sour wolf romances hyperactive boy

Once Upon A Time

Genim gazes worriedly at his beloved. The Queen’s curse is set to begin at any moment.

“We’ve only just found our happily ever after,” says Genim but his Wolf Prince grabs his hand an brings it to his lips.

“We’ll find each other. The curse can’t stop that.”

Genim stares up into the warm red haloed eyes of his true love. “Promise?”

“My heart will always leap after yours,” his prince murmurs softly, his gaze never straying before pulling Genim into a fierce embrace as the dark magic of the Queen’s curse enveloped them.

And everything went dark.


Stiles sighs and looks at the clock tower, the hands frozen at eight fifty-five. He always finds himself here staring. Shrugging, he kicks at the ground before heading to the Sheriff’s station to see his father.

He turns down the street and misses a man about his height stop in the very same place and look up at the tower with a frown before stuffing his hands angrily in his leather coat pockets and turning in the opposite direction, towards the forest.

so i had a teen wolf dream last night, (wonder why) and it was loverly.

Derek was being all protective of both Stiles and a class of adorable kindergarteners, and there was a puppy pile of cute on Derek, and then Papa Stilinski came, and then everyone who wasn’t a kindergartener drank super delicious strawberry cocktails and discussed the Legend of Korra while Derek and Stiles cuddled.

“The coffee up here sucks,” groans Stiles, dumping 32 sugar packets into his cup. Scott just ignores him as he gazes fondly across the cafeteria where Artemis talking to Lydia, Atlantean princess. Stiles wishes Aqualad was less of a douche because Lydia was fierce.

“Do you think Allison would want to go for coffee?” asks Scott who underneath his cape and cowl is doing a fine impression of a lovesick fool.

“Definitely not Watchtower coffee,” grumbles Stiles with a scowl. “You think you could put in a good Bat word to your boss? Maybe get something that won’t kill fellow cape crusaders?”

Stiles turns to his friend. “Rob?”

Scott’s stuck in a daydream. An Allison Argent induced one. Apparently life in Gotham was all Batarangs and arrows if Scott was thinking of crossing that turf war. Even he knew how Batman felt about the Hunters. They weren’t as no gun friendly as the Bat family. Cheshire was insane. Literally. Allison’s mom was full on crazysauce. Stiles doesn’t even want to know how she got together with the Question. That guy was obsessed with a Code. He capitalized it.

“Hey Boy Wonder!” nudges Stiles and Scott snaps back.


“Try not mooning over the enemy,” says Stiles, taking a gulp of his coffee with a grimace.

“Allison’s not the enemy,” says Scott but he whispers it because the Watchtower has eyes and ears everywhere. Stiles may be quick but even he knows that the Bat is always watching.

“Uhuh, and we’ll all get a super team to be on together. Dibs on partnering with Superboy,” says Stiles. Danny would make an awesome teammate. “People can’t even get my name right. The lighting bolt is a dead giveaway. I’m thinking of changing my name.”

“But I like Kid Flash,” says Scott. And Stiles sighs because Scott is awesome but he doesn’t understand how people only see the Kid part and not the Flash. It’s very demoralizing. Speaking of demoralizing, Stiles spots the regular old sunbeam of happiness himself.

“Shit, there’s Nightwing,” he groans. Now there is someone who hates Stiles. And that’s a tad ungrateful. He’s saved Derek loads of times. Never mind he’s not supposed to know Derek’s supersecret identity. But Scott spilled the beans on that ages ago. You’d think someone with billions of dollars would smile more. Stiles can’t even afford to keep himself in new running shoes. Superspeed sucks sometimes.

“Do you think he saw me staring at Allison?” asks Scott, worrying his bottom lip. And frankly looks like the least intimidating Robin. Like ever. And Stiles has met Isaac. That little red hood isn’t fooling anyone.

“Well your suit is lojacked,” offers Stiles. “But I’m running late. You know, crimes to stop, brooding tight-wearing heroes to avoid.”

He superspeeds out of there not noticing Derek’s frown or the two Starbucks’ coffees in his hands.

Stiles sees Derek for the first time in seven years in the Viridian forest. Well, he spots his Arcanine first because Derek’s trapped under a fell tree. Quite spectacularly. Stiles regretfully repockets a Pokéball he drew out in hopes of capturing the Arcanine. Stiles could use more fire-types in his set. His next gym is in Pewter City.

“Pi-chu,” Stiles’ Pichu chirps out inquiringly. It snaps back Stiles to the problem at hand. Helping a fellow Pokémon trainer out.

At first he doesn’t know it’s Derek because, at first, he just saw an Arcanine, the likes of which he hasn’t seen since Derek Hale left Beacon Hills and out of Stiles’ life forever. Derek may not know it but Stiles always admired him. And it’s one of the reasons Stiles decided to be a Pokémon trainer rather than join the Beacon Hills police force like his dad. Stiles has always wanted an Arcanine because Derek had one. Then he thinks that’s stupid because the chances of it being Derek’s Arcanine are slim to none. Beacon Hills gossip rang out that Derek was a gym leader or something. Mrs. Hale loved bragging about her children. Like how Laura was researching some legendary Pokémon on an island somewhere. And Derek raking in tournament money.

So it’s surprising for the Pokémon that Stiles spots to look over and say “Arca!” like it knows Stiles.

“Who’s there?” says Derek in a rough voice.

“Derek?” Stiles asks because of course Stiles remembers Derek. Stiles used to trail around after him with his Pichu in hopes of gaining training prowess through osmosis. It mainly irritated the hell out of Derek and amused their parents. Stiles regrets a lot of his childhood memories via secondary nostalgia embarrassment.

Pichu runs ahead and by the time he gets there Pichu’s purring under Derek’s nimble hands that has Stiles wishing he could trade places. Seriously, Derek’s hands have only gotten more awesome. But the Arcanine that nudges his leg has him see the fell tree log that has Derek’s leg trapped.

“Stiles?” Derek says in surprise. His face pale and sweaty from exertion. Stiles sees the awkward angle of his ankle. It must be broken. 

“Small world, eh?” Stiles says in deference of nothing else. Words fail him. Derek Hale remembers him. Him.