TWs/Tags: orphan Stiles, hunter Stiles, Alpha bait Stiles, whump Stiles, Alpha Derek, werewolves are known, smut, implied age gap, violence, murder, Kate and Gerard Argent being their evil selves, manipulation, grooming, sex trafficking, Stiles is a minor for some very bad things but not with Derek, the hunting community is pretty much a high controlling group. these tags sound heavy but most are only broached lightly and donât go into too much detail.
Stiles being raised by Hunters after his father dies when heâs like 10 and heâs indoctrinated into their whole mentality while simultaneously growing up to be (according to the Hunters) attractive to wolves.
It makes for a very fucked up dynamic between Stiles and the Hunter community heâs a part of.
Gerard Argent doesnât waste a second and immediately starts grooming Stiles into becoming Alpha bait.
As soon as he hits puberty heâs taken aside and isnât allowed to be with the other kids in the community anymore, instead heâs taken under Gerard and Kateâs tutelage
Stiles gets introduced to sex way too fucking young. He starts high school and already he knows everything there is to know about sex and how to have it with werewolves, with Alphas. He knows how to approach them, he knows how to seduce them and he knows how to fuck them.
Heâs 16 when Gerard sends him on his first âmissionâ. Kate accompanies him to the bar their target is at, just as training wheels but Stiles doesnât need her.
Their target is an Alpha in his mid 20s. Stiles is wearing tight clothing and immediately gets to work.
An hour in, the Alpha is all over Stiles, pawing at him and murmuring in Stilesâ ear while Stilesâ sweet laughter can be heard by everyone in the bar.
Another hour in and the Alpha has Stiles sat on top of the pool table, face buried in his pale neck. Stilesâ eyes half lidded and full of arousal, his scent matching perfectly.
When the Alpha asks Stiles if he wants to get out of there, Stiles nods, biting into his bottom lip coyly.
Stiles gets into the Alphaâs truck and the Alpha takes him to the edge of the woods, a well known loverâs lane in town. When the Alpha kisses him, Stiles kisses back.
By the time the Alpha notices something is amiss, he has a hand inside Stilesâ underwear at his ass and Stiles is grinding up into the Alphaâs crotch where heâs hard and ready for Stiles.
The Alpha even attempts to protect Stiles when he realizes thereâs Hunters surrounding them. He hides Stilesâ body with his own and quickly murmurs to him that heâll distract them and Stiles needs to run, run as fast as he can. Stilesâ eyes are wide and glassy as he nods.
The Alpha gets out of the truck slowly, guns pointed at him. Stiles knows he can smell the mountain ash, the wolfsbane in the air. He gets out of the truck too and walks to the Hunters, then crosses the line of guns. He keeps his eyes on the ground.
The Alpha lets out a confused âwhat the fuck?â
Kate comes to Stiles and pats him on the back and praises him for a job well done. For some reason, it doesnât make him feel good. All heâs thinking about is the way the wolf tried to protect him.
They shoot the wolf in the legs, get him down on the ground and Gerard calls out for Stiles.
Stiles obediently goes to the old man and doesnât look away from his sneering face, somehow incapable of looking at the wolf snarling painfully on the ground.
Gerard hands him a gun. Nothing fancy, just a glock but itâs heavy in Stilesâ palm and it starts shaking slightly. Gerard puts his hands on Stilesâ shoulders and turns him towards the Alpha and orders him to finish what heâs started.
The Alphaâs red glowing eyes are piercing Stiles right through. He canât look away now. He lifts the gun to line it to the Alphaâs head. His hand is shaking hard, too hard, he brings his other hand to the gun to steady himself, pulls the safety off.
Time stretches. In his mind's eye all he sees is the Alpha shielding him from danger, from the HuntersâŠ
Heâs hyperventilating and it takes him a few tries to finally let out a small âiâm sorry i- i canâtâ
Gerard snatches the gun from him and hits him hard with it, making him fall to the ground, holding the side of his face. Gerard calls him a useless slut and shoots the wolf himself making Stiles jump.
He makes Stiles watch as they cut the body in half and burn it.
Kate is the one to drive him back home because Gerard said he wanted Stiles out of his sight. Kate is angry and disappointed with him. She calls him soft and weak. Stiles is too numb to really register any of it.
When theyâre back at home, Stiles makes a beeline for the bathroom. He pukes his guts out until thereâs nothing left in him but he keeps on dry heaving for a long time, tears rolling down his cheeks, his breathing erratic. He has a panic attack right there on the bathroom floor.
After that night, thereâs a numbness in him he canât seem to shake off. Gerard eventually forgives his misgiving but itâs obvious he doesnât trust Stiles anymore, not the way he used to. He sends Stiles on missions again but theyâre a different kind.
Heâs still sent to bait wolves but he isnât left alone with them anymore and sometimes heâs given to fellow Hunters who deserve a reward for a night or two.
The first time Gerard pushed him towards a young and eager Hunter and told him he belonged to him for the night, Stiles hadnât immediately understood. It was only when the guy had pulled him to his car and taken him to his place that Stiles had got it.
Stiles didnât really like to think back on that night. He much preferred to let the numbness dull everything.
~*~
Heâs 19 when Gerard and Kate approach him with a thick file. Their newest (oldest) target.
Alpha Derek Hale.
The file goes way back, even before Stiles was born. It goes over the long line of Hales, their Pack, the Hale fire and now Derek Hale who came back and reclaimed his territory and was making a lot of waves.
Through the numbness Stiles notices how restless Kate and Gerard are. This Derek Hale is bad news. Heâll destroy everything theyâve built. Stiles looks at the single picture of the man they have on file. A side profile so his eyes donât glare and ruin the picture.
Heâs handsome. Broad shouldered, sharp features, dark hair, attractive stubble.
Stiles knows whatâs coming, he knows what will be asked of him. They couldnât kill Derek Hale in the fire so now theyâll send Stiles in to do what he does best and finish the job. A job that was started so long ago Stiles had been just a young child who still had a loving parent.
~*~
He meets Derek by âchanceâ at the gas station one night as heâs browsing snacks with a drink in hand, playing with the straw with his mouth and tongue.
He sends Derek little looks from under his lashes until the man smirks and walks over to him and introduces himself. Stiles does the same. Derek Hale leaves the gas station with Stilesâ number saved on his phone.
Derek takes him on a date a few days later. Stiles has never been on a date before but itâs not like he can truly let himself enjoy it but still, it does something to him, having Derek take him out and treat him like heâs worth the trouble.
Stiles offers sex on the first date but Derekâs face does something weird for a moment before itâs gone and instead he gives Stiles a soft chaste goodnight kiss, ending the night there.
They do have sex eventually, after their third date, Derek takes him to a nice hotel and fucks him for hours. Slow, fast, so hard Stiles canât think then slow again, in so many different positions Stiles feels like a rag doll. Itâs the best sex heâs ever had.
Derek spends more than an hour eating him out, leaving Stiles sobbing in the pillows, his cock leaking in the sheets.
Derek makes him ride his cock, looking up at him avidly, edging him on to move the way Stiles likes, to chase his pleasure.
Stiles does and gets lost to it. Derek takes his erection in his hand and jerks him off in time with his little movements until he comes messily all over Derekâs stomach and chest.
Heâs only given a few moments to catch his breath before Derek flips them and almost folds him in half, thrusting back into him hard and setting a brutal pace that steals Stilesâ breath away.
Derek has him begging, screaming his name and babbling nonsense until finally Derek takes mercy on him and lets Stiles get some rest. He pillows Stilesâ head onto his chest and runs his fingers up and down his naked back, sending shivers all over Stilesâ body.
Stiles never knew sex could be like this. Heâs had a lot of sex ever since he turned 16 but it was never like this. Derek made him come untouched multiple times. Thatâs insane. But itâs the way Derek focused on Stilesâ pleasure as much as his own, maybe even more so than his own, that truly puzzles Stiles. Who does that? No one is that generous. Right?
He wakes up to an empty bed, an empty hotel room which feels strange. Derek didnât even leave a note.
Stiles takes a shower and checks his phone. No messages. Nothing. He gets himself home to the small apartment Kate arranged for him to live in during the mission.
He sends Derek a text asking if everythingâs okay and letting him know he made it home. He makes sure to add how much he enjoyed their date and their night together.
An hour or so later he understands why he hasnât heard from Derek at all. Kate texts him the code word that means the mission is compromised and to report back immediately.
Stilesâ stomach drops with dread. What? It doesnât make any sense. The mission is fine, heâs doing everything right. Derek is doing everything right.
He gets picked up from the point of contact in town by two Hunters he doesnât recognize. He tries to ask questions but they shoot him down quickly. The dread in his stomach gets heavier.
