Hey đ Good gravy! It has been a weekend full of essays. Is it holiday break yet?! Anyways, pack mom stiles is the best!Â
Ok, I had 2 asks for pack mom Stiles and Iâm not sure I got either one right. I tried you guys!!! Seriously though, these fics are awesome even if they arenât exactly what you were looking for.Â
here is the deepest secret nobody knows by  owlpostagain | 22.3K
âDerek,â Stiles groans. âYou have me. Youâve always had me, you absolute moron, how many physically impossible feats of life-saving heroics do I have to perform before you get it?â
On Building an IKEA Den for an Alpha Werewolf | 13.8K
Senior Prom is coming up, and Stiles doesnât 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 âopen-door policyâ 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.
Stilinskiâs 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
ââItâs just a sandwich,â Isaac mumbled around the food in his mouth, crunching a little between words. Derek firmly believed there was no such thing as âjustâ anything where Stiles was concerned.â
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 isnât 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⊠isnât exactly what he had in mind.
build a rocket, boys! by  hito | 2.5K
Stiles has kind of become the den mother. Itâs not like he planned it!
Pack Dynamics For Dummies by  SpiritsFlame | 36.6K
Stiles isnât sure how a Pack is supposed to work, but heâs pretty sure that this this disorganized jumble of people and events doesnât 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.
Heâs 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.
Tag: fic rec
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.
I have been saving this, just looking at it every other hour, because itâs 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. Heâs maybe had one or two alright experiences. Maybe heâs had one or two good experiences, but heâs never made love, okay? Heâs never felt like he could be himself, always having to hold back, always being afraid heâs not good enough for whoever heâs with. Always giving, never receiving.Â
And, of course, heâs 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. Kateâs 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.Â
And so, of course, by the time he gets with Stiles he doesnât even think about it. Itâs just something is associates with death and shame and Stiles makes him feel neither of those things.Â
The thing is, imagine Derekâs first time bottoming with Stiles. Itâs the first time ever and it feels so strange but so good and he is pretty sure he could cry with how amazing Stilesâ hands feel on him, encouraging him gently, rubbing up and down his sides and whispering how well heâs 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 canât help things like that around Stiles. Praise. Romance. He feels sixteen again. Feels right.Â
And Derekâs 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 isnât fully inside him but loving the feeling of sinking down like nothing else, like Stiles is just everything good and safe and heâs somehow being set alight with it.Â
Itâs overwhelming.
Itâs different.
Itâs familiar.Â
Itâs Stiles.Â
And Derek canât help but lose himself completely, trusting Stiles will be there when itâs over, trusting heâll be there forever, even though he stopped believing in forever a long time ago.Â
He doesnât even realise heâs knotting until he is because he already feels so good, so damn damn good, so he doesnât 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, youâre a monster. He wonât stay. But Stiles isnât freaking out, Stiles isnât laughing, he just laces his fingers through Derekâs 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. Â Â
And itâs 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 âimpressiveâ, 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.Â
Looking down, he never remembers his knot being this big, never remembers it being this sensitive, Stilesâ breath ghosting over it, encasing it in a hot, teasing, tight way that pretty much defies all physical laws because itâs only breath, but itâs Stiles. Stiles, panting Derekâs name, a broken, awed sound on his lips.
Derekâs 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 doesnât know if itâs closer to a howl or a cry, but he doesnât care, doesnât care how loud, how wanton or shameless or a multitude of other things he knows heâll 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.Â
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 Derekâs come into his chest and pulling him down until he can kiss him, hold him. Says, âI know, Iâve got you, okay? Just like youâve got me, right?âÂ
And Derek nods, because thatâs true. Thatâs what he always tells Stiles, in the dark, when heâs 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.Â
#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 #LADYDRACEÂ @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 Derekâs early sex life. -sobs forever-
Bless you, friend. Bless you and your knotting feels. â€
ride or die (like the bonnie to your clyde)
Inspired by this post by @superwolflin:Â
âWe better get stiles going back to his apartment after the FBI class, opening the door and shouting for fucks sake Derek Iâm not harbouring your fugitive ass again as Derek walks around the corner eating a bowl of cereal like what?â
âI can explain!â
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.
