the chaosprecept

They killed his family and his future. They killed innocents with no mercy, with lies to protect humans from a greater threat. They almost killed the boy too.. Peter has found him in the room next to his nephew, who barely was alive anymore, his body mostly burned and poisoned with aconite. The boy was in coma too, a bullet in the head which should have killed him. But Peter could feel the magic underneath the pale skin. The boy would heal and he would live and he would help him… to take vengeance for what was taken from him.  _______________________________________________________________

And so starts the big, dark, ugly vengeance road trip with these both. 

In my thoughts, Stiles family was part of the innocents who were killed, because they knew about the Hales, about the supernatural and were part of this world too, like Stiles got his magic from his mother. Derek would actually wake up again one day, after years, but his body would still show a lot of burn scars which would never heal. It’s likely that Peter will die in the end of that trip, because the rage and hate and his desire for vengeance will slowly eats him inside.

I actually found a fanfiction while working on that artwork, which is a little bit similar from the idea. “What Goes Around” by @gingersnapwolves.

Murder, He Wrote

mklutz

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565783

Summary:

"Heyyyyyy dad you're home early, it- uh- it's not what it looks like?" "It looks like someone's getting mauled" "Well I like to think the mauling's mutual-aaand he's covering his eyes, uh, stellar choice there, really 10/10 the judges are going wild-" "I'm going to Melissa's. Breakfast in the morning, both of you." "see I told you he wouldn't mind, now calm down and put those headlights away already"

1.5 years of sterek brainrot and I've somehow never drawn derek with red eyes nor the classic trope of the sheriff walking in on them? for shame, mel.

Any story featuring feral derek or him getting a little lost in his instincts are so important to me - this man who never gets to keep anything good in his life digging his claws into stiles and saying no, this one is mine, you can't have him - you see the vision 💭💭

a closeup as well as the lines under the cut, bc i quite like them on their own too:

Thanks for the tags @sunmontuewrites and @halestrom! Amusingly enough, I actually wrote something this week, so you get all 500 brand new words of it.

Peter waited until most of the Pack was lounging on the couches and floor of the loft before slinking down the spiral staircase to join them, as always. Sometimes it still made Scott flinch, even after all these years, and Peter had to get his kicks where he could.

After smirking at Scott's attempt to hide his surprise at his sudden presence, Peter let his nose sort through all the scents in the room, adding it to what he'd heard as they wandered in to make a picture of how the Pack had changed since their last meeting. He could tell that Scott thought he was in love again (he stank of a new perfume and puppy love), that Malia had spent most of the week as a coyote and was grumpy about having to wear clothes again (she smelled like the Preserve and sweat and annoyance), and that Jackson was fighting with Danny again (gym sweat, frustration, and self-loathing alongside a distinct lack of Armani). Nothing of note.

He was just starting to relax when the loft door opened and the scents of Stiles and his nephew wafted in. Underneath their usual mix of domestic bliss was a warm note that he hadn't smelled in over a decade, and it froze him in his tracks. Peter's mind rushed back to a warm kitchen filled with joy and laughter and the memory of 2 year old Derek asking, in his toddler vocabulary, why his mother smelled different. But the memory of Talia's voice quickly pivoted to what he always heard when he let himself remember her: the way she'd been screaming in his final moments of consciousness as fire engulfed their family.

A loud crack knocked him out of that memory, and he looked down to see the edge of the short bookshelf he'd been leaning on splintered by his claws. Peter schooled his face as he looked up, knowing the rest of the Pack would be focused on him. Decisively, he freed his claws from the wood, nodded at Derek, and said the only thing he could think of as he walked out of the loft as fast as he could without making more of a scene, "Congratulations, mazel tov! I need to be somewhere else."

Grateful that the Pack was used to his abrupt departures, Peter made his way deep into the Preserve before letting out a mournful howl. It still bothered him that the Pack would hear him and know his pain, but he had no desire to go far enough away to not be heard. He spent the night remembering and hurting and mourning, knowing that he had to leave it all out here. His nephew needed him, now more than ever. Peter hadn't ever been the nurturing type, but he was the only one who'd been an adult last time there'd been cubs in the Hale Pack, and someone was going to have to make sure Derek and Stiles were ready for a newborn werewolf.

Stiles has a dirty talk kink, it's not a secret, so of course, once he and Derek got together, Stiles espected a whole of dirty talking. Don't take him wrong, he's seen and heard Derek sweet talking people in multiple occasions (usually to get info or create a distraction) so Stiles knew, he had prove, that Derek excelled in the bed talking area.

