what are the best Stiles as pack mom/ stiles and derek (accidentally) build a den fics? thanks in advance and have a nice weekend/ rest of the weekend!

christinesficrecs:

Hey 🙂 Good gravy! It has been a weekend full of essays. Is it holiday break yet?! Anyways, pack mom stiles is the best! 

Ok, I had 2 asks for pack mom Stiles and I’m not sure I got either one right. I tried you guys!!! Seriously though, these fics are awesome even if they aren’t exactly what you were looking for. 

here is the deepest secret nobody knows by  owlpostagain | 22.3K

“Derek,” Stiles groans. “You have me. You’ve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?”

On Building an IKEA Den for an Alpha Werewolf | 13.8K

Senior Prom is coming up, and Stiles doesn’t have a date. Additionally, Derek has an unfurnished apartment, and no one to take him to IKEA.

some nights by  Hymn | 5K

Derek pisses Stiles off, and Stiles issues an “open-door policy” for the teenaged werewolves in his life. (Which is, really, more of an open-window policy, because seriously: werewolves) After that it is, like, all werewolf all the time.

Stilinski’s Home for Wayward Wolves by  owlpostagain  | 35.1K

In which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

Pack Mom by  one_windiga | 5.3K

’“It’s just a sandwich,” Isaac mumbled around the food in his mouth, crunching a little between words. Derek firmly believed there was no such thing as ‘just’ anything where Stiles was concerned.’

Stiles begins to take on the role of the Pack Mom. Derek is confused and upset.

A Question of Pack by  impalagirl, wilddragonflying | 24.4K

Stiles knows he isn’t pack.

But why do the Betas keep coming to him for advice and comfort?

ticket for littering by  kellifer_fic | 7.6K

Stiles is totally ready for his life to stop being a horror movie and start being a romcom. This
 isn’t exactly what he had in mind.

build a rocket, boys! by  hito | 2.5K

Stiles has kind of become the den mother. It’s not like he planned it!

Pack Dynamics For Dummies by  SpiritsFlame | 36.6K

Stiles isn’t sure how a Pack is supposed to work, but he’s pretty sure that this this disorganized jumble of people and events doesn’t quite qualify. He has to hand it to Derek though, he keeps trying. And Stiles has never been one to stand quietly on the sidelines.

Hitting the Motherlode | 3.8K

5 times Stiles was oblivious that he was being the pack mom and 1 time Derek made him enjoy it more than he should.

He’s Not Mine by  Sunnee | 68.5K

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

For your consideration: Derek riding Stiles, all slow and steady, the best kind of slow boning, keeping himself on the edge and not touching his cock for so long that suddenly… he knots. Without it being snug inside anything, without even a single touch, and without any fucking warning. It’s not even supposed to happen like this, but it’s so good, so fucking good, and every nudge against his prostate makes his knot throb, and Stiles praises him, awe-struck, as he rides himself to climax.

ladydrace:

pale-silver-comb:

I have been saving this, just looking at it every other hour, because it’s so damn beautiful and my soul, my soul Minna, it weeps.

Now, because this is me you know I am going to get a little bit emotional over this. Because, two things. Derek has never felt 100% comfortable during sex before. He’s maybe had one or two alright experiences. Maybe he’s had one or two good experiences, but he’s never made love, okay? He’s never felt like he could be himself, always having to hold back, always being afraid he’s not good enough for whoever he’s with. Always giving, never receiving. 

And, of course, he’s never knotted since Kate. Kate whose touch was always just a little too rough and her smile a little too condescending. Kate who pretended to love him and like a fool Derek believed her. He still remembers the first time he knotted in front of her. It had only happened to him a couple of times before, when he was alone and younger and he was just learning how good masturbating could be. Kate’s laughter, when it happened with her, has stayed with him to this day. It was the thing, weirdly enough, he heard after the fire. That laugh. That disdain for everything he is, who is family were. 

And so, of course, by the time he gets with Stiles he doesn’t even think about it. It’s just something is associates with death and shame and Stiles makes him feel neither of those things. 

The thing is, imagine Derek’s first time bottoming with Stiles. It’s the first time ever and it feels so strange but so good and he is pretty sure he could cry with how amazing Stiles’ hands feel on him, encouraging him gently, rubbing up and down his sides and whispering how well he’s doing, what a good boy he is. And Derek just feels himself light up with that praise; the same kind he gave to Stiles their very first time and Stiles was embarrassed about his body, the same kind they give to each other all the time and never seem to get used to. Derek doubts he ever will but hopes one day Stiles will believe him. Not that that means he will ever stop telling him how beautiful he is, how amazing. He somehow can’t help things like that around Stiles. Praise. Romance. He feels sixteen again. Feels right. 

