May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin?

Sadly, I don’t remember who reblogged this prompt and brought it to my attention. The original source is here, though.

Sterek, T, 1.5K words

‘i didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? okay’ au


“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Scott chanted, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No,” he hissed, scooting his chair closer. “And be quiet, people are looking at us.”

“Fine,” Scott sighed. “Then if you won’t tell me who it was, why was the date so bad?”

“He was rude,” Stiles said, which was not a lie. “He was late and just kind of a dick.”

Scott frowned at him. “Sorry, man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, story of my life, right?”

Scott nodded solemnly, full of the appropriate bro-sympathy. “So who was it?” he blurted out.

Stiles groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Honestly? He’d gone out with this guy that Scott knew, some super-hot water polo player from his econ class that Scott had done a project with. Scott had warned Stiles off of him, repeatedly, because he was apparently a big jerk who couldn’t even make his share of the PowerPoint slides. But Stiles didn’t listen, and he said yes when the guy had asked him out. Annnd he was just as terrible as Scott said. Stiles just wasn’t in the mood for Scott’s I-told-you-sos.

“No,” he emphasized. “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” he said, with a little pout.

Stiles screamed a little inside his head and took a glance around the coffee shop, trying to think of a diversion. “Because he’s here,” he hissed, and Scott’s eyes widened as he craned his neck.

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Hey!” Scott said, tapping the guy’s shoulder and jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Stiles. “Why were you such a jerk to my friend on your date last night?”

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a sterek fic inspired by this stupid thing because how could I not

It’s a common saying among Stiles’ friends that he doesn’t have a lot of dignity. To be perfectly honest, Stiles agrees with them (as much as he argues against the point whenever they bring it up).

But this is probably a new low.

Well, not new-new, because this is into the fourth week of the habit and if he was a better person, he’d have stopped by now. He’s not a better person in this instance, but he’s made peace with it.

‘It’ being watching his stubbled neighbour jog past his place every morning in sweatpants and obviously non-supportive underwear. There’s a lot of movement down there. A lot.

“I mean, with that much jiggle, he’s gotta know, right?” Stiles asks his window pane, behind which he’s fake writing on his laptop.

They’re not quite neighbours, there’s about half a block between them for which Stiles’ sanity is thankful. Otherwise who knows what ludicrous amateur spying would have occurred.

As it is, he is very thankful he accidentally set his alarm for five am two (it was four) mornings in a row, because now he knows that this is a morning ritual for his neighbour.

Today hot neighbour is wearing the cut off, grey sweats. They’re a personal favourite of Stiles’ (better than the dark blue ones, which make it harder to see) because it means not only can he get a clear view of his neighbour’s dick as it swings forward against the fabric, but also his sweaty, perfectly muscled calves.

Stiles sighs out and bangs his head once against the window pane, a small punishment that is also part of the routine.

What is not part of the routine, is hot neighbour looking into Stiles’ window, and seeing Stiles’ face smooshed against the glass, after which he trips, possibly in disgust, or just simple distraction.

Stiles’ first reaction is to panic. He pushes his chair back from the desk and slams his laptop closed.

His second reaction is that he should call someone to come help.

His third reaction is to realise that, hold on, he can go and help.

Stiles rushes out his front door and into the chilly morning air.

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Claudia and Stiles, June 1998.

Here’s another sneak peek for the final chappy of Home, which I’m aiming to post in June (60 drawings + Lupus = Julie needs extra time) but now it’s 42 paintings down, 18 to go!! Thanks for your unending patience ♥

Mistletoe’s Overrated Anyway

I started writing this last Christmas. And then suddenly it was January so I decided to wait to do anything with it until this Christmas. I found it on Saturday night and forgot I hadn’t finished it. So here, have a Christmas fic! On… Boxing Day.

At least it’s not January?

Happy (belated) Christmas/Season’s Greetings, all!

Edit: Now on AO3!

