VOID || RECOVERY
Everything about this creature set Derek on edge. That stolen face, so like
and so unlike Stiles’ face. Those ancient eyes, burning with a cold fury that
Stiles’ own could never hold. All this shadow served to do was highlight the
thousand little things Derek loved about Stiles; all the things that didn’t
exist in the void of the demon’s eyes.“You think you’re unstoppable?” Derek growled. “You’re an infection.
And I’m not leaving until he’s cured of you.”Merry Christmas, @stiledsarcasm!! ❤
Tag: healing
It’s said it takes seven years
to grow completely new skin cells.
To think, this year I will grow
into a body you never will
have touched.– Brett Elizabeth Jenkins
Derek stands at the edge of the river, clutching the small homemade boat in his hands. His shoes and socks are off to one side, his bare feet dig into the cold, squishy mud of the riverbank.
Before tonight, he thought this idea was a little ridiculous, had even laughed when Stiles suggested it. But now, standing beside the river, its dark surface reflecting the silver light of the full moon, it doesn’t feel ridiculous at all.
He feels, rather than hears, Stiles step up beside him. “You ready for this, big guy?”
Derek looks down at his boat. He nods, and it feels momentous. Something inside him cracks.
Stiles hands him a pack of matches.
Derek takes them and steps into the water, the river tugging at his ankles as it rushes west toward the ocean. Even just two years ago, he wouldn’t have wanted to use fire, but tonight, it feels symbolic. Important. Like it will be cleansing instead of destructive.
He doesn’t remember where he found the quote, that it took seven years to grow completely new skin cells. But he does remember the punch to the gut he felt when he read the second line: “To think, this year I will grow into a body you never will have touched.”
Stiles found him curled up beside the bed, shaking. Derek pushed his tablet over to him with the quote, unable to explain. But Stiles, being Stiles, took one look at it and understood completely.
“It’ll be seven years since Kate took you to Mexico this spring,” Stiles said quietly.
Derek nodded.
“We should celebrate,” Stiles said. “Or commemorate, I guess.”
Derek argued half-heartedly. But the day came closer, and last week, he agreed to do something to commemorate the occasion.
He cradles his boat in one hand so he can light a match, and then he sets the match on the small bit of kindling in the center of the boat. At first he thinks it won’t catch, but it blazes to life, and Derek sets the boat on the water and pushes it out.
The river catches it, pulling it along with the current, drawing the small floating flame further from him with each passing second.
Seven years since Kate. Seven years since Jennifer. Now, he has a body they’ve never even seen, let alone touched.
The thing inside him cracks further, and Derek feels a weight slide off his shoulders, something he’s carried so long he forgot it was there. He feels lighter than he has in years, lighter than he can ever remember, like the small fiery boat is taking all his guilt and shame down the river, burning it away.
He feels…free.
He watches the boat’s flame until he can’t see it anymore, until it disappears around the river bend. He stands there a few moments more, listening to the quiet burble of the water and rustling of the wind in the trees. The moon tugs at his blood, a current even stronger than the river’s, and Derek wants to throw back his head and howl with an emotion he can’t even name.
He’s not sure how long he stands there before he finally steps out of the river, shaking water off his feet. He grabs his shoes and socks with one hand and wipes the other over his face, dashing tears from his eyes. He’s not sure when he started crying, but it feels almost as cleansing as the fire did.
Stiles stands a few feet away, bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he wants to run to Derek but also wants to give him space if he needs it.
There’s a swell of affection in Derek’s chest, sudden and powerful. He loves Stiles, has loved him for years, but it feels a thousand times stronger now, like the act of letting go has freed up all this space inside him and it’s being filled by his feelings for Stiles.
He strides over and cups Stiles’s head, drawing him into a deep kiss. Derek tries to pour all his love into it, all the overpowering emotions he can’t name, hoping Stiles will just know.
From the way Stiles threads his fingers in Derek’s hair and kisses him back, Derek guesses he does.
“Good?” Stiles whispers when they break apart to breathe.
Derek nods. “Good.”
Stiles beams, and it’s as bright as the full moon above them. “Good,” he says, and pulls Derek back in for another kiss.
there’s a martyr in my bed tonight but it’s all alright
Sterek Summer Spectacle – Week 4: Fix Canon
Team: What What in the Butt
Your favorite team? Vote Here!AO3: LINK
Rating: T
WC: 10.9k
Main Tags: Hurt/Comfort; Stilinski Family Feels; Post-Season 2; Canon Fix; Derek Hale Deserves Nice ThingsIt’s a beautiful afternoon, and Derek is standing at a dusty gas station, staring helplessly at the destroyed remains of the last thing his sister left him.
