It's not a Ship, it's an Armada~

He knows that Peter felt it too, but the man always liked to play with his food. Scott, being bitten and also friend with Stiles since they were in footie pajamas, has a harder time consolidating his newer instincts with their history. He has no idea why Stiles is setting his teeth on edge when he's sprawled out on the couch, belly up, exposed. Its not arousal, but he feels like he has to do something. He goes for a run and then meets up with Allison. He doesn't mention it to anyone.

Erica sees it too, but she can get over it for the most part. Boyd too, can mostly ignore it. Isaac has a harder time, but tells Derek and gets some breathing exercises. He tells him the desire to hunt will eventually turn into a desire to protect, the longer him and Stiles are pack. And for the most part it does, but every once and while during practice, Stiles will take off running and he has to tamper his urge to chase.

Derek's instinct to hunt does turn into a desire to protect, as he knew it would. But a wolf protecting a deer is still a wolf in the end and sometimes he just wants to sink his teeth in.

TWs/Tags: orphan Stiles, hunter Stiles, Alpha bait Stiles, whump Stiles, Alpha Derek, werewolves are known, smut, implied age gap, violence, murder, Kate and Gerard Argent being their evil selves, manipulation, grooming, sex trafficking, Stiles is a minor for some very bad things but not with Derek, the hunting community is pretty much a high controlling group. these tags sound heavy but most are only broached lightly and don’t go into too much detail.

Stiles being raised by Hunters after his father dies when he’s like 10 and he’s indoctrinated into their whole mentality while simultaneously growing up to be (according to the Hunters) attractive to wolves.

It makes for a very fucked up dynamic between Stiles and the Hunter community he’s a part of.

Gerard Argent doesn’t waste a second and immediately starts grooming Stiles into becoming Alpha bait.

As soon as he hits puberty he’s taken aside and isn’t allowed to be with the other kids in the community anymore, instead he’s taken under Gerard and Kate’s tutelage

Stiles gets introduced to sex way too fucking young. He starts high school and already he knows everything there is to know about sex and how to have it with werewolves, with Alphas. He knows how to approach them, he knows how to seduce them and he knows how to fuck them.

He’s 16 when Gerard sends him on his first “mission”. Kate accompanies him to the bar their target is at, just as training wheels but Stiles doesn’t need her.

Their target is an Alpha in his mid 20s. Stiles is wearing tight clothing and immediately gets to work.

An hour in, the Alpha is all over Stiles, pawing at him and murmuring in Stiles’ ear while Stiles’ sweet laughter can be heard by everyone in the bar.

Another hour in and the Alpha has Stiles sat on top of the pool table, face buried in his pale neck. Stiles’ eyes half lidded and full of arousal, his scent matching perfectly.

When the Alpha asks Stiles if he wants to get out of there, Stiles nods, biting into his bottom lip coyly.

Stiles gets into the Alpha’s truck and the Alpha takes him to the edge of the woods, a well known lover’s lane in town. When the Alpha kisses him, Stiles kisses back.

By the time the Alpha notices something is amiss, he has a hand inside Stiles’ underwear at his ass and Stiles is grinding up into the Alpha’s crotch where he’s hard and ready for Stiles.

The Alpha even attempts to protect Stiles when he realizes there’s Hunters surrounding them. He hides Stiles’ body with his own and quickly murmurs to him that he’ll distract them and Stiles needs to run, run as fast as he can. Stiles’ eyes are wide and glassy as he nods.

The Alpha gets out of the truck slowly, guns pointed at him. Stiles knows he can smell the mountain ash, the wolfsbane in the air. He gets out of the truck too and walks to the Hunters, then crosses the line of guns. He keeps his eyes on the ground.

The Alpha lets out a confused “what the fuck?”

Kate comes to Stiles and pats him on the back and praises him for a job well done. For some reason, it doesn’t make him feel good. All he’s thinking about is the way the wolf tried to protect him.

They shoot the wolf in the legs, get him down on the ground and Gerard calls out for Stiles.

Stiles obediently goes to the old man and doesn’t look away from his sneering face, somehow incapable of looking at the wolf snarling painfully on the ground.

Gerard hands him a gun. Nothing fancy, just a glock but it’s heavy in Stiles’ palm and it starts shaking slightly. Gerard puts his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and turns him towards the Alpha and orders him to finish what he’s started.

The Alpha’s red glowing eyes are piercing Stiles right through. He can’t look away now. He lifts the gun to line it to the Alpha’s head. His hand is shaking hard, too hard, he brings his other hand to the gun to steady himself, pulls the safety off.

Time stretches. In his mind's eye all he sees is the Alpha shielding him from danger, from the Hunters…

He’s hyperventilating and it takes him a few tries to finally let out a small “i’m sorry i- i can’t”

Gerard snatches the gun from him and hits him hard with it, making him fall to the ground, holding the side of his face. Gerard calls him a useless slut and shoots the wolf himself making Stiles jump.

He makes Stiles watch as they cut the body in half and burn it.

Derek is a werewolf who is chained up inside a mine and has to drag the wagons. Stiles has to work there too because his dad is to sick to work anymore. But stiles is also sick and slowly dying. And he has to eat lunch with the boss of the mine.

I do think in the end the mine is to unstable and is against some working law and has to be closed

And maybe stiles is bringing Derek back to his family and they give him sheep’s/ goats as a thank you but I’m not quite sure that’s the same fic or something else

Thank you so much (:

Hi! I think the author had deleted all their fics recently 😭💔 such a loss! But I found a copy on webarchive

Light at the end of the tunnel by Lesatha

“Careful, Stilinski. Don’t think you can go around telling me what to do, or coddling the werewolf.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“If the feral alpha kills you, it will be my fault, as your supervisor.”

