Tag: bamf!stiles

artemis69:

sterekseason:

What about Stiles leaving to go find Derek because he can’t handle Beacon Hills without him, and along the way he becomes a kind of legend.

Stiles who saves a family of werewolves from hunters, only to kill a rouge werewolf that was hurting kids.

Stiles who helps a selkie out of a fisherman’s trap at risk to his own life.

Stiles who fought a nest of vampires on his own because he could and it was the right thing to do.

By the time he finds Derek, Derek has been looking for him too because Stiles might be a badass it he needs back up and he’s got his back.

And they form a supernatural crisis team that helps whoever needs it and keep each other safe.

And have lots of sex in cheap hotel rooms after saving the day.

( @crossroadswrite, Rita I’m supposed to work in like five hours, stop reblogging perfect stuff like that it burries inside my brain and refuses to leave…)

I love this SO much (maybe because
badass!Stiles might me my ultimate kink in the world) and I just… imagine Derek so well in this 😀

Derek that has this really quiet life
now, all alone in his flat and trying really hard to take care of himself. So you
know, the whole therapist, reading, taking long baths and going to the market.  And he’s an omega werewolf, and a Hale, and able to
take full wolf form so… he’s kind of known. And he looks sad and grumpy and hot
and people basically kidnap-adopt him. So even if he doesn’t talk a lot, he’s
kind of involved in the community all the time and he doesn’t really know why
but he goes with the flow.

But of course he’s unwaware of the Stiles situation until…he’s not

(here have a 3AM not!fic. I don’t even now if this makes sens but anyway)

One morning in the waiting room, the werewolf
delivering the mail stops to chat with the therapist assistant. Sitting on his
uncomfortable chair, Derek perks up when he hears hunters and wolves and fire, and his whole body freezes in
horror. But then the story takes a surprising twist, and they start gushing
about this unknown man wearing red, that went inside without hesitation, broke
the mountain ashes and got them all out in time. All the kids were saved even
the little baby human one, and somehow the hunters where found tied up in front
of a police station with proof of culpability the next day.

And Derek smiles at his hands, and smiles,
and for the first time he talks to his therapist of Kate, and the fire, and his
pack and the scream. When he goes out, he feels gutted and light and he somehow
keep smiling.

It happens again. He just bought a small
quantity of recreational wolfsbane to send to the pack in Beacon hills, because
he’s kind of the reason some of them won’t be able to enjoy getting drunk on
their twenty first birthday. Somehow it seems like a little thing he can do
now, and it’s easy. So he’s in the little supernatural market, one hour away
from his flat, and leaving when he stops in front of the fish stand. There is a
big tank filled with live crabs, and two of them seem to be fencing together with
algae. This is the most exciting thing he has seen in weeks, and he’s busy
pitying himself when he hears the fishermen talk with the other patrons. They
are kelpies and mermen, and they all listen with fascination to this old, shriveled
selkie talking about the human that jumped into the water without even taking
off his clothes, in a red hoodie and cumbersome jeans, to saw the ropes of the
trap that almost killed his son and granddaughter. They all “aaah” and “ooh” at
the story, and Derek raises an eyebrow.

He leaves, sends the package and doesn’t
buy a crab to keep him company. All in all, he’s kind of proud of himself.

He is waiting for his coffee (with sugar
and whipped cream, because every times he tries to force himself to drink it
black from his poor coffee machine, a voice starts whining in the back of his
head that he deserves good things. Disturbingly, the voice sounds like Stiles),
avoiding the gaze from the barista that is, as always, trying to hit on Derek.
Derek is glaring at the wall, refusing to engage in conversation. But the guy
has no shame, which is so stereotypical for an Incubus that it makes Derek feel
slightly speciest and ashamed.

But when Shameless-Marc starts talking
about their new mysterious celebrity, Derek’s curiosity wins and he vaguely acknowledges
him in hope of having more details. His life is really boring these days.

This time the story takes place way up
North, and the story seems almost familiar. A small pack leaving in peace on a
beautiful land and a rogue alpha, thirsty for territory and power and blood.
The unknown man, apparently still wearing red (Derek is starting to think that
people are distorting the fact, or this man needs to buy some new clothes),
crashed into the situation. A week later, the alpha is ashes in the ground and
the stories of the human hero are everywhere.  

Derek smirks, and calls it “inversed red
riding hood”. The incubus laughs, too loud and too calculated, and starts
talking about a page of the Kamasutra describing this exact scenario.

Derek flees, and after drinking his coffee
he throws out the cup without a glance at the number written on it.

Then it’s Derek’s vampire hairdresser.
Derek looks at the scissors floating over his head in the mirror and listen to
Igor lisping through his fangs the tales of the human that took down the
Sanguini pack in Boston all by himself. The vampire is probably thousand years
old, dry as a twig, but he tells the story with the besotted tone of a teenager
describing her favorite popstar. There is apparently a young vampire that was
saved from a life of crime by this human hero, and he now travels all over the
states to tell the story of his savior and give conferences on addiction and
heroism in some city a few miles away. There is a disturbing amount of envious
sighs all over the salon, and Derek would bet that the story will one day be
adapted in an autobiography containing a lot of fainting in strong human arms
and rousing speeches.

This thing is getting out of hands.

There is a gory stories involving demons
and witches and virgin sacrifices, and dozens of people saved by a glorious and
bloody intervention. People talks of a puppy hellhound that was seduced by the
human bravery and abilities and decided to betray its master to save its life.

Derek sits down with the old people lazing
on the bench in the central place and listen to the gossips with bright
fascinated eyes.

Tonight, Derek is sitting in a bar,
drinking alone and looking morosely at Stiles’ number on his phone. He’s not
drunk enough to justify calling him after months of silence, and he doesn’t
have a real excuse because this city persists in not trying to kill him. It’s
almost offensive at this point. But Derek really wants to hear his voice. He
misses his stupid rambling and his inelegant snorts and the way he would have
already bumped into someone or spilled something and started a riot in the bar
if he would have been there. Life is never boring with Stiles.

So he’s drowning himself in his MoonBeer,
and looking at his phone as if he could teleport Stiles there by the power of
his will, and he’s ignoring the girl trying to catch his gaze from the other
side of the bar.

An elf climb on the scene and people starts
yelling and clapping. When she immediately starts singing about the red human,
Derek starts listening because well. He’s an overt fan now, and it’s better
than remembering that Stiles might have changed his phone number by now or
blocked Derek’s.

The song is beautiful and epic and written
like an old legend, because elves love drama. This fits the narrative
perfectly, as this story is as impressive as all the other.

When she describes a hoodie red as blood, Derek
smiles in his beer.

When she talks about the eyes of a wolf and
the laugh of a child, Derek looks at his phone.

When she sings about constellation trapped
under human skin, Derek squints his eyes.

When she croons about spark of the earth
and the thunder, Derek gapes.

When she sings about the roaring of an old
jeep that came to save so many, Derek breaks the bar.

The next morning, he starts looking for
Stiles.

(Then all the things about both of them hunting bad people and protecting the good ones, young rebel hunters trying to look for their autographs because it’s so cool, people writing books on their awesomeness and Scott and the sheriff trying really hard not to listen the stories on their epic love and the graphic descriptions of the werewolf banging Stiles in every motel of the country)