âStilesââ Derek tried again, attempting to catch hold of Stilesâ forearm as he stormed past him with a determined expression on his face.
All of the windows in Stilesâ 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 couldnât 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 wasnât so furious, Stiles mightâve stopped to appreciate Derekâs shirtless-ness and how adorable he looked standing in his pajama bottoms, sleep-rumpled and bleary, eating a bowl of cereal. But heâd already seen enough shirtless Derek for one day from that video the FBI had caught of him running in the woods.
âWhat the fuck, dude!â Stiles hissed, trying to keep his voice low. âWhen you showed up here last night, you couldnât 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!â
Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes. âNone of this makes sense to me either, Stiles. I know I shouldâve told you, but I donât even know what to say or where to begin. What was I gonna do? Knock on your door and say, âLong time no see. Iâm wanted for mass murderâ?â
It was pissing Stiles off just how nonchalant Derek was being about this. Last night, heâd been so excited to have Derek Hale walk back into his life. Now, he was embittered for having been misled. Especially after theyâd 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.
âHey! I was eating that!â
âFugitives on the run donât get to eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch!â
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!
âIâm sorry, Stiles,â Derek huffed and held his arms up in surrender. âReally, I am. Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was get you involved. I know youâre putting your ass on the line for me, especially with your current career choice as a FED.â
Stiles didnât miss the way Derekâs nose wrinkled at the word FED, and he lifted an eyebrow in  question.
âWhat?â Derek shrugged. âIâve had a bad relationship with the police for most of my life! Of course, Iâm not going to like cops of any kind!â
It was a good reason. Stiles wasnât about to argue with that. Not after heâd gotten Derek arrested and accused him of killing his own sister. Â
âPlease donât be mad, Stiles,â Derek pleaded with puppy-dog eyes. âIf youâd just give me a chance to explain the situation as best as I can, I will. This all started when Iââ
âDonât!â Stiles exclaimed and rushed to cover Derekâs mouth with his hands. Â He couldnât help but blush at the feeling of Derekâs soft lips under his palm and the burn of his scratchy, course stubble. He whispered, âItâs better for you if you donât tell me anything right now. I donât want to hear anything I canât unhear, okay?â
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 didnât expect what Derek said next.
âYou donât believe me.â
âWhat?!â Stilesâ eyes widened, not understanding how Derek was making these connections. Â
âYou donât believe me! You really think I couldâŠthat I wouldâŠâ 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. âI really thought you of all people wouldâŠNever mind. This was a bad idea. I shouldnât have come here.â
âWait! Wait a second!â 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. âI know you, Derek. Of course, I think youâre innocent.â
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.
âIâm not mad at youâ Stiles reiterated. âIâm mad for you!â
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 couldnât think about any of that now. Not when they had this looming over them.
âIâm mad that this is happening to you again. Iâm mad because you donât deserve this. Iâm so tired of this sick joke the universe keeps playing on you where youâre not allowed to be happy!â
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.
âYou leaving was supposed to be the end of this for you! You were supposed to be happy! Thatâs the whole reason I never called you when you were gone even though I missed you so muchâ like way more than I thought wouldâve. I didnât want to see you dragged into this bullshit again. I wanted better for you!â
Stiles was heaving after his rant. He was mortified. Absolutely mortified. He knew heâd said too much and could barely lift his eyes from the ground, not able to withstand seeing any hints of rejection from Derekâs expression. Anyone could see that Stilesâ 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. Â
âBesides, I wouldnât be standing here if you were actually a mass murderer,â Stiles joked, swallowing as much of his humiliation down as possible. âIf you did have a hit list, my name would probably be at the top.â
âWhy?â
Stiles looked up at Derek and smirked. âBecause I drive you crazy.â
âThat is very true,â Derek snorted then eyed Stiles with a look that was hard to decipher. âAlthough, there is another thing keeping you safe.â
âWhat?â
âThe fact that Iâm in love with you.â
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, thereâd been nothing but pain and suffering, that for Stiles, this didnât feel any different. It was violent; the onslaught of emotion he held for Derek. Very reminiscent of all theyâd been through together. And Stiles had no doubt that what Derek was telling him now was the truth.