*

Derek glances up when he hears the front door open and close, and frowns when Laura doesn’t immediately announce herself. He wipes his hands on the dish towel hanging from his belt loop and goes to investigate, finding his sister in the entryway with a stranger.

  Laura’s face lights up and she drops all of her bags, launching at him. “Derek!”

  Despite the surprise of an unannounced guest, Derek smiles and squeezes her, pressing his nose into her hair. “I didn’t think you were bringing anyone,” Derek says when they finally part.

  “I wasn’t,” Laura says. “I was lucky to even get here. All of the flights out are cancelled for the foreseeable future because of the weather, and I ran into Stiles, of all people. You remember Stiles Stilinski, right? From Cora’s class?”

  Derek remembers a hyperactive eleven year old with a buzzcut and an irritating habit of getting underfoot - his memory doesn’t lend to the lean, doe eyed brunet in his hallway; he’s talking on his phone and scowling something fierce but Derek’s mouth goes dry at the way Stiles runs long fingers through his hair.

  “Coffee?” Derek asks abruptly, turning to look at Laura. “There’s a fresh pot. Cora’s gone out on a last minute supply run - is, uh, Stiles staying?”

  “I offered your wonderful hospitality until he can find a flight to take him home,” Laura says, following him back into the kitchen and leaving Stiles in the hall. “I know you have the space, and it seemed a shame to leave him stranded. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

  “It’s not Christmas yet,” Derek points out. “How did you even recognise him? We haven’t seen him in ten years.”

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Now There’s Your Pickup Line

Sterek, 2K, T

AU, First Kiss, New Year’s Eve

Prompted from the screenshot of that cop on Tinder with the bio: “Ever shouted Fuck the Police? Well, here’s your chance.”


Derek shut the door behind him with a sigh and sat down on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him. He hated parties, and he was pissed that Laura had dragged him to the New Year’s Eve one she was hosting at her apartment. She did a really good guilt trip, though, so Derek was there. And now, he was curious how long it would take her to realize that he was hiding in her closet. He was hoping for at least a 20-minute break away from the endless small talk.

He pulled out his phone and swiped idly through the app screens, hovering his thumb over the little flame icon. Laura had created a Tinder account for him a few weeks ago—very much against his wishes—but he’d only been on it a couple times, and he’d never swiped right for anyone. He’d never really done the online dating thing; it just hadn’t really appealed to him. It seemed to encourage quick decisions based just on someone’s looks, and well…Derek had enough of that already.

He was bored, though, so he opened the app and immediately swiped left, wincing at the cheesy shirtless mirror shot of the first guy that popped up. Derek swiped left again, for a girl whose bio just said NO DRAMA, and then couldn’t hold in the little snort at the bio of the next guy. “Ever shouted Fuck the Police? Well, here’s your chance.

Derek’s gaze drifted up to the photo, and he swallowed hard. This guy, Stiles, what kind of name was that, was seriously attractive. He was really working the cop uniform in the first photo, all broad smile and bright eyes. Probably taken at the pride parade, if the crowd behind him and the rainbow flag were any indication.

Derek swiped through the rest of the pictures—one of him with a dog, one of him shirtless on a beach, one of him playing what looked like a pickup baseball game—and audibly exhaled. He was definitely Derek’s type, tall and lean with broad shoulders. Before he could talk himself out of it, he swiped right. The app notified him of a match, and Derek couldn’t stop the little inward preen at the thought of this guy swiping right on him, too.

He ran with this foreign streak of courage and tapped the message button.

That is the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.

Derek had no idea what the typical messaging etiquette was on Tinder, but Stiles replied just a minute later.

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And The Oscar Goes To
Also on AO3
Being publicly in the closet means Stiles can’t go to the Academy Awards with who he really wants, but it’s not like he’s going to win so he doesn’t have to worry about slipping up and thanking Derek in his speech… right?

This one is for my OSA (one sentence anon) who keeps cheering me on and motivating me. I wouldn’t have finished this WIP if it wasn’t for you, so thanks dude, whoever you are!

