so like stiles figured it out himself

A very long time ago @jennthereaper and @simplyn2deep both sent me this prompt, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long, but the other day I was finally inspired to take a stab at it. I hope you enjoy!

From The Way You Said “I Love You” 

#26 Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

Please, Derek, please, I–“ Stiles chokes back the beginnings of tears and clutches harder at the sleeve of Derek’s jacket. He’s on his knees, having tripped in his scramble to get to Derek from the other side of the loft. “I love you, okay? And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’ve been a coward about this whole thing, but I love you. And I know you love me too. I know you do, and I need you not to leave like this, fuck, Derek, please don’t do this.”

Derek stares down at him for a long time, heart clenched in his throat.

And then he looks up at where the other Stiles is pursing his lips in a hard frown as he watches the scene.

“It isn’t real?” Derek asks for the hundredth time since the other Stiles, the real Stiles, showed up in this apparent dreamscape.

Stiles shakes his head stiffly.

The Stiles on the floor is still pleading with him around tears, but the noises of his despair are starting to fade, as if Derek were now hearing him from a distance. Even his heartbeat, a sound that Derek has been clinging to as an anchor for what feels like forever, begins to disappear.

Derek swallows and steels himself against feeling anything more than determination to get through this newest mess.

“What now?” he asks, tone clinical and firm.

Stiles answers him in a similar tone, his expression betraying nothing about what’s going on in his own head. A far cry from the Stiles that Derek first met a couple years ago, terrified and mouthy and young. “Now you wake up.”

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And suddenly there were 400

Seriously though, it was like three days ago tops when I announced 300. I swear you’re just trying to squeeze celebratory fics out of me … 


“You’re so fucking stubborn!” Stiles shouts in exasperation, running his hands through already messy hair. They had been at it for at least twenty minutes now, arguing because Derek didn’t want to go to Lydia’s engagement party. He didn’t want to, knowing Lydia would be inviting everyone and their mother who had anything to do with her and Parrish. It would be too many people, too much noise and he simply didn’t want to if she was going to hold a pack-only version the week after. Stiles said he should go out of duty as her Alpha. 

“No, you just won’t let it go,” Derek growls, fists clenched in his lap so his claws don’t rip up the couch again. Although, last time, it was under much more fun circumstances.

It wasn’t uncommon for them to argue. It ranged from small skirmishes that end in mumbled apologies to bigger blow outs that ended in mutually satisfying hate sex that Stiles seemed to enjoy enough to start shit for (and Derek plays along because he loves his boyfriend and absolutely not because he likes it, too). The fights could rarely be called fights because it just was never really that heated.

Derek’s nose wanted to shrivel up and die with the anger Stiles’ scent was boiling in and his wolf howled with such an unhappy mate. Even as his human mind wanted to throw something at a wall with how angry he was, his wolf prowled in distress and he wasn’t sure if that was annoying or reassuring.

“News flash, buddy, you can’t be a hermit,” Stiles spits and Derek growl increases in volume in response. He may grumble about ‘big guy’ and snap his teeth as Stiles giggles about ‘sourwolf’, but he absolutely despised ‘buddy’. It only ever came out when Stiles was pissed and his sarcasm grew teeth that he intended to shred whoever his opponent was.

“I’m not a hermit, I go out. We go out,” Derek snaps back, eyes tracking as Stiles paces in front of where he sits on the couch. The line of his shoulders is stiff and the soft skin of his cheeks is blotched red.

“Yes, thank you, you’re dating me, but that doesn’t count as social interaction.”

“Why not?”

“Because! You need more people in your life besides me and the pack! You can’t have just me forever!” Stiles shouts, throwing his arms up obviously trying to dispel the anger that seems to build in his joints when he gets worked up. Derek just scoffs as he gets up and retreats to their kitchen.

He stops right there, even as Stiles continues his angry rant in the other room behind him. He pauses in the middle of their kitchen with the backsplash Stiles chose after weeks of debating it over and the cabinets Derek bled over while he installed them (staple guns were dangerous, damnit). Down the hall was a movie room that Stiles insisted on because pack movie nights were always going to be a thing. Upstairs and to the left was the master bedroom where their scents were so soaked into the very frame work, there was no way to tear apart Derek’s from Stiles’. This was their home, their pack, their life.

Derek turned around, eyes wide but unflinching as he walked back to where Stiles was still ranting and pacing. He’s still seething, and Derek can relate. He still wants to throw Stiles onto the couch and pin him there in full shift for a week until Lydia’s party has past. Instead he stops a few feet away and opens his mouth.

“Marry me.” Stiles stumbles where he’s wearing a divot into the carpet, dropping off mid-sentence to turn his head and stare open mouthed.

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Possibili(tea)

Summary: Stiles might have a crush on his co-worker, who always brews him amazing tea.

Notes: Short and sweet! Inspired by this post. (On AO3)


Stiles puts all the little sample boxes into a paper bag, then staples on the string with a tag at the end. It holds the business information, and it makes the package look like a giant tea bag. Sort of. If you squint.

The girl smiles and pays him, then waves as she walks away.

“Tea you later!” Stiles calls cheerfully. Then he says, “Oof!” when Derek smacks him in the side.

“You deserved that,” Derek says mildly. “Didn’t we already have a discussion about using the word tea inappropriately?”

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4

“But I didn’t,” he shrugs, reaching the bottom of the stairs and continues to slowly cross the floor to where Stiles is pacing. “Besides, it’s not the first time.”

Stiles scoffs. “And it won’t be the last, right?”

Derek frowns, steps slowing down as he approaches. Stiles steps backwards in sync, maintaining a certain distance between them. Derek stops, confused, watching Stiles move around the loft with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. First then does Derek catch the stench of distress and anger filling the air.

“What—” He begins, but is cut off.

"You're unbelievable, you know that? Do you possess some level of self-worth at all?” Stiles stares at him from across the room, chest heaving, eyes glazed with emotion but his voice spits venom. “How many times will you run head first into danger, like you’re the pack’s human shield or some shit?”

“Not human,” is Derek’s automatic reply, which apparently is the wrong thing to say because the next second Stiles is stalking towards him with fire in his eyes.

“I’m sick of your furry excuses!” He exclaims. “I’m sick of hearing you and Scott talk as if you got every reason to sacrifice yourselves because of your damn healing.” Derek doesn’t realizes he’s taken a step back until his back hits the pillar behind him. Stiles walks right up to his face, close enough to feel the heat of his breath as he keeps yelling. “Like it’s a reason for you to take bullets that were meant for me.”

His breath is ragged once he stops, his chest heaving. Derek’s gaze darts between Stiles’ eyes, wide and so close. Stiles ducks his head down, swallowing as if he’s trying to calm himself. Derek doesn’t move, too overwhelmed by Stiles’ outburst. Because it means something; it means so much, and his chest tightens when trying to figure out what.

When Stiles lifts his head back up, the anger has been replaced by pure concern, and it hits all of Derek’s senses so hard his breath hitches, nostrils flaring.

“You’re not monsters,” Stiles says lowly. “You’re people. The claws don’t change that.”

Stiles had had enough!

Seriously, he was done with selfish werewolves who didn’t care about fragile human hearts and liked to play games like who can scare the human the most. It was was unnecessary and just plain rude! He’d told them all time and time again to quit it and they refused, so now he was going to plan B.

Deaton was surprisingly helpful for once, smiling his enigmatic smile–or was that a touch of mischievousness he saw?–and handing over a book of spells, pointing out a few that were used to hiding one’s scent or heartbeat. It was brilliant, foolproof. Stiles couldn’t wait.