Heâs taken to headquarters (Gerardâs house) and brought to Gerardâs office. Chris, Kate and even Allison are present along with Gerard. Panic joins the dread and he shakily asks whatâs going on?
The door shuts behind him and Gerard gestures for him to approach, Stiles does on slightly wobbly legs and Gerard turns his laptop around so Stiles can see the screen then presses the space bar.
Stilesâ moans of pleasure fills the office, on the screen Stiles is getting fucked face down onto the mattress by Derek whoâs kneeling behind him, pulling him back onto his hard thrusts by the hips. Stiles swallows hard, face flushing as the Stiles on the screen babbles on and on, little curses, praises, edging Derek on. Stiles had been mindless then, the pleasure so overwhelming he hadnât thought of anything else other than Derekâs cock and his own pleasure.
Then Derek shifts on the screen and his eyes meet the camera with a slight smirk and he lowers himself over Stiles and starts speaking to him softly but the camera picks it up and itâs unproportionally loud in the speakers, in Stilesâ ears.
âAren't you being so good for me? look at you, taking me so well, you love this donât you? you love it when i make you mine like this? you want to be mine so badly.â
The Stiles on the screen keens and starts repeating yes yes yes over and over as Derek pounds into him harder until Stiles canât form words anymore and is left panting wetly into the sheets.
Stiles drops his eyes to the ground, flushed and trembling with embarrassment and shame. Gerard stops the video and then itâs silent as the grave.
It becomes obvious Stiles is the one expected to say something. Without looking up, he manages to stammer out that he was just doing his job.
Kate snorts, Gerard orders Stiles to look up at him so Stiles lifts his head sharply to do so, still trembling with shame, face red with embarrassment. Gerard looks calm, too calm, Stiles knows not to be deceived by his calmness, that it usually hid raging fury.
Stiles swallows convulsively and fights to keep his eyes up on Gerardâs.
It takes a long moment for the old man to finally speak and he asks Stiles to explain how Derek Hale could have found out who Stiles was. Stiles blanches. The words are accusatory, Gerard already suspects Stiles to have slipped up somehow but he hasnât. He hasnât, dammit, he did everything right.
He says as much. I didnât slip up! I did everything right, just like you taught me! But it comes out a bit clumsy, a little too fast and Gerardâs only response is for his eyes to narrow suspiciously.
Kate scoffs and says that Stiles must have done something because now the fucking mutt is laughing at them and Stiles ruined everything.
Gerard lifts a hand towards her to silence her and she quiets down but sheâs fuming, sending daggers at Stiles with her eyes.
His words are final when he announces that Stiles is done.
Thereâs small gasps coming from both Chris and Allison at Gerardâs words but they quiet down quickly at the sharp look Gerard gives them.
Meanwhile Stilesâ eyes glaze over and he feels numb to the core. He knows what that means.
He doesnât fight it. He doesnât beg for forgiveness like he used to do when he was younger and Gerard or Kate were dissatisfied with him or his performances. It was useless now. Gerardâs mind was made up. Kateâs too.
~*~
Hours later, heâs taken to the semi-abandoned industrial part of town and Kate drags him to the middle of the headlights coming from the circle of SUVs parked around. She throws him to the ground and Stiles falls hard and stays there, head down and hazy, blinking fast.
He knows whatâs coming. He thinks that maybe the numbness will shield him from the worst of the pain.
Gerard talks, Kate too, shouts more like. Thereâs cheers, boos, Gerard and Kate are riling the other Hunters up.
Eventually, they set them loose on Stiles. It lasts a while. He doesnât register much until finally it seems to be over and he hears the muffled sounds of cars driving away and heâs left in darkness with just some distant street lights.
Itâs hard to stay awake, the numbness did its job up until it didnât and now everything hurts. He canât move much so he doesnât. He just tilts his head a tiny bit so he can look up at the sky and watch the stars as he slowly dies. Because thatâs whatâs happening isnât it? They want him dead and he probably deserves it anyway so thatâs okay.
He wonders if Derek Hale will be notified of his death. If the Argents will let him know. To taunt him or just to fuck with him. Probably. They liked to do that, Stiles liked to do that too. They made sure he did. For some reason that thought makes his lips wobble and he tries to stop it but itâs too painful.
He thinks he can hear his dad calling to him and his eyes fill with tears and now itâs not just his lips wobbling but his whole body starts shaking. He hasnât thought of his dad in so long. Whenever he does it hurts too much so he never lets himself do it but now heâs all Stiles is thinking about.
Iâm sorry, dad⊠Iâm so sorry.
Everything goes black after that.
Heâs probably dead. Or at least thatâs what it feels like because thereâs no pain anymore. He frowns or tries to when he hears some strange voices. Alarmed voices, calling his name, asking if he can hear them, to stay awake, the ambulance is coming.
Someone telling another to go, to leave because they canât be found here with him or it will be bad so bad. I got this Alpha, just leave. Stiles thinks he can feel fingers at his forehead, pushing his hair away, the touch there and gone. Then the sound of someone running in the opposite direction as sirens approaches.
~*~
Derek Hale rushes to the hospital only when heâs notified his boyfriend has been admitted after sustaining extensive injuries after getting attacked.
The town still assumes Derek and Stiles are together. They have seen them in town together multiple times on dates. Stiles is dating Alpha Hale. Everyone knows that even if itâs still a relatively new thing.
What most people donât know is that Stiles is a Hunter and Derek knows this and that their relationship has been just a big game.
Derek has known everything from the start, or almost from the start, heâd let it happen, had manipulated things until he could throw it back in the Huntersâ faces. What he had not anticipated was for Stiles to be excommunicated and almost beaten to death.
He had known Stiles was an outlier, not a typical Hunter. Wasnât born into it, wasnât trained like a normal Hunter, had never killed a wolf himself. Derek had read his file, the one his own people had put together for him. The only thing it lacked was information about the obviously precarious place Stiles held in the Hunter hierarchy.
Derek had assumed Stiles was high in the hierarchy, since he was always kept close to the top, alongside Gerard and his kids but Stiles ended up half dead not even 24 hours after Derek had blown things off.
That didnât speak of a high place in the hierarchy but a very low one and a low one for a long time. The longer he thought about it the more evident it became that Derek had been Stilesâ last resort mission. His last test, his last chance to prove himself.
Derek had made sure he failed and as good as it had felt in that moment, when he sent the recording to Gerard, it didn't feel good at all anymore. Actually, it kind of made him feel sick.
He rushes to the hospital and pretends he isnât the one who found Stiles bleeding out and barely breathing not even an hour ago.
He had been patrolling the territoryâs borders with Boyd like they always do. The scent of blood thick had been thick in the air and then Derek had picked up Stilesâ sweet scent behind the blood and had followed it until they both found him dying in a pool of his own blood, looking like every bone in his body was broken.
Boyd had immediately called 911 while Derek touched the skin of Stilesâ neck, open palmed and pulled his pain, there was so much of it. Boyd had then taken over and made Derek leave. They couldnât risk people thinking Derek had anything to do with this. So Derek had left, trusted Boyd with the situation even if everything in him screamed to stay and take care of Stiles who was so clearly dying.
The medical staff fills him in on Stilesâ injuries. Cracked ribs, punctured lung, three broken fingers, extensive bruising and contusions, severe blood loss and a mild to severe concussion. Theyâre suspecting permanent brain damage but itâs too early to really know the extent of it yet. They would know more once Stiles wakes up.
They let him sit in the waiting room with Boyd as Stiles goes through surgery. It takes hours for the staff to patch him up and finally Derek is allowed to see him as heâs sleeping off the anesthesia and sedatives.
Heâs barely recognizable, face swollen and black and blue, one eye swollen shut entirely and bandages covering most of his head and face. He looks smaller than he is, under the blankets, small and vulnerable. Derek pulls a chair closer to Stilesâ bed and sits before taking his un-bandaged hand in his and starts pulling his pain. There isnât much, Stiles is pumped full of pain meds but still he seems to melt even more deeply into the bed, letting out a small sigh.
Derek watches him and goes over the last month or so in his head. The way they met, at the gas station. The way Derek had zeroed in on him immediately. Looking like the sweetest of sin and giving Derek quick little interested looks from under his lashes until Derek had naturally gravitated to him.
It was only when Derek had been home later, thinking back on their meeting and interactions that Derek started to have a forming suspicion and demanded a background check on Stiles. Derek remembered what else his interactions with Stiles made him think of. Kate. It wasnât the same but it was still so similar. Eerily so. The way Stiles had looked at him, the words he had used, the cadence of his words, the way he had made sure to touch Derek softly, subtly, like it was the most natural thing in the world and not something completely coached.