Earlier in his career, Stiles Stilinski had thought that walking one red carpet meant he had walked them all, but this award season had proved that assumption to be totally false. Walking a red carpet when you’ve been nominated for an award at the show was an entirely new experience. Sure, he had been nominated for People’s Choice Awards and more fan-driven ones before, but this year he had finally broken out of the rom-com and buddy comedy genres and into roles that challenged him. And this year, he was walking the red carpet at the Oscar with the chance to win not just one, but two once he entered the building.

Some had called 2016 his breakout year, others had said they knew that he could do it all along, and others still had questioned his ability to take on some of the more serious roles until they saw the films he was starring in. So here he was, at his third Academy Awards, but this time he was nominated instead of just attending. It had been a nerve-wracking award season that had left Stiles with a Golden Globe, a SAG award, and two Critic’s Choice awards, but none of that would hold a candle to this.

“Stiles, you have to move,” Lydia Martin–his agent and manager–said to him, pushing him toward the final reporter along the carpet. “Smile more.”

Stiles resisted the eyeroll that he could feel building; he didn’t want to be on the cover of some trashy tabloid with his eyes rolled back in his head and a caption commenting on his mental instability or an attitude problem. “Stiles! You look great,” Erica Reyes from Access Hollywood said, her voice sweet as syrup and her lips fire-engine red.  

“So do you, Ms. Reyes. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave your husband and run away with me?” Stiles said with a charming smile. He had gone to UCLA with Erica’s husband Vernon Boyd and they had been, and still were, good friends. Boyd was currently the star wide receiver for the New Orleans Saints and would kick his ass if he were here in that moment.

“Ah ah ah, you know that I’m loyal,” Erica said with a smile. “But what about you? Who are you here with? Have a hot date that you’re hiding somewhere?”

“Of course I do,” Stiles told her. “My dad’s right over there.”

“Oh! Of course he is; he’s your permanent date during award season.” Erica said and then waved. “Hi, Sheriff.”

John Stilinski waved back with a smile, “Aren’t you going to ask me who I’m wearing?”

“I would, but that’s Laura Hale and I need to catch her before she gets inside. She and that hunky artist brother of hers skipped half the reporters already; I can’t let them skip me,” Erica said, giving Stiles a little smile. “It was lovely talking to you Stiles; good luck!”

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Stiles could understand why he wasn’t the most likeable person on the planet, or even in his high school. 

He was abrasive, loud, analytical, and gave about zero fucks on people’s comfort level. Which, honestly, was fine. He only cared about a handful of people in this God-forsaken world, so other people’s opinion of him could really not be bothered. 

Enter Jackson Whittemore. 

Ever since Stiles professed his love to one Lydia Martin in the fourth grade with a ring pop (which she ardently did not accept), Jackson has wanted, and sometimes succeeded, in making Stiles’ life hell. 

In elementary, it used to infuriate Stiles. How Jackson would always steal his dessert at lunch, or push him too hard on the four-square court, and would always never cease to let Stiles know that he would never get to be friends with Lydia Martin.

And, yeah, sure, eleven-year-old Stiles would ball his fists and try to fight back, but that quickly changed in high school. And he started learning some, interesting, things about himself. Soon enough, Lydia Martin was the last thing on his mind, and so was Jackson and his taunting. In fact, with both of their academic success, he and Lydia found themselves in similar upper-class and AP classes throughout high school. Some would even call them, dare he say it, friends. 

But, Jackson, not so much. Even now, at their senior year, Jackson still makes it his mission to give Stiles hell, even though he’s been dating Lydia Martin practically since he tossed the ring pop out of his hand. And it doesn’t help that now, with Stiles and Lydia being friends, and Allison and Lydia being inseparable, and Allison dating Scott, that Jackson has somehow integrated himself into their group of friends. 

Which is exactly how Stiles finds himself rolling his eyes at Jackson as they pack up their equipment on the field after practice, Jackson whapping him with this lacrosse stick. 

“You’re literally an infant, Jackson.”