âCan I eat my fucking breakfast now?â Derek returned to the kitchen cupboards and got out the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. âI was really enjoying that cereal before you barged in here and confiscated it,â he muttered under his breath, âTypical FED.â
Thankfully, Derek stopped talking shit once Stilesâ arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him from behind. Stiles wasnât quite sure how theyâd work out with Derek hating his job so much. He thunked his head against Derekâs shoulder playfully then rested it there, releasing a weighed down sigh. Â
âI love you too,â he sighed again, âAnd I promise you, Iâll do everything in my power to clear your name.â
âI know,â Derek chuckled, lifting a hand to ruffle Stilesâ hair. âThatâs exactly the reason I came.â
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
also on ao3
He hadnât 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 couldnât 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 didnât 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 Derekâs 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 Derekâs cheek. Derek was sporting a fresh cut on the bridge of his nose and on his forehead. He ran his fingers across Derekâs face, tenderly brushing over his lips and down to his chin, and then towards his jaw, engraving it to memory.
He felt Derekâs 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.
Derekâs eyebrow furrowed and that caught Stilesâ eye. He traced those brows with the gentlest touch, moving to the forehead to smooth out the creases.
âWhat are you doing?â 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 oneâthough it was probably more like a grimaceâclearly not succeeding when he heard Derekâs whimper. âMemorizing you.â
âWhy?â Derekâs voice broke. And in turn, it broke Stilesâ heart.
âBecause,â he took one last good look at Derek, his voice trailing off, âI want to remember you forever.â
Derekâs 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.
Favorite fanfics: 1/100
By Any Other Name by entanglednow
âMy name is Stiles Stilinski?â he says incredulously. âWhat were my parents drunk or something? Donât they know that alliteration is the easiest route to terrible punishment and eternal mockery.â Stiles? Stiles Stilinski? It doesnât so much roll off the tongue as clatter out in pieces. But he supposes itâll do. Itâs the only name he has right now. And itâs definitely better than no name at all. âOk, Stiles Stilinski it is then. Your turn, because I canât keep calling you âWerewolf Dude,â in my head. Since that is your one defining characteristic. That and the stubble.â
The guy frowns and fishes in his pocket, tosses car keys and cards aside, before flipping one around and squinting at it.
âDerek Hale,â he says, brow furrowing as if he doesnât like the sound of it.
âDerek?â Stiles laughs, he canât help it. Because that is just ridiculous. âYour name is Derek? Dude, thatâs got to be a fake name.â
Derekâs forehead creases further, eyebrows almost meeting. He really doesnât look like a Derek. He looks like maybe he could have eaten a Derek at some point.
âWhoever made your fake ID clearly hates you,â Stiles decides.
Happy Birthday @artemis69 â„
Just a little something for you @artemis69 â„ itâs not much but i tried to combine two things you like (even if i donât 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 youâll like it! Poutouxxx coupine tou roxx moult et je te sushi â„â„â„
(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 wouldnât want to meet in your worst nightmares and still shit yourself when faced with random things from ordinary life.
So Derek doesnât know whose idea it was but heâs now sitting on a horse and currently praying for his life.
Heâs not scared -despite what some unnamed people might say-. Heâs not! Itâs just that he doesnât know what to do, doesnât know how the horse is going to react to him and his wolf and heâs 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 whoâve got only five seconds left to deactivate bombs in movies.Â
Next time the pack wants to go on a family outing Derekâs 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 Derekâs not asking for much but he kinda appreciates life these days and heâd 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 Derekâs 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.