And Derek’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, mouth open on a silent whimper, a plea, as he slowly moves up and down, hating every moment Stiles isn’t fully inside him but loving the feeling of sinking down like nothing else, like Stiles is just everything good and safe and he’s somehow being set alight with it. 

It’s overwhelming.

It’s different.

It’s familiar. 

It’s Stiles. 

And Derek can’t help but lose himself completely, trusting Stiles will be there when it’s over, trusting he’ll be there forever, even though he stopped believing in forever a long time ago. 

He doesn’t even realise he’s knotting until he is because he already feels so good, so damn damn good, so he doesn’t notice. Not until he hears Stiles whisper holy fuck. Not until he looks down and all the old feelings come back, the laughter, the pain, and somewhere inside him something is saying stop, run, you’re a monster. He won’t stay. But Stiles isn’t freaking out, Stiles isn’t laughing, he just laces his fingers through Derek’s and squeezes. Hard. And Derek knows, Derek knows Stiles will ask a million question about this later, knows he probably already has a ton of research on his computer, knows Stiles already knows how badly Derek needs him right now.   

And it’s that, that safety that lets Derek keep going, push the bad feelings down, and just let himself believe just for a moment every part of him his beautiful. Not hot, not cool, not “impressive”, but beautiful. His knot swells the more he thinks about that. About how Stiles looks at him, not just right now, but every morning; when they argue, when one of them nearly dies. How Stiles steals his food and then feeds Derek from his plate. How Stiles looks at Derek in a million different ways and not one time has Derek ever felt bad about himself when he does. 

Looking down, he never remembers his knot being this big, never remembers it being this sensitive, Stiles’ breath ghosting over it, encasing it in a hot, teasing, tight way that pretty much defies all physical laws because it’s only breath, but it’s Stiles. Stiles, panting Derek’s name, a broken, awed sound on his lips.

Derek’s never made a sound like he does when Stiles comes inside him then, his own dick coming completely untouched moments later from the feeling alone. He doesn’t know if it’s closer to a howl or a cry, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care how loud, how wanton or shameless or a multitude of other things he knows he’ll feel embarrassed about later, because Stiles is touching him now, cupping his knot in his hands and massaging, pulling, as Derek continues to shoot and shoot and shoot. 

Stiles is covered when Derek manages to focus his eyes. Covered and completely unphased. In the beginning Stiles found the come marking a little gross, but these days he practically whines when Derek even so much as suggests a shower after. And when Derek looks down, Stiles is just grinning up at him, rubbing Derek’s come into his chest and pulling him down until he can kiss him, hold him. Says, “I know, I’ve got you, okay? Just like you’ve got me, right?” 

And Derek nods, because that’s true. That’s what he always tells Stiles, in the dark, when he’s most vulnerable, and in that moment Derek has never felt more accepted, never felt more like the gift his mom always told him the bite was. 

#ETERNALSTEREK #BOTTOM!DEREK #BOTTOMDEREKCLUB #FEELINGS #KNOTTING #MINNA YOU ARE THE WORST #I WAS ONLY GOING TO REPLY WITH A DRABBLE #AND NOW LOOK WHERE WE ARE #COVERED IN EMOTIONAL WEREWOLF JIZZ #TALK STEREK TO ME #LADYDRACE  @pale-silver-comb

Covered in emotional werewolf jizz is the BEST place to be, no lies, man, this is insanely beautiful and more than I ever dared hope for, and also, quite coincidentally, my EXACT headcanon about poor Derek’s early sex life. -sobs forever-

Bless you, friend. Bless you and your knotting feels. ❀

ride or die (like the bonnie to your clyde)

jadorehale:

Inspired by this post by @superwolflin: 

“We better get stiles going back to his apartment after the FBI class, opening the door and shouting for fucks sake Derek I’m not harbouring your fugitive ass again as Derek walks around the corner eating a bowl of cereal like what?”

“I can explain!”

Stiles took a deep calming breath as he calmly marched into his apartment and calmly slammed the door shut behind him, causing the door jamb to rattle.

“Stiles—” Derek tried again, attempting to catch hold of Stiles’ forearm as he stormed past him with a determined expression on his face.

All of the windows in Stiles’ tiny, cramped studio apartment were open, allowing much needed light and air to filter through the room. However, that all died when Stiles hastily snapped them shut and drew the curtains closed with a loud whoosh. Stiles swung past Derek again to secure every lock on his front door, taking every precaution possible to make sure they couldn’t be overheard, even though the FBI could easily breach the door if they wanted to.

