#sterekalternate

[boymeetswerewolf]

Sterek Week '18 // Alternate Canon

"And I miss your precious heart..."

After Allison's death, Stiles can't let go of the overwhelming guilt and the thought that he was responsible for what happened to her. With his friends all grieving over Allison in their own way, Stiles seeks out the one person he feels could possibly understand what he's going through: Derek.

[jmeelee]

Uh, Stiles?”

Stiles spins around in his desk chair to find Derek shirtless, smooth chest and narrow waist on display. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Danny do a double take. “Yes?”

Derek snaps a t-shirt between his hands; the seams scream in protest. “This? No fit.”

“Then try something else on.” Derek angrily pulls a hideous blue and orange striped shirt Stiles has owned since middle school over his head. It fits him like baloney skin, but Derek somehow still manages to look mouthwatering. “Hey! That one looks pretty good. What do you think, Danny?”

Danny’s eyes are glued to Derek’s pecs and abs, which are seconds away from bursting out of their cotton prison. “It’s… it’s not really his color.” Derek reaches behind him, whips off the shirt in a graceful maneuver that showcases every incredible inch of skin, and Stiles smirks as Danny turns red.

“You swing for a different team, but you still play ball, don’t you, Danny boy?”

Danny bares his teeth at Stiles. “You’re a horrible person. And while we’re making terrible baseball analogies, don’t think I don’t know you like to catch as much as you like to pitch. Don’t pretend that was solely for my benefit, Stilinski.”

It’s Stiles’ turn to blush, because with his werewolf hearing, there’s no way Derek missed that revelation.

He sneaks a glance over his shoulder, finds Derek, still shirtless, staring curiously at him. His breath catches and his heart rabbits in his chest, and he swears Derek starts to smile before he turns away to rummage through Stiles drawers some more. Jesus, the dude has back dimples. Stiles would pitch, catch, umpire, play shortstop, or do just about anything to slide into home with a dude like Derek Hale.

Yeah, Stiles is definitely bisexual.

Sterek Week 2018 • Day 4: Alternate Canon

[anefan]

bittersweet between my teeth

Rating: T

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None!

~

It was quiet when Stiles snuck back to the Hale house, the clearing hushed like even nocturnal birds and animals were respecting the crime scene. He wasn’t sure why Derek would still be here, but he had a hunch. The hunch was: Derek had nowhere else to go. Even after all the terrible things that had happened in this half-acre patch of burnt woods, Derek still thought of it as home. Maybe the fresh coat of tragedy and gunpowder would be enough to make the idea of sleeping here less appealing than hunting for an apartment—if Derek stayed in Beacon Hills at all. That thought had hit him like a ball of ice, had burned through his exhaustion and driven him back here, to the most recent setting of his future nightmares.

The creak of the porch steps made him freeze, skin taut over racing blood, even as he reminded himself that Derek would have heard him coming a mile away. He took another step, then two, past the gaping front door ragged with bullet holes.

Stiles cleared his throat, as if that could keep his voice from cracking. “Derek?”

Silence was his only answer, but it was a particular quality of silence, one that Stiles had become pretty well acquainted with. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

“Hey,” Stiles said to the stiff shadow above the stairs. The dull gleam of unearthly red slowly expanded from slits as the new alpha’s eyes opened just enough to glare at him.

“Go home,” Derek said.

“I went,” Stiles said. He’d changed, showered, picked up the spare key for the jeep, and made Jackson ferry him back to the parking garage where Peter had threatened and abandoned him, a lifetime ago. Jackson had been white-knuckled and silent the entire way; small mercies. That wouldn’t last. “Now, I’m back.”

The red eyes vanished, and Stiles heard a soft thump as Derek dropped his head back against the wall. “Why.”

“Um.” Stiles kind of wanted to step further in and close the door behind him, but he wasn’t sure normal house etiquette applied to half-torched, bloodstained, bullet-riddled husks. He shuffled in place. “So. You’re the alpha.”

Silence.

“How’s that… going,” he tried.

The silence somehow gave him the impression that if he had werewolf powers, he’d hear Derek grinding his teeth.

“I just ask because… well. The last guy who was the alpha, he was… how do I say this? Nuts. Totally nuts.”

“Stiles.”

“He was so nuts that the drive to make a pack had him immediately deciding that his number one priority was to bite literally the first asshole he ran into, which was Scott. And you saw how that turned out for him. Not to mention, the whole string of murders afterwards was murder on—on my dad.”