Stiles is NOT a spy but his father did have some ties with the Argents prior to his death but Stiles has none.

he’s lost to his grief after losing his father, numb to the core. then he’s told he has to get married off and then he’s told to who.

now his grief has dread as a companion. because Derek Hale’s reputation precedes him. everyone knows he killed his own Omega spouse. everyone knows how brutal and barbaric he truly is.

Stiles can’t refuse the match, he has nothing to bargain with and no other option.

the wedding is tense, so tense Stiles barely breathes during the ceremony. his new husband didn’t look his way once, not even when they were made to face one another for the vows and the ring. not even when they were told to seal the deal with a kiss. their lips barely touched before it was already done and over.

Stiles is understandably terrified for the wedding night. his husband seem cold and very unapproachable.

Derek eventually shows up for the wedding night after making himself wait for a while and it’s immediately obvious to Stiles just how angry he is.

it doesn’t go well. Derek doesn’t treat Stiles the way he deserves to be treated for his first time and his wedding night with a man he doesn’t know and who obviously scares him.

Derek is just full of anger and resentment and he’s so sure Stiles is a spy and a liar who is bringing nothing but trouble. the Omega even seems to be a good spy and liar too because his fear seems genuine and his pain sharp and his tears heavy after and his small sobs heartbreaking.

Derek doesn’t let it get to him (it does, he’s not made of stone even if he likes to think he is).

then Derek gets the report he’s ordered on Stiles. realizes that there’s little to no chance that Stiles is a spy. Stiles is just a regular kid who got raised to be a proper Omega by his father who had been a widow of small nobility.

now the best part!!!! THE GUILT!!! THE ANGST!!!

Derek realizes he fucked up royally. his new Omega spouse is terrified of him and very angry and feeling very lost but can’t show any of it because what if his Alpha husband fucking kills him.

Derek gives him space after that. Makes sure he always has everything he needs. Stiles is terrified for a long time at night when going to bed that Derek will show up to take what’s his right to take but he never does.

when they do see each other, Derek is infinitely polite if not a bit cold while Stiles is tight lipped and tense, terrified to make or say the wrong thing and provoke Derek’s anger.

Derek isn’t good with words and he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. that he fucked up and that he’s repentant and wants to make amends. he doesn’t know how to be a decent husband but he wants to try anyway but it all feels like it’s too little too late.

Stiles obviously becomes very lonely and starts isolating himself more and more. never really gets out of his rooms anymore. never really gets out of bed.

Derek is kept updated about his Omega spouse’s obvious decline but he’s just helpless about what he can do.

in the end, he decides to try having some visitors, maybe it could help things. maybe if Stiles meet other people, another married and mated Omega, maybe he could make a friend or something.

Derek invites a couple from outside the pack. they’re allies but he’s never invited them for a casual dinner. he’s not sure he likes the idea of having non-pack members practically in his den but it’s for a good cause.

to share the news, he summons his spouse to join him for dinner the same night he sends out the invitation.

they haven’t shared a meal together in a while. the Omega usually eating alone in his personal parlour or on his private balcony. but lately he’s been told, that he preferred to eat in bed, if he eats at all.

Derek waits for him in the dining room, nervously nursing his ale. he waits for a long time. he has time to have two more refills by the time the Omega shows up and dinner is brought in.

Derek stands at his arrival and gives him a polite nod and despite looking slightly haggard, the Omega looks perfect, his skin smooth and creamy, embellished by some delicate jewelry and rouge.

they sit to eat and Derek finds it incredibly hard to start a conversation. the Omega just won’t look at him at all.

they’re starting on dessert and still not a single word has be uttered by either of them. Derek notices how the Omega isn’t touching his food again. he barely ate anything at all.

in the end, that’s what pushes Derek to break the heavy silence. he asks if the meal wasn’t to his taste and Stiles slightly jumps at his words, dropping his dessert spoon which clanks loudly around them.

Derek notices the way he sneaks little looks at him, as if trying to gauge his mood.

eventually, Stiles hesitantly says that everything was delicious, that he just doesn’t have much of an appetite. after another tense silence, he asks if Derek is displeased with him. his voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible.

Derek assures him that he isn’t, why would he think that and Stiles frowns slightly and points out that Derek summoned him for dinner, that he’s never done that before.

Derek doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just goes ahead and announces that they’re going to have visitors soon. for a dinner.

he’s not sure what reaction he was expecting but a nonexistent one is not it. the Omega stays perfectly impassive to the news. takes a bite of the dessert in front of him, then stops. another few minutes of silence and then he’s asking if he can be excused.

Derek acquiesces, of course.

he watches his Omega leave the room with an ever growing sense of helplessness.

~*~

Stiles joins him in the entry hall to welcome their guests a few minutes before their arrival. Derek turns to look at him descend the grand staircase and is a bit stunned, he looks gorgeous. wearing one of the nicest gowns he owns along with the expensive jewelry Derek gave him as a mandatory wedding gift.

he takes his place to Derek’s right and they stand in silence until their guests arrive.

Stiles is the perfect host, the image of Omega perfection. he welcomes their visitors warmly into their home, as if Stiles has done it a million times before.

his smile is sweet and a little mischievous when talking with the visiting Alpha and playful and friendly when speaking with the visiting Omega.

he takes the arm of the visiting Alpha to get to the dining room when dinner is served like custom dictates.