Heâs distracted by the freight train who runs at the end of the paddock at high speed, a mad laugh following it in the air.
Itâs not that Derek thought Stiles wouldnât be good with horses, itâs 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.Â
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 nobodyâs business and made instant friends with it. And for the last fifteen minutes theyâve just been running around like two gangly puppies under the part incredulous part exasperated looks from the pack.
âHow can you stay on this living nightmare is beyond meâ, Derek tells him laterÂ
when Stiles and his new bff have finally slowed down a bit and theyâre 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.
âIâm just used to grumpy creatures with big ass teeth trying to rip my head off buddy. Also donât go around insulting my Zomb girl here, sheâs the nicest of the lot, she just doesnât like jerks!âÂ
Derek rolls his eyes.Â
âSee what i have to deal with?â he tells Shroom, and gently pats her neck.
~
(âNice facial you got here Jackass!!â 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 â€
Teen Wolf AU – Sterek AU
assistant producer!Stiles and weatherman!Derek inspired by  #hot weatherman derek hale   and all the other comments under my TH gifset and this I saw two fics link/ written under the gifset (here and here)
Birds Make the Best Wingmen
When Stiles invites Derek over for dinner on their second date, it seems that Stilesâ pet parrot is determined to ruin his life. Then again, maybe birds actually make the best wingmenâŠÂ
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!âDude,â Scott sighs. âIf it makes you this nervous, just donât
do it.ââExcuse you?â Stiles scoffs. âDonât go on my date with Derek? Is that what you just said? Youâre
not going to make me give you the speech on his eyes again, are you? Because I
have it memorized, man, and-ââNo, no, no!â Scott says, waving his PS4 controller wildly.
When his Titan gets shot, he mutters, âWorth it. I just meant that if you donât
want to have him over here, then donât. Go out somewhere instead.ââI canât,â Stiles groans. âYou know I canât. He cooked me
dinner for our first date, so I have to cook him dinner for our second.âItâs only fair, really. The only problem is his and Scottâs
apartment is a mess, his cooking skills are mostly limited to super healthy and not-date-worthy stuff for his dad, andâthough Stiles doesnât view
it as much of a problem, considering the number of nights Allison has spent
hereâScottâs being sexiled for the night. Technically Stiles told him he could stay in his room, if he wanted, considering the worst thing theyâll 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.ÂâLook, itâs pretty clean in here for two college guys,â Scott
reasons, for the tenth time today. Stiles is pretty sure itâs just because he
doesnât want to stop playing Destiny in favor of vacuuming. âI seriously doubt heâll
care if you order takeout, anyway. You just gotta chill. Right, Iago?ââRight, Scott!â Iago squawks. âRight, Scott! Right, Scott!â
Scott had taught Stilesâ parrot to respond âright, Scottâ
anytime he hears âright, Iago?â 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.âScottâs an overly-optimistic knucklehead who doesnât understand the woes of us normal people who arenât dating our first love five years later, right,
Iago?â Stiles asks.âRight, Scott!â
Close enough.
âNice place,â Derek says, hanging his jacket on one
of the hooks by the door. âAnd dinner smells great.ââAh, itâs nothing,â Stiles says, despite having slaved over
the stove for three hours. âLasagna. Here, câmon, letâs sit down.âDerek follows him to the living room, but when he sits down
on the couch, Derek doesnât join him. Instead, he walks over to Iagoâs cage,
peering in.âYou have a parrot?â
âOh, yeah,â Stiles says, adjusting himself so heâs facing them.
âHis nameâs Iago.ââDoes he talk?â
âYeah, actually. Itâs kinda awesome. He only understands
about as much as a dog, probably, but if you say something enough times heâll start to repeat it, and he understands a few basic things. Like, um- Iago, hello!ââHello!â Iago squawks.
