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“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."
Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.
"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."
"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."
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It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.
Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)
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Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—
“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”
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In which brainy freshman Stiles Stilinski wants star quarterback Derek Hale to join the math team, AKA math nerds in love.
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The first thing Stiles thinks when he opens the door is that it’s not his birthday, but someone has sent him some kind of cop stripper.
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There's a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn't really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude's got kids hanging all over him; one's on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There's a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he's got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles' mouth drops open.
"How many of those kids did you kidnap?" he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.
The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, "You think I'd subject myself to this on purpose?"
"Oooh," says one of the kids hanging off his arm. "I'm telling Mom."
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I'm Game (A Very Craigslist Thanksgiving) by dr_girlfriend for writerdragonfly
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
24 Nov 2014
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"If you’d like to have me as your strictly platonic date for Thanksgiving, but have me pretend to be in a very long or serious relationship with you, to torment your family, I’m game," the ad had said. "I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other guests while you act like you don't notice, start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion, propose to you in front of everyone, pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry, I don't drink, but I used to. a lot. too much in fact. I know the drill), start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. I require no pay but the free meal I will receive as a guest."
My first Teen Wolf fic, but I couldn't resist the prompt. Fluffy as hell. (Changed the rating to T for language)
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“So, you’re the host,” the kid says, glancing at Derek under long lashes. He angles his body closer, more than appropriate for casual conversation.
“I don’t remember inviting you,” Derek says, leaning in too, pretending it’s so he doesn’t have to shout to be heard over the pulsing beat of the music. “And I would remember.” Derek lets his fingers skim over the small of the other man’s back, just to see if he can.
“Oh, you need an invite to get into these shindigs?” Stiles asks with a teasing grin that seems to draw them into some kind of confidence. “I hear just about anything goes at Derek Hale’s parties.”
Derek curves his mouth into a flirtatious smile, because it's something a spoiled rich boy thinking with his dick would do. “True, but I do like to know who’s doing the ‘anything’.”
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Derek is Batman, Stiles is Cat...dude? Uh, he's the Cat Thief, let's go with that. They bone, okay? But first they angst about it.
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There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes.
A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable.
“Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.”
Or: A medieval AU that's a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.
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In which Stiles ships Derek/nice things almost as hard as I do
Or
Stiles definitely starts off thinking it’s fucking hilarious that Derek-sourwolf-Hale does crosswords and cares about scuffs on his furniture.
But at a certain point, and he can’t pinpoint exactly when, “fully functional adult couple” somehow becomes a massive fetish of his. Derek in sweats and bare feet, nudging his glasses up his nose while he does the Sunday crossword? Unff. Derek filling out forms to get some renovations on his property approved? Oh God, yes. Derek putting away groceries and bitching that the corner store was out of the right type of Greek yogurt? Take me now, Stiles thinks, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth.
This can’t be normal.
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Stiles is 26, single, and unencumbered with any responsibilities. Until his past starts catching up to him, anyways.
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Derek is standing at Jason’s reception desk, looking the same as he does in Stiles’ dreams except that he’s breathtakingly real, from the two-day stubble to the jewel-bright eyes to the little cow-licks in his hair he always tries to gel into submission. Stiles sees the exact moment he realizes that he can’t get a scent, because his eyebrows flick up in surprise and hurt. In the supernatural community, scent blocking is rude to the point of hostility. It means you’re hiding something.
Stiles has no idea what his own face is doing, but after the slip, Derek schools his into something so tightly composed it seems like an admission in itself. It hardly feels like years can have passed since they saw each other last, except that propped on Derek’s hip, chubby hand curled at her mouth...
Emily. She’s grown into that distinctive Hale coloring; pale skin and dark hair. She has Derek’s hazel green eyes, too. Two tidy pigtails curl above each of her ears, held with red bubble ties.
“Oh,” Stiles says faintly. He’d braced himself for Derek, but only him. “Her hair’s longer.”
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Excerpt:
Big, serious brown eyes were staring right into his from only a few inches away. The child had clambered half over the arm of Derek’s chair to study him at close range, her little rosebud mouth pursed in concentration.
“Uh.” Derek couldn’t look away as the girl reached out one pudgy hand and patted him gently on the cheek. Her scent was soft and sweet and somehow a bit familiar, just enough to keep Derek from shying away. Derek didn’t know too much about kids but he guessed this one was probably three years old or so, head still oversized in proportion to the short limbs and round little belly.
She seemed fascinated with Derek’s beard, eyes widening further under incredibly thick lashes as she petted Derek’s cheek some more, smoothing down the short stubble. Finally she grinned widely. “Good wuff.”
Derek jerked upright, hands clenching on the edge of his seat. Did she just say?...
“CJ!” The child was suddenly gone, lifted up by a strong, tattooed forearm around her little potbelly. “You scared the he— heck out of me! What have I told you about wandering — Derek?”
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Northern Blues by kaistrex (weishen) for Michicant123, Yukaigeshot
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
31 Jul 2022
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When Stiles steps into the room that the Hale house has conjured for him to stay in, the first thing he sees is a window already open, letting in a pleasant breeze. The second is a door in the right-hand wall.
Laura clears her throat, scratching at her nose. “That leads to Derek’s room.”
Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up and a laugh bursts out before he can stop it. Now he understands how the pack knew this room probably wouldn’t belong to his dad (which, gross).
He looks over his shoulder at Derek who’s glaring pointedly at everything except for Stiles with pink-tipped ears.
“Presumptuous. I like it,” he says to the house, patting one of the walls and throwing a wink at Derek hovering in the doorway.
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When the Hale pack transitions to a new Alpha, Stiles is thrilled to be assigned to Beacon Hills to try out as their new Emissary. He and his dad are immediately enamoured with the idyllic little town, fitting right in with the rest of the Hales – except for Derek. The new Alpha shows no signs of welcome, but it will be hard for him to stay stubborn in the face of his family’s encouragement and a sentient house that has plans for the two of them whether Derek likes it or not.
Series
- Part 6 of Sterek Writing Events
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Snippets of the lives of four-year-old Derek and baby Stiles as they grow up together.
Standalone chapters. Forever ongoing.
Series
- Part 7 of Prompts
- Part 5 of Sterek Week 2017
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"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma."
(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the
rightwrong idea.) -
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Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.
"Isaac," Derek says.
Isaac snaps awake immediately.
"You're-"
"Where's Stiles?"
"Stiles?" Isaac asks.
Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.
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In a world where werewolves die if they’re unable to Claim their mate and to refuse them is classed as murder, Alpha Derek Hale makes his very public Claim for Crown Prince Stiles of Beacon. The Royal Family are left with no choice but to accept, no matter the Prince’s imminent marriage to Princess Lydia of Kanima, to whom he’s been betrothed since birth. After having already faced the future of one loveless marriage, Prince Stiles is determined to make things with Derek work.
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Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?
Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?
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Everyone knows being single on New Year’s Eve is the worst.
The worst.
So why is he going out to a party when all he wants to do is stay home?
Oh, right. Because he’s a good friend, that’s why.
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here in the heart (of my sanctuary) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
17 Dec 2018
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Talia accelerates through the tunnel, and Derek looks up, watches the light that makes it through the bramble dance and shift over the hood of the car as they drive, fingers gripping the sides of the tank. It’s beautiful, like a gateway to another world. He’s lived in the preserve his whole life, and he didn’t know this was here.
She eyes him. “You should know this man is very important to me. I take the responsibility of his care and counsel very seriously. Handing him over to you…it’s not a small thing. Please keep that in mind.”
No pressure, then.