Derek spends more time observing his spouse than attempting to entertain his guests but clearly Stiles has it all under control or at least he seems to be.

Derek can’t help but notice the way his smiles wane and his eyes grow distant the second the attention of the guests aren’t on him or the way he keeps pushing the food around his plate instead of eating or the way his wine cup seem to get refilled quite often.

after the dishes are taken away, Derek makes a point to start a conversation with the other Alpha. Derek isn’t much of a talker but he’s at least able to entertain a conversation long enough for the Omegas to have some time to talk together.

but it can’t be even an hour later when Stiles stands and offers his apologies and claims to have a headache and ask if they can excuse him. the visiting Omega is gaping in slight surprise while Derek frowns and nods in acquiescence.

Stiles says his goodbyes to their guests and apologizes again before leaving the room.

the guests leave not long after. they’re sincere at least when they assure Derek they had a good time and they have nothing but nice things to say about his new beautiful Omega spouse.

after seeing them off, he goes upstairs to Stiles’ rooms. he doesn’t go in, just listens at the door. he can hear the Omega’s breathing, erratic and uneven, his heartbeat rabbit fast. in between some of the harsh breathes, there’s some sobbing.

Derek’s shaking hands tighten into fists at his sides. helplessness rages through him but he can’t seem to move. he should go in, he should try and diffuse whatever is happening in there but he’s frozen.

he’s pulled out of his stupor when a maid approaches and greets him before asking politely to be let through. he moves aside to let her pass and she slips into the bedchamber.

Derek listen to her speak softly to his spouse and eventually Stiles’ breathing calms and he’s able to speak back and she asks if he wants help to get ready for bed and Stiles answers wetly with “yes please”.

Derek leaves for his own rooms, his gut down to his feet and his chest painful.

he doesn’t sleep much or well that night. he has the nagging feeling that if nothing changes, things will inevitably come a head.

~*~

and he’s right.

a few days after the dinner, Derek is woken up in the middle of the night by Boyd bursting into his bedchamber. Derek immediately sits up and gives him a dark look. he knows it can’t be good.

Boyd looks frantic which is something he never is and he knows something is very deeply wrong.

“it’s the Omega.”

Derek is out of bed and running after Boyd a second later.

Boyd tries to explain the situation but Derek can’t really make sense of it. he keeps repeating “he won’t come down, he won’t come down, you have to talk to him, make him come down.”

Derek starts making sense of it when he’s taken to Stiles’ rooms. maids are in the bedchamber weeping with a hand over their mouths while the bed is empty and other pack members are closer to the balcony archway and he can hear people from outside, bellow.

he steps onto the balcony and sees him. naked and standing on the parapet wall, looking down and hugging himself.

Derek’s heart seizes in his chest, fear and panic like he’s never felt before rushing through him.

he approaches the wall slowly and extends a hand.

“Stiles?”

Stiles turns, too fast and sways a little and Derek stops breathing and he hears screams from bellow.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Stiles screeches at him and Derek lowers his hand but stays where he is.

tears are running down Stiles’ face and his eyes are crazed. in the moonlight he looks so pale and gaunt, he looks like a ghost.

“I have to do this… I cannot stay here.” Stiles murmurs.

Derek’s lips shake and he scramble to find something to say, anything.

“of course, you can stay here. I know it hasn’t been… easy for you here but this is your home.” he says haltingly, feeling utterly inadequate.

Stiles scoffs at his words and more tears fall.

“you hate me. you hate me and I don’t even know why. you’ve hated me since the very beginning. I don’t know what I did wrong and you refuse to tell me. I have to do this. Before you do it yourself like you did your first Omega.” Stiles rambles, his words fast and jumbled but clear and damning.

Derek is gutted, his very being emptied out and left to rot.

“I do not hate you… please come down and we can discuss things, please just come down” Derek begs, voice hoarse and brittle.

“no… NO! leave me!!! all of you! please i have to do this! i don’t want to be here anymore… i want… i want my father…” Stiles says and takes a few side steps on the wall before bending forward and sobbing.

with his heart aching, Derek looks back to Boyd and Boyd gives him a nod. they’re ready bellow.

Derek doesn’t hesitate. he throws himself at Stiles, who sees him at the last moment and gives a sharp scream and throws himself forward but Derek is quicker.

he grabs him by the middle and pulls him back harshly, Stiles shrieking and struggling wildly in his arms.

Derek doesn’t stop and marches him back inside, his pack members moving out the way. he barks at Boyd to get them out and the maids and the other betas are quickly ushered out of the bedchamber.

Derek throws Stiles on the big four poster bed where he still shrieks and flails around. he yells again at Boyd to call for Deaton, now.

Boyd leaves quickly and Derek sits on the bed and grabs at Stiles’ wrists but Stiles is hysterical and screams at the top of his lungs, contorting away from him, pulling on his wrists to make Derek let go.

“Stiles! stop! please, stop!” Derek shouts.

“LET GO OF ME! LET GO! YOU’RE HURTING ME!” Stiles screams, face turned away from him as far as he can stretch it.

Derek lets him go immediately and Stiles slumps back on bed harshly, he was so taut in Derek’s grip.

Stiles turns fully away from him and curls up, rubbing at his wrists and cries loudly into the bedding.

Derek rubs a shaky hand over his face and gives a sharp sniff. his eyes are wet so he wipes at them, pressing into them hard to stop any further wetness.