Derek smilesâthe amazing, warm one that makes his eyes
crinkleâand Stiles never wants it to go away. And if that means playing with
his bird instead of making small talk? Well, heâs not going to complain.âIago, this is Derek,â Stiles says, even though he wonât really
get that one.Unfortunately, he does seem to remember the word âDerekâ.
âDerek is the best!â Â
Stilesâ eyes practically bug out of his head, because thatâs
actually something he says all the time, and the last thing he needs is for
Iago to start parroting everything heâs ever heard about Derek, becauseâŠÂ no.Derek glances over at Stiles, eyebrow raised.
âJust a trick we taught him,â Stiles explains, with a nervous
laugh. Â âIf you say âthis is someoneâ, heâll say theyâre the best.âHe stands and rushes over, grabbing the towel they use to
cover Iagoâs cage before Derek can get a chance to test that lie.âSay bye, Iago,â Stiles says, draping the cloth over his
cage.âBye! Bye!â
Crisis averted.
Phew.
âHeâs cute,â Derek says, as Stiles ushers him over to the
couch. âHeâs named after the bird in Aladdin, right?ââYeah, heâs great,â Stiles agrees. âAnd yep. Howâd you know?â
Derekâs awesome, but something about his leather jacket and
black Camaro doesnât give off much of an I-watch-Disney-movies-in-my-spare-time vibe.âIâve got a lot of nieces and nephews,â Derek says. He
smiles again at the thought, which is far too adorable. âIâve seen every kidsâ
movie more times than I can count. Or would even want to count.ââAw, thatâs cool. Iâm an only child, but I wouldnât be
surprised if Scott and his girlfriend start planning-âThe ding of the oven cuts him off.
âUm, gimme one sec,â he says, patting Derekâs kneeâdonât ask
why, dear God, he has no idea whyâand
getting up to check on dinner. âBe right back.âStiles takes the pan out of the oven, setting it down on the
countertop.âDerek?â he calls. Â
âItâs ready?â Derek calls back, at the same time Iago repeats,
âDerek!ââIago, stop it!â Stiles orders, poking his head into the
living room.âStop it!â he echoes. Itâs another of his favorite things to say, unfortunately. âDerek! Stop it!
Derek!ââSorry, Derek,â Stiles sighs. âHeâs a jerk sometimes.â
âItâs fine,â Derek says, standing from the couch. âNot a problem.â
Before he reaches the kitchen, though, Iago interrupts again.
âDerek! Derek! Derek is so hot!â
Derek freezes. Stiles freezes. Iago, unfortunately, does not
freeze.âDerek is so hot!â he repeats, from underneath his towel. âDerek is so hot! Derek is so hot!â
Stilesâ cheeks are probably as red
as Iagoâs feathers. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â ÂâThat another trick?â Derek asks,
raising an eyebrow as the bird continues his ode to Derekâs hotness in the
background.âI- uhâŠâ
âOr just one of the things he picked up
by repetition?ââUmmmâŠâ
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.âDerek is so hot!â Iago repeats
vehemently upon its removal. âDerek is the best! Derek is so hot!ââStiles is so hot,â Derek tells him
seriously.Stiles gapes at him, but Derek
doesnât even look over.âStiles is so hot,â he says again. âStiles.â
âStiles is so hot!â Iago agrees. âDerek
is so hot! Stiles is so hot!ââSmart bird,â Derek says, finally glancing over at Stiles.
Heâs 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 âDerek is so hot! Stiles is so hot!â, he flops down on the couch, muttering, âI take it back. I donât even want to guess what thatâs about.â
Derek Didn’t Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did
Also available on AO3.
Chapter 1/3
Derek didnât know what to do. Erica was hurt and bleeding and she wasnât healing. Why wasnât she healing? He couldnât breath, he was losing his pack again and he felt absolutely helpless. He didnât 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 didnât have time to think about at the moment.