Erica, Isaac, and Boyd were his first victims. The puppies were especially vocal on their enjoyment of teasing the pack human and scaring him was a fan favorite. So he grinned to himself, sneaking closer while wearing the charm around his neck that he’d fashioned to hide any sounds he made and his scent.

“Hey, guys!” He greeted once he was close enough, causing them all to jerk away from each other. Erica was on the offense, claws popped and eyes flashing, Boyd was on defense, bowed up like an angry cat prepared to strike, and Isaac had actually stumbled and fell in surprise. Stiles grinned unrepentantly. Excellent.

It was never-ending now. No one ever did figure out how he was doing it, but now he was serving a nice helping of karma to the wolves who’d terrorized him for months. To be honest, he did feel a little bad after startling Derek so bad that he dropped his plate of food and went full wolf (it had taken him over an hour to convince the wolf to climb out from under the table and shift back; he was still getting the angry brows for that one), so he’d laid off the Alpha after then, but the puppies were fair game. He’d asked them for months to stop scaring him and they’d actively tried to catch him doing something that he’d mess up after being scared, so he had no mercy.

Frustratingly though, the only one who he hasn’t manage to scare yet was Peter.

He crept closer to where Peter was reclining on the couch on the loft, reading a paperback.

“Stiles.”

“Dammit!”

Stiles stomped over to the man, huffing angrily. “How are you doing that?” He demanded.

Peter smirked up at him, eyes alight with humor, as he closed the book and stood. “A master never reveals his secrets,” he teased.

“It’s magician, you simpleton.”

Peter laughed. “You tell me what spell you’re using to hide from everyone and I’ll tell you how I know when you’re creeping.”

Stiles scowled. “One day,” he threatened menacingly before leaving the loft.

Stiles tried again on training day when they’d all been in the woods, doubling back after telling everyone goodbye and creeping around after donning his necklace charm. Peter was still practicing with Boyd. Perfect. He crept closer, trying to keep from snickering.

“Stiles.”

Stiles yelped, tripping over a tree root and stumbling into the clearing. Boyd blinked, surprised, but not the scare factor he was looking for.

“Fuck you,” Stiles grumbled, sitting up and brushing the leaves and dirt off of him.

Peter grinned victoriously. Stiles glared. Boyd looked like he’d finally figured something out and seconds away from laughing.

Stiles’ next attempt was on pack night. Peter was talking with Scott about something and he just knew this time was going to work. He snuck closer, oh so slowly.

“Stiles,” Peter stated.

“God-fucking-dammit! How are you doing that?!” Stiles demanded, coming into the kitchen.

Scott snorted, trying to hide his laughter, and Stiles whirled onto him. “Why are you laughing?”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Scott muffled out, looking over at Peter. “You are truly dedicated to being evil.”

“What? What did he do? Do you know how he does it? Tell me!” Stiles yelled.

“Dude, Peter just says your name randomly when you’re not here. You always react if you’re around so you reveal yourself.”

Peter pouted. “I thought the agreement was no one would tell him that.”

Scott shrugged. “Pinky promise in second grade says I can’t hide things from him.”

Peter rolled his eyes while Stiles stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious? You’ve never known I was there? You just sit around and say my name randomly to see if I pop up?”

“You’re kind of like Beetlejuice or Bloody Mary. I never have to say it more than three times,” Peter added.

Stiles laughed delightedly. “Oh my god, you dork. You absolute goofball. Everyone must think you’re crazy.”

“Derek had already explained his craziness,” Scott said, shrugging. “Not that we didn’t already know he was crazy.”

“Excuse you, I’m still present,” Peter drawled.

“Drama King,” Stiles teased. “Man, this is great. You’re so extra, dude. You just can’t accept that someone might’ve got the jump on you.”

“I think that’s enough sharing for now.” Peter turned to leave the room.

“No! Wait! I’m not done making fun of you yet!” Stiles hurried after him.

“Goodbye, Stiles,” Peter waved him off.

“No way, dramawolf! This is gold!”

“Not listening!”

“Oh my god, are you five? Come back here! I’m not done mocking you yet! Peter!” 

these violent delights

i didn’t always hate isaac. i think i might’ve loved him once. (angst/smut)


The sex got better after we broke up.

I don’t know what kicked Isaac into gear, but for me, it was the anger. There’s just something about anger that makes you wanna dig your nails into a boy’s shoulders while he grips your thighs and slams into you, rough and unforgiving. We didn’t have any of that when we were dating, just timid touches and occasional, barely there orgasms. Maybe there’s something about hating a person that makes you crave their submission, that makes you demand your own release, over and over until you collapse because your body never learned how to handle all of it.

I didn’t always hate Isaac. I think I might’ve loved him once. We were friends before we became something more. But four months into dating, I turned the hallway at school one day to see him kissing another girl. The worst part wasn’t even that he had cheated; I almost expected that. Our relationship was hitting a plateau and things were becoming very vanilla, to put it concisely. The sparks from the initial flirting, the will-they-won’t-they stage, had fizzled out, and something had to give. I just didn’t expect Isaac to give it to another girl, shove his tongue down her throat, at school, where he knew others could see him, where he knew I could see them.

Looking back, I think he was trying to get caught. By that point, people already knew we were together, and what stung the most was the embarrassment. He hurt me so publicly. I don’t think I would’ve gotten that mad if Isaac had cheated on me privately, then dumped me. I probably would have forgiven him if he had confessed, direct and forthright, that he’d been with someone else. Honesty takes courage, but he’d taken the easy way out.

I told him we were done over a text, the one I sent him before I blocked his number. I could be cold too.

The pack figured out what he had done. Stiles was more vicious towards Isaac than usual. Even Scott, who usually defended Isaac, had distanced himself. Everyone huddled around me, and Lydia wouldn’t let me out of her sight in fear that being alone would make me depressed. They all tried to comfort me, even Derek, who usually liked to stay out of our, as he so lovingly put it, “teen soap opera.” I pushed them all away and at night, I cried quietly into my pillow. The last thing I needed was pity.

The first pack meeting after the fallout was uncomfortable, to say the least. It was a week after the fact. Seven days later, I finally saw Isaac, walking in with his head down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. An unnerving tension had settled over the group. He sat on the opposite side of the room from me. I excused myself to leave early, and I promised myself that was the last time I’d ever let him make me feel small.

What I didn’t expect was that two weeks later, he’d slip noiselessly through my bedroom window and demand that I drop what I was doing so we could “talk things out.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” I said with measured restraint. I draped my hair over my face so he couldn’t see me clenching my jaw, gripping my pencil so tight the wood creaked.

“I know when you’re lying to me.”

“Congrats. Do you know when you’ve crossed a boundary? Because that’s what you’re doing right now. You can’t just sneak into my room and expect me to drop the world for you. We’re not…” Together anymore, I wanted to say, but I choked on the words. “Just, get out.”

“No. I can’t do this anymore, it’s driving me insane. You can’t keep ignoring my texts and calls. We can’t keep avoiding each other at school, pretending we don’t know each other. We can’t keep making our friends choose sides between us. We used to be able to talk–”

“But that was before, wasn’t it?” I interrupted bitingly. I turned around to face him, and it became obvious why he’d gone to such drastic measures to get through to me. He was a mess. His typical combed down curly hair was in disarray. Instead of his usual expensive sweater, cardigan, scarf, and pressed pants combo, he was wearing a faded old red Coca Cola t-shirt and ripped jeans. His eyes looked sunken and for the first time, his face was unshaven. His beard wasn’t combed and neat like Derek’s. It was patchy and the hair stuck out in all different directions. I knew I should’ve felt bad for him, but honestly, I was just glad he was suffering too. I inhaled. “Fine. You want to talk, then talk.”