However, for some strange reason that Stiles couldn't understand, Derek didn't dirty talk him. Flirting? Sure, arguing? Obviously, bickering? Of course. They did it all, but dirty talk. And Stiles didn't know what else to do to get Derek into the game. He tried loudly listing his kinks, he "forgot" his research history on fully display in the loft, he made suggestive comments. Until one night when Stiles snapped and took the direct approach.

That same night Derek promised to dirty talk Stiles in the bedroom. But once they started it felt...awkward. Derek struggled with his words and made faces as if disgusted with himself. After some minutes Derek stopped and told Stiles that he couldn't do it.

"What do you mean you can't? I've seen you flirt and spill dirty comments many times to many many creatures." It's was just saying out loud what you wanted to do with your partner, wasn't it?

Derek sat against the bedhead, hands covering his face while he worked on his answer. A growl raising in his throat.

"It's just... it feels wrong Stiles. Bad, fake, like bad porn type of fake."

Stiles felt his heart break a bit (ok a lot), he knew that he didn't have the best looks in a pack of hot people, damn even among humans he was barely a 5. But knowing it and listening to Derek say that he couldn't feel horny at Stiles were very different things. Of course Derek found dirty talking difficult in the bedroom, you can't really say much when you can't feel much.

"Oh, it's ok. Fine, yeah. It felt kind of fake, right?" Stiles left a dry laugh, before turning around, back facing Derek, and setting the alarm for 7am.

"Stiles?"

"We should sleep. I gotta get up early to have breakfast with my dad" he covered himself under the sheets, a cloths barrier between him and Derek.

Derek felt his blood run cold, in the last minutes something had gone terribly wrong. Stiles' scent turned sour, his heartbeat jumped and the smell of salt filled the room

"Stiles"

"Good night, Der"

Derek was lost, was Stiles sad because Derek couldn't dirty talk? But Stiles did not smell exactly like sadness. Was he disappointed at Derek for his pathetic attempt? No, Stiles would never blame him for something related to bed activities. He has a very strong view of consent and sex. Then what?

Derek growled before turning to his own side of the bed. He should be able to understand Stiles, he should know what to say to fix it. He should know what affected Stiles so much. He should, he should be a better mate, just as Stiles is for him.

Derek sat again and landed on top of Stiles in one smooth movement. Ignoring his partner's complaint Derek grabbed the sheet wall and pulled, he was going to do this right.

"We have to talk Stiles" his voice was serious, purposeful.

"Nhg, Derek let it go, it's nothing"

"Oh but it IS something. You're the one whose always talking about healthy communication and expressing our feelings. So talk"

Stiles met unblinking werewolf eyes, and a worry puppy face. Pouting and all. God, Stiles loved this man.

Stiles sighed, time to pretend to be a functional adult.

"It's ok Der, Don't look me like that, I'm talking, it's just that, well, listening that you find it difficult to say dirty things to me kind of kicked my self-esteem, you know?"

"No I don't, what does one thing have to do with the other?"

Stiles groaned, eyes looking everywhere except Derek.

"It hurts, ok? Knowing that you can't get in the mood or that it's difficult for you to want to do dirty things with me. And it's not your fault, I know you can't control that but still I-

A soft kiss interrupted his monologue. When they separated Derek rolled his eyes before diving in to kiss each mole on his face.

"You're an idiot. Of course you're hot, I may be failing if you can't understand how bad you got me. It's not that, I can't dirty talk because I don't know how to"

"But I've seen you do it, saying dirty things to strangers to get information. It's the same"

Derek kissed him on the cheek

"It is not the same. All those times it wasn't real. You are not a stranger and I don't want information. We are together, we are...one. And when I'm with you Stiles I don't want to just fuck with you, I want to make love. And I know it sounds cheesy but, I love you Stiles. And I cannot separate that from my stream of thoughts"

They were loosely cuddling facing on another. Both their heartbeats raising and cheeks blushing to the sudden feelings communication

"I love you and I know that if I start to talk in the bed I will end up saying something cliche. Because I love you, and I love the way you move under me, I love the way you pant when you get out of breath, I love how you close your eyes as if to hide form all sensations, I love how you blush when I slip my hands down down into your pants, I love how you shake and tremble when you get close and the way you arch as if presenting yourself to me, I love your whines and moans when I bite your neck, and I love how you slowly loose your words as you get drowned in pleasure, I love how your eyes shine and sparkle and how you laugh when, somehow, you find your words to break a joke in the middle of a thrust. I love you Stiles, and you deserve to be pampered in love and pleasure, to be adored, to be admired. If I could hide you from the world and get you in a life full of love, pleasure and safetiness, I'll do it. And I know that sounds toxic as fuck"

Stiles laughed wetly, eyes filled with unfallen tears. He moved his hand to softly care for Derek's cheek, and Derek finally seemed to relax a bit. Shoulders loosing tension as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy Stiles' touch.

