Oct 27, 2019
STEREK WEEK 2019: Day 3 - Outdoors
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STEREK WEEK 2019: Day 3 - Outdoors
Same Old Song and Dance
Being trapped in the middle of the woods with an alpha werewolf was not part of Stiles' plan. In fact he hadn't planned to be in the woods at all, but of course when he gets a call from Allison saying that she's tracking a rogue and could use the help, he doesn't hesitate. Allison is the closest thing he has to family and he'd do anything for her, which is how he finds himself in the woods at dusk with a full moon only hours away, searching for the huntress.
The air was already starting to cool without the sun's rays to keep it warm. Pulling his jacket up around him, Stiles scanned the brushy underground for any of Allison's signature traps. Spotting only three, he carefully maneuvered around them. He only wondered if the alpha would be able to spot them as easily as he had. Sure, Stiles was a trained hunter and knew Allison's traps like the back of his hand, but the alpha had been hunted for years and yet still was untouched by any hunter.
Stiles had only been hunting the alpha for nearly a year. It was like a game to the werewolf. Stiles was sure one of them should have killed the other by now and yet they both continued this dance.
The deeper Stiles got into the woods the darker it became, the trees shielding what little light was left in the sky. His hands clasped around the hilts of his twin daggers that sat tucked into his thigh holsters, one on each leg. If Allison were with him, she would be going on about how he should really learn to use a bow. Hunters rarely used guns when going after their prey, it drew too much attention with how loud they were. Stiles preferred his ten inch double edge Damascus daggers.
"Awfully late of you to be out here alone."
Stiles froze at the all too familiar voice. He slowly pulled his blades from their spots.
"Oh put those away, you and I both know you aren't going to use them," The alpha's voice was louder.
Stiles turned to see the familiar red eyes.
"Derek Hale," Stiles spoke between clenched teeth.
"Stiles Stilinski, we meet again," Derek's eyes faded from their alpha red as he stepped forward.
Stiles made no move to attack, but his blades were at the ready just in case Derek did.
"What are you doing in my woods at nightfall on the night of a full moon? Tired of your simplistic hunter life already?" Derek quirked a brow.
"Hunting a rogue," Stiles answered vaguely. He wouldn't let Derek know that Allison was out here alone and in need of his help.
"Ah, yes, the lone wolf causing mayhem. I've taken care of him," Derek looked up at the sky as if trying to spot the still rising moon.
Stiles frowned. "Taken care of him?"
"Like I told you before, I'm not the bad guy here," Derek's tone was easy, as if he were talking to an old acquaintance and not a deadly enemy.
Stiles scoffed in response.
"Did you do what I asked?" Derek turned his eyes back to Stiles. It was getting too dark to see but Stiles knew them to be a soft green color.
"Why would I?" Stiles snapped. He didn't like to be told what to do, especially by some mutant dog.
"Why wouldn't you?"
Stiles narrowed his eyes at the Werewolf.
"Unless, it's because you're afraid of what you'll find. You know there's a chance I'm right and you can't stand the thought of it."
Stiles' patience was waning, and he knew it.
"You're wrong," Stiles spoke between grit teeth. He knew attacking from the front would only get him hurt, he would have to wait for Derek's guard to drop further or for him to attack.
"Why haven't you killed me yet?" Stiles asked. The alpha could have snuck up on him and weakened him. Instead he chose to talk.
"Why haven't you killed me?" Derek countered.
"I know a losing fight when I see it," Stiles answered honestly. He knew Derek would hear his lie so there was no sense in trying.
"It burns you to know that I'm right here an you can't kill me, doesn't it?" Derek taunted, taking a half step forward.
Stiles took a step back. If Allison weren't out here alone, maybe he would try and take on the alpha, but Allison was more important.
"Does it not burn you to know that you can't kill me?" Stiles' tone was cocky and confident despite his unease.
Derek smiled, "Your wolfsbane dipped blades are no match for me."
"You really don't think so?" Stiles smirked. He could see the hesitation on Derek's face. They both knew this fight was far too equal. They'd done it already. Both bruised and bloodied until one of them became outnumbered by arriving backup, forcing them to retreat.
"It's the same old song and dance, Derek."
