon Hills has turned into a scene of magenta clouds, threatening and ominous and terrifying. Aconite fills Stiles’ lungs, though not a single flower can be seen. Stiles stands on the crumbling ground of the preserve, feet anchored in the dirt, as a whiff of copper and ozone rushes by him. He’s alone, looking up at the mass of clouds with a pounding heart. It feels like someone’s watching him, though there’s no one and nothing around for miles. The place is barren, and Stiles feels too exposed, too out in the open, too vulnerable.
He tries to call out, scream, howl. But not even his echo makes it back to him.
“Derek?” he yells desperately. His voice is cracked and his throat painful. “Der?”
In the distance, a wolf’s low call fills his ears. Stiles moves to run toward it, but his feet come out from under him as large roots wrap around them. He gasps, fighting, but remains above ground despite the roots trying to pull him under. He digs his fingers into the soil as though they’re claws, kicking and thrashing, as the wolf continues to howl from far away. It sounds pained, injured, and Stiles yearns to go to it, help it.
“I’m coming,” he cries through his struggling. “I hear you! I’ll be there s—“
Derek’s face appears in his vision, and the copper smell increases, and fear grips Stiles’ heart like a vise.
“There’s no more time. You’ve used it all,” Derek tells him.
“No,” Stiles begs, clawing, reaching out for Derek in his mind. “I can help! I can—“
“You’re too late,” Derek interrupts. “Look what you’ve done. The town is a wasteland. If you had only listened, they’d still be alive.”
“No, please,” Stiles sobs, not even understanding what he’s praying for. “I can fix it!”
“What’s done is done. If you had only come back to me—“
Derek’s voice echoes now, and chants of come back to me fill Stiles’ ears as his dream rushes further and further away from him. Come back to me, Derek begs him now, his voice urgent and desperate and scared, and Stiles struggles, writhing and reaching out heavy arms to the wolf he needs to get to, needs to save. Come back to me, Derek warns, and whispers, and offers, and pleads.
Come back to me, is all Stiles hears, over and over, like an omen, before he wakes up.
The crazy thing is, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, if you asked me on any given day "Would like to see a picture of some genitals?" my answer would be "😰 No, that's... No, thank you. I'm okay, actually." I have nothing but the utmost respect for people who do engage with the penis side of the internet, but personally, I've spent the better part of two decades doing all I can NOT to have pictures of dick and balls or sexy bikini babe buttcheeks blasted onto my retinas constantly. And yet... to be denied the penis? To have a jumped up pile of javascript tell me, a grown adult with an air fryer and an outstanding council tax bill, that I cannot be trusted to withstand the sight of a bare nipple unless I let it scan my drivers' license? I will move heaven and earth to see that fucking nipple, friend. I will walk a thousand miles barefoot on hot coals before I give you big brother bitches my passport number. A thousand miles through the desert with five VPNs just to press my face up against the glass and see the last uncensored picture of two My Little Pony Characters sixty-nining each other, and I don't even want! to look at it! But I will! I must! for the sake of our fucking democracy!
Some asshole gifts Stiles a collar and a leash so he can “keep his mutt boyfriend under control” (maybe a hunter of something? Idk) but Stiles is like “jokes on you, I’m into that shit” and Derek (or Peter, honestly doesn’t even matter) goes from growling/glaring at them to 👀 at Stiles in record time
Okay, hear me out—I’ve got this arranged marriage Sterek AU idea:
In this idea, everyone knows werewolves exist (no big secret). When Derek was like 10 years old, his mom’s best friend Claudia had a boy. From that day on, Derek’s mom kept teasing him: “When that kid grows up, you’re gonna marry him!” Derek always rolled his eyes, thought it was just mom being dramatic and funny, never took it seriously.
Derek grows up, moves to another city for college, starts dating this woman named Kate Argent (yep, the bad-news one), living his life.
Then one holiday break, he comes home to visit. His mom sits him down all serious and says: “Derek, it’s time you meet your fiancé, stiles.”
While I do love willing captive Stiles, I also love a moment where it finally dawns on Stiles how scary possessive Derek is and tries to run away. Derek who decided he was going to have Stiles one way or another, so when the romancing doesn’t work he tracks Stiles down and locks him away to spoil him rotten under heavy security.
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