Isaac sighed a deep tired sigh, and my leg twitched automatically. There was a time I would have leapt across the room and thrown my arms around his drooped shoulders at the first sign that he was distressed, but things were different now. I stayed put.

He sat down at the edge of my bed and tiredly rubbed his eye. “I just… I miss you.”

I blinked. “Fuck you.”

Isaac’s head whipped up. “What?”

I stood up and walked towards him slowly. “I said, fuck you. Fuck you for everything.” Isaac was on his feet, towering over me with his height. “Fuck you for everything you did, for cheating on me, kissing another girl in front of everyone, for embarrassing me,” I sneered. I was closing in on him now, and I had no idea what I was going to say or do next, but Isaac had triggered weeks of repressed anger and pain and I wasn’t going to let him waltz back into my life with three little words. “Fuck you for telling me you loved me, letting me believe things were great, then throwing everything in my face…” My voice was cracking, lip trembling, eyes brimming with tiny droplets of moisture, but I didn’t care.

Isaac scoffed. “You can’t seriously be telling me you thought everything was great. I know you felt it too. Things between us weren’t… okay anymore.”

I furiously brushed away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “So that makes it okay for you to cheat on me?”

“Of course not, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell you to your face that I thought we should break up because… well, it’s you.”

“It’s me? The fuck do you care about me?” I chuckled mirthlessly. “Fine. I’m sorry you felt so trapped by me that you had to cheat on me in front of the whole school to get me to break up with you.”

“Look, I’m not proud of what I did, but it wasn’t working with us! You know that. You know we were falling apart. But okay, fine. I’m a terrible person, I’m sorry I screw everything up–”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Don’t act like you didn’t have control over your actions, like screwing me over was inevitable. Take some accountability for what you did, for sticking your tongue down that girl’s throat–oh. You know what? You really wanna talk? Let’s talk about her.”

Isaac sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. He looked down. “Come on. I really don’t want to talk about her.”

“Why not? She must be really important for you to ruin everything we had. I don’t even wanna know her name, or how long you were seeing her. I just wanna know one thing: how was she?”

“H-how was she?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, how was she?” I repeated slowly. “I wanna know, was she good? Was she mind-blowing? Was she everything you never got from me?” Isaac closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, like the petulant stubborn child he’d become. “Come on, Isaac. It’s the least you could do to answer me. Just tell me, did she put it down real nice for you, did she touch you just right? Did she spread her legs for you whenever you wanted? Did she let you inside her raw? Did she let you come inside her?” At this point, Isaac couldn’t take the heat, and he turned away. His cheeks were pink now, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “I just wanna know, you know, because I need some tips. Maybe it’ll help me keep my man next time.”

“Stop,” Isaac gritted through his teeth. “That’s not why.”

“Obviously it is.” I roughly cupped his chin and forced him to look at me. “At least do me the courtesy of telling me the truth. Just tell me, you left because I wasn’t good enough. Tell me I wasn’t hot enough, tell me I wasn’t sexy enough for you. Tell me you didn’t want me.”

Isaac knocked my hand away. “Didn’t want you?” He ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration. Now he was stalking towards me, slowly walking me backwards. “Shit, this is exactly why we didn’t work. We must’ve been in completely different words if you think I didn’t want you. I wanted you so much that it killed me that things were falling apart. Before we got together, you were all I thought about, but the moment we became official, something changed. I know you felt it too, the sudden awkwardness. We didn’t know how–we didn’t know who to be around each other after we became more than friends. You know that.” I shrugged noncommittally. There was truth in his retort, but I wasn’t going to tell him he was right. He’d backed me against my desk. His hands rested on the table on either side of me, trapping me in his space. “It still kills me that you think I didn’t want you, but that’s my fault. I didn’t tell you, did I?” he said softly.

“Tell me what?” I mumbled.

Isaac smirked, a dangerous turn in his mouth that sent shivers down my spine. He hadn’t look at me like this in a long time, not since before we were together, when I used to catch him smiling at me the same way. “I didn’t tell you how fucking sexy you are, baby. I didn’t tell you I had to fight to keep my hands off you, how I had to do fucking breathing exercises to refrain from having my way with you in dressing rooms when you tried on clothes for me…” Isaac leaned down and placed his mouth on my bare shoulder, brushed his lips against my collarbone. His hot breath fanned over my pulse point. “I didn’t tell you I can still hear your sweet little moans when I go to bed, never told you how fucking cute you are, how much I loved touching your beautiful tits, grabbing your ass. I still remember what you taste like, and you used to get so wet for me. If I could, I’d show you right now how much I want you, darling…” His mouth moved to my throat. He wasn’t kissing me exactly, just puckering his lips slightly, occasionally grazing my sensitive flesh with teeth.

I didn’t know if it was his intention all along to sneak into my bedroom and seduce me with dirty talk, this delicious filth he’d never uttered to me before. Maybe everything he’d ever told me had been a lie. Before, I trusted him completely, blindly believed everything. Now, the trust was lost, replaced by an aching desire, a painful longing for something I felt I deserved, reparations for the happiness he took from me. I was finally going to get mine.

“If you want me so bad, then prove it.” Gripping the curls at the back of his head, I pulled him away from my neck and slammed my mouth to his. We never kissed like this before. I remember our kisses used to be so sweet, so tender, so hesitant.

There was none of that now. Isaac’s hands left my desk and immediately found my waist, pulling me closer. His lips moved against mine hungrily, bruisingly. And then his hands were sliding down my sides. His fingers skimmed my ass briefly before gripping under my thighs. In an unexpected swoop, he’d scooped me up and placed me on my desk. My legs wrapped around his waist and my ankles locked together. Our bodies were aligned and I could feel his swollen arousal against my hip.

With newfound bravado, I slid my hand into his waistband and wrapped my fist around him, pumping him gently. Isaac growled lowly into my mouth and bit down on my bottom lip and tugged. I tasted blood. While I was occupied with jerking him off, he lifted the hem of my shirt and peeled it over my head, leaving me bare. His mouth attached to one of my pert nipples, his hand massaging the other. I arched my back to give him more access. He worked me with his tongue, swirled it around my sensitive bud, then kitten licked the tip. My toes curled and I used my legs to pull him closer into my center where I needed him most.

“Wait,” I panted. “Isaac, wait.”

He pulled away. “What is it?”

“Bed. Now.”

He certainly had no qualms with that. He scooped me up and carried me bridal style, then threw me on my mattress like I weighed nothing. I didn’t usually like being picked up, but there was something about when Isaac did it. I felt small, but safe in his arms. I guess before he thought I was too fragile, too human to be man-handled. If only he’d been tossing me around like this the whole time. He should’ve known I wasn’t breakable, and I planned on showing him just how unbreakable I really was.

Isaac took off his shirt, then peeled his pants down his legs. Left only in his black Calvin Kleins, he climbed onto my bed, moving to straddle me, but I had other plans. When he leaned down to reattach our lips, I shoved him backwards and pushed him down so he laid flat. I pinned down his wrists on either side of him and positioned my entrance over his semi. My shorts and his boxers still separated us, provided just enough friction to drive him mad.

Attaching my lips to his jaw, I moved my hips, swayed back and forth. Isaac whispered a strangled “f-fuck…” and I sped up my movements. I trailed my mouth down his neck, sucked harshly on his goosebumped flesh when he started to quiver. And that was my revenge: I’d take him to the brink of pleasure, then pull away, stop completely right before he was about to get what he wanted.

After the third time I blue-balled him, he had enough. Isaac released one hand from my hold and gripped my hair. He pulled me upwards and glared witheringly.

I smirked. “What is it?” I asked innocently.

“Cut the bullshit. What are you doing?”