He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to glare at a shirtless, guilty-looking Derek. If he wasn’t so furious, Stiles might’ve stopped to appreciate Derek’s shirtless-ness and how adorable he looked standing in his pajama bottoms, sleep-rumpled and bleary, eating a bowl of cereal. But he’d already seen enough shirtless Derek for one day from that video the FBI had caught of him running in the woods.

“What the fuck, dude!” Stiles hissed, trying to keep his voice low. “When you showed up here last night, you couldn’t have given me a heads up that you were on the run? Instead, I had to find out on the first day of my internship with the fucking FBI!”

Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes. “None of this makes sense to me either, Stiles. I know I should’ve told you, but I don’t even know what to say or where to begin. What was I gonna do? Knock on your door and say, ‘Long time no see. I’m wanted for mass murder’?”

It was pissing Stiles off just how nonchalant Derek was being about this. Last night, he’d been so excited to have Derek Hale walk back into his life. Now, he was embittered for having been misled. Especially after they’d spent the whole night talking and catching up which resulted in Stiles struggling to get himself out of bed on time for his internship the next morning.

Seeing that Derek was about to take another bite of his cereal, Stiles decided to swoop in vindictively before he could.

“Hey! I was eating that!”

“Fugitives on the run don’t get to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch!”

Stiles was in the foulest mood while pouring the cereal down the drain in the kitchen sink. Because not only had Derek omitted the truth about the reason for his unannounced visit, but he was also making Stiles waste a whole bowl of cereal on a college budget!

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Derek huffed and held his arms up in surrender. “Really, I am. Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was get you involved. I know you’re putting your ass on the line for me, especially with your current career choice as a FED.”

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek’s nose wrinkled at the word FED, and he lifted an eyebrow in  question.

“What?” Derek shrugged. “I’ve had a bad relationship with the police for most of my life! Of course, I’m not going to like cops of any kind!”

It was a good reason. Stiles wasn’t about to argue with that. Not after he’d gotten Derek arrested and accused him of killing his own sister.  

“Please don’t be mad, Stiles,” Derek pleaded with puppy-dog eyes. “If you’d just give me a chance to explain the situation as best as I can, I will. This all started when I—”

“Don’t!” Stiles exclaimed and rushed to cover Derek’s mouth with his hands.  He couldn’t help but blush at the feeling of Derek’s soft lips under his palm and the burn of his scratchy, course stubble. He whispered, “It’s better for you if you don’t tell me anything right now. I don’t want to hear anything I can’t unhear, okay?”

The room remained silent when Stiles dropped his hand again. However, it was an awkward silence. Stiles chose to ignore it and walked towards his dresser, stumbling in the dim light. He tugged his constricting tie loose, unfastened his cuffs, and slid off his crisp, white dress shirt. The first day of his internship had been exciting but he was ready to slip into more comfortable clothes. He was feeling more at ease in his softest t-shirt and sweats and turned back to Derek, only to see him gazing at him with hard, assessing eyes. Yeah, the last thing he was feeling now was comfy.

He shifted nervously, chewing at his bottom lip and waiting restlessly for Derek to speak. Although, Stiles definitely didn’t expect what Derek said next.

“You don’t believe me.”

“What?!” Stiles’ eyes widened, not understanding how Derek was making these connections.  

“You don’t believe me! You really think I could
that I would
” His face contorted as he fought to get the words out, glaring at Stiles with so much scorn. Like he actually believed Stiles would betray him like that. “I really thought you of all people would
Never mind. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Wait! Wait a second!” Stiles dashed over to Derek quickly, refusing to let Derek go anywhere thinking such ridiculous things. Derek was stubborn of course, turning his head and not wanting to look at Stiles, so Stiles gripped his chin and forced him to make eye contact. “I know you, Derek. Of course, I think you’re innocent.”

Even though he wanted Derek to know that he was being earnest, it still irritated him that Derek had to listen to his heartbeat before his feathers could unruffle and his buttcheeks could unclench.

“I’m not mad at you” Stiles reiterated. “I’m mad for you!”

Stiles knew there was no way to explain why he was angry without revealing his super embarrassing unreciprocated crush on Derek. A crush he thought had ended long ago but still lingered despite having not seen Derek in years. Finding Derek outside his door last night had rekindled all sorts of emotions that Stiles had locked away. All that pinning and hope sprung forth, as did his fanciful thoughts of him and Derek actually having a romantic future. But he couldn’t think about any of that now. Not when they had this looming over them.

