#sterekalphaemissary

[brwlvs-tw]

[thedaughterofkings]

Favours

Written for the first day of Sterek Week ‘17: Alpha and Emissary! I hereby present to you 1.5k of werewolf speed dating :D It’s that time of year again: no, not Halloween. It’s the weekend of the Great North Atlantic Supernatural Mixer.

Or, as Erica likes to call it: speed dating for overpowered Alphas and snooty Emissaries.

Derek has been going since he became an Alpha, and each and every year he came home alone again, much to the disappointment of his pack. He’s not really feeling much hope for this year either.

The connection between Alpha and Emissary is the most important one in the pack. They have to be able to trust each other implicitly as neither can just order the other into submission for the pack structure to uphold. The Alpha Emissary relationship does not have to be romantic in nature, but it often tends to be, given how close they have to be to work together seamlessly as a team.

And Derek just hasn’t ever met anyone he had been able to even remotely imagine building that kind of relationship with. There have been a few Emissaries who approached him, drawn in by the weight that the Hale name still has in the supernatural world, or by the sweet call of money. Some were obviously just after a sexual relationship, attracted to Derek’s body and not interested at all in his mind or heart. It always takes all of Derek’s control to get through the weekend without starting a feud with an easily affronted Emissary. And never has he ever felt inclined to approach anyone himself.

But this year, a hint of a scent draws him in before he has even unpacked his bags. There’s a faint hint of cinnamon wafting through the hotel that leads him straight to the big conference room where the Mixer takes place. It’s already filling up, Alphas and their Betas either staking their claim on one corner of the room as their temporary territory, or prowling around the room, looking for an opportunity to demonstrate their strength. Derek always comes alone; Boyd is his second, but Derek needs him more back home to take care of things there than he needs his support here for posturing in front of conceited Emissaries.

The Emissaries have not yet arrived in full, usually the high powered, highly sought after ones come last, waiting for everyone else to arrive so that they can have their big entrance. Then they settle down around the room and hold court, letting the Alphas come to them. The less sought after Emissaries walk around the room to talk to prospective Alphas and possibly awake their interest. But even those usually wait until most Alphas have arrived.

But the scent Derek is following is definitely coming from them room already, and there’s no doubt that this is the scent of an Emissary, the cinnamon underlaid with the metallic tang of sparks upon a sword, the fiery taste of ash on his tongue. For their scent to be this strong and easily discernible, the Emissary has to be very strong, and that makes it just the more surprising that they are in the room already. The Alphas must be fairly salivating over the fresh blood - because Derek would remember if he’d had ever met that Emissary before.

Indeed there’s a small crowd in one corner of the room, Alphas and Betas shoving each other aside to get closer to the person in the middle, flexing and snarling and growling, claws and fangs readily on display. Derek rolls his eyes and keeps to the edges of the crowd at first, trying to catch a glimpse of the Emissary that has all the wolves in such a tizzy. But the mass of bodies is too thick and Derek can’t see more than a head of messy hair and long fingers running through it nervously.

The crowd gets thicker as more wolves join it and the spike of anxiety souring that sweet and spicy scent is enough to make him shoulder his way to the center of the mob, making judicious use of his elbows and claws when the flare of his eyes is not enough to move people aside. One young Alpha with an obvious need to prove himself tries to get in his way but a snarl and a feigned attack is enough to deter him.

And soon enough Derek is right at the front of the crowd, face to face with the one whose scent has drawn him in from the first hint. The Emissary is probably a couple of years younger than him, a hand’s width taller and much more slender, though the muscles along his exposed forearms are wiry under the copious tattoos that curl up his arms from his wrists to his elbows, colourful lines disappearing under his sleeves. Derek can't quite tell what symbols or images this Emissary has burnt into his skin, as they start moving dizzyingly if he stares at them too closely. It's a trick used by many Emissaries to hide which symbols give them special powers and strength, but with most you can look past the illusion with some concentration. But in this case the tattoos just get ever more indecipherable the longer Derek looks at them.

When Derek finally looks up at the face of the Emissary, the first thing he notices are the golden brown eyes, almost beta yellow, a little overwhelmed but also defiant, just waiting for the one stupid wolf that goes too far and asks to be taught a lesson. Then Derek's eyes dart along the series of moles splattered across the Emissary’s cheeks and he surprises himself when he wonders whether there are more moles hidden beneath those enticingly tight clothes and how long it would take to find them all. And then he sees those plump and pink lips and fervently hopes that one of the powers hidden beneath those ever shifting is not mindreading.