âDer-ek,â Erica rasped out. There was blood coating her lips, tinging her teeth a greasy burgundy and Derek couldnât tell if it was coming from her nose or her mouth. âSt- stiââ
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 wasnât sure. But this wasnât 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 Stilesâ number.
âItâs Erica,â he said into the receiver when Stiles picked up. âWe need you here. Now.â
He expected Stiles to start bombarding him with questions but he surprised Derek when he responded with a simple, âOkay. Iâll be right there.â
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.
âIâm here! Iâm here!â 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.
âWhatâs in the bag?â Derek asked.
âPotions, herbs, salves, books.â At the look Derek gave him, he said, âWhat? Deatonâs been teaching me.â
As he talked, Stiles had planted himself next to Erica and started rummaging quickly through his duffel for something. âAha!â
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.
âItâs okay, Batman,â Erica whispered to him. Derek heard him swallow before Stiles slowly moved deeper into her space and took her hand within his own.
âIâve got you, Catwoman. Youâre okay,â said Stiles. âDerek I need you to put some of your power into the solution.â
âHow?â Derek was getting more and more tense by the second. Ericaâs heartbeat was getting weaker and Derek was worried that theyâve already run out of time.
âHold it in your hands and think about the power you have. Push that into it. Not all of it!â Stiles hurried to add. âJust think of Erica, youâll know how much she needs.â
Youâll 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 Derekâs body. The liquid in the vial didnât glow or give an obvious sign of success but Stiles still knew that whatever Derek had done, it had worked.
Erica gripped Stilesâ 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. âGive it â Â to me ââ she panted.
Derek gave Stiles the vial, as if him giving it to her would somehow cause more harm. Stiles stared into Derekâs scared eyes for a moment before swallowing audibly and taking a shaky breath.
âIâve got you, Erica. Iâve got you.â The words were whispered and rushed and Stiles closed his eyes before pouring the contents of the vial down Ericaâs throat, hoping against hope that it would work even though he knew it had to.
âKnew you would, Batman.â
In the silent moments that followed, Derek heard every ragged breath scrape out of Ericaâs throat. He clutched her ankle, needing to be nearer to her, and gripped Stilesâ 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 Stilesâ shoulder in unrestrained relief. He wasnât losing his pack. At least not tonight. Erica would be okay.
âThank you,â Derek exhaled into Stilesâ hoodie.
âAlways,â Stiles said.
Of Myths & Mates
Stiles and Derek have patched each other up after so many battles with supernatural big bads, itâs 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 theyâre yelling at each other, theyâre 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; thereâs 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. Â
He decides that the cut above his eye doesnât need stitches, and In his frustration, heâs not particularly gentle when he presses an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze to it.
âOw!â Stiles yells, hissing at the sting. âThis is how you thank me for saving your ass?â He glares at him. âBy torturing me with this pitiful excuse for first aid?â
âYou wouldnât need first aid at all if you hadnât been an idiot, again. I would be healed already if you had just let me take the attack.â
âYeah, or you would be dead, because chupacabra venom is toxic to werewolves, remember?â
âThatâs a myth, Stiles!â
âAnd so were chupacabras until a couple hours ago, Derek!â
They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, silently agreeing on a tentative truce.
He lifts Stilesâ arm and places his hand on the gauze to replace his own to keep it in place. Stilesâ t-shirt is hanging in shreds, and it doesnât 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.
âI think you might have a fractured rib or two,â Derek says, trying not to stare at the mole-speckled, expanse of delectable skin on display. âI should take you to the hospital.â
âNo way,â Stiles objects, reaching for his side and grimacing at the pain the sudden intake of breath clearly causes him. âNo hospital.â
âStiles – â
âDerek, 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.â He adjusts to get more comfortable on the counter, leaning his head back against the mirror. âSo come on. You know the drill. I get hurt saving your ass, you suck away the pain. Get suckinâ, big guy.â
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. âI should have let the mythical monster kill you.â