Derek hadnât slept much that night but when he finally did he had a nightmare. Instead of Kate burning his family alive it was him, Stiles.
His head resonated loudly with Stilesâ words. Hi, Iâm Stiles, Hi, Iâm Stiles, Hi, Hi, Hi, of course you can have my number, of course, of course, of course. Text me, okay? Text me, okay? Text me, Text me, Text me.
He woke up sweating and with the urge to run, so he had. He had gotten up and ran for hours. When he had finally calmed down and checked his phone he had received the first batch of info on who Stiles was and quickly read through it. It confirmed his suspicion. He pushed aside the nasty little voice in his mind that taunted him with the fact that he had fallen for it again, how many times would he fall for it before he learned his lesson. But instead of letting the voice get to him, he opened up a new chat and sent Stiles a good morning text and asked if he would like to go out on a date.
Stiles had been easy to impress which at the time felt like a huge red flag but now Derek isnât so sure.
Stiles had gone googly eyed when on their second date when he took him to a planetarium because Stiles had mentioned in passing on their first date that he liked space, the moon and the stars.
Stiles who had spent their first date at a nice restaurant babbling on and on while making flirty eyes at him and touching him, slowly but surely sucking him in or so he thought, Derek was sure. He would lie if he said it hadnât worked a bit. Stiles was beautifully mesmerizing. Gorgeous and funny and tooth rotting sweet. He was exactly Derekâs type. Everything he wanted in a lover, a mate. It had made everything worse, had made Derek angrier, more vengeful.
When Stiles had whispered if Derek wanted to take him home and fuck him, it had felt like a slap in the face. Not because Derek hadnât wanted to because he sure as hell did. Stiles was more than willing, had smelled like sin itself, enticing and full of lust and arousal but all he could think of was Kate. The way she had done the same thing. Used the same tactics and words. Had made him take her home and fucked her and made him fall in love just to kill his entire family in the end.
He had given Stiles a chaste kiss and left him for the night.
On their third date though, Derek went all out. Took Stiles to a fancy restaurant, took him to see a show then took him to a fancy hotel nearby.
Boyd had installed the hidden camera while they were out at dinner. Had texted Derek when it was done and ready. Derek had been practically vibrating out of his skin by the time he and Stiles entered the hotel room.
Stilesâ submission hadnât been unexpected but how natural Stiles had made it seem totally had been. Stiles was a natural, no one could fake that. Derek is older now, has experience and knows that Kate had faked a lot of it when they were having sex when he was younger but Stiles didnât. He had been loud and sincere and his scent hadnât been muddled. He responded to Derek so well, so perfectly, it had been intoxicating and Derek hadnât been able to stop for a long time.
He had gone way beyond what he had planned to do and way beyond what had initially felt satisfying considering who Stiles was and what he was trying to accomplish. He thoroughly had his way with him, enjoyed every single second of it, then had left and thought it would be the end of it for now. The Argents would scramble, lay low for a while then try something else to get at him.
Instead, he here is, holding Stilesâ hand, pulling his pain and wondering what the fuck heâs going to do now.
Hello again đđŒââïž my brain has giving me a snippet from a fic i read years ago but I canât remember much more than this and I really really hope you can help me
Derek is a werewolf who is chained up inside a mine and has to drag the wagons. Stiles has to work there too because his dad is to sick to work anymore. But stiles is also sick and slowly dying. And he has to eat lunch with the boss of the mine.
I do think in the end the mine is to unstable and is against some working law and has to be closed
And maybe stiles is bringing Derek back to his family and they give him sheepâs/ goats as a thank you but Iâm not quite sure thatâs the same fic or something else
Thank you so much (:
Hi! I think the author had deleted all their fics recently đđ such a loss! But I found a copy on webarchive
Light at the end of the tunnel by Lesatha
âCareful, Stilinski. Donât think you can go around telling me what to do, or coddling the werewolf.â
âWhat does it matter to you?â
âIf the feral alpha kills you, it will be my fault, as your supervisor.â
Stilesâ head whipped towards the werewolf. He couldnât see much of him apart from his red eyes, always following Stiles. Crazy as it might sound, it comforted him. The werewolf wasnât the rabid animal Elis seemed to picture. He was just⊠hurt.
Alpha Derek marrying Omega Stiles in an arranged marriage and assuming Stiles is an Argent spy because it happened before. He married Omega Kate and it turned out she was a spy and a murderer. He ended up killing her himself.
Stiles is NOT a spy but his father did have some ties with the Argents prior to his death but Stiles has none.
heâs lost to his grief after losing his father, numb to the core. then heâs told he has to get married off and then heâs told to who.
now his grief has dread as a companion. because Derek Haleâs reputation precedes him. everyone knows he killed his own Omega spouse. everyone knows how brutal and barbaric he truly is.
Stiles canât refuse the match, he has nothing to bargain with and no other option.
the wedding is tense, so tense Stiles barely breathes during the ceremony. his new husband didnât look his way once, not even when they were made to face one another for the vows and the ring. not even when they were told to seal the deal with a kiss. their lips barely touched before it was already done and over.
Stiles is understandably terrified for the wedding night. his husband seem cold and very unapproachable.
Derek eventually shows up for the wedding night after making himself wait for a while and itâs immediately obvious to Stiles just how angry he is.
it doesnât go well. Derek doesnât treat Stiles the way he deserves to be treated for his first time and his wedding night with a man he doesnât know and who obviously scares him.
Derek is just full of anger and resentment and heâs so sure Stiles is a spy and a liar who is bringing nothing but trouble. the Omega even seems to be a good spy and liar too because his fear seems genuine and his pain sharp and his tears heavy after and his small sobs heartbreaking.
Derek doesnât let it get to him (it does, heâs not made of stone even if he likes to think he is).
then Derek gets the report heâs ordered on Stiles. realizes that thereâs little to no chance that Stiles is a spy. Stiles is just a regular kid who got raised to be a proper Omega by his father who had been a widow of small nobility.
now the best part!!!! THE GUILT!!! THE ANGST!!!
Derek realizes he fucked up royally. his new Omega spouse is terrified of him and very angry and feeling very lost but canât show any of it because what if his Alpha husband fucking kills him.
Derek gives him space after that. Makes sure he always has everything he needs. Stiles is terrified for a long time at night when going to bed that Derek will show up to take whatâs his right to take but he never does.
when they do see each other, Derek is infinitely polite if not a bit cold while Stiles is tight lipped and tense, terrified to make or say the wrong thing and provoke Derekâs anger.
Derek isnât good with words and he doesnât know how to broach the subject. that he fucked up and that heâs repentant and wants to make amends. he doesnât know how to be a decent husband but he wants to try anyway but it all feels like itâs too little too late.
Stiles obviously becomes very lonely and starts isolating himself more and more. never really gets out of his rooms anymore. never really gets out of bed.
Derek is kept updated about his Omega spouseâs obvious decline but heâs just helpless about what he can do.
in the end, he decides to try having some visitors, maybe it could help things. maybe if Stiles meet other people, another married and mated Omega, maybe he could make a friend or something.
Derek invites a couple from outside the pack. theyâre allies but heâs never invited them for a casual dinner. heâs not sure he likes the idea of having non-pack members practically in his den but itâs for a good cause.
to share the news, he summons his spouse to join him for dinner the same night he sends out the invitation.
they havenât shared a meal together in a while. the Omega usually eating alone in his personal parlour or on his private balcony. but lately heâs been told, that he preferred to eat in bed, if he eats at all.
Derek waits for him in the dining room, nervously nursing his ale. he waits for a long time. he has time to have two more refills by the time the Omega shows up and dinner is brought in.
Derek stands at his arrival and gives him a polite nod and despite looking slightly haggard, the Omega looks perfect, his skin smooth and creamy, embellished by some delicate jewelry and rouge.
they sit to eat and Derek finds it incredibly hard to start a conversation. the Omega just wonât look at him at all.
theyâre starting on dessert and still not a single word has be uttered by either of them. Derek notices how the Omega isnât touching his food again. he barely ate anything at all.
in the end, thatâs what pushes Derek to break the heavy silence. he asks if the meal wasnât to his taste and Stiles slightly jumps at his words, dropping his dessert spoon which clanks loudly around them.
Derek notices the way he sneaks little looks at him, as if trying to gauge his mood.
eventually, Stiles hesitantly says that everything was delicious, that he just doesnât have much of an appetite. after another tense silence, he asks if Derek is displeased with him. his voice is so quiet itâs almost inaudible.
Derek assures him that he isnât, why would he think that and Stiles frowns slightly and points out that Derek summoned him for dinner, that heâs never done that before.