“I’m mad that this is happening to you again. I’m mad because you don’t deserve this. I’m so tired of this sick joke the universe keeps playing on you where you’re not allowed to be happy!”

By this point, Stiles was doing a good job of working himself, so much so that he started pacing a hole in the floor without realizing it.

“You leaving was supposed to be the end of this for you! You were supposed to be happy! That’s the whole reason I never called you when you were gone even though I missed you so much— like way more than I thought would’ve. I didn’t want to see you dragged into this bullshit again. I wanted better for you!”

Stiles was heaving after his rant. He was mortified. Absolutely mortified. He knew he’d said too much and could barely lift his eyes from the ground, not able to withstand seeing any hints of rejection from Derek’s expression. Anyone could see that Stiles’ concern for Derek was much more than a display of friendship, but one of love. Still, Stiles would do his best to downplay it by masking it with humor.  

“Besides, I wouldn’t be standing here if you were actually a mass murderer,” Stiles joked, swallowing as much of his humiliation down as possible. “If you did have a hit list, my name would probably be at the top.”

“Why?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and smirked. “Because I drive you crazy.”

“That is very true,” Derek snorted then eyed Stiles with a look that was hard to decipher. “Although, there is another thing keeping you safe.”

“What?”

“The fact that I’m in love with you.”

Hearing those words come from Derek felt like a punch in the gut. Stiles could almost imagine himself stumbling back, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and the ringing in his ears. In their world, there’d been nothing but pain and suffering, that for Stiles, this didn’t feel any different. It was violent; the onslaught of emotion he held for Derek. Very reminiscent of all they’d been through together. And Stiles had no doubt that what Derek was telling him now was the truth.

“Can I eat my fucking breakfast now?” Derek returned to the kitchen cupboards and got out the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. “I was really enjoying that cereal before you barged in here and confiscated it,” he muttered under his breath, “Typical FED.”

Thankfully, Derek stopped talking shit once Stiles’ arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him from behind. Stiles wasn’t quite sure how they’d work out with Derek hating his job so much. He thunked his head against Derek’s shoulder playfully then rested it there, releasing a weighed down sigh.  

“I love you too,” he sighed again, “And I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to clear your name.”

“I know,” Derek chuckled, lifting a hand to ruffle Stiles’ hair. “That’s exactly the reason I came.”

Stiles only squeezed him tighter, not wanting to ever let go. He knew that what they were doing was breaking the law, but he also knew that he could never let anything bad happen to Derek. So, he guessed the only thing left to do now was figure out who was Bonnie and who was Clyde.

Worth It

dylanosbrien:

also on ao3

He hadn’t thought even for a second, instincts roaring, and jumped in front of Derek, taking the blow.

And then he got lost in the darkness.


When Stiles came too, he found himself on the cold, dirty ground of the warehouse, blood still pooling around him from his injury. In the background, the fight went on, growls and snarls all he could hear, but he couldn’t focus on that. Not when Derek was cradling him in his arms, an expression on his face that Stiles hoped he would never have to see again. Black veins ran up through his arms.

Huh. That was why he didn’t feel any extreme discomfort, only a slight amount when he moved.

He brought his hand up, wincing at the sudden pain in his shoulder, pressing it against Derek’s cheek with whatever energy he did have remaining. His fingers brushed against something wet yet not quite as sticky as his own blood.

Tears.

Stiles took a sharp breath, regretting it almost a split second later, and began to rub his thumb against Derek’s cheek. Derek was sporting a fresh cut on the bridge of his nose and on his forehead. He ran his fingers across Derek’s face, tenderly brushing over his lips and down to his chin, and then towards his jaw, engraving it to memory.

He felt Derek’s jaw clench tight and then release over and over again, almost rhythmic. Stiles tried to mimic it with his breathing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Derek’s eyebrow furrowed and that caught Stiles’ eye. He traced those brows with the gentlest touch, moving to the forehead to smooth out the creases.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Stiles could hardly hear him what with all the noise in the background.

He tried to force a smile, a comforting one—though it was probably more like a grimace—clearly not succeeding when he heard Derek’s whimper. “Memorizing you.”

“Why?” Derek’s voice broke. And in turn, it broke Stiles’ heart.

“Because,” he took one last good look at Derek, his voice trailing off, “I want to remember you forever.”

Derek’s face began to blur and Stiles squinted, trying to fix his vision. And then the thrum in his head began to become overwhelming, his vision swam, and Stiles could feel his entire body go limp with exhausted.

Stiles closed his eyes.