Silence.

“So you see where I’m going with this.”

The red eyes flared again, brighter. The upper floor creaked dangerously as Derek leaned forward. “Are you asking?”

“I—.” Despite the open door at his back and that half the house was ripped open to the woods, Stiles felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He took a few deep breaths. Licked his lips. “What?”

“Are. You. Asking.”

“For—am I asking for the bite?”

“Yes, Stiles. Are you asking for the bite.”

“No!”

“Then why are you here?” The eyes rose gracefully as Derek stood up to loom harder, brightening as they caught more light, or Stiles’s eyes adjusted. Or maybe the glow burned hotter as Derek got pissed.

“I just came to check on you! God! I don’t want you to bite me, but I—”

“That’s a lie.”

Stiles felt his heart leap into his throat, shook his head against the memory of Peters teeth against his wrist. “You can listen to my heartbeat from all the way up there? That’s—ha. Freaky alpha hearing.” The sudden sweat on the back of his neck was clammy as he wiped it away.

“Stiles,” Derek snapped, and whatever it was that always drew Stiles’s attention no matter how scattered, like a magnet, like a lightning bolt, it was stronger now. It rang inside him, echoing, reverberating, so that one word had him reeling like a struck tuning fork, answering before he could catch his breath.

“I’m not—it’s not a lie. I mean, who doesn’t want superpowers, right? But I—You said it could kill me.” And so had Peter. “I can’t do that to my dad, Derek. I can’t leave him alone.”

The palpable cloud of menace slowly receded. The red vanished. “Okay,” Derek said, strangely subdued.

Stiles gaped into the darkness, thrown by the simple acceptance. But. Derek knew something about being left.

So Stiles barreled on, rather than let either of them dwell on it. “That’s a yes on the instincts, I guess. If you’re just handing out wolf bites to whoever drops by.”

“Laura fought it for years,” Derek said, and even from the upper story, it felt close. Confessional. “I’ll—I can control it.” From how he was struggling to even say it, Stiles was skeptical.

“She had a pack,” Stiles pointed out. “She had you.”

Silence.

Stiles licked his lips again, heart pounding. Closed his eyes. “I know you can have humans in a pack. I know—your family had humans. And I’ve been in Scott’s pack. Since. So far.” Derek made a dark, derisive noise, and Stiles hurried to finish before he got angry again, or laughed. “If it’s okay that I’m human—that I stay human, I could—I would—"

He barely registered the shriek of the bannister as Derek leapt over, or the displaced rush of air. The solid landing, on the weakened floorboards right in front of him, almost brought Stiles to his knees. “Whoa, hey—"

“Don’t joke about this,” Derek said, eyes like a banked fire, too close to look away from, close enough that Stiles could feel the raw heat of him, breathed in the animal musk and ash and—pond scum, weirdly, like he’d jumped in a lake. His palm was hot through Stiles’s thin t-shirt, shoving him back against the wall, splayed fingers digging in like he could pick Stiles up like a basketball, like he could tear out his heart, and maybe he could. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” he said, but it sounded like he was the one torn open, bleeding out. This close, the darkness weak between them, Stiles could see the wildness, the fear, that his whole façade was made up of cracks, barely strung together. Stiles realized with a jolt that if he pushed him just right, dug his fingers into the sensitive places, he could make Derek shatter.

Somehow, that made it easier to rest his hand over Derek’s, to lightly press that trembling power even closer to his heart. “I mean it,” Stiles said, meeting his eyes, steady, strong. “I want to be in your pack.”

Derek’s fingers spasmed hard enough that Stiles was pretty sure he’d have bruises in the morning, and the air between them was full again of that pressure Derek had reeled in earlier, the weight of his power. The scarce inches separating them were charged with a turbulent potential that Stiles could almost feel like static on his skin. Slowly, carefully, eyes burning, Derek leaned closer.  Stiles had to bite his lip and try not to hyperventilate, couldn’t help but glance down at his mouth as it opened, and he couldn’t keep in a gasp when the edge of Derek’s teeth shone in reflected starlight. The fangs. The fangs. His heart kicked into higher gear and he struggled, on instinct, lashing out, but of course he was stuck, trapped, pinned like a bug, like an idiot—

“Ssh,” Derek murmured, gentle, around his huge fucking fangs. “You have to submit.”