"Then perhaps it's time we changed the tune," Derek stepped forward lifting his hands as if in surrender.
Stiles frowned, refraining from taking another step back. "What are you doing?"
"If you truly think that there is no truth to what I say, then kill me, but if there is even a hesitation..." Derek was now less than two feet from Stiles.
A swipe with his left blade would sever the alpha's carotid artery in a second. Derek would likely bleed out before he could heal, but just to be sure, Stiles' right blade would plant nicely into Derek's heart. Even if his neck healed in time and he pulled out the blade in his heart, the wolfsbane would end him.
"I can see you planning how you would do it, and yet you haven't," Derek took another half step forward.
"Take another step and I will," Stiles refused to let Derek get too much closer, at this range he had a chance. Any closer and he wouldn't be able to escape any attack the alpha tried.
"Do what I said," Derek's tone was almost pleading.
"Why are you so insistent I do this?" Stiles demanded. He hated the part of him that wanted to know if Derek was right. He hated the part of him that wanted to trust this monster.
"Because I don't want to be your enemy, Stiles."
Stiles swallowed.
"I know you're curious about how you escaped the woods last year."
Stiles narrowed his eyes. He and Allison had gotten ambushed by a pack they had been hunting. They got the wrong intel and found themselves surrounded. He and Allison got separated and the back up found her. Stiles had been knocked unconscious and when he woke on Allison's couch, she had said she found him on her front porch. She assumed he drug himself out of the woods, but he knew that wasn't the case. He never told her otherwise.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that it was you who left me on Allison's door?" Stiles sneered.
"It was," Derek answered as if it was some safe guarded secret.
Stiles had suspected but had no proof and couldn't understand why Derek would do that; so instead he tried convincing himself he had done as Allison said, and dragged himself out.
"The pack that attacked you was not mine. I would never have-" Derek cut himself off. His eyes skipping past Stiles.
The hunter knew the alpha had heard something.
"Do what I said. Find out what really happened that night. Find out who really set that fire and who was inside."
"Stiles?" Allison's voice called. "Is that you?"
Stiles turned to see the huntress emerge from the woods.
"What's the matter?" She asked, noticing his unsheathed blades.
Stiles looked back to see Derek was gone. He shoved the blades back into their place. "Nothing. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just a few scrapes," Allison nodded.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Stiles grabbed Allison by the elbow and gently pulled her towards the way he'd come.
"Wait, what about the rogue?" Allison frowned, though she didn't fight against him.
"He's been taken care of."
"What? How do you know?"
"Just trust me, come on," Stiles' eyes scanned the woods, as he pulled Allison towards the safety of the town. He knew Derek was nearby; he could feel the alpha's eyes on him, even if he couldn't see them.
**For the sterek week prompt: Outdoors
I had so much fun with this one I might make it into a full story...Let me know if you’d be interested!
Update: I turned it into a full story which you can find here!
Consider buying me a coffee, I would really appreciate it!
Totem poleing through the woods 101
Stiles didn't know why he ended up with meatball gravy dripping down the side of his face and mashed potatoes globbed in his hair, but he was certain it was Lydia's fault.
But that is no where near the beginning, so let's back up.
***
After Boyd and Erica almost died, after Boyd almost didn't survive Derek's claws things changed.
It started the moment Boyd was gurgling it wasn't Derek's fault, that it was okay, around a mouthful of blood. Derek told him it wasn't and let out a heart wrenching roar that set Stiles in motion. As Derek held Boyd's wounds while sobbing he was sorry, Stiles grabbed his shoulder like he could hold them both together. He called Deaton and Melissa before helping Derek stop his most staunch beta's bleeding. Stiles remembered what Deaton said about being a spark. He needed to be a bridge between the two points to connect the power. He had to envision the path to create the destination. He needed to be the spark in between that let the power flow back and forth, maybe he could do that here. Maybe, but he definitely had to try. He moved to Boyd's other side and started to pry Derek's hands away.
Derek reacted immediately. "Stiles what are you doing, stop!" Derek looked into his eyes questioning with an edge of danger.
"We both know Melissa or Deaton won't get here in time." As if to prove his point Boyd spit up more blood.
"No! He's not dying! He can't I- I can't be the reason he dies. Stop Stiles let me save him. I can save him." Derek pleaded like convincing Stiles was all it would take to make it true.