Derek doesnât really know what to say to that, so he just goes ahead and announces that theyâre going to have visitors soon. for a dinner.
heâs not sure what reaction he was expecting but a nonexistent one is not it. the Omega stays perfectly impassive to the news. takes a bite of the dessert in front of him, then stops. another few minutes of silence and then heâs asking if he can be excused.
Derek acquiesces, of course.
he watches his Omega leave the room with an ever growing sense of helplessness.
~*~
Stiles joins him in the entry hall to welcome their guests a few minutes before their arrival. Derek turns to look at him descend the grand staircase and is a bit stunned, he looks gorgeous. wearing one of the nicest gowns he owns along with the expensive jewelry Derek gave him as a mandatory wedding gift.
he takes his place to Derekâs right and they stand in silence until their guests arrive.
Stiles is the perfect host, the image of Omega perfection. he welcomes their visitors warmly into their home, as if Stiles has done it a million times before.
his smile is sweet and a little mischievous when talking with the visiting Alpha and playful and friendly when speaking with the visiting Omega.
he takes the arm of the visiting Alpha to get to the dining room when dinner is served like custom dictates.
Derek spends more time observing his spouse than attempting to entertain his guests but clearly Stiles has it all under control or at least he seems to be.
Derek canât help but notice the way his smiles wane and his eyes grow distant the second the attention of the guests arenât on him or the way he keeps pushing the food around his plate instead of eating or the way his wine cup seem to get refilled quite often.
after the dishes are taken away, Derek makes a point to start a conversation with the other Alpha. Derek isnât much of a talker but heâs at least able to entertain a conversation long enough for the Omegas to have some time to talk together.
but it canât be even an hour later when Stiles stands and offers his apologies and claims to have a headache and ask if they can excuse him. the visiting Omega is gaping in slight surprise while Derek frowns and nods in acquiescence.
Stiles says his goodbyes to their guests and apologizes again before leaving the room.
the guests leave not long after. theyâre sincere at least when they assure Derek they had a good time and they have nothing but nice things to say about his new beautiful Omega spouse.
after seeing them off, he goes upstairs to Stilesâ rooms. he doesnât go in, just listens at the door. he can hear the Omegaâs breathing, erratic and uneven, his heartbeat rabbit fast. in between some of the harsh breathes, thereâs some sobbing.
Derekâs shaking hands tighten into fists at his sides. helplessness rages through him but he canât seem to move. he should go in, he should try and diffuse whatever is happening in there but heâs frozen.
heâs pulled out of his stupor when a maid approaches and greets him before asking politely to be let through. he moves aside to let her pass and she slips into the bedchamber.
Derek listen to her speak softly to his spouse and eventually Stilesâ breathing calms and heâs able to speak back and she asks if he wants help to get ready for bed and Stiles answers wetly with âyes pleaseâ.
Derek leaves for his own rooms, his gut down to his feet and his chest painful.
he doesnât sleep much or well that night. he has the nagging feeling that if nothing changes, things will inevitably come a head.
~*~
and heâs right.
a few days after the dinner, Derek is woken up in the middle of the night by Boyd bursting into his bedchamber. Derek immediately sits up and gives him a dark look. he knows it canât be good.
Boyd looks frantic which is something he never is and he knows something is very deeply wrong.
âitâs the Omega.â
Derek is out of bed and running after Boyd a second later.
Boyd tries to explain the situation but Derek canât really make sense of it. he keeps repeating âhe wonât come down, he wonât come down, you have to talk to him, make him come down.â
Derek starts making sense of it when heâs taken to Stilesâ rooms. maids are in the bedchamber weeping with a hand over their mouths while the bed is empty and other pack members are closer to the balcony archway and he can hear people from outside, bellow.
he steps onto the balcony and sees him. naked and standing on the parapet wall, looking down and hugging himself.
Derekâs heart seizes in his chest, fear and panic like heâs never felt before rushing through him.
he approaches the wall slowly and extends a hand.
âStiles?â
Stiles turns, too fast and sways a little and Derek stops breathing and he hears screams from bellow.
âNo! Donât touch me!â Stiles screeches at him and Derek lowers his hand but stays where he is.
tears are running down Stilesâ face and his eyes are crazed. in the moonlight he looks so pale and gaunt, he looks like a ghost.
âI have to do this⊠I cannot stay here.â Stiles murmurs.
Derekâs lips shake and he scramble to find something to say, anything.
âof course, you can stay here. I know it hasnât been⊠easy for you here but this is your home.â he says haltingly, feeling utterly inadequate.
Stiles scoffs at his words and more tears fall.
âyou hate me. you hate me and I donât even know why. youâve hated me since the very beginning. I donât know what I did wrong and you refuse to tell me. I have to do this. Before you do it yourself like you did your first Omega.â Stiles rambles, his words fast and jumbled but clear and damning.
Derek is gutted, his very being emptied out and left to rot.
âI do not hate you⊠please come down and we can discuss things, please just come downâ Derek begs, voice hoarse and brittle.
âno⊠NO! leave me!!! all of you! please i have to do this! i donât want to be here anymore⊠i want⊠i want my fatherâŠâ Stiles says and takes a few side steps on the wall before bending forward and sobbing.
with his heart aching, Derek looks back to Boyd and Boyd gives him a nod. theyâre ready bellow.
Derek doesnât hesitate. he throws himself at Stiles, who sees him at the last moment and gives a sharp scream and throws himself forward but Derek is quicker.
he grabs him by the middle and pulls him back harshly, Stiles shrieking and struggling wildly in his arms.
Derek doesnât stop and marches him back inside, his pack members moving out the way. he barks at Boyd to get them out and the maids and the other betas are quickly ushered out of the bedchamber.
Derek throws Stiles on the big four poster bed where he still shrieks and flails around. he yells again at Boyd to call for Deaton, now.
Boyd leaves quickly and Derek sits on the bed and grabs at Stilesâ wrists but Stiles is hysterical and screams at the top of his lungs, contorting away from him, pulling on his wrists to make Derek let go.
âStiles! stop! please, stop!â Derek shouts.
âLET GO OF ME! LET GO! YOUâRE HURTING ME!â Stiles screams, face turned away from him as far as he can stretch it.
Derek lets him go immediately and Stiles slumps back on bed harshly, he was so taut in Derekâs grip.
Stiles turns fully away from him and curls up, rubbing at his wrists and cries loudly into the bedding.
Derek rubs a shaky hand over his face and gives a sharp sniff. his eyes are wet so he wipes at them, pressing into them hard to stop any further wetness.
Boyd comes back, knocks gently on the door before coming in. he keeps his eyes averted from the naked crying Omega on the bed.
Derek stands and walks aways from the bed and towards the door.
âI want him guarded. heavily. night and day. come get me when Deaton arrives.â he chokes out and wrenches the bedchamber door open, almost pulling it off its hinges and marches away from Stilesâ wailing.
he hides in his private parlour, paces around, feeling cooped up. the urge to shift and run and not stop is incredibly strong but he resists. he already fled when he should have stayed by the Omegaâs side, he wonât flee his home on top of that.
the sky is greying, dawn approaching and Derek has stopped his pacing, got himself actually dressed and sat heavily in one of the plush chairs when Boyd finds him and tells him the physician has arrived.
Derek goes down to greet him and immediately takes him up to see Stiles. he can explain the full situation after heâs seen and assessed him.
Boyd stationed two betas outside of the bedchamberâs doors and Derek can hear two other inside, probably at the balcony archway.
they go in the door and Stiles is in the same position Derek left him in hours ago. curled up. but he sits up when he hears Derek and Deaton come in. he eyes them both warily and he drags the blanket up to hide himself. his eyes and face are red and swollen from the crying and Derek notices faint bruises at his wrists.
Derek swallows with difficulty and walks deeper into the bedchamber and sits in one of the chairs close to the bed.
âthis is Deaton, my emissary and physician. he will examine you and you will let him. understand?â Derek says and watches the Omega closely but Stiles doesnât react.
âHello, Stiles. i understand something very alarming happened last night?â Deaton says and he makes it sound like a question but itâs more of a statement.
to that Stiles does react. he scoffs lightly and turns his face away, eyes filling with tears again and he starts rocking gently.
âI tried to throw myself off the parapet wall of the balcony. My dear husband stopped me and dragged me back in here kicking and screaming.â Stiles whispers, tears sliding down his face.
Deaton sets his heavy wooden box on the bedside table and hums. he then sits himself very carefully on the side of the bed and watches Stiles.
âStiles. would you prefer it if your Alpha was out of the room for this?â Deaton asks gently and Derek bristles but he knows heâll get out of the room if Stiles says he wants him to.
but he shakes his head no.
âitâs about him.â Stiles whispers.
Derek gulps while Deatonâs eyes roams Stilesâ face.
âWhat do you mean by that, Stiles?â he asks gently.