“At least I don’t throw like one, Stilinski.” Jackson scoffs. 

Scott snickers next to him, and immediately looks regretful when Stiles glares at him. 

“I bet an infant would be better to deal with than you.” he snarls, stripping off his practice jersey to throw in his bag. 

Lydia and Allison walk over from the bleachers, smiling faces, per usual. 

“Good practice,” Allison says to them all, but leans into Scott for a kiss. Lydia’s moved to Jackson’s side, too, and when Stiles glances at them, Jackson has a snarly grin on his face. 

“Jealous, Stilinski?” A common phrase from the asswipe since they were kids.

Stiles barks out a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” He ignores the small grin Lydia gives him.

Shouldering his bag, he lets out a long sigh. “Can we go? I’m starving.”

Everyone nods in agreement, starting to move towards the parking lot.  Jackson throws an arm around Lydia. 

“Yeah, must have worked up an appetite from all that standing around and doing nothing.”

This time, Stiles whacks him with his stick.


“Okay, but to be fair, my jeep has gotten us to Mexico and back.”

“It broke down half way, Stiles.” Lydia deadpans.

“We fixed it! Since when did you guys get all mean about getting into my car.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s been alive this long.” Jackson scoffs.

“Walk your happy ass to the diner, then, Jackson. See if I care!”

And yet, all his friends still make their way to his jeep, because they know damn well Roscoe will get them anywhere. 

But, when they get to the car, there’s one Derek Hale leaning against the hood, looking as ominous and broody as always.

“What do I owe this pleasure, Sourwolf?” Stiles preens, walking up to him, but Derek doesn’t move. 

“You left your wallet at my place.” 

Before Stiles could even reach in his back pocket to check, Derek straightens and tosses it to Stiles, causing him to, of course, flounder and very much not catch it at all. 

“Aww, always looking out for me, huh Derek?” Stiles coos, shoving his wallet into his pocket. 

“You’re pathetic, Stiles.” Jackson spits. 

Stiles whisks around, and God does he want to smack that silly little smug look off Jackson’s face as he walks over. 

“I swear to holy Hell, you can walk h-”

“You know he has a crush on you, right?”

Everyone stops cold, and suddenly all eyes are on Jackson, who is looking straight at Derek likes he’s fucking Sherlock who solved the case. 

Derek scoffs.

“He does,” Jackson continues. “He likes you, and it’s embarrassingly obvious to everyone.”

“Oh, my God,” Stiles groans, putting his face in his hands. Scott, on the other hand, is bright-eyed and excited, like a puppy who just saw a bone.

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Do explain.”

And Jackson, oh Jackson looks like he’s just been given a whole litter of bones. “He talks about you constantly, he invites himself over to your place all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jerks off alone in his room to a picture of you.”

Derek’s head whips to look at Stiles, but he already has his hands up in protest. 

“I do not do that, okay?”

Jackson steps up to Stiles, face inches from his. “Just admit it, Stilinski. You have a crush on Derek.”

It’s quiet for a second, and Stiles is really considering what level of Hell would even want to welcome someone like Jackson Whittemore, when Derek speaks up.

“God, I hope so, or this would be really awkward.”

Jackson’s face drops, and he spins to look at Derek. In the background, the snickers of Allison and Lydia or ever so sweet to Stiles’ ears.

“What?”

“I said,” Derek lifts himself off the car hood, and makes his way to Stiles, who practically beams up at him when Derek takes his hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I hope he has a crush on me, or this would be really awkward.”

Stiles watches as Jackson does a double take from him, to Derek, to their hands, and oh does it feel so, so good.

Scott’s outright barking with laughter now, and Jackson looks as pale as a ghost. 

“Great job, dickweed. You just told my boyfriend that I liked him.”

“You… and Hale? Since when?” he spits out. 

“Almost a year, sweetie.” Lydia pipes up, probably more smug than anyone since she was the first to know about Stiles’ flagrant homosexuality. And his impeding crush on Derek.