“Aw, did you think I’d make this easy for you, baby?” I broke free from his grip and took hold of his fingers. I moved them down my abdomen and shoved them inside my underwear. His fingers curved naturally against my wetness. “Did you think you could just skip into my room, whisper some filth into my ears, and sweet talk your way into getting your dick wet?” His mouth opened slightly and he stared at me with confusion. I smiled. “What’s wrong? You look surprised.” I gently touched his cheek, stroked his hot skin. This jolted him into action and he began stroking my folds. “When you said you missed me, did you really mean me, or this? Did you miss my pussy, did you miss touching me, playing with me?” I gasped as his fingers worked me. “You can feel how wet I am, how warm it is inside. Did you miss spreading my pussy open like you’re doing right now? Did you–ah!–did you miss, miss playing with my clit between your fingers… just like that…” Isaac rolled my clit under his finger, quicker now. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, oh god…” The tension coiling under my belly snapped, and I came with my head thrown back, unintelligible curses spilling from my lips.

I stayed straddling Isaac, breathing heavy to recover. I shuddered when Isaac pulled his fingers out and brushed them briefly against my overstimulated bundle of nerves. He dipped his fingers into his mouth, the movement sticky and slow and unlike anything he’d done before. “That was… new.”

I chuckled, then noticed the outline of his erection against his underwear. “Oh, look at you, all hard and big with nowhere to go,” I cooed. I folded down his underwear and discarded them. His cock bounced back and hit his stomach. My own arousal crept back, awakened by the sight of the prominent ridge that ran along his member. I reached out and wrapped my fist around his hardened shaft, swiveling my fist painstakingly slow, a torturous pace that I knew would drive him crazy.

“Come on, please,” Isaac whimpered. “I can’t hold on, I don’t think I can hold on…”

“But you’re going to, aren’t you? Because you’re not leaving here without what you came for, isn’t that right? Tell me why you came here, because it sure as hell wasn’t just to talk.”

“I…” When he hesitated to explain himself, I removed my hand and made to unstraddle his legs. “Wait, shit–fine. Don’t… don’t go. I came here because I wanted… this.” Isaac gripped my thighs and rubbed them, and brought my knees closer to his sides. “I really did want to clear the air, but… Amy–the other girl–I couldn’t do it with her,” he said quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t do it? Oh, wait, do you mean you couldn’t get it up?” I kept my expression neutral, but I was drinking celebratory champagne in my head. Things may have been dry between me and Isaac, but at least I didn’t cause him erectile dysfunction.

“Yeah. I just kept thinking about you.”

“So after everything you did, you still came back into my life, because your other girl couldn’t get you off?” Isaac stayed mute. I shook my head disbelievingly. “You know something, Isaac?” I maneuvered my shorts off and positioned Isaac’s cock at my entrance. I was already wet again, lips open and ready to take him in. “I  hate you,” I groaned as I slid down, taking him in all the way to the base. Isaac shuddered as my warmth sheathed around him, and bracing my hands on his stomach, I pushed off again and again, fucked him the way he used to fuck me. Well, not exactly the way he used to; this was way better. I’d never even been on top before, too afraid to mess up, too afraid I wasn’t strong enough or sexy enough to be seen from underneath like this. I never knew how thrilling it could be to have control. “I hate you so much, Isaac. You’re such a fucking asshole,” I said breathlessly. And then I rolled my hips and rode his dick like a hot wave.

“Fuck, that’s so good,” Isaac grunted.

“You like that?” Isaac responded with a resounding smack against my ass, the sting from which he rubbed away. “You like it when I fuck you like this? You still thinking about Amy, or whatever her name is?” Isaac’s eyes were screwed shut, but I wanted him to see me. “Open your eyes, baby. I want you to see exactly who you hurt.” I leaned down so he could stare into my eyes as I unraveled him, stroke by stroke. Then, I kissed him, slow and deep, all tongues and teeth. He gripped my hips and held me still when my movements started to falter. I was close again. Isaac came first with stuttering hips. I remember before when he always used to make sure I was first, ever the gentleman. Now, he thrusted his semi into me, pumped as much as he could and played with my clit until I came for the second time.

My body couldn’t support itself upright anymore and I collapsed on the mattress beside him. No words were spoken in the aftermath. Minutes later, my heartbeat returned to its resting rate. There was nothing more I wanted from Isaac–at least not that night.

Somehow, I knew things would never really be over between us.

Even after all the pain and self-loathing he caused me, it became clear that this wouldn’t be the last time I opened my legs for him. The shame and disgust settled in.

I wanted to tell him to leave. I just didn’t have the energy to speak. 

Isaac saved me the trouble because he was already getting out of bed. I watched his naked body shuffle around my room, locating and putting on various items of clothing. He lingered by my window. 

“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you,” he said softly.

I chuckled emotionlessly and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“I don’t think I care.” 

He tapped his fingers on my windowsill. “I’ll come by tomorrow night, then?” 

“See you then.”


to be continued.

clotpolesonly  asked:

I WANT THAT HUMAN!DEREK FIC TOO. that whole season was a mess, but there was so much untapped potential with Derek slowly losing his wolf powers. i've always wanted a fic where Derek figures out he can actually get drunk now due to his slowed metabolism and proceeds to get totally smashed. and he drunk texts Stiles for whatever reason, and Stiles is like whoooaaa okay this definitely needs a chaperone so Derek doesn't get alcohol poisoning and die cuz he's not used to it. (cont...)

so Stiles comes over to make sure that Derek is okay. starts out with Derek slaphappy and affectionate kind of drunk but he devolves into anger and helplessness because, somehow even now, Kate is still managing to take things from him, to take EVERYTHING he cares about away from him. getting angry only makes it worse because, before this mess, punching the wall would have broken the WALL instead of his hand and that only drives home how WEAK he is now. 

not to mention that his werewolf-ness is his final legacy from his family, his closest and most integral connection to them. he’s never NOT been a werewolf, so if he loses that, then what is he? who is he?? he’s nothing, and he’s just devastated by that. –anyway so Stiles talks him down, tries to reassure him that he’s still himself and he’s still worth something (worth everything to him, at least). i have this image in my head of Derek trying to punch walls again with his broken hand and Stiles stopping him, like physically restraining him from hurting himself in his impotent anger, and it’s as much a show of Stiles’ strength as it is Derek’s weakness, and i’m just really emotional about this entire premise. it’s been in my mind for months and i just can’t bring myself to write it down in case it’s not as good on paper as it is in my head.

THIS though. <333 These are all the issues the show should have explored during Derek’s arc. Losing his power, his sense of self, his last connection to his family. Struggling with not being able to heal, with being wounded and stripped down by Kate again. Struggling for purpose, struggling with his trauma, struggling to figure out who he is now if he’s not a wolf, how to even exist like this, fragile and slow with weak senses. He’d have to find some new purpose for himself, beyond being the human shield to take claws and bullets during battle. He’d have to find a new way to survive, new reason to survive.

And who better than Stiles to help him through all that?

There is honestly so much to explore with human!Derek (I love the thought of him getting drunk now because he can, because it numbs the pain and the loss a little, and Stiles being there to stop him because Stiles, of anyone, knows the dangers of using alcohol to self-medicate after a trauma) and it hurts me that canon did absolutely nothing with it. It’s one of the major holes fandom never bothered to fill in and make up for (probably because s4 as a whole was just such a mess, but I’d love to see what our talented minds could do with it anyway, because it would be beautiful).

fic rec friday

Thank you so much for all the get well wishes!!!! I was feeling pretty rough, it was so nice to know you guys were thinking about me.❤️ 

Believer and a Homecoming by  lsdme | 11K | derek comes back

“I’m serious Derek,” Stiles whispers. “Come home.”