The satisfied smirk that curls those pretty lips upwards doesn't bode well for him, though.

Derek swallows and then gets himself together. He pushed himself to the front of the crowd for a reason and, no, it wasn't ogling the Emissary - even if he's very ogle worthy.

The Emissary raises an eyebrow as if to ask what Derek is waiting for, so Derek takes that last step forward that brings them face to face. He bares his neck and ignores the murmurs behind him. These young upstarts better watch and learn how you treat an Emissary properly. It certainly doesn't involve crowding them and salivating - at least not if you are serious about possibly building a pack relationship.

And for the first time ever, Derek is completely serious about approaching a prospective Emissary.

He raises his hands, palm up to present the vulnerable part of his wrists and formally says: “I am Derek Hale, Alpha of the Hale Pack from Beacon Hills. Do you grant me your favour?”

“My - favour?” The Emissary asks slowly and then seems to remember the traditional exchange. The Alpha is supposed to ask the Emissary for a favour; if it is given, that means negotiations - or as Erica calls them, dates - can go ahead. Over the last few decades it has also become acceptable for the Emissary to offer their favour to an Alpha of their choice. Finally, if both Alpha and Emissary come to an agreement, the Alpha will return the favour - not literally the favour given to them by the Emissary, but another gift, ideally symbolising the bonds now newly forged between the two.

“Right, my favour,” the Emissary mutters and leans down to grab something. Traditional favours are pieces of jewellery, flimsy in appearance but strengthened with spells and potions, but the favour this Emissary presents to Derek is a baseball bat.

“I, Stiles Stilinski, Emissary to none, grant you, Derek Hale, my favour, as a symbol of the protection I promise to give you and that I expect in return from you.” The Emissary, Stiles, winks at Derek and mouths ‘get it? Protection?’ and for a moment Derek seriously doubts his decision to pursue this particular Emissary, but then Stiles smiles and his scent hits Derek again, the cinnamon hot and spicy in Derek’s nose, warmed with mischief and joy.

Derek breathes in deeply and smiles back at Stiles, suddenly sure that this is the last time he’ll have to attend the Great North Atlantic Supernatural Mixer. He reaches out and accepts the bat Stiles is still holding out to him and with it the hope that this favour will eventually be returned and Alpha and Emissary become one.

[my other Sterekweek 2017 fics]

[melodramaticsalad]

Sterek Week: Day One (Emissary and Alphas)

Stiles Stilinski always noticed he had an animal magnetism to him ever since he was a child. He'd discovered that he could soothe animals with his touch and the sound of his voice and it came in handy. One day, when an injured werewolf is brought to the clinic his mother runs, Stiles is eager to help the werewolf in any way that he can. When he does, he ends up getting more than he bargained for, but he still does everything he can to help.

Accompanying ficlet here!

[satunamoon]

After a full day of training, all an alpha and a an emissary need is one night of tranquility one in the arms of the other.

( I used a ych, but unfortunately I do not remember the name of the artist whoIt made available, and this sketch was halfway through my sketches, I just took it for the Sterek week. >,< )

[fear-frost]

In My Corner written by @fear-frost; art by @beerwolves

“Did I know what?” Stiles snaps already inching his way towards his bedroom door. Derek beats him to it and crowds Stiles until his back hits the wall. “Don’t play games with me. Did. You. Know?” Derek snarls. Stiles matches the alpha’s red glare as he wracks his brain to figure out why Derek is asking him this question. Why does it matter if Stiles knew? Derek’s pissed - and rightly so, in Stiles’s personal opinion. Scott may have had the best of intentions, but using Derek’s own body against him like that and forcing him to bite Gerard? Stiles’s eyes widen and he softens his own glare, finally understanding. Derek wants to believe that Stiles wouldn’t have condoned Scott’s plan and he’s right - Stiles wouldn’t.

Written for Sterek Week 2017 Alpha & Emissary Day

Here on AO3

[boymeetswerewolf]

Sterek Week ‘17 // Alpha/Emissary

“An alpha needs an emissary, and an emissary has no purpose without an alpha.”

[nightlight9]

Sterek Week Day One: Alpha and Emissary

Title: Marked by Fate

AO3

———

Scott gets bit by a werewolf, and Stiles drives two towns over to get his first official tattoo. When he gets back, a bandage wrapped around the upper part of his arm, his dad sighs a little like he knows what’s coming and pours his son a cup of tea. Stiles appreciates that he doesn’t ask any questions. He already has to deal with Scott ‘but-werewolves-aren’t-real’ McCall.