Stiles threw his head back with a high, sharp laugh, because what did that even mean? and then his whole body was shuddering, beyond his control, because Derek’s fangs were on him, on his neck, the barest pressure around his pounding jugular. “Ssh,” Derek said again, and the soft brush of his lips sparked a different kind of shudder entirely, the adrenaline and the heat and the way his skin always leapt to Derek’s touch crashing against each other in a way that was consuming, and mortifying, and entirely not his fault.

“Okay,” Stiles said, sucking in a deep breath, willing it to be true. “Okay, we’re doing this now. This is happening.” He squeezed his eyes shut, unclenched his abused muscles one by one until he could slump against the wall, let Derek take his weight as his warm breath dampened Stiles’s neck. Derek, the bastard, only hummed, giving him yet another sensation to try not to react to. “Ugh.” Not sure what to do with his arms, he tried awkwardly setting one on Derek’s gently heaving shoulder, wrapping the other around in an uncomfortable kind of hug.

Eventually, teeth that had gone human-blunt pulled back entirely, and Derek kind of stiffened. Stiles magnanimously decided to ignore Derek’s embarrassment as he came back to himself.

“You are rank, dude. Did you go run through a swamp?” he said instead, and the tension in his shoulders slowly deflated.

“Lake,” Derek admitted. “Shut up.” He nuzzled into the curve of Stiles’s shoulder a little, like he could do it stealthily. “Pack members should respect the alpha.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’ve met me, so if that was a requirement, you shouldn’t have said yes.” He risked a condescending pat on the head, Derek’s hair thick under his fingers. “I don’t think I could respect anyone who smells this fucking terrible.” He ignored Derek’s grumble. “If we’re going to get anyone else to join this pack, you’ll have to shower. Like, regularly.”

The scrape of Derek’s stubble on the delicate skin of his neck sent shivers all the way to his toes, and he felt Derek’s toothy grin in response.

This was either the best or the worst idea he’d ever had.

[mute90]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Stiles Stilinski, Young Derek Hale, stiles doesn't like change, Sterek Week 2018, sterekalternate Series: Part 4 of Sterek Week '18 Summary:

The problem with getting parents involved in supernatural shenanigans was that when you stuck a de-aged teenager in front of them, they said, “Well, he can’t just sit around all day. He needs to go back to school.”

[madness-of-void]

Title: Awakening  Rating: Teen Theme: Alternate Canon Word Count: 13997

Winston William Walters III. That was the name the visiting alpha gave in a tone that was equally as snooty as his damned name. And the way he held himself was arrogant. Like he was some aristocrat from the frickin' Victorian era. The three piece suit he wore almost every time he met up with the Hale pack certainly didn't help matters.

Stiles didn't like him.

Something didn't sit right with this guy. And not because of his snobby attitude. No...there was something off about him. Like, he had this wry grin that reminded Stiles of Peter, but like, a thousand of the dude. And his eyes glinted with some sick, malicious want. Made Stiles' skin crawl.

Thankfully, Stiles wasn't alone in his feelings.

Whenever his dad was in the same room with WWW, he eyed the wolf like he would with a suspect in the interrogation room. Kira, who usually like everyone and saw the good in everyone, always kept close to Allison or Stiles whenever WWW was visiting, still as a board and worrying at her lip till he left. Erica and Boyd wouldn't stay in the room for more than five minutes before they would just leave with sour expressions. Allison would be on pins and needles until he left, sometimes her fingers twitching towards one of her many hidden weapons. Isaac would glare until he would mutter something to Lydia, who would also be glaring, and they would leave the room together, which was weird all around.

Derek had the most...strong reaction.

Read the rest on AO3!

[catasterisms]

Missing and Missed

Summary:  The rescue that never happened. (At the end of s2.) Just a little scene, basically what I wished would have happened.

Rating: T

Words: 661

Stiles hurt. Everywhere. Worse than the physical pain, though, was the emotional pain, mixed in with a cocktail of shame, humiliation and anger.

Gerard may be the Argent warlord, hunting werewolves all his long life, but it was still humiliating being beaten up by an old man.

Read on AO3

[asagi-s-garden]

Title: Carpe Diem Rating: T Theme: Alternate Canon Word Count: 1,377 Summary: Stiles has been gone for nearly a year now, but Derek still misses him, he can't help but wish, as he allows the magic of his current spell to wash over him, that the werewolf would return

His wish might just get granted

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16449233

[tabbytabbytabby]

Sterek Week Day 4: Alternate Canon - No Hale Fire