Keep reading

were-dragon:

Favorite fanfics: 1/100

By Any Other Name by entanglednow

“My name is Stiles Stilinski?” he says incredulously. “What were my parents drunk or something? Don’t they know that alliteration is the easiest route to terrible punishment and eternal mockery.” Stiles? Stiles Stilinski? It doesn’t so much roll off the tongue as clatter out in pieces. But he supposes it’ll do. It’s the only name he has right now. And it’s definitely better than no name at all. “Ok, Stiles Stilinski it is then. Your turn, because I can’t keep calling you ‘Werewolf Dude,’ in my head. Since that is your one defining characteristic. That and the stubble.”

The guy frowns and fishes in his pocket, tosses car keys and cards aside, before flipping one around and squinting at it.

“Derek Hale,” he says, brow furrowing as if he doesn’t like the sound of it.

“Derek?” Stiles laughs, he can’t help it. Because that is just ridiculous. “Your name is Derek? Dude, that’s got to be a fake name.”

Derek’s forehead creases further, eyebrows almost meeting. He really doesn’t look like a Derek. He looks like maybe he could have eaten a Derek at some point.

“Whoever made your fake ID clearly hates you,” Stiles decides.

Happy Birthday @artemis69 â™„

artemis69:

seanconneraille:

Just a little something for you @artemis69 ♄ it’s not much but i tried to combine two things you like (even if i don’t know shit about one of them except from what you told me and what i looked up super quickly on the internet) so i hope you’ll like it! Poutouxxx coupine tou roxx moult et je te sushi ♄♄♄

(Warning: one angry lizard got hurt in the process)

~

Derek Hale learns at 28 that you can be the respected alpha werewolf of a respected pack that has fought monsters you wouldn’t want to meet in your worst nightmares and still shit yourself when faced with random things from ordinary life.

So Derek doesn’t know whose idea it was but he’s now sitting on a horse and currently praying for his life.

He’s not scared -despite what some unnamed people might say-. He’s not! It’s just that he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how the horse is going to react to him and his wolf and he’s just here, powerless, on this big black ball of muscles and nerves ready to bolt at any moment. Derek has never felt closer to these dudes who’ve got only five seconds left to deactivate bombs in movies. 

Next time the pack wants to go on a family outing Derek’s gonna fling himself to the moon and never look back. Except Stiles will most certainly drag him back and force him to enjoy life with a shot of aggressive cuddling, a side of bitching and a large amount of love.

As for now, he clenches his butt cheeks and tries not to hold the reins too tight nor kick the beast inadvertently because he heard it was kinda bad. And Derek’s not asking for much but he kinda appreciates life these days and he’d like to live a little bit longer.

The lady who runs the ranch told him Shroom was the sweetest mare in the whole world but Derek’s still nervous. So he lets Shroom go her merry way and do whatever she wants as long as she lets him stay on her back.

He’s distracted by the freight train who runs at the end of the paddock at high speed, a mad laugh following it in the air.

It’s not that Derek thought Stiles wouldn’t be good with horses, it’s just that he was actively starting to look for first-aid kits when Stiles approached the one horse that seemed to hate everybody and that had just sent Jackson fly in a puddle like he was a piece of shit under its hoof. 

They all flinched when Stiles put his foot in the stirrup but he just went with the flow, climbed on the horse from hell like nobody’s business and made instant friends with it. And for the last fifteen minutes they’ve just been running around like two gangly puppies under the part incredulous part exasperated looks from the pack.

“How can you stay on this living nightmare is beyond me”, Derek tells him later 

when Stiles and his new bff have finally slowed down a bit and they’re walking calmly side by side. Shroom gives them a happy huff and her feet seem a little lighter on the ground.

Stiles nudges his elbow before giving him a fond smile and a wink.

“I’m just used to grumpy creatures with big ass teeth trying to rip my head off buddy. Also don’t go around insulting my Zomb girl here, she’s the nicest of the lot, she just doesn’t like jerks!” 

Derek rolls his eyes. 

“See what i have to deal with?” he tells Shroom, and gently pats her neck.

~

(”Nice facial you got here Jackass!!” Stiles shouts at Jackson later. The angry look on his mud-covered face is priceless.)

omg you wrote me sterek and horses for my bithday ç__ç I love you so so much! sooo much! If I had not asked you to marry me like nine years ago, I would do it on the spot

(Also, the fact that after all these years you still listen to thetsunami of informations flowing out of my mouht is a proof of your strengh :p)

Je te nem ❀ Merci coupine ❀

Birds Make the Best Wingmen

stilesbansheequeen:

When Stiles invites Derek over for dinner on their second date, it seems that Stiles’ pet parrot is determined to ruin his life. Then again, maybe birds actually make the best wingmen
 

aka: 3-in-the-morning-me read an unrelated text post on parrots and happened to be making sterek icons, and went hey, sterek plus parrots!