Stilesâ lips wobbles and more tears fall.
âhe hates me.â
Derek grits his teeth so he doesnât immediately start protesting.
âwhy do you think that?â Deaton asks, still gentle.
Stiles hugs himself and digs his nails in the meat of his arms.
âour- our wedding night. we- he.â Stiles trips over his words, his tears getting worse and he simply stops and his eyes going distant.
Derek closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.
âI terrorized him. i claimed him while being enraged and resentful, assumed things about him that i should have never assumed. i was a monster to him.â Derek says quietly.
Stiles looks sharply to him, confusion written all over his face.
âw-what did you assume? did you think i wasnât⊠i was a virgin! you were the first Alpha who ever⊠touched me.â Stiles says with difficulty, sounding confused but thereâs frustration building in his scent.
Derek sighs. itâs time.
âthe first Omega i married was a duplicitous spy who killed my entire family. thatâs why i killed her. thatâs why when i was forced to marry again. to secure my bloodline i was⊠angry.â Derek says matter-of-factly.
Stilesâ eyes go wide and he blinks at Derek a few times before turning to Deaton who nods in confirmation.
âyou thought i was a spy? for who? my only family had just died and i had nothing, no one else. it doesnât make any sense.â Stiles says and his frustration is palpable now.
âI didnât know at the time. i learned later that you couldnât be anyone other than who you said you were. i know it doesnât change what happened, what iâve done, but i felt terrible about what i did to you. i tried to give you space, give you time. i thought that maybe over time i could explain things and make amends but i could never find the words or the right moment.â Derek explains but it feels lacking.
âi never truly hated you not even that night. i care about you. if one thing tonight showed me is that i care about you more than i can express and i want to see you happy. even if. even if we have to break the mating bond for that to happen.â Derek adds and the more he speaks the more certain he feels.
heâd do it in a heartbeat. break the bond and let him go. even if it means death for him and the death of his bloodline.
Stiles gapes at him.
âyou mean that?â Stiles whispers, disbelief dripping heavy in his scent. Derek nods solemnly.
âfor months you⊠you left me to think that you hated me, that youâd eventually even kill me. you must have seen how terrified i was. you saw how⊠how my mind was⊠escaping me. and you stayed silent. why? what is that if not cruel?â Stiles says and more tears start falling again.
Derekâs own eyes sting and he blinks a few times rapidly to get rid of the feeling.
âIâm not good with words.â is all he finds himself saying.
Stiles scoffs wetly.
âand yet youâve just said so many. more than i ever heard you say.â Stiles points out like he canât wrap his head around it all.
âit was a long time coming. way overdue.â Derek admits.
thereâs a long silence then. Deaton observing the both of them closely.
eventually, Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as if to clear it.
âIâm tired.â he says, brokenly and Derek stands almost abruptly.
âiâll leave you in Deatonâs hands. make sure to get some rest.â he says and leaves the room.
~*~
he once again take refuge in his private parlour. pacing and waiting.
Deaton eventually finds him some time later. Derek sends him an expectant look.
âheâs resting. i gave him some poppy syrup to help him sleep. iâll leave a vial with you so he can have some every night for at least a fortnight.â Deaton says and hands him the vial.
Derek holds it and waits. he knows Deaton has more to say.
âi know youâre not starving him but heâs malnourished. and exhausted, heâs suffering from chronic nightmares and insomnia. heâs melancholic and still grief stricken. the wedding night is still heavy on his mind but iâm hoping that the truth that was discussed between you two will alleviate some of that weight. Derek. heâs in bad shape but not utterly lost. heâs smart and not unreasonable despite how unstable he is. he needs time, patience and doting attention. you have to be there. if you want to see him happy and adjusted, you have to be there. show him who you truly are.â
Derek listens to Deatonâs assessment and allows himself to feel a flicker of hope.
Alpha-nip Stiles is so important to me. The reason Peter didn't kill him⊠and once Derek becomes an alpha he suddenly can't stop following Stiles around. He breaks into his room and just luxuriates in his scent, breathing in deep. Scott comes over and asks if Derek has been in here and Stiles is like "no, why?" and he says it smells like him very faintly. Stiles thinks he's crazy because why on earth would Derek give him the time of day? (low self esteem Stiles is also important to me)
Eventually it escalates to Derek breaking into his room to watch him sleep because he just has to make sure that Stiles is safe (and also Stiles smells more relaxed when he sleeps and sometimes he has wet dreams that just tempt Derek). At first Derek thought it would be enough but it's just not, he needs to stick his face into Stiles neck. He needs to scent him and make Stiles smells like him. Derek cringes and wants to growl every time he gets too close and smells Scotts scent on him, even if its faint and he can smell that it's friendly and not claiming. It still grates on him. Stiles should belong to him, not his Beta. He could provide for Stiles better than Scott could ever dream of. He's the Alpha for fucks sake.
He didn't feel this way before but ever since he became an Alpha he looks at Stiles and his big brown eyes and long neck and his ripe scent... he wants to lock him up and throw away the key. His Beta putting his scent on Stiles is grating enough but the idea of another Alpha even looking at him.... Seeing that he's unclaimed and unmarked... Derek has to do something or he's going to go insane.
Sterek spends one night together before Derek leaves Beacon Hills for good. Derek leaves early the next morning as Stiles sleeps.
Stiles is obviously heartbroken but he knew what he was doing by spending one night with Derek and then having to let him go. He knew it would hurt but he had still wanted it. So very much.
So he tries to go back to his normal, every day life. He goes to school, takes care of his dad, occasionally hangs out with Scott and such. He tries not to miss Derek too much or mourn him too much. Mourn what they could have had if he had stayed⊠or if Stiles had left with him.
He tries very hard to put that night behind him and to instead look forward to the future. Prom, graduation, College. He tries hard to be excited about it all.
Itâs just really hard to, especially when you canât seem to be able to eat anything for breakfast anymore. Or when you start feeling so nauseous in the mornings you start puking your guts out before going to school. Add to that, being always fucking exhausted and getting cramps out of nowhere at any given moment, day or night.
It all comes to a head almost two months later when Stiles bursts into tears in the frozen aisle at the supermarket because theyâre out of his favourite ice cream. He honest to god sobs his eyes out, looking at the near empty freezer for almost 20 minutes until finally he drags himself out of there and to his jeep to continue his ugly crying until heâs all cried out and staring at a point beyond the windshield.
He takes a shuddering breath before bringing a trembling hand to his stomach, chin wobbling.
âW-what the fuckâŠâ He stutters out loud, words shaky and so scared.
It doesnât make no fucking sense. How could he⊠Itâs just notâŠ
Very mechanically, he turns on the jeep and drives out of the parking lot but he doesnât go home. He turns left instead of right and drives to the pharmacy. Heâs in and out. He doesnât make it home though, he almost works himself into a full blown panic attack so he pulls over. He frantically opens the box and pulls the pregnancy test out forcefully.
He gets out of the jeep hyperventilating and he walks just into the tree line of the woods at the side of the road and makes himself piss on the stick and sit on the muddy ground to wait for the fucking fifteen minutes.
He jumps out of his skin when the timer on his phone starts ringing. It takes him a few tries to turn it off but he manages it and he grabs the stick sat beside him with trembling fingers. He takes a deep hitching breath before looking at the stick and seeing the two blue lines that indicate heâs pregnant.
He canât help letting out a wet laugh as his mind turns to hysteria for a moment. Fucking pregnant. Itâs insane, impossible. But the stickâŠ
Suddenly heâs on his feet then stumbles in his haste to get back to the jeep. He peels off the curb too fast, making the tires squeal and he speeds to the vet.
Itâs late but the lights are on in the building and Deatonâs car is in the parking lot. He rushes to the door but itâs locked and he starts pounding on it calling out to Deaton, saying he knows heâs in there. Deaton comes to the door finally and looks surprised to see him but his surprise turns to mild concern when he takes in Stilesâ state.
âWhat is it, Stiles? What happened?â Deaton asks slowly.
Now that hereâs here, he canât bring himself to say it. His mouth open and close a few times, hysteria looming again. He wordlessly hands the stick to Deaton who takes it with a frown and looks at it for a moment before giving Stiles a deep calculating stare, searching his face closely.
âDerek?â He barely makes it sound like an actual question. Like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.
Stiles looks down to his shoes and nods anyway, tears filling his eyes. A sob escapes him and his shoulders start to shake. Deaton sighs and push the door open wider to let him inside.
Deaton sits him on a stool in the backroom, hands him a box of tissues and makes him do a second pregnancy test. It just confirms what the first stick said. He asks Stiles carefully if he has any way to contact Derek but Stiles shakes his head, eyes averted. The vet hums in understanding and starts theorizing out loud about what could have happened for this to have been possible but Stiles tunes him out.