The thing is, Stiles already knows what’s going on with his best friend. As soon as Scott showed up at the school ranting on about being bit by a wolf, only for the mark to disappear underneath the bandage, Stiles knew what had really happened. He’s known about werewolves for a very long time. After all, his fate had been inexplicably tied to a pack of them when he was just a kid.

When he was six years old, Stiles received his emissary mark, a looping E worn like a brand on the inside of his wrist that matched his mother’s. He was younger than many emissaries are when their power awakens, younger than even his mother was when she was marked, but Claudia took it in stride, began his training, and introduced him officially to the Hales.

He knew them in passing of course, had seen Talia Hale around town and even sitting in his living room (after all, his mother had been Talia’s emissary). But he had never met her officially, emissary-in-training to alpha werewolf. And he had never really had the chance to meet her family.

Laura was introduced to him first. As the oldest Hale child, she would eventually take over as the Hale pack alpha. And while nothing had been set in stone at that point, and even though it never would have been required of him, it was expected that Stiles would become Laura’s emissary after their parents stepped down. He had liked the idea of working with the same pack as his mother, and he got along with Laura’s funny and mischievous personality. As the years wore on, Stiles spent more and more time at the Hale house in the preserve, learning about an emissary’s role in a pack, and bonding with Laura and her younger brother Derek (who he looked up to and followed around like a puppy most of the time).

But then his mother died, and the Hale family burned in a fire. Stiles pushed his training to one side to deal with his grief, Laura and Derek left Beacon Hills, and that was the end of it.

Until Scott gets bit while they’re out in the woods looking for a body.

Even though it’s been years since Stiles has even thought about emissaries and magick, years since he’s covered his mark with a red wrist band, he knows without a doubt that he’ll do anything he can to help Scott. That’s what the tattoo is for, a physical embodiment of the Spark within him. Permanently inking the phases of the moon on the inside of his upper arm feels like the first step to finally moving on. It makes him feel whole after years in a void.

And practicing magick again in the mornings before school feels so natural, like finally being able to breathe after being trapped underwater. It reminds him of his mother, but in the best of ways, and he feels ready to face anything.

What he doesn’t expect is to come face to face with Derek Hale again. He is nothing like Stiles remembers. Whereas he used to be a quiet kid with a big heart, who laughed with his head thrown back and blushed easily when teased, now Derek is all edge. There’s a sharpness to him that is unnerving, and he acts like he’s never met Stiles at all. What’s worse is that Laura doesn’t seem to be with him. Stiles doesn’t have to dig around for the body to guess that she’s gone too.

Scott doesn’t want to work with Derek to hunt down the alpha who bit him. Hell, he hardly wants to deal with being a werewolf at all. But Derek knows more than either than them about what they’re facing. And Stiles doesn’t want to leave him alone.

He starts hanging around Stiles’ house instead of staying at the burned out shell that was once his family’s home. At first he shows up under the pretense of doing research but soon enough the nights start ending with them sitting side by side on the couch or in Stiles’ bedroom, finding an unnamed comfort in each other’s presence. They don’t talk about their past, but more than once Stiles catches Derek staring at his emissary mark, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and trace the letter in the same way he used to when they were kids. Stiles likes those nights, likes knowing that in spite of everything Derek still seems to trust him, maybe not enough to address everything that’s happened, but enough to relax around him. And to Stiles, that means something big.

The first time John comes home to see Derek sitting at his dining table, he sighs, fixes the werewolf a peanut butter sandwich, and leaves them alone with a pat on the back and a prayer to Claudia to give him strength. It’s the first time that Stiles sees Derek smile, small and genuine. It’s reckless and it doesn’t make any sense, but the next day he gets his second tattoo, keeping the mark a secret from everyone but his father. John’s eyes get sad when he sees the ink, but then he smiles like he’s so proud, and Stiles thinks that everything will be alright after all.

It’s not until after everything with Peter and Kate is finished, after Derek becomes the alpha he was never supposed to be, that he talks to Stiles about the history they share.

They’re sitting side by side on the floor of his new loft, tired from painting all day, and tired from trying to brainstorm ways to get Scott to trust Derek as his alpha.

Derek gets quietl suddenly. Stiles presses their shoulders together. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Without responding, Derek reaches out a shaking hand and pulls Stiles’ wrist into his lap. He traces his emissary mark with the tip of his finger in reverence before looking up to meet Stiles’ bewildered gaze.