"It's not your fault, and we both know you can't save him."
Derek looked ready to protest.
"But maybe I can. I don't know for sure but let me try."
Derek's eyes wavered down to Boyd and back to Stiles, but his hands held steady.
"Please. Do you trust me?"
Derek's head turned slightly to the side before hesitantly shaking up and down while moving his hands.
Boyd moaned in pain. That drew both of their attention to his face in time to see his eyelids flutter shut and his head became dead weight in Derek's grip. Derek looked wrecked and Stiles couldn't even begin to think about what he would look like if this didn't work.
Stiles placed one hand over Boyd's wounds and the other on Derek's chest.
He willed that this would work. He willed it with every fiber of his being. The power Derek absorbed from his beta would flow out of Derek, through Stiles, and then back into Boyd. He would take his power back and use it to heal himself. Boyd would be okay. Boyd would be okay. He saw it. He willed it. Boyd will be okay. I am a bridge. Boyd is where I envision the power going. The power will flow through me. Derek will not lose a beta. Boyd will be okay. Boyd wil-
He felt a tingling sensation in the fingers pressed to Derek's chest.
This is working.
I will take the power from Derek, it will flow through me and into Boyd.
It was no longer tingling in favor of wrapping itself around his arm burning it's way to his chest.
It will flow through me.
When it reached his heart he let out a scream as his eyes shot open with a beta gold shine. It felt like he was on fire.
It will flow into Boyd.
He felt it gripping its way down his other arm.
It will flow into Boyd. It was just the faintest feeling on his fingertips now.
Boyd will be okay.
Boyd sat up with a roar and shining eyes.
***
Stargazing Aesthetic for @sterekweek2019 Day 3: Outdoors
The Great Outdoors
Sterek Week 2019 Theme: Outdoors
Rated G
Word Count: 587
Story idea credit can be found in the notes
++++++++++
“What’s this?” Derek asks, eyebrows carving out real estate on his forehead. He eyes the stack of printed photos Stiles hands him with trepidation.
Stiles’ bark of laughter scares a family of crows from the tree branches hanging overhead, and they take to the air with shrill, startled squawks. Knowing Stiles’ luck, he and Derek will probably get shit on. The thought makes him laugh even harder.
A smile starts tugging at the corners of Derek’s mouth. “What’s going on? What are these?”
Stiles breathes out a long-suffering sigh. “Just take them and see. Geez. Paranoid much?”
“When it comes to you? Always.” Derek reaches out and takes the pictures from Stiles’ outstretched hand.
This moment isn’t going exactly how Stiles imagined, but truth be told, he’d never known exactly when the right moment was going to be. The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted it to be outside, somewhere in nature, the places that brought Derek the most peace. Stiles has seen more of the great outdoors than he ever thought possible since he started dating Derek.
Derek thumbs through the first few photos. There’s one of him sleeping at Joshua Tree National Park, a tuft of black hair the only thing visible as he snuggles in his flannel, water-proof sleeping bag, early morning light filtering softly through their tent flap. Another is of Derek’s broad, shirtless sun-kissed back, black triskelion tattoo dark against sea-blue ocean waves in Rio de Janeiro. One of Derek bent over a tower viewer, taking in the magnificent sights of New York City from the top of the Empire State Building, and another of a dripping, dark blue poncho-clad Derek turned away from the camera, pointing at the majestic Niagara Falls.
“Stiles.” Derek shakes his head. “I know werewolf eyes don’t photograph well, but these are pictures of the back of my head. And they’re not even good. Your hand is in every single one. Why would you print these out?”
A snapshot from their weekend in Seattle. A portrait of Derek watching the sunset in Key West. One of him in profile, sticking his tongue out at a stoic Buckingham Palace guard the summer they visited Jackson and Ethan.
“Narcissistic much?” Stiles jokes, rolling his eyes. “Quit looking at yourself and pay attention to what’s in my hand.”
“It’s a …” Derek’s fingers falter on the edge of a shot of himself mounting a bicycle in Boulder, Colorado. “It’s a…”
Stiles is pretty damn proud of himself. Not only has he kept the secret for nearly a year and bribed Danny into permanently disabling his cell phone’s shutter sound, but he’s also managed to make Derek Hale speechless. He’s like a freaking ninja.