Heâs actually⊠Derek somehow fucking knocked him up. Knocked him up and left. Heâs not even coming back. Stiles is pregnant with Derekâs baby and Derek is not here⊠wonât ever be here again.
âI will need to make some tests but Iâm certain termination will be possible, can you come tomorrow after closing?â Deaton asks.
Stiles blinks a few times and looks at the vet again with a slight frown, not sure if he heard him right. Termination?
âWhat do you mean? Like an abortion?â Stiles asks, heart thudding in his chest.
Deaton turns to him with a frown, watches him closely again. Stiles tries to hold his gaze but he canât manage it and he drops his eyes, playing with the skin of his thumb, almost making it bleed.
âOnly if thatâs what you want, Stiles.â Deaton then says carefully.
Stiles scoffs, lightly. Of course thatâs what he wants. What other option is there. He canât keep it. Thatâs just insane. He canât. He really fucking canât. He has school and his dad and oh my god, his dad. He wouldnât know where to even start. No. He canât. He canât keep it, he wonât.
Stiles agrees to come after closing the next day for some tests and then leaves to go home. His dad is working a double so Stiles arrives to an empty house. He keeps his mind dangerously blank to get ready for bed.
Lying down in the darkness of his bedroom, he lets himself think again, one hand to his stomach. He fists it in his t-shirt, fighting tears but refuses to cry. The decision is made. Heâll do the tests and have Deaton take it out. It will be like it never happened.
Just like Derek leaving and erasing himself from his life. He left and itâs like heâs never even been here. Stiles doesnât even have anything to remember him by for fuckâs sake. He only has the memories of that night to hold on to.
Derek is gone. Heâs not coming back.
His breath hitches and a sob escapes him. He clutches his t-shirt at his stomach with both hands. He canât do this⊠He canât. Itâs too much.
âDereeeeek.â Stiles calls out brokenly, more sobs escaping him, making his shoulders shake.
He cries for a long time, cries so much he exhausts himself and he finally falls asleep. Itâs not surprising that he sleeps through his alarm the next morning. He wakes up around noon and decides to just stay home.
He shows up at the vet half an hour after closing time. Deaton is waiting for him and installs him in the backroom again but this time he makes him lie down on the examination table.
Stiles watches as he rolls a stool and a machine closer to the table. Heâs pretty sure that itâs an ultrasound machine. Yeah it is. Deaton ask him to lift his shirt and to undo his jeans so Stiles does, wordlessly.
The machine is rolled even closer and Deaton taps on it a few times making it beep loudly in the otherwise silent room. He squirms a little on the table and the paper crinkle and Stiles stops squirming. Why is everything so fucking loud all of a sudden.
Deaton squirts some gel on the wand and Stiles flinches. He lowers his jeans and boxers a bit with shaky fingers and Deaton brings the wand down to his stomach, the cool gel hitting his skin makes goosebumps bloom all over his body. Deaton moves the wand around for a few moments, Stiles so stiff on the table, a cramp is staring in his right calf.
Stilesâ jaw goes slack at the loud heartbeat coming from the machine and he sends the vet a wide-eyed look as Deaton just smiles and turns the screen of the machine towards him so he can see.
He points the area with a pen, circles it and explains which end is the head and which end is the feet. He gives Stiles its measurements, asks if he would like to know the gender but Stiles just shakes his head and Deaton nods, moving on.
He prints Stiles some pictures then wipes his stomach and as heâs wiping he explains that everything looked normal and like Stiles possessed a real human womb which meant he would be able to perform an abortion with minimal damage, if Stiles wanted to go ahead with termination.
Stiles nods and blurts out that yes heâs gonna go ahead with that. Deaton nods again and starts getting ready. He makes Stiles take a shower, then makes him drink some kind of potion which Stiles almost immediately brings back up after ingesting it. He gags a couple times and Deaton holds a metal container at his face but he manages to avoid puking.
Then heâs made to lie down naked on the examination table and Deaton dresses up after washing his hands and arms thoroughly. He slides on long surgical gloves and comes closer to the table. He starts palping his lower stomach and Stiles startles hard and starts squirming.
âItâs alright, Stiles. The potion will act as a pain blocker. You wonât feel a thing.â Deaton assures him and Stiles smiles faintly and nods, trying to keep his breathing under control.
His skin is disinfected and Stiles flinches and squirms again as the cool liquid is slathered on his skin. He grips the sides of the table tightly and fixes his eyes to the ceiling.
The slathering stops and Stiles hears the clinking of tools. His chin starts chattering and he canât stop it. His eyes fills with tears and he blinks them away and they slide down his temples.
The clinking stops and he flickers his eyes back to Deaton and watches him turn towards his middle with a scalpel held in a gloved hand. He starts moving the scalpel down and Stilesâ face scrunches up, more tears falling.
âStop! Stop! Please stop! I canât- I canât do this!â Stiles bursts out suddenly, scrambling up and away quickly and clumsily, almost falling off the table in his hurry to get away.
Deaton moves away just as quickly, lifting the hand holding the scalpel way up and out of the way. Stiles sits on the side of the table and fights an impending panic attack. He curls up, hugs himself and bends in half, gulping in huge painful sounding breathes.
âWhat is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with meâŠâ Stiles murmurs to himself.
He has to do this. He canât keep it. He canât! He canât! He just canât, so why does he fucking want to keep it.
What is wrong with him.
Stiles hides his face into his hands and bawls. He still hears Deaton deposit the scalpel back down and moving around, some bottles clink together. Then thereâs a tap at his elbow and Stiles reluctantly lowers his hands and raises himself, trying to stop hiccupping.
He takes the offered potion and downs it as Deaton quietly explains it will help his nerves. Stiles almost laughs.
After downing the potion, he moves away from the table to get dressed. His hands wonât stop shaking and he keeps having to blink away tear after tear. His mind is a mess and he feels raw like he got flayed. Even with his clothes back on he still feels naked.
He starts to leave but heâs stopped by Deaton. He hands Stiles a sheet of paper with dates and such on it. Stiles gives it a look and its appointments, check up appointments, ultrasound appointments and the like. Stiles looks up at the vet, not really comprehending.
âIâll follow you through the pregnancy and help with the birth. But Stiles. You need to be sure.â Deaton explains and thereâs an undeniable sternness to his words.
Stiles swallows thickly and refuses to look at him but he nods and whispers a short âthanksâ before pocketing the sheet of paper after quickly folding it.
~*~
When he starts showing around five months, he has no other choice but to tell his dad.
He tells him everything. Starting with Scott getting bitten and finishing with his last ultrasound appointment, handing his dad one of the ultrasound pictures.
âItâs a boy, dad.â He whispers to a blanched shell shocked looking sheriff.
His dad gives him the silent treatment for almost two weeks. Stiles is a complete wreck the entire time. He barely sleeps or eats, despite his morning sickness having almost stopped entirely. He tries over and over to start up a conversation with him whenever heâs home but his dad evades all of his attempts.
Stiles gets the message after a week or so and stops trying. He lets his dad have his process even if itâs killing him to do so.
Heâs doing homework at his desk after supper, a few days later, rubbing his bump absentmindedly when his dad breaks his silent treatment.
He knocks lightly on Stilesâ doorframe to get his attention and Stiles startles a little but he gives his dad an expectant look. He tries to not let his desperation show but heâs pretty sure he fails.
His dad crosses the doorway and comes to stand beside Stiles at his desk, Stiles looks up at him, lips wobbling. The sheriff searches his face for a long moment before brushing a stray tear from Stilesâ cheek gently.
âWhatâs his name?â The sheriff asks, quietly.
Stiles jumps out of his seat and throws his arms around his dad and holds him tight. His father immediately returns the hug, pulling him even closer, stroking his hair over and over soothingly like he used to do when Stiles was still a young boy.
âItâs Eli. His name is Eli.â Stiles announces with a wet laugh.
âEli.â The sheriff echoes under his breath before kissing Stilesâ hair.
~*~
Heâs able to go to prom before his bump becomes too noticeable. He graduates. He even gets accepted in College. Community College. Heâll be able to study and have the help he needs with Eli. His dad didnât outright say it but Stiles can tell heâs relieved about Stiles staying in town.
He gives birth in mid-august. On a terribly hot day, his dad and Melissa are there with him, Melissa assisting Deaton while Scott gets so pale Deaton has to throw him out of the room before the delivery for fear he would faint and cause a ruckus.
Despite needing a mandatory caesarean, he gets contractions and Stiles isnât prepared for just how painful they get but with Deatonâs potion, heâs able to have an almost pain free and stable delivery.