“Laura always expected to come back here,” he says softly between them. “She said that Beacon Hills was our home in spite of everything that had happened. She said there were things here that were ours to care for.” He looks down again to where his finger is skating over Stiles’ skin. “I’m sorry. For acting like I didn’t remember you. I-. When I first saw you, I saw everything that we had lost, everything that I wanted to avoid thinking about. So I tried to ignore you. That wasn’t fair to you though, and I’m sorry.”

He wants to say that it’s okay, but both of them would know that would be a lie. Instead Stiles says, “I understand,” which he does. As much as he wanted Derek to recognize him, he understands why he closed himself off from everything. Especially after Laura was killed.

They sit in silence for a long moment before Derek speaks again. “I always liked this mark. I liked how it looked on your skin, liked what it stood for. One of the earliest lessons we were taught was about how special emissaries are. I remember how proud my mom was when she told us that you had been marked. Laura was excited about it too. She was excited about what it might mean for her and the pack.”

Stiles turns his hand so that his fingers tangle together with Derek’s. Resting his thumb against Derek’s wrist, Siles can feel how quickly his heart is beating. “It was what I always wanted,” he says, watching how their hands clench together. “Mom used to joke, say that that was why I received my mark so early. She said that I wished it into being.”

Derek smiles. It’s a little sad, but the small quirk of his lips is genuine. “That sounds like something you would do.”

“And I liked the idea of being Laura’s emissary.” Derek flinches a little at the statement, but Stiles barrels on. It needs to be said, especially now that Derek is the alpha, now that they’re moving forward instead of hiding away. “I wanted to be a part of the Hale pack the same way my mother was. Even though I didn’t understand everything then, I knew that that was what I wanted.”

Ducking his head, Derek sighs out an apology. “I’m sorry. For everything that happened. For leaving after the fire even though you were hurting too.”

Stiles turns into him, gently knocking their heads together until Derek looks up. “You had to go,” he says. Really, it’s always been that simple. “It wasn’t a good idea that you stayed in Beacon Hills after everything had happened. I understood that, and I was never upset at you for it.”

Derek seems to relax after Stiles says that. He ducks his head again to stare at their hands. Stiles lets the silence drag out for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable, and as much as he doesn’t want to break it, there is something else that needs to be said. “Derek. I-. There’s something I would like to show you.”

When the werewolf nods, Stiles stands up and pulls Derek to his feet. Dropping his hand, Stiles takes a step back and plays with the hem of his shirt. “I got this before we figured out that it was Peter who bit Scott. It was true then, and it’s true now.”

Before Derek can ask any questions, Stiles pulls his shirt over his head. He hears Derek gasp in surprise, then watches as he steps forward, reaching out a shaking hand to hover over the tattoo inked over Stiles’ heart.

The triskelion looks sharp against Stiles’ pale skin. Derek gives in to the urge to touch it, running his fingers over each spiral. “Stiles.” His name is breath.

“I didn’t know that you were going to end up being the alpha, but it didn’t matter. Eleven years ago I got my emissary mark and bound myself to you and Laura. I was always meant to be the Hale emissary. Even if you were only ever going to be a beta, I knew that I was bound to you all the same.”

Derek’s fingers clench uselessly against Stiles’ chest. “I was never supposed to be the alpha, Stiles. I’m not-. I don’t know how to do this.”

He shrugs, lifts his hand, and curls their fingers together again. “We’ll figure it out. Alpha, beta, omega, it’s all a cycle. At the heart of it though, the werewolf is the same.” He squeezes Derek’s fingers. “You’re the same.”

“Alpha, beta, omega.” He pauses, meets Stiles’ gaze, eyes glowing red. “Past, present, future.”

Stiles smiles, his own eyes flare purple in response. “Yes. Exactly. We’re going to figure this out, Derek. Together.”

Finally, Derek smiles, big and bright, no hesitation. There is so much between them, so much unsaid. But what matters is just this. “Together.”

It sounds like a promise.

[strictly-chaotic]

Sterek Week 2017: Alpha & Emissary

Those who challenge the Hale Pack and find themselves lucky enough to hobble away, take with them stories of a seemingly small pack whom they thought easy to overtake, but were gravely mistaken.

Whispers and rumblings spread through distant packs of an Alpha whose wits are as sharp as his claws, strength that rivals most, and a fervid need to protect his territory, his pack, his family.  

Then there’s the anomaly: Stiles, an unconventional emissary who they call Little Red. Once thought to be just a boy with a spark, deftly honed his spark and discovered his ability to manipulate energies that would make a fair few mages pale.

Yes Derek, the cloak is necessary for protection and the bat channels and amplifies my spark. Plus it looks badass. *daily collective pack eye roll*