“Aww, babe? Almost a year! Did you hear that? We should celebrate.” Stiles preens, and even leans up to nudge his nose at Derek’s cheek, just to rub the salt in the wound a bit more for Jackson. 

“I just found out you have a crush on me. I think we should take things a little slower, don’t you think?” But Stiles catches a hint of a smile on Derek’s face.

Stiles doesn’t stop himself when he feels Derek gravitate towards him, and happily leans into the kiss. It’s sweet and quick, but enough to get Jackson to pretend to vomit. 

“Matter of a fact, I think I’ll walk.”


Later that night, when Derek is driving Stiles back home, Stiles reaches out to hold Derek’s hand over the console. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, and Derek acknowledges him with a slight nod. 

“Do you have a crush on me?”

Derek’s quiet for a moment, and suddenly Stiles feels a squeeze on his hand that makes his smile spread wider than his face. 

“Every day.”

stilesandderek  asked:

Isaac!!! <3 Hope you've been well buddy! I saw you have prompts open so I have to ask! What are your thoughts on werewolf!derek who wears glasses but merely for the sake of appearing human. One day he's picking up his little boy from preschool and his glasses fall off his face and teacher!stiles picks them up and realises 'oh, the lenses are fake?' I can only imagine blushing derek ensues~ :)

Ruebin my friend!!!! I hope you like this lil thing I wrote ^^ It’s kinda short but sweet too, you feel? 

(Thanks to @drgrlfriend for making this ficlet SO MUCH BETTER)

Also here on AO3 

Title: Make Me Go Blind

Stiles likes to think that he is, in general, a professional. Sure, he has moments where he gets frustrated – whenever one of the kids gets into a fight again, or pees in their pants – but he usually keeps his calm. Kids are, after all, child’s play (pun intended) compared to some of the adults in Stiles’ life. Toddlers are generally more likely to follow Stiles’ orders than adults, in any case.

There’s just one teensy thing that always throws a wrench in Stiles’ professional facade – Derek Hale.

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Tuesday Fic Rec #7

The Principal Thing by @mermaid-reyes / fuchs | Stiles/Derek | t | 4k

Out of everything wrong with the world, out of everything horrible that has happened to Stiles, out of kanimas and werewolves and sociopathic hunters and batshit insane high school students, Stiles had thought that his eventual and inevitable demise would be slightly more dramatic than this.

I LOVE THIS. IT’S SO HUMAN AND REAL AND I LOVE THE WAY THIS WRITING MAKES ME FEEL. I READ THIS OFTEN. I LOVE DEREK RESPONDING TO STILES’ PAIN AND AND ❤️❤️❤️❤️

who’s gonna run this town tonight by @callunavulgari | Stiles/Derek | m | 7k

“So,” Derek says, after they break free of the preserve. They’re maybe ten minutes away from the station. “Who is it? The John Doe?”

“Should you really be asking me that, Deputy Hale?” Stiles mutters into his knees, voice strangely weak for someone who spent the last thirty minutes mouthing off to the people arresting him. “I’m not afraid of you,” Derek says before he can stop himself, glancing quickly at the road before returning the majority of his attention to the rear-view.

“Maybe you should be,” Stiles whispers, and Derek jolts like he’s been hit. He returns his attention to the road, ignoring Stiles slumping back into his seat, so he almost misses the quiet voice from behind him. “Scott McCall. Someone killed my brother and I mean to find out who the fuck did it. Nobody’s going to stop me, not even you.”

Beautiful role reversal fic with Stiles as the omega werewolf that meets Deputy Hale after Scott is killed. Stiles is a little shit (◡‿◡✿) Derek cares about him anyway (◕‿◕✿)

The Importance of Vaccinating Your Lycanthrope by Stoney | Sterek | g | 5k

Herd immunity only works if the herd stays vaccinated, Derek. Well, it’s not like Derek had ever expected that he’d need an MMR, etc. Stiles. Good thing Stiles is awesome at sick beds. Yes he is, too, Derek.