“Dude,” Scott sighs. “If it makes you this nervous, just don’t
do it.”

“Excuse you?” Stiles scoffs. “Don’t go on my date with Derek? Is that what you just said? You’re
not going to make me give you the speech on his eyes again, are you? Because I
have it memorized, man, and-”

“No, no, no!” Scott says, waving his PS4 controller wildly.
When his Titan gets shot, he mutters, “Worth it. I just meant that if you don’t
want to have him over here, then don’t. Go out somewhere instead.”

“I can’t,” Stiles groans. “You know I can’t. He cooked me
dinner for our first date, so I have to cook him dinner for our second.”

It’s only fair, really. The only problem is his and Scott’s
apartment is a mess, his cooking skills are mostly limited to super healthy and not-date-worthy stuff for his dad, and—though Stiles doesn’t view
it as much of a problem, considering the number of nights Allison has spent
here—Scott’s being sexiled for the night. Technically Stiles told him he could stay in his room, if he wanted, considering the worst thing they’ll probably do tonight is kiss, but thankfully Scott was much more into the idea of making out with Allison than listening to Stiles potentially make out with Derek. 

“Look, it’s pretty clean in here for two college guys,” Scott
reasons, for the tenth time today. Stiles is pretty sure it’s just because he
doesn’t want to stop playing Destiny in favor of vacuuming. “I seriously doubt he’ll
care if you order takeout, anyway. You just gotta chill. Right, Iago?”

“Right, Scott!” Iago squawks. “Right, Scott! Right, Scott!”

Scott had taught Stiles’ parrot to respond ‘right, Scott’
anytime he hears ‘right, Iago?’ two years ago, and still takes far too much
pleasure in having a bird agree with
him.

Stiles feels very little sympathy when Scott gets gunned
down again as he beams over at the cage.

“Scott’s an overly-optimistic knucklehead who doesn’t understand the woes of us normal people who aren’t dating our first love five years later, right,
Iago?” Stiles asks.

“Right, Scott!”

Close enough.


“Nice place,” Derek says, hanging his jacket on one
of the hooks by the door. “And dinner smells great.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Stiles says, despite having slaved over
the stove for three hours. “Lasagna. Here, c’mon, let’s sit down.”

Derek follows him to the living room, but when he sits down
on the couch, Derek doesn’t join him. Instead, he walks over to Iago’s cage,
peering in.

“You have a parrot?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles says, adjusting himself so he’s facing them.
“His name’s Iago.”

“Does he talk?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s kinda awesome. He only understands
about as much as a dog, probably, but if you say something enough times he’ll start to repeat it, and he understands a few basic things. Like, um- Iago, hello!”

“Hello!” Iago squawks.

Derek smiles–the amazing, warm one that makes his eyes
crinkle—and Stiles never wants it to go away. And if that means playing with
his bird instead of making small talk? Well, he’s not going to complain.

“Iago, this is Derek,” Stiles says, even though he won’t really
get that one.

Unfortunately, he does seem to remember the word ‘Derek’.

“Derek is the best!”  

Stiles’ eyes practically bug out of his head, because that’s
actually something he says all the time, and the last thing he needs is for
Iago to start parroting everything he’s ever heard about Derek, because
 no.

Derek glances over at Stiles, eyebrow raised.

“Just a trick we taught him,” Stiles explains, with a nervous
laugh.  “If you say ‘this is someone’, he’ll say they’re the best.”

He stands and rushes over, grabbing the towel they use to
cover Iago’s cage before Derek can get a chance to test that lie.

“Say bye, Iago,” Stiles says, draping the cloth over his
cage.

“Bye! Bye!”

Crisis averted.

Phew.

“He’s cute,” Derek says, as Stiles ushers him over to the
couch. “He’s named after the bird in Aladdin, right?”

“Yeah, he’s great,” Stiles agrees. “And yep. How’d you know?”

Derek’s awesome, but something about his leather jacket and
black Camaro doesn’t give off much of an I-watch-Disney-movies-in-my-spare-time vibe.

“I’ve got a lot of nieces and nephews,” Derek says. He
smiles again at the thought, which is far too adorable. “I’ve seen every kids’
movie more times than I can count. Or would even want to count.”

“Aw, that’s cool. I’m an only child, but I wouldn’t be
surprised if Scott and his girlfriend start planning-”

The ding of the oven cuts him off.