Fake Listed by  Hepzheba | 8.5K | werewolf reveal

When Stiles answered the ad about someone needing a fake boy-/girlfriend for a trip to his family home he didn’t know what to expect. First of all, he expected someone ugly, not Derek Hale from his class. And second, he did not expect to fall for Derek or his kind, and somewhat weird, family.

In My Corner by  Beerwolves, fearfrost1211 | 3K

“Did I know what?” Stiles snaps already inching his way towards his bedroom door. Derek beats him to it and crowds Stiles until his back hits the wall.
“Don’t play games with me. Did. You. Know?” Derek snarls.
Stiles matches the alpha’s red glare as he wracks his brain to figure out why Derek is asking him this question. Why does it matter if Stiles knew? Derek’s pissed - and rightly so, in Stiles’s personal opinion. Scott may have had the best of intentions, but using Derek’s own body against him like that and forcing him to bite Gerard? Stiles’s eyes widen and he softens his own glare, finally understanding. Derek wants to believe that Stiles wouldn’t have condoned Scott’s plan and he’s right - Stiles wouldn’t.

Turn a Little Faster by  skoosiepants | 3.2K | accidental marriage

He shifts back and forth on his feet and tries to psych himself up. He can do this. He’s a badass werewolf, he can totally tell Stiles that they accidentally got werewolf married because—because Stiles was thinking about him, and happened to give him a token of his, uh, affection under the silvery light of the last full moon. Platonic affection, Derek thinks sourly, so he doesn’t get why his wolf feels all warm and fuzzy and bonded all of a sudden.

Honestly, it’s like—why aren’t people accidentally getting werewolf married all the time, if it happens this easily?

Sun in Your Heart by  scribblemoose | 1.7K

Stiles keeps turning up at the Loft, and Derek isn’t sure what to make of it. He just knows it’s annoying.

tell me a piece of your history (that you’ve never said out loud) by  doctorkaitlyn | 18.9K

Upon their first meeting, Derek and Stiles don’t get along. Stiles is still cresting the waves of a reckless adolescence, using his father’s influence to keep a (mostly) clean record. Derek is brusque and unfriendly but otherwise impossible to read. They end up as partners at a search party by pure happenstance.

They are, quite potentially, the worst possible pair.

But that’s before they find the body.

Fuzzy Logic by  Sparseparsley | 6.5K  | bodyswap

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

Pong Me, Bro by  LadyDrace | 3.4K

Stiles doesn’t date jocks, because it seems like all they do is prance around making a spectacle of themselves to impress whoever they’re trying to hook up with. It’s pathetic, and Stiles isn’t into it.

Which is probably why it somehow completely escapes his notice that one particular jock is determined to catch his eye.

We’re caught in stone, you know we might not make it by  LunaCanisLupus_22 | 29.6K

The one where Derek and Stiles are childhood buddies who lost touch and reconnect by chance at college. Only they end up doing a lot more than just reconnecting.

Here’s the fics I read (and like) during May! (it’s a very long fic rec, fair warning)

☾  Blind Date With A Book  , by  thepsychicclam:      Stiles thought the Blind Date With a Book trend was a great way to drum up business for his small bookshop. He definitely thought it was a great idea after the hot guy kept returning and buying more blind dates with books.Derek didn’t know how he kept getting set up on blind dates by his family, or why he kept going on them. The highlight of his night was when the date was over and he could go to the little bookshop in town and buy something to read for the rest of the night. He wanted to read, not date. (30k, M)

☾  Deputy Derek Hale, Alpha  , by  eldeeDeputy Derek Hale has recently become an alpha, and that changes things for him.  Now that he’s back after a leave of absence, he’s hoping to get what he and Stiles had almost-started back on track. The thing is, it seems Stiles is going through some changes of his own and Derek’s not sure how he fits. (12k, E)

☾  Deep Down in His Blood , by wangler  :   “Do you want me to get you wet?” Derek asks, low now, like a growl. (4k, E)

☾  If We Could Match , by  InTheArmsofaThief : As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he should maybe quit.  Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk. (23k, E)

☾  The Awkward and Sometimes Painful Life of of Genim Hale by BlueRunawayMoon  : Stiles is a writer of gay erotica whose work, according to his Editor (one miss Lydia Martin) has gotten dull and boring. Lydia suggest’s that Stiles try to LIVE a little, gain some new juicy experiences that he can write about and bring the heat up again. Only problem is Stiles is a bit on the dorky side and not good with ‘living a little’. After a whole slew of embarrassing situations brought on by his best(sometimes!) friend Scott, he’s given some wise advice and decides to take a tropical paradise vacation. All’s going good and well, and he’s got a major crush on his super hot tour guide Danny. Yet it seem’s like he can’t stop bumping into Derek, who, as annoying and brooding as he seem’s, also makes it quite clear he WANTS Stiles. As in…wants wants. With the two being brought together almost by fate, Stiles discover’s that Derek is more than he seems….WAY more. (113k, E)

☾  Riding the Lightning, by  VendelinStiles finds himself on the doorstep to his home in Beacon Hills, not remembering how he got here or why he’s barefoot. As it turns out, he was abducted a couple of weeks earlier from a college party and bears the same marks on his body as victims of a serial killer his dad just can’t seem to get a hold of. So there he is, with no memories of what happened, the last couple of weeks like a blank line in his mind and knowing all too well that he’s the best shot they have at catching this guy. As a key witness and in acute, assumed danger, he finds himself under surveillance 24/7 and more often than not, his dad’s best Deputy: Derek Hale, is sitting at his kitchen table. (23k, E)

(more under the cut)

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Love Potion Number Nine

Summary: Derek decides to take a love potion, but things don’t go quite the way he intended.
Note: Written for Teen Wolf Bingo (“Stiles/Derek”). Loosely based on the song by the same name. (On AO3)


“Deputy Stilinski,” he hears over the radio. “We have reports of what appears to be a drunk and disorderly accosting people on the sidewalk.” Stiles looks up from the ticket he’s writing. It figures, on the one day he’s assigned as the downtown traffic cop. “He’s near your location,” dispatch continues, giving him pertinent information.

“Okay, I’ll intercept,” he says, ripping the ticket from the pad and tucking it under some poor fool’s windshield wiper. Shouldn’t have illegally parked, buddy.

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iidiiotiiciintelliigence  asked:

Oh my gosh. Dragon Stiles is fantastic oh my god. But I've only found a few fics of it, which sucks. So: "Peter had been losing shirts lately. Well. Not so much as loosing as having them stolen out from under his nose." AKA. Dragon Stiles steals Peter ' s clothes and stuff because he likes his scent.

Yes, I am quite the sucker for any Creature!Stiles fics, but Dragon!Stiles does hold a special place in my heart. I may have went a little overboard with this one, but I hope you like it! 

Note: This one is just over 4,000 words.

—–break—–

“Stiles? Could you come here for a minute?”

“Coming!” Stiles stood from his desk, cracking his back after sitting for so long before heading downstairs to where his dad was working at the kitchen table. “Yeah, pops?”

“Have a seat.”

Stiles did, wondering if he’d done something recently that could’ve gotten him in trouble and if he should admit now or wait to see what his dad knew. John gave him a curious look.

“You’re not in trouble, but that look says that you probably should be. I’m not sure I want to know, though.”

Stiles grinned, relaxing in the chair. “Nonsense, daddio. I’m an angel.”

John laughed, shaking his head before looking down at the book in his head.

“Look. Your eighteenth is coming up in a few weeks and your mom…” John paused, taking a deep breath before pushing through. “Your mom made me promise to give you this before then. She started writing it as soon as we figured out about…the sickness.”