“It’s a…” Derek comes to the last picture in the pile, the only one not of him. It’s a selfie of Stiles in the preserve, standing right where they currently are, smiling bright and holding up his hand. Nestled in his palm is a small black box.
“It’s me telling you I want to go on this journey with you, if it takes us far from home or just right down the road. It’s me saying I love you. It’s a promise.” Stiles pulls the box out of his pocket, letting Derek lay eyes on it for the first time. “It’s a question.”
Derek steps toward him, twigs barely crackling underfoot. Even in this humbly human moment, he walks with lupine grace. “It’s a yes, Stiles.” He smiles. “Now give me that damn ring.”
I Want Strings Attached (Sterek Fic)
Human AU. ~15.6k. Rated T.
Posted for Sterek Week 2019 Day 3: Outside.
∪･ω･∪
"And that," Tall Blonde says, "is why you should really change her collar. It's blue. That's a boy colour." She frowns over at Stiles' dog like Zephyr is causing her physical pain. All Zeph is doing is frolicking, aka doing exactly what a dog is supposed to be doing at the dog park. Stiles has no idea why Tall Blonde is even talking to him. "What if people think she's a boy? What will you do then?" She raises her eyebrows smugly, like she's just raised the most salient of salient points. Like no one could ever even hope to try and refute her logic.
Little does she know, Stiles lives to refute logic.
He squints at her. "Okay, so. Like, you know colours don't have genders, right? Only people can have genders, assuming they want one."
She blinks at him. "Excuse me?"
"Also," he continues, because if college was useful for not much else, it certainly did an amazing job of providing him with even more ways to combat people's bullshit, "gender roles are just a social construct. Blue is a primary colour in the RGB colour model. It lies between violet and green on the spectrum of visible light. It's pretty. But that's all it is. You understand that, right?"
"Um." Um. She's a master debater.
"Especially for dogs, like, they're dogs. Dogs. You get that, right? I wouldn't be shocked if you didn't, but please tell me you at least get that. Like, she," he gestures to his gentle, possessive yes, but mostly sweet eight year old Labrador X Golden Retriever, "isn't gonna care what kind of collar she gets, as long as we still go walkies. Dogs can't even see colours."
Tall Blonde frowns. She seems to recognise there was some sort of insult directed towards her, but it's obvious she has neither the brains nor the balls to engage. "Um. Okay?" She glances about herself for her dog—a purebred poodle in a fairy costume, of fucking course—and quickly makes her way out of the park, refusing to look back at Stiles.
Stiles looks down at Zeph, who's just finished her first round of sniffing and is in the process of writhing around on the grass, probably in something gross that Stiles doesn't wanna know about. He's nudging her head away with the toes of his sneaker, about to ask her if she's done her business yet, when an amused, leading voice sounds from behind him.
"For someone so eager to insinuate someone else is an idiot, that was a pretty idiotic statement."
Stiles stiffens. "Excuse me?"
"They're not really colourblind."
"I know that," he snaps, spinning around. "I'm not an amateur, I know they can still see shades of blue and yell...ow..." He trails off. He doesn't mean to, but it's just what he does around Pretty People. He trails off, falls off, pisses off, takes off, runs off and puts off alllllll the Pretty People. It's a skill, honestly.
The Pretty Man (so very very pretty, dear God) raises an eyebrow. It's magnificent. The most majestic eyebrow Stiles has ever seen, only to be rivalled by his other eyebrow.
Stiles quickly looks away from the eyebrows, but the rest of his body is just as distracting, because he's wearing some sort of jogging attire, and there are leggings involved. Man-leggings—meggings, Tall Blonde would probably call them. They look excellent. There are so many leg muscles on display. Stiles didn't even know that many leg muscles existed. Or that they would be so attractive.
He gulps. Pretty Man's yellow Labrador stares up at him judgmentally from between Pretty Man's legs.
Stiles envies Pretty Man's Labrador.
Read more on AO3!
Sterek Week 2019 Day Three: Outdoors
It’s cold out, which is to be expected considering it’s mid-October. Even in southern California, the fall chill is starting to creep through the trees. Luckily, the fire blazing in the pit provides enough warmth that Stiles can stay comfortable even as night falls over the forest. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be sitting out under the stars, and he’s happy to have the flames as company while he waits.
