In a world where werewolves die if they’re unable to Claim their mate and to refuse them is classed as murder, Alpha Derek Hale makes his very public Claim for Crown Prince Stiles of Beacon. The Royal Family are left with no choice but to accept, no matter the Prince’s imminent marriage to Princess Lydia of Kanima, to whom he’s been betrothed since birth. After having already faced the future of one loveless marriage, Prince Stiles is determined to make things with Derek work.
A hand settles over one of Stiles’ clenched at his sides, the warm palm almost engulfing his fist. His own unfurls inside the gentle weight of it and he looks up to see Derek leaning over, brows creased with concern. Up close, his eyes are a mesmerising swirl of colour, like golden sunlight filtering through a forest canopy, and they’re already brimming with more adoration than Lydia has ever shown him.
When the
news came out that Derek Hale was taking the reins back at Hale
Magazine, that he was going to literally be in the building, that he was
going to come in and look at everyone, Stiles nearly fainted. Because
while he really didn’t know much about Derek, he felt like he knew
enough.
For starters, he knew the guy was a god damn alpha. And
that alone is cause for peeing his pants and hiding under a rock
somewhere. Because there are so few alphas, not even one per state
anymore, and don’t even ask about how many there are in other places in
the world (in Europe there’s only two), they kinda have to be about
fifty thousand times more ruthless than they would probably need to be
in any other situation. Threats and attempts on their lives are part of
the norm; unless they prove themselves to be fucking merciless and
willing to kill without hesitation.
So, there’s that charming
part of Derek’s personality. The other side of the coin is that Derek is
just kind of a fucking asshole, Like, renowned. For being a dickwagon
mcfucklamp that sleeps with a new omega every night, treats his staff
like garbage, growls at everyone, and in general is just a fuck.
Things do not bode well for the poor, sorry underlings of Hale Magazine.
I Get Filthy When That Liquor Get Into Me – Standinginanicedress (Words: 26367 / Chapters:1/1)
The battle that has raged on for 4 long years, claimed many lives and driven most remaining residents out of Beacon Hills, is finally over.
Newly evolved Alpha Derek S. Hale, son of the late Alpha Talia Hale, returned to Beacon Hills stronger, wiser, and ready to assume his rightful place as Protector of Beacon Hills. Alpha Hale, along with mate and pack emissary Stiles Stilinski, sister Cora Hale, betas Boyd, Reyes, and Lahey fended off the seemingly endless waves of Supernatural forces that invaded the territory when the Nemeton exerted a potent pulse, beckoning them forth in droves.
Though the battle has been won, the war is far from over.
The Hale Pack, a proven formidable force, may face challenges in the near future; some old foes, some new, all potentially drawn to the power not of the now dormant Nemeton, but of the Hale Pack themselves.
When questioned if they’re prepared for the onslaught of potential challengers to their territory, Alpha Hale stated with a smirk:
“I think the real question here is, are they ready for us?”
Stiles never expects to present as an omega – that’s something that happens to people like Greenberg, not him. He is so wrong.
His life only gets stranger when Derek Hale mistakenly bursts through the door of his exam room during a doctor’s appointment. What happens next is a complicated series of events, including freshly baked cookies, book-carrying and surprise heats.
Stiles loses his temper with the rest of the pack when they all make excuses not to volunteer to help their Alpha. Deaton has instructed that for the next 24 hours Derek can’t use his hands after he seriously injures them in a magical entrapment. Seeing the emotional hurt that Derek’s selfish pack has inflicted on him when they argue and try to get out of it, Stiles volunteers to stay and then proceeds to give the rest of them a verbal ass-kicking. He then takes care of his friend, the Alpha, Derek Hale, while trying to work out what his feelings are towards the werewolf.
Tags of Note: Alpha Derek Hale, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Some description of animal sacrifice/hunt, Blood, Rituals, First Time, Arranged Pairing
Summary:Deaton sat forward again with a little difficulty. His face, even through the pain, said that he knew what Stiles was thinking.
“You would have been the one chosen anyway, Stiles. Allison was not strong enough with the Moon, and Kira always had the chance of manifesting, even if she’d not done it so early. The dreams would have soon told me of her fate, but they’d have told me what I already knew.”
“You’re not putting that up your butt,” Scott told him flatly and Stiles couldn’t stop the pissed off whine he made, but his friend continued. “Stiles, you can’t put that up your butt, you know that. Your butt won’t be ready for anything to go in it until-”
“Okay, okay!” he said, flailing his hands to stop his friend’s lecture. “Message received, no butt stuff until I’m pounced on by some freaking animal in the forest and ravished to within an inch of my life. Got it. Thanks, Scotty, I mean heaven forbid I actually try to take control of my life and give myself a fighting chance or anything.”
“Not all alphas are animals,” Scott said quietly.
Maybe he was right, but Stiles wasn’t holding his breath.
Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.
Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.
Stiles is stolen away from his home and forced to work for the Hale army. He ends up at a manor where he lives at the edge of the war between the Hales and the Argents. Stiles gets wrapped up in rumors about secret princes, magic and possibly a spy. A handsome alpha who he finds himself hopelessly attracted to is the last thing he wants.
Derek has learned to be a good Alpha in most of the ways that count. The problem is, now that he’s well-adjusted, safe, and happy, it’s time to turn his attention to the one thing he’s always sucked at: finding a nice, sweet Omega mate.