"So, what, you final fantasy is role playing beauty and the beast? I'm not againts"

"You're hot Stiles, you're hot, beautiful, strong, funny, brave. The most incredible creature in the universe-"

"More incredible than unicorns?"

"More incredible than unicorns and dinosaurs. And I can't dirty talk because it is not just your body, it's also your personality, and your mind and your soul. And when I try to focus just on your body it feels inadequate, as if something is missing"

By this moment Stiles was a sobbing mess and Derek had to get up to get him some tissues. When he came back he softly pushed Stiles' hands away and move to wipe his nose. Once he was done he threw it on the nightstand and moved to completely cover Stiles with cuddles

"I love you Der"

"I love you. Please, don't ever doubt for my love and attraction for you"

Stiles smiled and moved to kiss Derek's neck

"I won't"

_____^______^_______^____________^

The next morning Stiles sat on the kitchen table watching Derek move from side to side preparing breakfast. If there was a pro of having a werewolf boyfriend it was their unnatural high temperature and their tendency to disregard shirts. Little presents from the universe.

"Amen"

"What are you talking?"

Stiles opened his eyes and looked at Derek who was to bussy fighting with the pancakes to even glance at Stiles.

"Nothing, just counting the minutes before you love talk me again"

"That's not gonna happen"

In his hurry to protest Stiles fell from the table

"What, why not?" It was outrageous

"Because you cried" at least Derek spared him a glance over his shoulder before destroying Stiles' life.

"you're so mean sometimes. Anyways, we both know I'll eventually convince you. You said something about adoring me afterall."

Derek moved fast and hugged Stiles from behind.

"You are the mean one" and since Stiles is a good boyfriend who wants to help validate Derek's point, he turned his head and bit the wolf's cheek.

When he and Stiles got together Derek taught Stiles how to dance together, and took him to many Latin parties and concerts. Stiles may not understand a word and stand out like a sore tumb, but he loves hanging out with Derek. Especially when he has Derek moving like that against him.

+

there's a key difference between born wolves and ones that are bitten - one of them can achieve a full shift and it for sure isn't the bitten ones.

not only do born wolves have to fear hunters but also poachers who are after their pelts. werewolves are bigger than normal wolves and alphas even more so. it's rare to catch an alpha so their pelts fetch a sum so good to many it's worth the risks.

most of the hale's perished in the hands of hunters. the only one's to survive were laura and derek. until poachers got to her as well. they weren't even interested in her but they knew she was the easiest way of getting to her brother. a means to an end.

a wolf needs a pack, but can survive without one. an alpha needs a pack if they don't want to go feral. a feral alpha is mindless. acts and doesn't think. easy to predict. it's this what the poachers are relying on.

they snatch an annoying young man who wouldn't sell to them on their way through his village. they take him far into woods and tie him up so he cannot move and after he won't shut up gag him as well. a silent immovable spectator of his own death as they lay laura's bloody pelt on him.

the poachers are sure of their trap. the feral alpha can't help but go into a killing frenzy when he finds what's left of his sister on this stranger. and when he does the poachers can get upper hand on him.

sharing bc i'm not sure how much people in the fandom read gen fic but i'm really proud of how this one is progressing! hopefully be able to post it pretty soon :)

---

"You probably don't remember this," Derek says when she settles back into her chair, "but you had a family nickname. When you were really little. Everyone called you—"

"Derek's baby." Cora fixes her gaze at the floor, furrows her brow. "I remember."

It had been the worst month of his life, he'd thought, being too little for the soccer camp that Laura, Thom, and Charlie got to attend, while he was stuck at home all summer with Mom and Dad. But then, several weeks early, there was Cora, and he alone got to hold her in the hospital. He had never known a pride like it. So pink and scrawny, she popped out screaming, and she didn't stop, not for anything. Derek had held her in his arms like something so precious, and looked down at her, her puffy eyes squeezed shut, her mouth sprawling, and thought, pleased: she's strong.

"You told us to stop calling you that when you started school," he recalls. "Because you weren't a baby anymore, you said."

"Yeah."

"There was this photo in the den, from the day you were born. I was holding you, do you remember that?"

She shifts on the edge of the chair on which she's perched. "I sort of remember the photo," she admits slowly. "But I always thought it was Thom holding you."

"No," he says. "That was me and you."

She's quiet in the wake of this revelation. He wishes she would tell him what she's thinking. He wishes she would tell him anything at all.

"I was a little brother before you came along," he says. His eyelids are starting to grow heavy, his limbs as well. Having finally put itself to rights, his body demands rest now, the key to recovery. "You made me a big brother."