Just some soft, gentle hurt/comfort fic with human!Derek that always warms my heart ❤️

Telling the Sheriff by kamawe | Stiles/Derek | Stiles/Derek | g | 15k

The couple of days leading to Stiles telling his dad about supernatural are not fun.

Sleep deprivation and exhaustion (◕‿◕✿) Relatable Content™ right here. Through a series of unfortunate events Stiles wears himself out between spending time with werewolves and his father and eventually…well. They tell the Sheriff. 

Carry on, Love is Coming by @finduilasclln | Stiles/Derek | t | 6k 

When Stiles breaks his knee after battling the latest supernatural disaster, he needs someone to take care of him.

With tags like “Hurt/Comfort” and “Derek Takes Care of Stiles” this fic pulls me in right off the bat. I love this fic, beginning to end. Stiles having human injuries and human emotions about being injured and I just thoroughly enjoy this fic, always. 

BONUS:

(Love) Sick and Dying by har1ey_quinn | Stiles/Derek | g | 5k 

“Do you need me to carry you?” Derek looks like anything Stiles says in an affirmative response will only result in him being thrown out the window.

“I-” Stiles squints at Derek. Apparently his lack of response is not good enough for the werewolf, so he takes it upon himself to try and shift Stiles into a sitting position on the bed. “Whoa, head rush. Ow.” Stiles brings his hands to rub at his temples, eyes shut in pain. The throbbing is getting unbearable now.

Stiles gets sick and Derek gets guilty. They work it out though and it’s the cutest, softest thing ever ❤️

Prince Charming Is A Lie (Or Possibly Hellspawn)

Look, it’s 1am which is way later that I’m usually awake (because 25 is the new 80) and I wrote a thing because feelings occurred. So have 2.5k of feelings occurring. 

Blame the sleeplessness if it’s terrible.

“I think it was a mistake to kiss me, that first time.”

 Derek doesn’t look at him, continues to play with his fingers and Stiles feels like there’s a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.

 "How so?“ His voice is barely a croak. They’ve been together for a year, now, and if Derek thought their first kiss was a mistake, then maybe he’s just felt obligated to continue the relationship. Maybe the nebulous ideas Stiles has for a future have all been for nothing.

 Derek frowns and Stiles knows not to interrupt when he’s thinking – when he furrows his brow that particular way, he’s trying to figure out the best way to articulate something. Derek can hold his own in an argument, and is never at a particular loss for words, but sometimes he pauses to make sure the words he’s picking are the most effective.

 It’s what, Stiles thought, makes him so good for Stiles, who doesn’t think about what’s coming out of his mouth until twenty seconds after it’s already said. Derek’s arguments are carefully constructed and solid, while Stiles’ sow chaos and account for the inevitability of any plan going to hell in a handbasket, and they work together.

 At least, he’d thought so.

Keep reading

What the Hell is a Stiles?

Sterek, T, 2K, Blind Date AU


Saw the prompt from this post that someone reblogged. (Take a look at the list, there are so many good ideas!)

Our mutual friend set us up on a blind date and I thought I’d hate it but you’re actually… kind of funny? But because I expected to hate it in no way am I going to let you change my mind just because you’re gorgeous and funny and intelligent oh no my friend is not winning this


“No,” Derek says easily, without even looking up from his book. Erica groans and flops into the chair opposite him, nearly upsetting his mug of hot chocolate.

“Seriously?” she says, bracing both elbows on the table and leaning toward him. “At least hear me out.”

“Nope.”

“He’s cute, Der! I think you’d really like him.”

“Absolutely not. You have a terrible track record with set-ups.”

Erica has the decency to wince, at least, and drop her gaze from Derek’s. “But you’re a catch, Der, and you deserve someone who can make you happy. And since you don’t want to date me—”

“You don’t want to date me, either,” he reminds her, but she just rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. But seriously. You’re great.”

“I thought I was grumpy and terrible with people?” he asks, parroting her words from after the last failed date, and she huffs.

