IvyLancaster



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    Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

    The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

    If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

    He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

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    02 Aug 2026

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    He should’ve kept his mouth shut. He should’ve smiled like always. Now everything was ruined, crushed, destroyed. Dust, shards, and the remnants of his pride. Love that no one needed.

    Derek’s gaze scalded the side of his face but Stiles refused to meet it. He had already revealed too much.

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    02 Aug 2026

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    This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles.

    He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough.

    He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower.

    Witches didn’t get happy endings.

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    01 Aug 2026

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    “You did a favour for a stranger?” the sheriff asked, surprised. “You won’t even do a favour for me.”

    “Your favours involve chocolate and salty snacks, damn straight I won’t do you any favours,” Stiles insisted, pointing an accusatory finger at his dad while leaning back against the counter, taking another large sip of coffee. “Some guy lost his phone and was calling it hoping someone would answer. That someone was me. He said he’d had some drinks and couldn’t come grab it right then, so we agreed to meet at the station this morning. I didn’t realize ‘this morning’ meant the ass crack of dawn.”

    “It’s not the ass crack of dawn, that was at five thirty-seven, according to the weather app on my phone.”

    Stiles let out a sarcastic laugh and flipped his dad off. The sheriff gave him a look, but he didn’t reprimand him, clearly able to tell Stiles was miserable.

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    01 Aug 2026

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    There was no physical equivalent to what it felt like they did, so intimate it was. It was seeing each other naked, it was deep make-outs, it was dry-humping, and it was sex, but it was none of it. Perhaps, if someone opened their chest cavities, took their hearts and squished them together, that’s what it would feel like — feeling their valves open and close, the blood pump, the muscles contract, and one heartbeat pulse right into the other.

    Derek offered his hand. “Let me show you one more time.”

    “Show me what?”

    “What would it feel like to have an alpha.”

    Warmth burst in Stiles’ tight chest. His stomach swooped. His spark trembled in anticipation, reaching out, striving to taste that power again. Going red under the constant gaze of those hazel eyes, Stiles put his hand in Derek’s. He couldn’t help but give a small inhale at their sparks meeting once more.

    Heat. Weight and weightlessness. Tight embrace and high, impenetrable walls. Power. Safety.

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    31 Jul 2026