Lucky for him, Erica and Stiles have ideas on how to make that as painless as possible.
In which Derek Hale is a failwolf and somehow, ends up going speed dating.
The magic within him swells as he closes the circle. It’s fed by Derek’s sacrifice, his promise to provide and protect his pack.
Stiles concentrates on the thick web of bond connecting each person to the other and back to Derek. His own threads are bright in his mind, distracting where the thickest leads right back to Derek, to his alpha, to…
When he comes back around, Stiles is standing in front of Derek. The red of Derek’s eyes glow, and his expression is solemn. Stiles can feel the excitement, the hope, radiating from him.
Stiles was young when he found out he could do magic, that he was a witch. But living as an only son left him with too much time on his hands, which is why he decided to use his magic to create something he wasn’t even sure it was possible in the first place. Alone in the woods, the young Stiles lost himself to magic, but someone found him. Someone saved him.
That night in the woods Derek killed his uncle and saved a boy named Stiles. Since then he’s felt a connection to the boy, like they’re meant to be together, like Stiles belongs to him. He’s brave, and smart, and everything a newly made alpha could ever want… And Derek needs to be close to him.
“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”
“What’s yours?”
“Stiles.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.
“Lie.”
“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”
Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”
Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”
Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.
That Derek had needed the support hadn’t surprised Stiles: a beta werewolf forced by the most horrific circumstances to take up the alpha-mantle as well as the heavy history of his name might always need someone to pat him on the back and kiss him on the forehead and tell him he was doing well.
That this is how they would weave it into their relationship had, at first, been slightly surprising. Yet now, with Derek on his knees with need in his eyes and what Stiles can see is earnestness and pride in the way he’s holding himself, Stiles is glad that they can do this, and that they both enjoy it, and that Derek has what he craves when they scene.
Derek is practically vibrating and was all the way home from the restaurant in the car, and Stiles doesn’t take more than a moment to admire the way his husband’s cock is dripping and balls are high and tight and knot is just starting to form.
Stiles won’t tease too much tonight.
He pushes a hand through Derek’s hair and Derek stills and looks up again.
“You did well tonight, baby.” Derek pushes his head into Stiles’ hand and growl-purrs at the praise. “So very well.” Stiles lets go so he can tug his own t-shirt over his head and when he looks back Derek’s nostrils are wide and his eyes are red.
“Thank you.”
There’s more than just a touch of wolf in Derek’s voice and it still thrills Stiles to have such a powerful creature at his beck-and-call, even if he’d never call him to do anything they both wouldn’t agree on and enjoy.
“Tell me why I should reward you, baby. Be specific. You know the rules.”
Derek nods. He’s so much better at this now and Stiles feels the urge to kiss him just for that triumph on its own, but this is about Derek, not him. He resists and watches as Derek bats his lashes and bites at his lip as he finds his voice.
“I didn’t snap at the guy who rammed you with his trolley in the market. It was an accident. He smelled horrified that he’d done it. I could hear him talking on the phone still after he left, telling the other person how embarrassed he was.”
Stiles runs his palm over Derek’s cheek and down his neck and undoes the button on his pants. “I’m so proud of you for keeping your temper in check.” Derek’s nostrils flare again, as if Stiles pants being open half an inch makes what he’s smelling somehow stronger. “What else did you do today?” He rests his hand at the top of his fly and flicks at the zipper with his fingers.
“I.” Derek licks his lips and a fang slides down and then back into his mouth. Stiles suspects that what he’s about to be told is what’s really got Derek keyed up. The words are fast and pushed together when they come, but Stiles understands them anyway. “I sent back my coffee order.”
Stiles wants to kiss Derek silly, but instead his rubs at his hard cock through his pants, wet patch spreading with the action, and then wipes the hand over Derek’s face. Derek whimpers and licks and Stiles lets him suck on a finger or two for a moment as he thinks about how much of a thing this really is. That woman at the coffee place nearest to the station has had it in for Derek ever since he turned her down for a date. She’s been making his orders wrong for more than a year, now, and Derek has just been letting her.
Until today, that’s…
“That’s amazing, baby. That’s.” Fuck it. He opens his fly completely and pushes down his shorts and Derek looks up, shocked and wondrous and Stiles is going to have such fun making that coffee-bitch pay now that Derek’s done what he needs to. “Save your other stories for next time, sweetheart.” Derek blinks, almost unbelieving, but trusting anway. “Go on, take what you want, I’m so, so proud of you, baby.”
Derek makes a sound that’s halfway between thank-you and a growl and pushes his face into Stiles’ crotch, sucking in air and panting hot and rubbing his jaw on everything he can without falling over.
“That’s it, sweetheart, whatever you want. Whatever you need. I’m so fucking proud of you, baby.”
Derek’s proud of himself, too, Stiles knows. His tongue is hot and his mouth is wet on Stiles’ balls and Stiles is going to come far, far too soon, and then again and again: Derek’s yearning, his pure, unadulterated enthusiasm to milk his reward from Stiles seems stronger than it has for such a long time.
Derek deep-throats Stiles suddenly, and Stiles is lost in the feeling and fucking loves that he’s the one who gets to give the alpha what he deserves.
shealwaysreads 