Skyeisfalling
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Summary
In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town.
But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand.
Stiles though? Stiles wakes up with a little more.
Series
- Part 1 of songs of the preserve
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Summary
A few weeks before college starts, Stiles signs up for an app called Heat-finder to meet an alpha to get him through his next heat. Stiles is bound and determined to not be some cliché college age virgin and decides a heat partner is the way to go. If he embarrassed himself then at least he would never have to see the alpha again, right?
Excerpt:
“Yup. That's me, Stiles. I'm Stiles.” He swallowed nervously. “Actually, no my name is Mieczysław but I couldn't say that when I was little. I-I would mispronounce it and say my name was Mischief. It's a family name, Polish. Mieczysław, not Mischief, that would be weird. My mom picked it out." Oh god, Stiles couldn’t stop the flow, the words just kept coming and coming. He just couldn't seem to help himself and knew as Derek's brows rose higher that he was fucking blowing it! "It was her dad’s name. I don't know where Stiles came from.”
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“This is Detective Derek Hale. Remember, we brought him on from the omega victims unit?”
Derek Hale holds a gargantuan alpha paw out to Stiles for shaking. Stiles glares at it for a moment, eyes flicking desperately to Jordan for approval without thinking about it. He hasn’t moved or done anything without Jordan’s permission in so long he can’t help himself, and everyone in the room notices. Derek Hale most notably. He looks at Stiles’ reaction, looks at Jordan, and slowly retracts his hand. “No talking to alphas, is that it?” There’s accusation there in his tone, but it’s veiled. Thinly. But it is veiled.
“He can talk to whoever he likes to talk to, he just doesn’t like alphas,” Jordan corrects firmly. “Stiles, shake his hand.”
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"Stiles." His voice came out gruff, lower than usual, "If everything is too loud and you can't find a place to be safe, come and find me. I will be your quiet."
For once, Stiles had nothing to say. He felt his heart speed up, felt his mouth gaping like a fish. Derek's hand was still gripping his wrist - it felt like a lifeline. An anchor, keeping him grounded.
"I will." He replied eventually. He wasn't sure if he was intending to stick to that or not, but he vowed to at least try. "Thank you, Derek." They could both hear the words that were going unspoken, the 'and not just for the ride'. He didn't need to say it.
--
Or, the one where Derek Hale was suddenly everywhere, and Stiles was suddenly uncertain.
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“Actually, I don’t give a fuck who you are,” Derek says, curling his lip harshly. “This is private property. How the fuck did you even get in?”
In an act of quick placation, Stiles throws up two palms facing outwards in front of his chest. His eyebrows knit together as he hastily and vehemently begins to shake his head, trying desperately to telegraph just how severely Derek has grasped at the wrong end of the stick here.
“Hey, whoa,” he says. “That’s not –”
“You need to get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.” Derek pauses a moment, his nostrils flaring just a second before his eyes flash burning red, his entire face screwing up in this expression of pure disgust that sends a shiver down Stiles’ spine. “Christ, and you’re a human? A human omega? What kind of fucking moron breaks into a werewolves’ house when they’re just a weak fucking human?”
An alpha werewolf and a human omega: a love story that was never supposed to happen.