Melissa brings him his baby and Stiles holds him for the first time. Heâs so tiny. He has so much hair and itâs so dark. Heâs so beautiful. Stiles canât stop crying. Heâs so happy, heâs so heartbroken. His heart still longs for something he shouldnât long for.
He lets Eli take all of his attention. He runs his fingers featherlight over Eliâs tiny forehead, his tiny nose. He runs them over his hair and kisses his soft cheek, inhaling his soft baby scent. Stiles loves him so much, his baby, his pup. Derekâs pup. Eli.
Heâs so happy.
~*~
âStiles can you get that?!â His dad yells from the bathroom.
Stiles shouts back the heâs got it and pulls up a giggling Eli into his arms, giving him a bunch of sweet little kisses to his cute chubby face before setting him onto his hip and grabbing his dadâs wallet from the kitchen table on his way to the front door.
They ordered Chinese and Stiles is absolutely starving.
He swings open the door and itâs not their Chinese.
Itâs Derek Hale.
Stilesâ face falls and he drops the wallet.
Heâs frozen in place as Eli exclaims happily and stretches his tiny arms towards Derek. Stiles watches, helpless as Derekâs face blanches before going blank. His eyes keeps flitting between Stilesâ face and Eliâs, his nostrils flaring.
Then Derekâs eyes flash bright red while looking straight at Eli and Stiles gasps and looks down to Eli whose eyes are shining bright gold in response.
He whips his head back to Derek and a ball of emotion forms in his throat. Derek looks gutted. He takes a step back from the door, hands flexing at his sides.
âItâs not your fault. It was my choice. I chose to keep him despite everything. Itâs not your fault.â Stiles blurts out all in one breathe.
Stilesâ very soul seem to be trembling. He shifts his hold on Eli, pulling fully into his arms and takes a step toward Derek.
âHold him! Derek just⊠Please, just hold him.â Stiles insists, his words heavy with barely contained emotion.
Eli coos and giggles at Derek still stretching out his arms to him and Stiles pushes him into Derekâs chest until Derek finally, almost mechanically, picks Eli up and pulls him close, his gaze glued to Eliâs chubby face.
Stiles wrings his fingers together as he watches them, a painful pressure in his chest. His chin wobbles when he notices Derekâs eyes shine with tears.
He steps closer and rubs a hand to Eliâs small back, smiling faintly.
âEli, this is your father. Your Alpha.â Stiles tells Eli with a wet laugh.
Derek lets out a choked sound and Stiles looks up at him again. Derek is crying quietly and he gives Eli the softest of kisses to his forehead, making the pup giggle happily.
Stiles lets out a choked sob when Derek nuzzles Eliâs hair, scenting him, the pup immediately responding by pillowing his head onto Derekâs shoulder and rubbing his face into Derekâs neck.
âOh my God. Thatâs what he needed. I couldnât⊠Iâm only human, Derek but I still tried⊠I think I did okay but he still needed his Alpha.â Stiles babbles on through his tears.
Derek kisses Eliâs forehead and temple a few times, gently rocking him back and forth then gives Stiles a long look before bringing a hand to the back of his neck, thumb caressing his skin over and over.
âThis is insane. You had my pup.â Derek chokes out.
Stiles just nods because yeah it is insane and he sure did have his pup.
âStiles, what is taking so lon- Holy shit!â Stilesâ dad comes looking after him and just finds them both crying on the porch as Eli dozes on Derekâs chest.
His dadâs shocked face at seeing Derek make Stiles bursts out laughing and he wipes at his face with his t-shirt then takes Derekâs hand at his neck, pulls it down to hold it in both of his to gently start pulling on it, eyes pleading.
Derek visibly swallows and searches Stilesâ face for a long moment before going back to scenting Eliâs hair gently so Stiles pulls on his hand again and this time, Derek lets himself be pulled into the house.
Derek assuming Stiles has some sexual experience and not being as diligent as he should be with him when they fuck for the first time and Stiles clamping down on the fact that he doesnât have experience because he doesnât want to risk scaring Derek away.
Derek noticing Stilesâ discomfort and asking about it but Stiles waving all of his concerns away and edging him on. itâs all too fast, too much, too soon, too aggressive, too passionate, but Stiles is desperate.
itâs only after, when Stiles is very fucking sore and in quite a lot of pain that it becomes impossible for Stiles to hide the truth. Stiles canât even stand up from the bed and Derek zeroes in on it immediately and Stiles has no choice but to mumble out that it was his first time.
Derek kind of loses it and Stiles is immediately terrified because he fucked up royally hasnât he? and he begs Derek not to be angry but Derek isnât angry, heâs fucking distraught.
he goes off at Stiles a bit because now he feels like a monster and itâs not something he likes to feel considering his history. he says like âyou let me fuck you like that and just took it wtf Stiles i could have injured you, i thought you were liking it, i thought you were fineâ and Stiles is like âi was!!!! i was fine, i loved it, i loved it so much why are you making it a big deal?!â but they both know it IS a big deal.
Stiles is bruised and in pain and sore beyond belief and if Derek had known he would have been gentler, he would have been more attentive, more present, more loving, more something.
Derek starts pacing and Stiles can just watch him from the bed because apparently Derek fucked him so hard heâs bed bound now.
Stiles apologizes and Derek lets out a laugh that sounds a bit hysterical. Derek says heâs the one who should apologize and Stiles disagrees because heâs the one who fucked up.
Eventually, Derek comes back to bed with some ibuprofen and a glass of water for Stiles and after taking them and downing the water he wants to bury himself in Derekâs arms but the Alpha is still tense and heâs not sure if heâd be welcome and that fact makes him fight back tears but Derek pulls him to his chest of his own accord. He handles Stiles slowly and so gently youâd think he was made of porcelain but Stiles is grateful because itâs true that itâs hard to move at the moment.
Stiles happily snuggles closer into him and plays with his chest hair a little. After a few moments he apologizes to Derek again but Derek just kisses his forehead softly. Stiles takes it as him being forgiven.
Heâs always been the type to beg for forgiveness instead of asking for permission.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
âHope youâre a harvest god,â Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. âItâd be nice, you know.â He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. âI know itâs not much,â he said, his straw hat in his hands. âBut - Iâll do what I can. Itâd be nice to think thereâs a god looking after me.â
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
âYou should go to a temple in the city,â the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. âA real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. Iâm no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?â It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. âI mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. Itâs cozy enough. The worshipâs been nice. But you canât honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.â
âThis is more than I was expecting when I built it,â Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. âTell me, what sort of god are you anyway?â
âIâm of the fallen leaves,â it said. âThe worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. Iâm a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then itâs gone.â
The god heaved another sigh. âThereâs no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. Youâre so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.â
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. âI like this sort of worship fine,â he said. âSo if you donât mind, I think Iâll continue.â
âDo what you will,â said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. âBut donât say I never warned you otherwise.â
Arepo would say a prayer before the morningâs work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepoâs fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
âUseless work,â the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. âThere wasnât a thing I could do to spare you this.â
âWeâll be fine,â Arepo said. âThe stormâs blown over. Weâll rebuild. Donât have much of an offering for today,â he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, âbut I think Iâll shore up this thingâs foundations tomorrow, how about that?âÂ
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepoâs neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepoâs field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepoâs ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.Â
âThere is nothing here for you,â said the god, hudding in the dark. âThere is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.â It shivered, and spat out its words. âWhat is this temple but another burden to you?â
âWe -â Arepo said, and his voice wavered. âSo itâs a lean year,â he said. âWeâve gone through this before, weâll get through this again. So weâre hungry,â he said. âWeâve still got each other, donât we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didnât protect them from this. No,â he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. âNo, I think I like our arrangement fine.â
âThere will come worse,â said the god, from the hollows of the stone. âAnd there will be nothing I can do to save you.â
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
âI could not save them,â said the god, its voice a low wail. âI am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.â The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. âI have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!â
âShush,â Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. âTell me,â he mumbled. âTell me again. What sort of god are you?â
âI -â said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepoâs head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
âIâm of the fallen leaves,â it said, and conjured up the image of them. âThe worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.â Arepoâs lips parted in a smile.
âI am the god of a dozen different nothings,â it said. âThe petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -â Its voice broke, and it wept. âBefore itâs gone.â
âBeautiful,â Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. âAll of them. They were all so beautiful.â
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
âOh, poor god,â she said, âWith no-one to bury your last priest.â Then she paused, because she was from far away. âOr is this how the dead are honored here?â The god roused from its contemplation.
âHis name was Arepo,â it said, âHe was a sower.â
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. âHow can I honor him?â She asked.
âBury him,â the god said, âBeneath my altar.â
âAll right,â Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
âWait,â the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. âWait,â the god said, âI cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.â
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
âWhen the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,â the god said, âWhen the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,â the godâs voice faltered. âWhen War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.â Sora looked down again at the bones.