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ok, but listen

one night jackson and his parents get in this huge fight, and they’ve never really gotten along, but this is different. because usually it’s just silence and completely ignoring each others’ existence, but now they’re all screaming, until finally his dad tells him to get the hell out of his house.

jackson resolutely doesn’t cry. not until after he’s packed a bag, gotten in his car, and started driving with absolutely no idea where he’s going.

they cut off all his credit cards, his bank account, everything, so all he has left is his porsche, the cash in his wallet, and the clothes sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

he’s way too proud to go to anyone for help, even danny, so he sleeps in his car. he cries himself to sleep every night, but he walks into school every morning like nothing’s changed. he’s gotten good at faking it over the years.

he drives out to the preserve at night, because it’s nice and secluded, so he figures no one will find him there.

but, of course, stiles does. it’s only been a few days when jackson sees the jeep pull up and stiles climb out, hesitating for a moment before tapping on jackson’s window.

he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t have to. stiles is smart, so he puts it together in a matter of seconds. he tells jackson to follow him home, and honestly, jackson just doesn’t have the energy to argue with him.

they don’t talk about it, but stiles takes jackson up to his room, puts all the clothes from his duffel bag into a drawer in his dresser, and that’s that.

they’re sitting on the couch watching tv when jackson starts crying, right on schedule. stiles glances over at him for a second, unsure of what to do, and then tentatively takes jackson’s hand and laces their fingers together, all the while avoiding eye contact.

it should be awkward, and jackson should push him away. but it’s not, and he doesn’t.

@andromedainwonderland said:

Teen Wolf-Scooby Doo, as in, the Teen Wolf crew driving around in the Jeep solving supernatural mysteries. Just me?

So I don’t know what this is, but this fic turned out to be my ARCH NEMESIS, so, you know, make of that what you will. It’s even alternating POVs, which I haven’t written in years upon years. So please appreciate how much this story wanted to kill me, and how we’re still eyeing each other with open hostility from different corners of the room.


The groundskeeper has gnarled, knotted fingers and rheumy eyes, and it takes five hundred years for him to turn the key in the rusted padlock.  The gate creaks almost as loud as his bones, and Derek flicks an ear in irritation.

“That’s a big dog you’ve got there,” he says, only mildly curious.

Stiles buries one hand in the scruff around Derek’s neck. “Not sure he is one,” Stiles says, and Derek cocks his head up at him.

Scott has the van idling behind them.

Derek takes a deep breath and sneezes. Decay, old blood, and sulfur flood his senses—he whines softly. He doesn’t have a good feeling about this.

The old house looms in front of them, stone and spires, ominous, cloaked in shadows thrown by the nearly full moon. His skin ripples under his fur, uneasy, and he tucks his tail between his legs.

“Relax,” Stiles murmurs to him. “This is easy money, right? A simple salt and burn.”

Derek huffs, knocks into Stiles’ side as he hastily turns around, and then slinks back to the van. He doesn’t like this place. He never likes haunted places, too much lingering despair that stirs up old guilt, but this house feels like it’s made out of skeleton bones, dread sits like a stone in his belly.

Lydia already has the side of the van open. He hops in, slides past Kira, and then digs into Stiles’ open duffle, buries his snout in an old t-shirt that smells a little bit like Scott, too.

“Dude,” Stiles says when he climbs in after him. “Come on.”

Derek growls, low in his throat, and Stiles backs off with a huffy, “Fine, be that way.”

The van grinds into gear and rolls forward slowly, tires bumping over the cobblestone drive, and Derek feels like his chest is caving in.

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The College Years - Sophomore Year (Chapter 26) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles

Title: “The Murder Board”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Cora Hale, Liam Dunbar, Hayden Romero, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Malia Tate, Allison Argent, Jordan Parrish, Noah Stilinski, Ethan & Reader/OFC

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of violence/blood/murder.

Summary: Stiles gathers the Pack to figure out what more they know from what Coach told them about his attack… then an event changes everything.

Chapter Twenty-Five - Chapter Twenty-Six - Chapter Twenty-Seven

Originally posted by obriens

It was 5pm and the sun wouldn’t be setting for a few hours, as Scott, Isaac, Cora, Liam, Hayden, Mason, Corey, Ethan and Malia sat in Stiles’ living room, watching Stiles stare at the large glass murder board with pictures and names and red tape plastered all over it. He gnawed on the end of the white china pencil that he held in between his thumb and pointer finger. He had a mess of gruesome crime scene photos splayed out by his feet on the floor, and he barely glanced up as the front door opened and three girls walked through, until he saw Allison.

“Oh shit…” He mumbled, while turning to catch Scott’s reaction.

“Allison?!” Scott leapt to his feet and stumbled over Isaac and Cora’s long legs to reach the girls who had just come into the house. “What… what are you doing here?”

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I wanted to do something for the upcoming holiday. I haven’t made a rec list for awhile, so here is a list of some really wonderful fics. This is a wide variety, so hopefully everyone will find something to enjoy. I went back through my last three months of reading, so they should all be fairly new. Enjoy. <3 

Happy New Year Everyone! 

*

A Curious Compliment  idareu2bme

Derek is a simple horseman from the mountains, Stiles is an enthusiastic university graduate ready to make a name for himself. In any other situation, they would have gone their entire lives never having met. It’s probably a good thing then, that they both happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.

A Fox’s Tale spellwovennight

Stiles loves A Fox’s Tale, a bookstore he took over after his mom dies. Unfortunately, a box store, Hale’s Wolftastic Books, is moving town and is going to be tough competition, but he has his friends, family, and texting buddy, Mr. Grumpy to help him through it.

Derek is annoyed to be moving to Beacon Hills to help start up the newest branch of Hale’s Wolftastic Books and to help Laura prepare for her upcoming wedding. He’s surprised to find himself falling in love with the town, and it’s inhabitants. If only his texting conversations with Smartass weren’t emotionally confusing.

Or a You’ve Got Mail AU that nobody asked for.

Alone Together asocialfauxpas (fuzzytomato)

Derek has lost his pack. Stiles has lost his pod. They find each other on the high seas. 

Cut It Out And Then Restart  suchfun

Years ago, when they were first starting out both in their relationship and their careers, when they were babies and hardly understood their car insurance let alone the multi-billion dollar, all-consuming, world-encompassing, life-altering business of news reporting—back then, Derek would practice his expressions in the mirror, and Stiles would think, I’m so glad he’ll never have to use that face with me.

And then Stiles screwed up, and he’s seen nothing but that face for the past two years. Aesthetically, it’s still an awesome face, and it probably always will be, but Derek is so much more than another hot dude. And he always will be.

Don’t You Hear that Rhythm secondstar

Being the opener for Blue Pagan was only the beginning for Marked & Bitten frontman Stiles Stilinski. Falling for their violinist, though, felt something more like the beginning of something greater.

down in flames series standinginanicedress

Stiles has been fucking obsessed with famous werewolf author Derek Hale since he was fifteen years old and the first book came out. Like, embarrassingly obsessed. Like, had a poster of the guy hanging up on the wall above his bed, obsessed. When Hale moved back to Beacon Hills, Stiles just figured he’d hole himself up in his rebuilt mansion, writing his fourth book, never to fulfill Stiles’ endless daydreams about running into him and having the alpha fall madly in love with him.

It’s completely fucking improbable and nonsensical, would never happen in a million years, so of course Stiles somehow winds up in a no-strings-attached agreement with his literary idol, all while eating chicken McNuggets out of his pocket at random intervals and plotting the demise of the McFlurry mixer.