Boyd comes back, knocks gently on the door before coming in. he keeps his eyes averted from the naked crying Omega on the bed.

Derek stands and walks aways from the bed and towards the door.

“I want him guarded. heavily. night and day. come get me when Deaton arrives.” he chokes out and wrenches the bedchamber door open, almost pulling it off its hinges and marches away from Stiles’ wailing.

he hides in his private parlour, paces around, feeling cooped up. the urge to shift and run and not stop is incredibly strong but he resists. he already fled when he should have stayed by the Omega’s side, he won’t flee his home on top of that.

the sky is greying, dawn approaching and Derek has stopped his pacing, got himself actually dressed and sat heavily in one of the plush chairs when Boyd finds him and tells him the physician has arrived.

Derek goes down to greet him and immediately takes him up to see Stiles. he can explain the full situation after he’s seen and assessed him.

Boyd stationed two betas outside of the bedchamber’s doors and Derek can hear two other inside, probably at the balcony archway.

they go in the door and Stiles is in the same position Derek left him in hours ago. curled up. but he sits up when he hears Derek and Deaton come in. he eyes them both warily and he drags the blanket up to hide himself. his eyes and face are red and swollen from the crying and Derek notices faint bruises at his wrists.

Derek swallows with difficulty and walks deeper into the bedchamber and sits in one of the chairs close to the bed.

“this is Deaton, my emissary and physician. he will examine you and you will let him. understand?” Derek says and watches the Omega closely but Stiles doesn’t react.

“Hello, Stiles. i understand something very alarming happened last night?“ Deaton says and he makes it sound like a question but it’s more of a statement.

to that Stiles does react. he scoffs lightly and turns his face away, eyes filling with tears again and he starts rocking gently.

“I tried to throw myself off the parapet wall of the balcony. My dear husband stopped me and dragged me back in here kicking and screaming.” Stiles whispers, tears sliding down his face.

Deaton sets his heavy wooden box on the bedside table and hums. he then sits himself very carefully on the side of the bed and watches Stiles.

“Stiles. would you prefer it if your Alpha was out of the room for this?” Deaton asks gently and Derek bristles but he knows he’ll get out of the room if Stiles says he wants him to.

but he shakes his head no.

“it’s about him.” Stiles whispers.

Derek gulps while Deaton’s eyes roams Stiles’ face.

“What do you mean by that, Stiles?” he asks gently.

Stiles’ lips wobbles and more tears fall.

“he hates me.”

Derek grits his teeth so he doesn’t immediately start protesting.

“why do you think that?” Deaton asks, still gentle.

Stiles hugs himself and digs his nails in the meat of his arms.

“our- our wedding night. we- he.” Stiles trips over his words, his tears getting worse and he simply stops and his eyes going distant.

Derek closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

“I terrorized him. i claimed him while being enraged and resentful, assumed things about him that i should have never assumed. i was a monster to him.” Derek says quietly.

Stiles looks sharply to him, confusion written all over his face.

“w-what did you assume? did you think i wasn’t… i was a virgin! you were the first Alpha who ever… touched me.” Stiles says with difficulty, sounding confused but there’s frustration building in his scent.

Derek sighs. it’s time.

“the first Omega i married was a duplicitous spy who killed my entire family. that’s why i killed her. that’s why when i was forced to marry again. to secure my bloodline i was… angry.” Derek says matter-of-factly.

Stiles’ eyes go wide and he blinks at Derek a few times before turning to Deaton who nods in confirmation.

“you thought i was a spy? for who? my only family had just died and i had nothing, no one else. it doesn’t make any sense.” Stiles says and his frustration is palpable now.

“I didn’t know at the time. i learned later that you couldn’t be anyone other than who you said you were. i know it doesn’t change what happened, what i’ve done, but i felt terrible about what i did to you. i tried to give you space, give you time. i thought that maybe over time i could explain things and make amends but i could never find the words or the right moment.” Derek explains but it feels lacking.

“i never truly hated you not even that night. i care about you. if one thing tonight showed me is that i care about you more than i can express and i want to see you happy. even if. even if we have to break the mating bond for that to happen.” Derek adds and the more he speaks the more certain he feels.

he’d do it in a heartbeat. break the bond and let him go. even if it means death for him and the death of his bloodline.

Stiles gapes at him.

“you mean that?” Stiles whispers, disbelief dripping heavy in his scent. Derek nods solemnly.

“for months you… you left me to think that you hated me, that you’d eventually even kill me. you must have seen how terrified i was. you saw how… how my mind was… escaping me. and you stayed silent. why? what is that if not cruel?” Stiles says and more tears start falling again.

Derek’s own eyes sting and he blinks a few times rapidly to get rid of the feeling.

“I’m not good with words.” is all he finds himself saying.

Stiles scoffs wetly.

“and yet you’ve just said so many. more than i ever heard you say.” Stiles points out like he can’t wrap his head around it all.

“it was a long time coming. way overdue.” Derek admits.

there’s a long silence then. Deaton observing the both of them closely.

eventually, Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly as if to clear it.

“I’m tired.” he says, brokenly and Derek stands almost abruptly.

“i’ll leave you in Deaton’s hands. make sure to get some rest.” he says and leaves the room.

~*~

he once again take refuge in his private parlour. pacing and waiting.

Deaton eventually finds him some time later. Derek sends him an expectant look.

“he’s resting. i gave him some poppy syrup to help him sleep. i’ll leave a vial with you so he can have some every night for at least a fortnight.” Deaton says and hands him the vial.