âI think you are the god of something very useful,â she said.
âWhat?â the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. âYou are the god of Arepo.â
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragediesâhomes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the godâs work on his dying breath.
âHello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,â called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the godâs eyes wept down onto curled lips. âArepo,â he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
âI am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,â Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
âThatâs wonderful, Arepo,â he responded between tears, âIâm so happy for youâsuch a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? Youâll be adored by all.â
âNo,â Arepo smiled.
âFarther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.â
âNo, I will not go there, either,â Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
âFarther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,â the elder god continued.
âActually,â interrupted Arepo, âIâd like to stay here, if youâll have me.â
The other god was struck speechless. ââŠ. Why would you want to live here?â
âI am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.â
Every once in a while I find myself thinking back to this post. How nice it would be to be able to incorporate something similar into my own (as-of-yet not even outlined) story.
Pack nights at the loft were loud, chaotic, and exactly what Stiles needed after a long week of school and supernatural nonsense. Heâd curled up on the couch, wedged between Isaac and Boyd, still listening to the conversation even as his blinks grew longer. The warmth, the hum of voices, the solid weight of Derek sitting on the armrest beside himâall of it lulled him into sleep before he even realized he was drifting.
It wasnât until Scott tried to wake him that things got⊠tense.
âHey, Stilesââ Scott barely had his hand halfway to Stilesâ shoulder when a low, warning growl rumbled through the room. Scott froze. Everyone did.
Derek was staring him down, eyes dark with the promise of violence if he took one more step.
Scott raised his hands immediately. âWhoa. Not trying to take your boy, dude. Just trying to get him home.â
Derek didnât even hesitate. His voice was firm, absolute. âHe already is.â
The words settled over the pack like a command, like a truth that had always existed even if no one had said it out loud.
Scott blinked, exhaling through his nose. âOkay. Got it.â
There was no more arguing after that.
Derek didnât trust anyone else to do it, so he scooped Stiles up himself, carefully shifting him so his head rested against Derekâs shoulder. Stiles stirred slightly, making a soft, sleepy noise as his fingers curled into Derekâs shirt.
The pack made no comment as Derek carried him up the loft stairs, though Erica smirked knowingly.
Once in his room, Derek set Stiles down on the bed, tugging the blanket over him with more care than heâd ever admit to. He hesitated for a moment before brushing Stilesâ hair back, fingers tracing lightly over his temple.
He should leave. Give him space. But before he could move away, Stiles shifted, murmuring something barely audible against the pillow.
Derek frowned. âWhat?â
Stilesâ eyes stayed closed, but he turned his face toward Derekâs touch, exhaling softly. âHeard what you said,â he mumbled. A pause. Then, even quieter, ââM home with you.â
Derekâs breath caught. He swallowed hard, watching Stilesâ face, waiting for any sign that he was awake enough to remember this conversation in the morning. But Stiles was already sinking deeper into sleep, face relaxed in a way Derek rarely saw.
Derek let out a slow breath, thenâwithout thinking too hard about itâleaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Stilesâ forehead.
Title: No Longer Secondary
Fandom(s): Teen Wolf
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Tags: All Human AU, Discussion of Cheating, Getting Together
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Character Bashing,
Summary: Stiles just wanted to be put first.
Word Count: 1,662
Author Notes: Written for @fullmoonficlet. Prompt 625: Secondary.
Continue reading No Longer Secondary
âOomph,â Stiles groaned three nights later when he was scrubbing a towel in his damp hair, shirtless and only in flannel PJ bottoms.
The breath huffed from his lungs and his back twinged a bit when he was slammed into the wall just inside the door by a pair of strong but familiar hands. Even with a towel over his head and obscuring his vision, Stiles knew it was Derek. The wolf had a thing about shoving Stiles into hard surfaces to threaten him about stuff.
âDerek,â he sighed, scraping the towel off his head so he could see the guy. âAlways a pleasure. Please do break into my bedroom and manhandle me whenever it suits you. Totally not creepy and weird. Woah⊠hey, easy there, big guy.â
Derek was in full wolf-face, all missing eyebrows, crazy muttonchops, and fangs, his eyes glowing the crimson of the alpha spark inside him instead of their previously gleaming neon blue. He was also leaning into Stilesâs space and sniffing him powerfully.
âShit, dude,â Stiles muttered when Derek buried his neck in Stilesâs neck, huffing his scent like it was crack cocaine. âWhat the hell? Are you okay? Is this another weird reaction to Wolfsbane or something? Oh, JesusâŠ.â
Stiles gulped audibly when Derek forced his knees between Stilesâs thighs, pressing into him firmly, still sniffing him like a bloodhound.
âWhy do you smell like that?â Derek rumbled into his skin, leaning in even closer and practically hugging Stiles; they were pressed so close.
âLike soap? Itâs called showering, dude. Soap and shampoo and deodorant, theyâre your friends, and you should use them,â Stiles babbled. âUh, you wanna let me go there, sourwolf? This is pushing past the PG ratingâŠâ
Derek ignored him and kept sniffing, almost wilting into him a little bit when he nosed along Stilesâs bare collarbone and down the length of his sternum, bending at the knees to keep sniffing.
âOh, God,â Stiles muttered, tipping his head back because he was only human, okay.
Stiles was human and a horny teenage boy, and the guy solely responsible for his sexuality crisis was pushing all up on him, and Stiles couldnât be held accountable for what was happening in his pants, okay? It wasnât his fault Derek happened to be incredibly hot. He was a complete asshole, possibly a murdering psychopath â actually, scratch that; he was definitely a murderous psychopath; see Exhibit A, the slashed open throat of his own uncle. But an incredibly hot murdering psychopathic asshole, nonetheless.
âShouldnât be possible,â Derek mumbled into Stilesâs chest before lifting his head and peering into Stilesâs face.
The alpha looked a little dazed, his pupils blown so wide they almost swallowed the crimson alpha glow.
âWhat shouldnât be?â Stiles asked hoarsely, hoping Derek wasnât about to kill Stiles for getting an awkward boner right now.
âYou smell likeâŠâ
âApple pie?â Stiles guessed. âScott says I smell like apple pie.â
Derek shook his head, leaning in closer and dragging his nose along Stilesâs hairline across his forehead. Dude, unsanitary.
âPack,â Derek murmured. âYou smell like pack.â
âLike Isaac, you mean?â Stiles guessed. âBecause your little beta has been pretty much surgically attached to my hip since the full moon. Iâm still pretty sure itâs because he wants to eat me and is just waiting for the opportune moment.â
âNot like Isaac,â Derek muttered, and Stiles was pretty sure Derek mightâve just kissed his forehead as he took another slow, deep breath in through his nose.
His grip on Stiles softened, easing into something gentler, and Stiles blinked in confusion.
âDude, are you okay?â Stiles asked quietly.
Derek didnât move for a few more minutes, holding him captive quite gently and just breathing in the scent of him. He didnât answer any of Stilesâs questions either, which, rude.
âCan we at least sit down or something?â Stiles asked, his feet beginning to itch from standing like he was.
Derek pulled away. His pupils were still blown, but his usual scowly aggression was missing from his face. Stiles searched his expression in confusion. Was this what it looked like before an alpha werewolf snapped their bolt and went on a killing spree? Was Derek going to eat him?
âUm⊠you wanna watch a movie or something?â Stiles offered. âWait, were you here for a reason? Do you need me to research something?â
Derek just crossed to Stilesâs bed in silence, shrugging out of his leather jacket, boots, and jeans, much to Stilesâs growing mortification. Stiles looked on, slack-jawed, when Derek â now in just a grey t-shirt and a pair of black briefs â peeled open the covers on Stilesâs bed and climbed between the sheets.
âOh my god, is this a dream?â Stiles muttered. âAm I dreaming? I must be dreaming.â
He started counting his fingers as he trailed, bewildered, to the edge of the bed where Derek had buried his face in Stilesâs pillow and had begun toâŠ.
Stilesâs eyes slowly widened when the werewolf began to nuzzle all around, rubbing his cheeks into the fabric, his nose, his forehead, and then dropping toâŠ
âAre you⊠rolling in my scent?â Stiles breathed softly. âLike a dog does when they find something they think smells good?â
Derek didnât answer, but he didnât really have to. He was literally rolling around in Stilesâs scent, stopping only long enough to yank his shirt off over his head so he was rubbing bare skin into the scent of Stiles clinging to the sheets and pillows. He was even making little canine noises of contentment, and Stiles was completely freaked out. Didnât dogs roll in the scents of creatures they were planning to hunt? He was sure heâd read that canines rolled in the scents of their prey to mask their own predatory scent to better hunt down and devour innocent prey.