Curling into his chair, Stiles pours more hot chocolate into his thermos cup, sighing contently when the sweet smell tickles his nose. He probably should have brought something with caffeine in it, but the thick chocolate drink was much more enticing. When he was younger and his family would camp during the summer, his mother always brought along the ingredients to make fresh hot coco. The memory, along with the drink itself, keeps Stiles warm.
Around him, shadows dance in time with the firelight. The spell that they’re trying to cast is easy to ignore. Stiles is here for one thing and one thing only, and not even a forest filled with shadows will keep him from it.
Off to one side of the clearing, somewhere behind his tent, a twig snaps under the pressure of someone’s foot. It’s a deliberate sound, and Stiles presses his smile against his mug. Maybe he’ll get lucky and he won’t have to wait much longer.
Minutes pass. Stiles sips at his drink, content to wait. Over the years, he’s had to learn the art of being still. The fire helps. It gives him something to focus on instead of obsessing about every sound the forest makes.
Finally, a pair of brilliant blue eyes stare at him from the other side of the fire. Stiles watches silently as the creature crawls closer to the flames. The is no fear in the inhuman gaze, only intense curiosity.
Hypothermia
Written for @sterekweek2019 Day 3: Outdoors!
“This was a shitty idea,” Stiles mutters. His teeth chattering is the only reaction he gets.
Then of course it had been Jackson’s idea, so really, Stiles should have known better than to let himself be goaded into this.
This being spending a night in the preserve, alone, without a fire or any other means of keeping warm.
Stiles has seriously underestimated how cold it gets at night out here.
And he has severely overestimated how well he knows the preserve.
In the search for some place that would offer him at least a little shelter if not some warmth, he has gone too far off the paths and is now completely and utterly lost. At least Scott knows where he is - roughly - so if Stiles doesn’t make it to school on Monday, he’ll sound the alarm.
Because yes, Stiles was extra dumb and decided to do this on a Friday night, telling his dad he was staying with Scott and not telling Scott as much. If he had told Scott, Scott would have wanted to come along - his need to prove himself might even outdo Stiles’ own feelings of inadequacy and he wouldn’t have wanted Stiles to be alone either way, but Stiles might be dumb (as evidenced by his current predicament), but he’s not dumb enough to take his best friend with severe asthma into the woods in the middle of the night to get lost and die.
That’s certainly what it feels like right now. He’s so cold that he can’t feel his toes anymore and some of his fingers have lost their feeling as well. If he remembers his biology lessons correctly, the next to go are his ears and then he’ll lose his nose. That will really make Lydia look at him.
A strange sound makes him jump. It almost sounded like a howl, but there haven’t been any wolves in California for almost a hundred years, so it must have just been the wind. Still, Stiles tries to step extra lightly as he continues walking. He has decided to forgo looking for shelter - keeping awake and moving seems to be his best bet now, even though he has no idea where he’s going. When the sun comes up again, he’s going to choose a cardinal direction and go that way, but for now he goes where the forest leads him - along the path of the least resistance.
Nevermind the road less travelled - if Stiles wants to get out of here without a broken neck he’s going to follow whatever paths he can find in the darkness. This one seems to be well used - not by humans, but by something big nevertheless, probably deer.
‘Or wolves,’ his brain helpfully suggests and Stiles scoffs out loud. The sound echoes through the silent trees and Stiles comes to a stop immediately, chiding himself internally. There might not be any wolves in these woods, but that doesn’t mean nothing here could harm Stiles. Over the last few years, the reports of mountain lions have become more frequent for example.
When nothing attacks him, Stiles slowly starts to move again, starting with a full body shiver. He should have at least worn a thicker sweater.
Under his feet, leaves crunch with every step, despite Stiles’ best efforts to tread lightly. He strains his ears to hear any noise above the one he makes himself, but the woods are silent around him.
Too silent.
The thought has only just crossed his mind when a dark shadow jumps out of the underbrush and Stiles stumbles backwards with a scream. He catches a glimpse of white fangs and electric blue eyes and then his head smacks against a tree and he knows no more.