“Um, gimme one sec,” he says, patting Derek’s knee–don’t ask
why, dear God, he has no idea why—and
getting up to check on dinner. “Be right back.”

Stiles takes the pan out of the oven, setting it down on the
countertop.

“Derek?” he calls.  

“It’s ready?” Derek calls back, at the same time Iago repeats,
“Derek!”

“Iago, stop it!” Stiles orders, poking his head into the
living room.

“Stop it!” he echoes. It’s another of his favorite things to say, unfortunately. “Derek! Stop it!
Derek!”

“Sorry, Derek,” Stiles sighs. “He’s a jerk sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says, standing from the couch. “Not a problem.”

Before he reaches the kitchen, though, Iago interrupts again.

“Derek! Derek! Derek is so hot!”

Derek freezes. Stiles freezes. Iago, unfortunately, does not
freeze.

“Derek is so hot!” he repeats, from underneath his towel. “Derek is so hot! Derek is so hot!”

Stiles’ cheeks are probably as red
as Iago’s feathers.                  

“That another trick?” Derek asks,
raising an eyebrow as the bird continues his ode to Derek’s hotness in the
background.

“I- uh
”

“Or just one of the things he picked up
by repetition?”

“Ummm
”

Stiles is going to die. He is
actually, literally going to fall on the floor and have his heart stop beating
from sheer embarrassment.

Or he would do that, except then Derek winks.

He fucking winks, then smirks, then
walks back over to the birdcage, pulling the cover off.

“Derek is so hot!” Iago repeats
vehemently upon its removal. “Derek is the best! Derek is so hot!”

“Stiles is so hot,” Derek tells him
seriously.

Stiles gapes at him, but Derek
doesn’t even look over.

“Stiles is so hot,” he says again. “Stiles.”

“Stiles is so hot!” Iago agrees. “Derek
is so hot! Stiles is so hot!”

“Smart bird,” Derek says, finally glancing over at Stiles.

He’s smiling again, and Stiles decides he very well may
die, but perhaps not for the reason he thought.


When Scott gets home the next day and asks how the date
with Derek went, only for Iago to squawk ‘Derek is so hot! Stiles is so hot!’, he flops down on the couch, muttering, “I take it back. I don’t even want to guess what that’s about.”

Derek Didn’t Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did

tiedtogetherwithadagger:

Also available on AO3.

Chapter 1/3

Derek didn’t know what to do. Erica was hurt and bleeding and she wasn’t healing. Why wasn’t she healing? He couldn’t breath, he was losing his pack again and he felt absolutely helpless. He didn’t know how to be an alpha. Why he had ever fooled himself into thinking he could do this long enough to turn four teenagers was a question he didn’t have time to think about at the moment.

“Der-ek,” Erica rasped out. There was blood coating her lips, tinging her teeth a greasy burgundy and Derek couldn’t tell if it was coming from her nose or her mouth. “St- sti–”

Stiles, she was trying to say. Derek was struck dumb for a moment. He wanted to keep Stiles away from seeing them like this. This weak. Whether to protect Stiles or himself he wasn’t sure. But this wasn’t about Derek. It was about Erica. His beta. If she needed Stiles here, then he would get him here.

Scrambling for his phone in his pocket, Derek slipped his blood-wet fingers across the screen as he typed in Stiles’ number.

“It’s Erica,” he said into the receiver when Stiles picked up. “We need you here. Now.”

He expected Stiles to start bombarding him with questions but he surprised Derek when he responded with a simple, “Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Derek looked at his phone desperately when the line went dead but he knew that Stiles was already on his way. Erica looked up at him with desperate eyes and Derek brushed her sweaty hair from her face. He tried to slow his heartbeat and get her to match to his own, surprising himself when it started working.

Erica was in severe, excruciating pain and her whimpers still permeated the air. Derek took as much pain from her as he could, but his power was quickly draining.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Stiles ran into the clearing surrounding the Hale house carrying a 
 duffel bag? There was a god awful smell coming from it. Derek hoped it was something magical to help them and not just his gym clothes.

“What’s in the bag?” Derek asked.

“Potions, herbs, salves, books.” At the look Derek gave him, he said, “What? Deaton’s been teaching me.”

As he talked, Stiles had planted himself next to Erica and started rummaging quickly through his duffel for something. “Aha!”

He pulled out a small vial of dark green liquid, struggling to pull the cap off before handing it to Derek. Stiles moved closer to Erica, reaching out before freezing with his arms outstretched.

“It’s okay, Batman,” Erica whispered to him. Derek heard him swallow before Stiles slowly moved deeper into her space and took her hand within his own.