Derek holds it and waits. he knows Deaton has more to say.

“i know you’re not starving him but he’s malnourished. and exhausted, he’s suffering from chronic nightmares and insomnia. he’s melancholic and still grief stricken. the wedding night is still heavy on his mind but i’m hoping that the truth that was discussed between you two will alleviate some of that weight. Derek. he’s in bad shape but not utterly lost. he’s smart and not unreasonable despite how unstable he is. he needs time, patience and doting attention. you have to be there. if you want to see him happy and adjusted, you have to be there. show him who you truly are.”

Eventually it escalates to Derek breaking into his room to watch him sleep because he just has to make sure that Stiles is safe (and also Stiles smells more relaxed when he sleeps and sometimes he has wet dreams that just tempt Derek). At first Derek thought it would be enough but it's just not, he needs to stick his face into Stiles neck. He needs to scent him and make Stiles smells like him. Derek cringes and wants to growl every time he gets too close and smells Scotts scent on him, even if its faint and he can smell that it's friendly and not claiming. It still grates on him. Stiles should belong to him, not his Beta. He could provide for Stiles better than Scott could ever dream of. He's the Alpha for fucks sake.

Stiles is obviously heartbroken but he knew what he was doing by spending one night with Derek and then having to let him go. He knew it would hurt but he had still wanted it. So very much.

So he tries to go back to his normal, every day life. He goes to school, takes care of his dad, occasionally hangs out with Scott and such. He tries not to miss Derek too much or mourn him too much. Mourn what they could have had if he had stayed… or if Stiles had left with him.

He tries very hard to put that night behind him and to instead look forward to the future. Prom, graduation, College. He tries hard to be excited about it all.

It’s just really hard to, especially when you can’t seem to be able to eat anything for breakfast anymore. Or when you start feeling so nauseous in the mornings you start puking your guts out before going to school. Add to that, being always fucking exhausted and getting cramps out of nowhere at any given moment, day or night.

It all comes to a head almost two months later when Stiles bursts into tears in the frozen aisle at the supermarket because they’re out of his favourite ice cream. He honest to god sobs his eyes out, looking at the near empty freezer for almost 20 minutes until finally he drags himself out of there and to his jeep to continue his ugly crying until he’s all cried out and staring at a point beyond the windshield.

He takes a shuddering breath before bringing a trembling hand to his stomach, chin wobbling.

“W-what the fuck…” He stutters out loud, words shaky and so scared.

It doesn’t make no fucking sense. How could he… It’s just not…

Very mechanically, he turns on the jeep and drives out of the parking lot but he doesn’t go home. He turns left instead of right and drives to the pharmacy. He’s in and out. He doesn’t make it home though, he almost works himself into a full blown panic attack so he pulls over. He frantically opens the box and pulls the pregnancy test out forcefully.

He gets out of the jeep hyperventilating and he walks just into the tree line of the woods at the side of the road and makes himself piss on the stick and sit on the muddy ground to wait for the fucking fifteen minutes.

He jumps out of his skin when the timer on his phone starts ringing. It takes him a few tries to turn it off but he manages it and he grabs the stick sat beside him with trembling fingers. He takes a deep hitching breath before looking at the stick and seeing the two blue lines that indicate he’s pregnant.

He can’t help letting out a wet laugh as his mind turns to hysteria for a moment. Fucking pregnant. It’s insane, impossible. But the stick…

Suddenly he’s on his feet then stumbles in his haste to get back to the jeep. He peels off the curb too fast, making the tires squeal and he speeds to the vet.

It’s late but the lights are on in the building and Deaton’s car is in the parking lot. He rushes to the door but it’s locked and he starts pounding on it calling out to Deaton, saying he knows he’s in there. Deaton comes to the door finally and looks surprised to see him but his surprise turns to mild concern when he takes in Stiles’ state.

“What is it, Stiles? What happened?” Deaton asks slowly.

Now that here’s here, he can’t bring himself to say it. His mouth open and close a few times, hysteria looming again. He wordlessly hands the stick to Deaton who takes it with a frown and looks at it for a moment before giving Stiles a deep calculating stare, searching his face closely.

“Derek?” He barely makes it sound like an actual question. Like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.

Stiles looks down to his shoes and nods anyway, tears filling his eyes. A sob escapes him and his shoulders start to shake. Deaton sighs and push the door open wider to let him inside.

Deaton sits him on a stool in the backroom, hands him a box of tissues and makes him do a second pregnancy test. It just confirms what the first stick said. He asks Stiles carefully if he has any way to contact Derek but Stiles shakes his head, eyes averted. The vet hums in understanding and starts theorizing out loud about what could have happened for this to have been possible but Stiles tunes him out.

He’s actually… Derek somehow fucking knocked him up. Knocked him up and left. He’s not even coming back. Stiles is pregnant with Derek’s baby and Derek is not here… won’t ever be here again.

“I will need to make some tests but I’m certain termination will be possible, can you come tomorrow after closing?” Deaton asks.

Stiles blinks a few times and looks at the vet again with a slight frown, not sure if he heard him right. Termination?

“What do you mean? Like an abortion?” Stiles asks, heart thudding in his chest.

Deaton turns to him with a frown, watches him closely again. Stiles tries to hold his gaze but he can’t manage it and he drops his eyes, playing with the skin of his thumb, almost making it bleed.

“Only if that’s what you want, Stiles.” Deaton then says carefully.