(OR: In which Derek expects nothing from life, but with a little help from the Stilinskis gets everything.)
When Derek was younger, he used to be an optimist.
Now he is the furthest thing from it he could possibly be. Now, after he was forced to give his mother’s gift – the bite – to the man who orchestrated the murder of his family, after the murder of his family at the hands of a woman he loved, he is not.
A testament to how pessimistic he’s become would be how he walks out of the gas station he stopped at to fill his tank and sees that his Camaro has been smashed to pieces – every window broken, the tires slashed, dents from back to front – and all Derek can think about is it was bound to happen .
He knew the hunters wouldn’t give him a break even after the kanima and their leader going absolutely berserk incident. Rationally , he knew this, but that little kid part of him stubbornly had whispered maybe it’ll get better, maybe I can catch a break .
He doesn’t know if this is karma for what he did to his family or if he was just born with disaster written in his bone marrow.
It’s a beautiful afternoon, if he’s being honest.
Summer is sweeping leisurely towards them, there’s spring flowers blooming wherever there’s enough earth for them to; it’s warm, a gentle breeze that whispers across the town, preventing it from being truly hot. It’s the kind of afternoon Derek used to take advantage of, running through the woods with his family, doing increasingly elaborate jumps into the small lake not too far from their house, reading on their porch as the little ones jumped over him or wiggled under his arm to obnoxiously ask what he was reading until he threw his book aside and chased them around.
It’s a beautiful afternoon, and Derek is standing at a dusty gas station, staring helplessly at the destroyed remains of the last thing his sister left him.
There’s a million things he could do, from running home to bursting through the Argent house on a suicide mission to take as many of them down as he possibly can.
Instead what he does is release the emergency brake and push his car away from the station pump until it’s out of the way. Then he sits down on the side of the road, knees drawn up, head in his hands, as he tries to keep the tattered remains of his life together, as he tries to keep from giving in to that last tug that will rip him apart completely and irrevocably.
He focuses on taking deep, even breaths, on keeping himself calm, apathetic, balanced on the perfect edge of emotionless. He doesn’t want to be angry and do something rash, but he also doesn’t want to start crying in a gas station because someone wrecked his car just for how he was born.
“Are you alright?”
The voice makes Derek startle. He’d been so focused inwardly that he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings.
Derek lifts his head and looks at the Sheriff.
“Is this your car?” the man asks.
Derek swallows, but his voice still breaks on the “Yes” he gives the Sheriff.
“Aw hell,” the Sheriff mutters, and Derek can practically see the detached professionalism sliding off the man’s shoulders. “Do you need a hand up, son?”
Derek stares at him incomprehensively for what is probably too long.
The Sheriff reaches down and offers him his hand. Derek stares at it before gingerly wrapping his fingers around the Sheriff’s wrist and letting himself be pulled up.
Derek feels the swoop of gravity as he stands and then a solid hand on his bare shoulder, grounding him and keeping him from toppling over.
“Have you called for a tow truck?”
He shakes his head and the Sheriff nods, nudges Derek towards the police cruiser without touching him, and Derek just goes . Follows in front of the Sheriff, sits down on the passenger seat when the door is open to him, clutches at the jacket that is dropped over his shoulders in a mock parody of a shock blanket.
Derek didn’t think he needed a shock blanket, there’s not enough shock to warrant a blanket, but he’s still clutching the Sheriff’s jacket, feeling a little better with the weight of it on his shoulders and bare arms, boxing him in, comforting him.
“How about I call for a tow truck and we’ll wait here for it to come, and then I can drive you home. Sound good?”
Derek nods, clears his throat and is immensely proud of himself when his voice doesn’t break on the “Yes.”
Healing is not linear
Sterek and 9, please
things you said when i was crying
(this is set sort of just after 5a, i think)
Derek
doesn’t seem surprised when Stiles turns up on his doorstep in the pouring
rain. His expression seems to read; what
took you so long instead of shock or confusion.No
recriminations or demands for an explanation after five months of very little
contact, only Derek ushering him inside, and giving his sodden sneakers a
pointed glance.“I
didn’t, uh,” Stiles grimaces as he toes off the dirty, wet shoes and his holey
socks are revealed, “Didn’t plan this.”Derek
snorts, opening a closet just inside the door and rummaging around for a moment
before handing Stiles a towel.“Come
on upstairs,” he murmurs, “You can shower, and there’ll be clothes without
holes.”“I
think that’s the most grown up thing you’ve ever said,” Stiles remarks,
marveling at the neatly painted walls as he follows Derek up the stairs.Derek
shoots him a glare over his shoulder, and Stiles takes that to mean; I should have left you outside, asshole.
shealwaysreads 