“I’ve got you, Catwoman. You’re okay,” said Stiles. “Derek I need you to put some of your power into the solution.”

“How?” Derek was getting more and more tense by the second. Erica’s heartbeat was getting weaker and Derek was worried that they’ve already run out of time.

“Hold it in your hands and think about the power you have. Push that into it. Not all of it!” Stiles hurried to add. “Just think of Erica, you’ll know how much she needs.”

You’ll know.

Derek looked at Stiles, eyes searching, and closed his eyes. Stiles could feel the temperature rise and lower in rapid succession in the air emanating from Derek’s body. The liquid in the vial didn’t glow or give an obvious sign of success but Stiles still knew that whatever Derek had done, it had worked.

Erica gripped Stiles’ hand tighter and tried reaching for the vial before collapsing back down, screeching and whining in pain as her movement caused the gash in her side to leak out more blood. “Give it –  to me –” she panted.

Derek gave Stiles the vial, as if him giving it to her would somehow cause more harm. Stiles stared into Derek’s scared eyes for a moment before swallowing audibly and taking a shaky breath.

“I’ve got you, Erica. I’ve got you.” The words were whispered and rushed and Stiles closed his eyes before pouring the contents of the vial down Erica’s throat, hoping against hope that it would work even though he knew it had to.

“Knew you would, Batman.”

In the silent moments that followed, Derek heard every ragged breath scrape out of Erica’s throat. He clutched her ankle, needing to be nearer to her, and gripped Stiles’ other hand. From one breath to the next they waited with baited breath until Derek started to hear the click and crack of her bones tying together. With each bone came an agonized cry from Erica.

It was slow and painful for everyone, obviously mostly Erica. But it worked. The last thing to heal was her skin and Derek looked in wonder as it knitted itself back together. He let his head fall on Stiles’ shoulder in unrestrained relief. He wasn’t losing his pack. At least not tonight. Erica would be okay.

“Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie.

“Always,” Stiles said.

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Of Myths & Mates

doctortay:

Stiles and Derek have patched each other up after so many battles with supernatural big bads, it’s almost routine at this point. Over and over again, sometimes silently, but most of the time very loudly, yelling at each other for taking stupid chances and making reckless, dangerous choices.

But even when they’re yelling at each other, they’re cleaning wounds and icing swollen limbs and wrapping split knuckles. And all those repeated moments of intimacy build along with every other moment between them that simmer with tension always on the verge of something.

Stiles sits on the bathroom counter, gingerly clutching his left side; there’s a rivulet of blood running down his face from a gash on his forehead, which is coated in dirt and sweat like the rest of him.

Derek is dirty too, but uninjured, mostly due to Stiles throwing himself between him and the chupacabra in another act of disregard for his fragile human body that has Derek equal parts furious and terrified.  

He decides that the cut above his eye doesn’t need stitches, and In his frustration, he’s not particularly gentle when he presses an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze to it.

“Ow!” Stiles yells, hissing at the sting. “This is how you thank me for saving your ass?” He glares at him. “By torturing me with this pitiful excuse for first aid?”

“You wouldn’t need first aid at all if you hadn’t been an idiot, again. I would be healed already if you had just let me take the attack.”

“Yeah, or you would be dead, because chupacabra venom is toxic to werewolves, remember?”

“That’s a myth, Stiles!”

“And so were chupacabras until a couple hours ago, Derek!”

They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, silently agreeing on a tentative truce.

He lifts Stiles’ arm and places his hand on the gauze to replace his own to keep it in place. Stiles’ t-shirt is hanging in shreds, and it doesn’t take much for Derek to pull it off him so he can examine his side, which is already blooming with a large bruise, but miraculously, is wound-free. Derek prods his ribs gingerly, concern creasing his brow, and Stiles winces.

“I think you might have a fractured rib or two,” Derek says, trying not to stare at the mole-speckled, expanse of delectable skin on display. “I should take you to the hospital.”

“No way,” Stiles objects, reaching for his side and grimacing at the pain the sudden intake of breath clearly causes him. “No hospital.”

“Stiles – “

“Derek, no. The hospital means my dad worrying, and paperwork, and Melissa, and I just do not want to deal with all of that. I just need to sleep it off. Besides, your wolfy pain-drain is better than painkillers any day.” He adjusts to get more comfortable on the counter, leaning his head back against the mirror. “So come on. You know the drill. I get hurt saving your ass, you suck away the pain. Get suckin’, big guy.”

Shaking his head and biting back a smile, Derek steps forward and gently places his palm against the center of the purpling bruise, his fingers spanning across the width of his ribs. “I should have let the mythical monster kill you.”

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