Stiles scoffs, lightly. Of course that’s what he wants. What other option is there. He can’t keep it. That’s just insane. He can’t. He really fucking can’t. He has school and his dad and oh my god, his dad. He wouldn’t know where to even start. No. He can’t. He can’t keep it, he won’t.

Stiles agrees to come after closing the next day for some tests and then leaves to go home. His dad is working a double so Stiles arrives to an empty house. He keeps his mind dangerously blank to get ready for bed.

Lying down in the darkness of his bedroom, he lets himself think again, one hand to his stomach. He fists it in his t-shirt, fighting tears but refuses to cry. The decision is made. He’ll do the tests and have Deaton take it out. It will be like it never happened.

Just like Derek leaving and erasing himself from his life. He left and it’s like he’s never even been here. Stiles doesn’t even have anything to remember him by for fuck’s sake. He only has the memories of that night to hold on to.

Derek is gone. He’s not coming back.

His breath hitches and a sob escapes him. He clutches his t-shirt at his stomach with both hands. He can’t do this… He can’t. It’s too much.

“Dereeeeek.” Stiles calls out brokenly, more sobs escaping him, making his shoulders shake.

He cries for a long time, cries so much he exhausts himself and he finally falls asleep. It’s not surprising that he sleeps through his alarm the next morning. He wakes up around noon and decides to just stay home.

He shows up at the vet half an hour after closing time. Deaton is waiting for him and installs him in the backroom again but this time he makes him lie down on the examination table.

Stiles watches as he rolls a stool and a machine closer to the table. He’s pretty sure that it’s an ultrasound machine. Yeah it is. Deaton ask him to lift his shirt and to undo his jeans so Stiles does, wordlessly.

The machine is rolled even closer and Deaton taps on it a few times making it beep loudly in the otherwise silent room. He squirms a little on the table and the paper crinkle and Stiles stops squirming. Why is everything so fucking loud all of a sudden.

Deaton squirts some gel on the wand and Stiles flinches. He lowers his jeans and boxers a bit with shaky fingers and Deaton brings the wand down to his stomach, the cool gel hitting his skin makes goosebumps bloom all over his body. Deaton moves the wand around for a few moments, Stiles so stiff on the table, a cramp is staring in his right calf.

Thump… thump thump… Thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump thump-thump.

Stiles’ jaw goes slack at the loud heartbeat coming from the machine and he sends the vet a wide-eyed look as Deaton just smiles and turns the screen of the machine towards him so he can see.

He points the area with a pen, circles it and explains which end is the head and which end is the feet. He gives Stiles its measurements, asks if he would like to know the gender but Stiles just shakes his head and Deaton nods, moving on.

He prints Stiles some pictures then wipes his stomach and as he’s wiping he explains that everything looked normal and like Stiles possessed a real human womb which meant he would be able to perform an abortion with minimal damage, if Stiles wanted to go ahead with termination.

Stiles nods and blurts out that yes he’s gonna go ahead with that. Deaton nods again and starts getting ready. He makes Stiles take a shower, then makes him drink some kind of potion which Stiles almost immediately brings back up after ingesting it. He gags a couple times and Deaton holds a metal container at his face but he manages to avoid puking.

Then he’s made to lie down naked on the examination table and Deaton dresses up after washing his hands and arms thoroughly. He slides on long surgical gloves and comes closer to the table. He starts palping his lower stomach and Stiles startles hard and starts squirming.

“It’s alright, Stiles. The potion will act as a pain blocker. You won’t feel a thing.” Deaton assures him and Stiles smiles faintly and nods, trying to keep his breathing under control.

His skin is disinfected and Stiles flinches and squirms again as the cool liquid is slathered on his skin. He grips the sides of the table tightly and fixes his eyes to the ceiling.

The slathering stops and Stiles hears the clinking of tools. His chin starts chattering and he can’t stop it. His eyes fills with tears and he blinks them away and they slide down his temples.

The clinking stops and he flickers his eyes back to Deaton and watches him turn towards his middle with a scalpel held in a gloved hand. He starts moving the scalpel down and Stiles’ face scrunches up, more tears falling.

“Stop! Stop! Please stop! I can’t- I can’t do this!” Stiles bursts out suddenly, scrambling up and away quickly and clumsily, almost falling off the table in his hurry to get away.

Deaton moves away just as quickly, lifting the hand holding the scalpel way up and out of the way. Stiles sits on the side of the table and fights an impending panic attack. He curls up, hugs himself and bends in half, gulping in huge painful sounding breathes.

“What is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with me…” Stiles murmurs to himself.

He has to do this. He can’t keep it. He can’t! He can’t! He just can’t, so why does he fucking want to keep it.

What is wrong with him.

Stiles hides his face into his hands and bawls. He still hears Deaton deposit the scalpel back down and moving around, some bottles clink together. Then there’s a tap at his elbow and Stiles reluctantly lowers his hands and raises himself, trying to stop hiccupping.

He takes the offered potion and downs it as Deaton quietly explains it will help his nerves. Stiles almost laughs.

After downing the potion, he moves away from the table to get dressed. His hands won’t stop shaking and he keeps having to blink away tear after tear. His mind is a mess and he feels raw like he got flayed. Even with his clothes back on he still feels naked.

He starts to leave but he’s stopped by Deaton. He hands Stiles a sheet of paper with dates and such on it. Stiles gives it a look and its appointments, check up appointments, ultrasound appointments and the like. Stiles looks up at the vet, not really comprehending.

“I’ll follow you through the pregnancy and help with the birth. But Stiles. You need to be sure.” Deaton explains and there’s an undeniable sternness to his words.