*

“And Stiles,” he’s addressed directly for the first time since this whole thing started, and when all eyes land on him this time, he just squeezes Derek’s hand and squares his shoulders. He can act like this doesn’t bother him. Derek can do it, and Derek’s here. He’ll be okay. “…how does it feel to know that millions upon millions of people are going to read intimate, private details about your life with Derek?”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Stiles says with a shrug, going for nonchalant and feeling like he’s doing it pretty well. “I knew what I was getting into. Besides – everyone wants Derek Hale to write about them, right?”

The flamingo in the yard  Vendelin

It isn’t fair that Stiles needs to work Christmas, when his dad is on the other side of the country. Or that his really hot, next door neighbour is around for the holidays as well. Or that there’s a power outage that makes things even worse. Or better.

here comes trouble grimm

All Derek wants is one day where he can sleep without worry of being woken by gunfire, without the threat of death hanging over his head. He wants a full stomach and no pain clinging to his bones, no ache in his feet from months of running. He wants a shower, a safe place to put his head. He wants his family, the healing comfort of pack. He’ll never have any of that again.

I Still Believe IAmAVeronica

War is hell.
Falling in love with enemy solider Derek Hale, secretly mating him, and then accidentally being left behind by him when the war suddenly and violently ends is a special kind of hell apparently reserved for one human omega Stiles Stilinski.
But Stiles is determined to find his mate again, because Derek left more than just Stiles in a war-ravaged and werewolf-hating country - and with danger at every turn and nothing but Derek’s gun and his own wits for protection, hell hath no fury like Stiles now.

I Thought You Would Like That Emela

Yeah, that was pretty bad, but what was worse was having spent the last three years pretending to hate Stiles, because it was better than being the guy who failed at emotions and got rejected for them, and now Derek was locked in the same room as him under the promise they would only be let out when they “did something about their sexual tension”.

Derek and Stiles get locked in a room together at an office Christmas party and end doing something about all that unresolved sexual tension.

I’ll Wait Up For You, Dear  WhoNatural

Derek is the Uber driver who always seems to be up when Stiles needs a ride home from work.

If the ley lines you should follow InTheArmsofaThief

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

The Moon’s Gonna Follow You Home turningterrific

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

The More Things Change  KouriArashi

Ten years ago, there was a major war between the supernatural world and the mundane. Now Beacon Hills is cut off and the Argents are in control, and the supernatural creatures are slowly being hunted down. But when Stiles, who was adopted by the Argents after the death of his parents, makes friends with the Hale Pack, things start to change…

Never Walk Away Dexterous_Sinistrous

Twenty-eight year old federal agent Derek Hale has been out of the family for some time, and he likes it that way. After six years of no contact with Laura, everything changes when Derek is sent back to Beacon Hills to infiltrate his old family.

And that’s how Derek meets Stiles.

Stiles is Peter’s favorite dancer. He’s Peter’s arm candy. He’s his little trophy to flaunt. The son of the one man who almost put Peter away–a cautionary tale for people to heed when thinking about going against Peter. Everyone knows the Sheriff is still in the hospital, his wife in a grave, his son in the devil’s den.

Derek doesn’t buy into it for a second. There is a way Stiles looks at Peter, like he’s the scum of the earth–like he’s a piece of gum stuck on his shoe that he can’t wait to scrape off. There is the way Stiles only lets Peter touch him for so long before he pulls away.

Derek knows that Stiles is there for ulterior motives, but Stiles is smarter than he looks. He’s more determined. If only Derek could get Stiles on his side.

Nothin’ but Blue Skies zjofierose

Scott McCall, “Stiles” Stilinski, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, and Jackson Whittemore are the hot-shot pilots of the USAAF’s Flight Five, based out of southern England in the end of 1943. The tide is maybe starting to turn in the war, but there’s still so many battles left to fight, so many bombs to drop, so many missions to run.

Up-and-coming young photographer Derek Hale of Life Magazine is sent out to do his first war coverage: interviews with and photographs of the brave young men of Alpha Squadron, Flight Five. It’s supposed to be an easy assignment- snap some photos of the boys and their planes, and go home.

But when you’re in the heat of the moment, when you’re faced with life and death, who’s got your back? Who is in that moment with you? When you start to ask that question, it’s after that when nothing is easy again.

Rare Books and Special Collections  KuriKuri

Derek Hale hates libraries.

Unfortunately, not all books can be ordered on Amazon.

(Or: in which Derek is a grumpy omega writer, and Stiles is an annoyingly attractive alpha special collections librarian.)

This Started As Only Make Believe thepsychicclam 

Derek is trying (and failing) to juggle his career, coach lacrosse, and raise his 5 year old werewolf daughter. When he adds his bitter ex-wife and his daughter’sslight attachment to him, Derek knows he doesn’t have any time for a life of his own - and definitely no time for the super cute daycare teacher.

tide pulls from the moon  paintedrecs

When Derek left Beacon Hills, finally ripping the tether free and remembering how to breathe, how to live again, it was Stiles who came after him. Stiles, who showed up at his door with blazing eyes, looking like he wanted to punch him in the face, but wrapping his arms around him instead, making him grunt in surprise at the raw strength of his embrace.

“You asshole,” Stiles said, slapping him heartily on the back as he extricated himself, his voice rough under his bright smile. “You couldn’t have made yourself harder to find, could you?”

You’ll See Me Again Matildajones

Stiles is standing there in his uniform, hair long and hands behind his back. There’s a blush on his cheeks and he can barely look Derek in the eye.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s wearing the medal Derek had presented to him.

Derek stares. He doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore.

Stiles is the soldier who saved Derek and brought him back home. He doesn’t seem to care that Derek’s a prince or that he’s a little bit broken. Derek falls, quick and sure, but it’s not easy knowing that Stiles will soon have to return to the war.

2

based off this series of texts 

It was Derek’s turn to make dinner but he’d just gotten off a 12-hour shift and he was tired. He figured he’d just make something quick and hopefully that was ok with Stiles.  

He got in his car, quickly shooting Stiles a text.

Derek: What do you want for dinner babe?

Keep reading

A Good Decision

Originally posted by lovemusiclifexx

Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Stiles Stlinski x Lydia Martin

Length: 1264 words

Warnings: none

Stiles Stilinski was entranced, as he stared at Y/N from across the hallway, leaning on his locker casually, figurative hearts in his eyes. Eyes trailing the body he was captivated by, he softly smiled, before he caught the figure of Lydia Martin across the way, his long-time crush and recently; a close friend.

Lydia was literally the most beautiful female Beacon Hills High School had seen, with flowing strawberry blonde hair, and full lips that could kiss the life out of a man. She’s the definition of a Queen Bee, with grades as perfect as her being, and a wit as sharp as her brow-game. He didn’t really know what that meant, but had been told by Lydia herself that it was a compliment.

She’d never looked at him though, at least, not until everyone in Beacon Hills lives had gone to shit.

Y/N, however, was new this year, and wasn’t as pretty or as smart as Lydia. But still attractive, especially to him, and the biggest smartass he’d met. And that was coming from him. He’d planned on asking Y/N out, but then he’d had a ‘moment’ with Lydia in a recent werewolf-related chase. They’d held hands, had been pressed close together with a lot of staring and heavy breathing.

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Ruin The Friendship

Author: @punkof-pop
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader
Words: 1,671
Warnings: Angst, bits of fluff
Request: Wattpad user: prompts 32 & 36 with Stiles, please?
Prompts: 32: “You two are actual children.” “We just know how to have fun.”
36: “Boys are so overrated.”
Song: Ruin The Friendship - Demi Lovato
A/N: It’s been storming nonstop here and I’ve been listening to so much Demi so apparently, this is what happens when I combine those things with prompts. Also, requests are open so feel free to send em :)
Masterlist
Prompt list

It doesn’t rain much in the California town of Beacon Hills but when it does, it seems to either drizzle for five minutes or storm all day. This happened to be one of the times it was going to storm all day so you found yourself laying across the McCall couch reading one of your favorite books while Scott and Stiles were planted in front of the TV playing some video game you couldn’t care less about.