"Derek," she says haltingly. Maybe she doesn't want to hear it, but he finds, suddenly, he needs to say it, needs her to understand, to know that no matter what happens to them, no matter what horror has ever or will befall them, they will always be each other's.

Coffee Shop Love

1. social

2. narrative

and if none is provided to us we will make our own out of dirt and sticks

Happy Pink Undies Sunday! Individual images under the cut.

Beautiful ficlet by @renmackree that was inspired by the art! 😭 💜

"It tickles," Derek murmured softly as he felt the brush against his skin. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, but he loved the way Stiles' fingers twitched when he interrupted his concentration. It was just enough to make Stiles remember Derek was the one he was painting, but not enough to pull him out of the focus completely.

"Suck it up big guy, I'm almost done."

Derek smiled softly at the nickname. It wasn't the most romantic of their names, but it was the familiar one. "But you told me not to move. I can't suck anything."

That made the fingers on his thigh twitch even more. He smiled again as Stiles began painting another broad swipe over his stomach, the bristles of the brush course but delicate. Stiles was always delicate with his art—brush, pencils, chalk, ink, pen, tattoos—whatever medium it was. It was one of the only things delicate about him.

The soft silence of the loft was comforting as Stiles continued, Derek thinking about the warm leg between his thighs and the comforting heartbeat of his mate. Derek took a slow, easy breath and smiled again. "I love you, moon."

"I love you too, wolf," Stiles said, Derek feeling the hand stop painting for a second and then lips on his. Warm, comforting, and tasting like the chocolate chip pancakes Derek had made this morning. "Now hold still or I'll be doing this all day."

"As long as you're touching me, that's alright with me."

********************

“Scott, is that snail trying to spell?” Derek tilts his head to the side as he watches said snail move sluggishly across the ground in what seemed to be in the shape of letters. Scott stops on the way to his motorcycle to walk back over to Derek.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We are trying to find my idiot best frien-” The denial dies on Scott’s lips as the two werewolves watch the snail trail out the letters S T I.

“I told you!”

Scott shakes his head. “That could be a complete coincidence.” He proceeds to move back to his motorcycle. His best friend was missing, there was a lot of ground to cover in the search.

Derek is skeptical of Scott’s dismissal. “Do you know any other snails that attempt parkour in their free time?” The snail appears to try and dangle off the edge of the gutter before barrel rolling to the side. If this wasn’t Beacon Hills, Derek would have been certain he was hallucinating but that snails somehow reminded him of his favourite -if sometimes ridiculous- human.

“Come on, man. We don’t have time for snails. Stiles could be anywhere right now.”

Derek reluctantly moves away from the path and turns in the direction of the preserve. He was going on foot, hoping his nose would give some clue as to where Stiles had magically disappeared to.

**Two Hours Later…**

Derek, Scott, Erica and Boyd decide to regroup at the rebuilt Hale house to work out their next move. There had still been no sign of Stiles and Derek was starting to get a bit antsy.

“Okay, so Lydia is relooking into the books on location spells.” Scott explains, slipping his mobile back into his pocket. “She’ll keep us posted.” The four werewolves are trudging up the path, when Derek and Boyd, who had been in the lead, stop dead in their tracks.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Derek mutters under his breath. Boyd starts laughing. Erica jumps onto her boyfriend’s back to see what’s so amusing. She starts laughing too.

“What are you all lau-” Scott is once again halted by the sight before him. Dark sticky lines have been drawn all over the front porch and there is no way the message can be misinterpreted.

IM TRAPPED IN SNAILS BODY

Derek looks up at the sky as if that will give him some clue as to how this is his life. He sighs, “Scott, call Lydia and ask her if any of her spells mention snails.”

“You gotta give it to Stiles, he really snailed it!” Erica snickers while Derek rubs his temples.

“I’m going to take a shower. Someone bring Stiles inside.”

“No way am I touching him or his slimey body.” Erica gripes. Boyd thankfully scoops the little newly-shelled Stiles up without any protest and Derek is again pleased he made Vernon his second-in-command. That is until said beta places the snail on Erica’s shoulder, who shrieks.

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, The Hale Pack, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore Additional Tags: Cursed Stiles Stilinski, Cursed Derek Hale, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Emotionally Constipated Derek Hale, Angst and Humor, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Oblivious Derek Hale, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together Series: Part 5 of A Collection of Curses and Spells Summary:

Derek: 'I'm fine' Stiles: 🚨🚨🚨 (honestly this goes both ways for these two)

Birthday gift art for @sparassiss who requested Stiles holding Derek after a crappy day, and you know what - a good ol' Stilinski Hug would probably fix him a lil' bit ♡