Stiles swallows thickly and refuses to look at him but he nods and whispers a short “thanks” before pocketing the sheet of paper after quickly folding it.

~*~

When he starts showing around five months, he has no other choice but to tell his dad.

He tells him everything. Starting with Scott getting bitten and finishing with his last ultrasound appointment, handing his dad one of the ultrasound pictures.

“It’s a boy, dad.” He whispers to a blanched shell shocked looking sheriff.

His dad gives him the silent treatment for almost two weeks. Stiles is a complete wreck the entire time. He barely sleeps or eats, despite his morning sickness having almost stopped entirely. He tries over and over to start up a conversation with him whenever he’s home but his dad evades all of his attempts.

Stiles gets the message after a week or so and stops trying. He lets his dad have his process even if it’s killing him to do so.

He’s doing homework at his desk after supper, a few days later, rubbing his bump absentmindedly when his dad breaks his silent treatment.

He knocks lightly on Stiles’ doorframe to get his attention and Stiles startles a little but he gives his dad an expectant look. He tries to not let his desperation show but he’s pretty sure he fails.

His dad crosses the doorway and comes to stand beside Stiles at his desk, Stiles looks up at him, lips wobbling. The sheriff searches his face for a long moment before brushing a stray tear from Stiles’ cheek gently.

“What’s his name?” The sheriff asks, quietly.

Stiles jumps out of his seat and throws his arms around his dad and holds him tight. His father immediately returns the hug, pulling him even closer, stroking his hair over and over soothingly like he used to do when Stiles was still a young boy.

“It’s Eli. His name is Eli.” Stiles announces with a wet laugh.

“Eli.” The sheriff echoes under his breath before kissing Stiles’ hair.

~*~

He’s able to go to prom before his bump becomes too noticeable. He graduates. He even gets accepted in College. Community College. He’ll be able to study and have the help he needs with Eli. His dad didn’t outright say it but Stiles can tell he’s relieved about Stiles staying in town.

He gives birth in mid-august. On a terribly hot day, his dad and Melissa are there with him, Melissa assisting Deaton while Scott gets so pale Deaton has to throw him out of the room before the delivery for fear he would faint and cause a ruckus.

Despite needing a mandatory caesarean, he gets contractions and Stiles isn’t prepared for just how painful they get but with Deaton’s potion, he’s able to have an almost pain free and stable delivery.

Melissa brings him his baby and Stiles holds him for the first time. He’s so tiny. He has so much hair and it’s so dark. He’s so beautiful. Stiles can’t stop crying. He’s so happy, he’s so heartbroken. His heart still longs for something he shouldn’t long for.

He lets Eli take all of his attention. He runs his fingers featherlight over Eli’s tiny forehead, his tiny nose. He runs them over his hair and kisses his soft cheek, inhaling his soft baby scent. Stiles loves him so much, his baby, his pup. Derek’s pup. Eli.

He’s so happy.

~*~

“Stiles can you get that?!” His dad yells from the bathroom.

Stiles shouts back the he’s got it and pulls up a giggling Eli into his arms, giving him a bunch of sweet little kisses to his cute chubby face before setting him onto his hip and grabbing his dad’s wallet from the kitchen table on his way to the front door.

They ordered Chinese and Stiles is absolutely starving.

He swings open the door and it’s not their Chinese.

It’s Derek Hale.

Stiles’ face falls and he drops the wallet.

He’s frozen in place as Eli exclaims happily and stretches his tiny arms towards Derek. Stiles watches, helpless as Derek’s face blanches before going blank. His eyes keeps flitting between Stiles’ face and Eli’s, his nostrils flaring.

Then Derek’s eyes flash bright red while looking straight at Eli and Stiles gasps and looks down to Eli whose eyes are shining bright gold in response.

He whips his head back to Derek and a ball of emotion forms in his throat. Derek looks gutted. He takes a step back from the door, hands flexing at his sides.

“It’s not your fault. It was my choice. I chose to keep him despite everything. It’s not your fault.” Stiles blurts out all in one breathe.

Stiles’ very soul seem to be trembling. He shifts his hold on Eli, pulling fully into his arms and takes a step toward Derek.

“Hold him! Derek just… Please, just hold him.” Stiles insists, his words heavy with barely contained emotion.

Eli coos and giggles at Derek still stretching out his arms to him and Stiles pushes him into Derek’s chest until Derek finally, almost mechanically, picks Eli up and pulls him close, his gaze glued to Eli’s chubby face.

Stiles wrings his fingers together as he watches them, a painful pressure in his chest. His chin wobbles when he notices Derek’s eyes shine with tears.

He steps closer and rubs a hand to Eli’s small back, smiling faintly.

“Eli, this is your father. Your Alpha.” Stiles tells Eli with a wet laugh.

Derek lets out a choked sound and Stiles looks up at him again. Derek is crying quietly and he gives Eli the softest of kisses to his forehead, making the pup giggle happily.

Stiles lets out a choked sob when Derek nuzzles Eli’s hair, scenting him, the pup immediately responding by pillowing his head onto Derek’s shoulder and rubbing his face into Derek’s neck.

“Oh my God. That’s what he needed. I couldn’t… I’m only human, Derek but I still tried… I think I did okay but he still needed his Alpha.” Stiles babbles on through his tears.

Derek kisses Eli’s forehead and temple a few times, gently rocking him back and forth then gives Stiles a long look before bringing a hand to the back of his neck, thumb caressing his skin over and over.

“This is insane. You had my pup.” Derek chokes out.