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A little something for @madahenriques who has not been having the best time at the moment, and whose birthday it also is! Happy Birthday, sweetheart. I hope you like mates, jealous!Derek and cheesy love confessions. I blame @halewithstilinski‘s post for the direction this took. 

Derek tries not to look as Stiles dances with yet another guy. Erica is beside him, encouraging him with hip checks and cat calls and- why, dear god, why- booty slaps until Boyd thankfully pulls her away. There is only so many times Derek can hear “shake that money maker, Stilinski” and not have the urge to rip the person’s throat out Stiles is shaking his “money maker” at.

He’s not possessive. Well, no more than werewolves usually are. He thinks. Stiles can dance with who he wants. Fuck, he can sleep with who he wants, that’s not Derek’s decision, but it’s more than a little hard to see your mate grinding up against other people and oozing contentment all the while looking over at you every other five minutes. Derek gets Stiles likes to make sure he isn’t trying to sneak out on what has been, horribly, called “shake your groove thing night”, but still, way to unintentionally rub a guy’s face in it.  

Derek hopes it’s unintentional anyway.

Mates aren’t as common the books make it out to be, and it’s just Derek’s luck he not only ended up with one, but also fell hopelessly in love with him (to quote just about every cheesy romantic movie ever made).

Romantic mates are even less common. Usually mates are just people you have a special bond with; you feel everything more keenly with them, for them. You are connected to them in a way you aren’t with anyone else, but it doesn’t have to mean anything. Until you are stupid enough to fall in love with them, that is.

Derek knows it’s not impossible to get over a mate, but the problem isn’t Stiles being Derek’s mate, it’s the fact he’s Derek’s Stiles. That loud mouthed, annoying, persistent kid. That stupidly loyal, funny and crazy smart kid. That kid who is no longer a kid but a twenty-two year old grown ass man who clearly didn’t focus all his energies on studying in college (if the way his hips are moving is anything to go by).

Derek truly, desperately, tries not to whine, nostalgic for the days when he found it easier to tear his gaze away from Stiles.

In fact, he is so focused on maintaining his usual, indifferent highly preferred (he doesn’t care what the therapy books say about it being a defensive mechanism) persona (that is apparently fooling no-one these days, not even Scott), he doesn’t even notice when two perfect- fuck, why are they so perfect- mole speckled hands take his.

“Stiles,” Derek grunts, taking a moment before he looks up, scared of the heat he can feel rising on his cheeks at the skin to skin contact.

Derek used to think Stiles was a tactile person, the kind of guy who always got up in your space, but he’s noticed in the last few years how much Stiles shies away from the people he loves. The Nogitsune played a big part in that, Derek knows, but it’s not being afraid to touch anyone Stiles is wary of, like Derek so often is. It’s being scared people will reject that touch. He’s seen it, over and over, and he’s spent countless moments trying to figure out a way to give Stiles a hug without making it into the big deal it is, but stealth was never one of his strong suits. So he leaves it alone, even though it physically hurts him to watch Stiles holding himself back, holding himself away, when Derek sees he needs it. Having a stranger touch you is never the same, Derek thinks he knows that better than anyone.

Which is why Stiles doing something as simple as taking Derek’s hands makes his heart skip more beats than is probably healthy, because Stiles touching him like this, so freely, so easily, means he trusts Derek. Trusts him with something far more precious than his life. He trusts him with his trust, something Stiles rarely gives to anyone. If he ever gives anyone these days.

And then suddenly something changes, because one moment Stiles is holding his hands and the next he is slipping his arms around Derek’s waist, pulling him in, pulling him against him. It’s heaven and hell and everything in between.

Derek swallows. “Stiles, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of playing hard to get,” he says, simply. Fact, even though Derek can smell his nerves. “Everyone keeps telling me this is something, so if it isn’t you have tell me now.”

Derek’s eyes flick up and sure enough, the whole pack is watching them. The assholes.

“Everyone?” he asks, a pointless question.

Stiles nods, eyes slowly scanning Derek’s face, lazy and unhurried like he could look at him forever. It makes Derek shiver.

“Everyone,” he repeats, licking his lips. “But it’s not polite to assume things. So?”

“So,” Derek whispers, dumbstruck, distracted, at how soft Stiles’ mouth looks this close up. Has it always looked that soft?

Rolling his eyes, Stiles leans in closer. “You and me,” he breathes, slowly, like a confession. “We could be…” He looks down.

“Good?” Derek finishes, breath catching because, wait.

Wait.

“I love you,” Stiles says, shrugging, like it’s no big deal, even though Derek can hear Stiles’ heart racing over the music. Can hear it thudding. It’s the most erratic he has ever heard it and maybe it’s not the right time to smile, not when Stiles is looking at him like he thinks Derek is about to crush him, but he can’t help it. He feels drunk.

No, he feels happy.

“In Mexico,” Derek says, shakily bringing one hand up to cup Stiles’ face. “I- you heard me, right? What I said?”

Stiles frowns. “What you said?” he asks, clearly not understanding.

Oh.

Derek blinks, confused. “You turned back, I…thought you heard me.”

“No,” Stiles shakes his head. “I mean, I thought-” He sucks in a breath, once, fast. “You mean-?”

“I said-” Derek begins, but his throat closes up, just like it did that night. “I said-” he tries again, but still, nothing happens. “I said-”

“It’s okay, I think I get it,” Stiles smiles, taking his hands again, and that’s all Derek needs to hear before he leans in and kisses him.

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Per usual, it’s all Stiles’ fault.

But, as his dad kindly pointed out, who would think that a kettle would end up turning someone into a cat? What kind of witch curses a fucking kettle?

If Stiles could speak, he would have yelled out ‘a crazy one!’, but as it is he only hisses and sinks his claws – ugh – into the surprisingly comfy sofa cushion, pointedly avoiding the glare Derek throws his way.

“I’m sorry!” The crazy witch says for the tenth time. “I wanted to make water boil quicker, but I think I must have read the wrong spell.”

‘You think?’ Stiles hisses, but is completely ignored.

Scott collapses on the couch next to him, drops a hand over the fluffy fur that now covers his head and scratches it softly.

Later, Stiles will be angry with himself for giving in and purring, but for now it just feels too damn good to care.

“So what do we do?” Scott says. “How do we reverse it?”

Crazy witch gives them a guilty smile and Derek groans. “You don’t know?”

“I’m sorry!” She exclaims again. “I’m going to call my mom tomorrow morning, I swear!”

“Tomorrow?” Scott groans, holding Stiles’ back so he won’t jump on the woman and claw her eyes out. “Easy, kitty, she’s – ouch! He bit me!”

Stiles jumps out of Scott’s hold, huffing. Kitty, ugh.

“What are we gonna do with him until then?” Derek asks, arms crossed over his chest.

That’s what annoyed must smell like, Stiles figures as he gets close to Derek. It’s nice, being able to smell him, but that must be only because Derek just took a shower, even though Derek sweaty and dirty is something Stiles is weirdly attracted to, he probably won’t smell as good like that.

Although, he sniffs Derek’s leg, barely stops himself from rubbing his entire face over it, Derek must smell good in any way. For Stiles, at least.

The loft is silent, suspiciously so, and when Stiles glances up, he notices they are all staring at him, Scott and the witch both with amused looks on their faces.

As Stiles runs to hide under a chair, he wonders if cats are able to blush.

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