Stiles just nods because yeah it is insane and he sure did have his pup.

“Stiles, what is taking so lon- Holy shit!” Stiles’ dad comes looking after him and just finds them both crying on the porch as Eli dozes on Derek’s chest.

His dad’s shocked face at seeing Derek make Stiles bursts out laughing and he wipes at his face with his t-shirt then takes Derek’s hand at his neck, pulls it down to hold it in both of his to gently start pulling on it, eyes pleading.

Derek noticing Stiles’ discomfort and asking about it but Stiles waving all of his concerns away and edging him on. it’s all too fast, too much, too soon, too aggressive, too passionate, but Stiles is desperate.

it’s only after, when Stiles is very fucking sore and in quite a lot of pain that it becomes impossible for Stiles to hide the truth. Stiles can’t even stand up from the bed and Derek zeroes in on it immediately and Stiles has no choice but to mumble out that it was his first time.

Derek kind of loses it and Stiles is immediately terrified because he fucked up royally hasn’t he? and he begs Derek not to be angry but Derek isn’t angry, he’s fucking distraught.

he goes off at Stiles a bit because now he feels like a monster and it’s not something he likes to feel considering his history. he says like “you let me fuck you like that and just took it wtf Stiles i could have injured you, i thought you were liking it, i thought you were fine” and Stiles is like “i was!!!! i was fine, i loved it, i loved it so much why are you making it a big deal?!” but they both know it IS a big deal.

Stiles is bruised and in pain and sore beyond belief and if Derek had known he would have been gentler, he would have been more attentive, more present, more loving, more something.

Derek starts pacing and Stiles can just watch him from the bed because apparently Derek fucked him so hard he’s bed bound now.

Stiles apologizes and Derek lets out a laugh that sounds a bit hysterical. Derek says he’s the one who should apologize and Stiles disagrees because he’s the one who fucked up.

Eventually, Derek comes back to bed with some ibuprofen and a glass of water for Stiles and after taking them and downing the water he wants to bury himself in Derek’s arms but the Alpha is still tense and he’s not sure if he’d be welcome and that fact makes him fight back tears but Derek pulls him to his chest of his own accord. He handles Stiles slowly and so gently you’d think he was made of porcelain but Stiles is grateful because it’s true that it’s hard to move at the moment.

Stiles happily snuggles closer into him and plays with his chest hair a little. After a few moments he apologizes to Derek again but Derek just kisses his forehead softly. Stiles takes it as him being forgiven.

“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”

The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.

“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”

“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”

The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”

Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”

“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”

Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.

“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?” 

The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.

A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer. 

“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”

“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”

“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”

The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.

And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.

Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.

“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”

“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”

“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.

“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.

“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”

“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”

“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.

“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”

Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.

“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”

“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.

“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”

Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.

“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.

“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.

“What?” the god asked.

The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.

He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.

So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.

“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.

The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.

“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.

“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”

“No,” Arepo smiled.

“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”

“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.

“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.

“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”

The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”

Pack nights at the loft were loud, chaotic, and exactly what Stiles needed after a long week of school and supernatural nonsense. He’d curled up on the couch, wedged between Isaac and Boyd, still listening to the conversation even as his blinks grew longer. The warmth, the hum of voices, the solid weight of Derek sitting on the armrest beside him—all of it lulled him into sleep before he even realized he was drifting.

It wasn’t until Scott tried to wake him that things got… tense.

“Hey, Stiles—” Scott barely had his hand halfway to Stiles’ shoulder when a low, warning growl rumbled through the room. Scott froze. Everyone did.

Derek was staring him down, eyes dark with the promise of violence if he took one more step.

Scott raised his hands immediately. “Whoa. Not trying to take your boy, dude. Just trying to get him home.”

Derek didn’t even hesitate. His voice was firm, absolute. “He already is.”

The words settled over the pack like a command, like a truth that had always existed even if no one had said it out loud.

Scott blinked, exhaling through his nose. “Okay. Got it.”

There was no more arguing after that.

Derek didn’t trust anyone else to do it, so he scooped Stiles up himself, carefully shifting him so his head rested against Derek’s shoulder. Stiles stirred slightly, making a soft, sleepy noise as his fingers curled into Derek’s shirt.

The pack made no comment as Derek carried him up the loft stairs, though Erica smirked knowingly.

Once in his room, Derek set Stiles down on the bed, tugging the blanket over him with more care than he’d ever admit to. He hesitated for a moment before brushing Stiles’ hair back, fingers tracing lightly over his temple.

He should leave. Give him space. But before he could move away, Stiles shifted, murmuring something barely audible against the pillow.

Derek frowned. “What?”

Stiles’ eyes stayed closed, but he turned his face toward Derek’s touch, exhaling softly. “Heard what you said,” he mumbled. A pause. Then, even quieter, “’M home with you.”

Derek’s breath caught. He swallowed hard, watching Stiles’ face, waiting for any sign that he was awake enough to remember this conversation in the morning. But Stiles was already sinking deeper into sleep, face relaxed in a way Derek rarely saw.

Derek let out a slow breath, then—without thinking too hard about it—leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

Title: No Longer Secondary Fandom(s): Teen Wolf Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Tags: All Human AU, Discussion of Cheating, Getting Together Warnings: Explicit Sex, Character Bashing, Summary: Stiles just wanted to be put first. Word Count: 1,662 Author Notes: Written for @fullmoonficlet. Prompt 625: Secondary. Continue reading No Longer Secondary

"Fealty," a follow-up to this illustration: 👀