“Please?” she wheedles, poking her lower lips out a bit. “For me. If it goes badly, I’ll never try to set you up again.”

Derek sighs. Fuck.

His facial expressions must be more transparent than he thinks because Erica’s eyes light up. “Oh my god, you’re gonna say yes.”

Derek scowls at her. “Just coffee,” he says firmly. At least that way, he can get it in a to-go cup and make a neat escape after five minutes if he needs to. “No dinner, no movie, no activities.”

“Fine,” she says quickly, digging in her jeans pocket for her phone. “You got it.”

“This is not gonna end well,” he warns her, but she just waves her hand without looking up from her phone.

“Have some faith, Der,” she says, patting him on the hand absently while she pushes her chair back and stands up. “I can’t wait to tell Stiles.”

Derek blinks, watching Erica walk away. 

“Wait, what the hell is a Stiles?” he calls after her.

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“So you’re telling me you want me to interview Superman. Me. Stiles.”

“Yes.”

“But this is going to be our main article! The front page. I mean I’ve never– I’ve never even written a whole page article, let alone a multi-pager.”

“Stiles, listen to me.” Stiles stops pacing in his boss’s office and crosses his arms so he won’t fidget so much. “You’re a great writer, and one of our best interviewers. We’ve heard back from several people you’ve done articles with, and they always talk about how friendly you are.”

Stiles supposes she has a point. He always tries to make the people he interviews as comfortable as possible. You get more truthful stuff that way. Stiles’ boss waits for him to nod before continuing.

“This meeting has been difficult enough to set up, and Superman has been somewhat reluctant through the process, but he’s agreed, and I’m not going to waste the opportunity by forcing him to talk to someone who’ll use the chance to interrogate him as opposed to just talk with him.”

Stiles nods again.

“Great. We’re trying to get a more personal interview anyway, so just use your ‘Stiles charm’ and it’ll be fine.”

Stiles sighs out and uncrosses his arms. It’s not that he doesn’t want the chance to talk to Superman and ask him about his philosophy and his upbringing and his favourite foods. Well, maybe not that last one. Point is it… it is a really big deal to Stiles, and it speaks to how much his boss trusts him.

“Okay then.” Stiles says. “I’m not sure it’s charm so much as making more of a fool of myself as they can of themselves. But thank you. I’ll do my best.”

His boss smiles at him then holds out a sealed envelope.

“What’s in it?”

“I honestly don’t know. Superman delivered it with clear instructions that it’s for the eyes of whoever is writing the article only. Take that home with you and do your prep there. I don’t want anyone seeing that who shouldn’t.”

Stiles salutes her with the envelope then heads home.

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pale-silver-comb replied to your post “Life fact: going to the gym when you’ve had shortness of breath all…”

AU where Stiles is you and Derek is the judgy gym dude.

EMMA AS IT WAS HAPPENING I WAS LIKE… I SHOULD STEREK THIS… SO here it is.

Stiles would be the first person to tell you that he isn’t in the best shape of his life. The best shape of his life was when he was 21 and played division 1 lacrosse at Berkley. Now he’s a 28 year old guy who stands at the front of a classroom most of the day and drinks a few beers on the weekends. He’s not in bad shape, it’s just not great.

Which is why he joined a gym when he moved back to Beacon Hills and started teaching full time. He may have joined Hale Fitness because he wanted to see if Derek Hale had grown up as well as everyone said, but mostly it was about keeping in shape, or at least that’s the lie he told himself.

“I wouldn’t go to the gym today Stiles,” Scott said. He had called Stiles at 3:35 because he knew that was when Stiles headed over to Hale Fitness for his daily run. “The forest fires are getting worse and the air quality is dropping.”

“Don’t worry about me buddy,” Stiles said, putting the Jeep in gear and pulling out of the high school, “I have great lungs, I’ll be fine.”

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The Case of the Bed Stranger

Stiles/Derek, T, 1.5K words, College AU

Written for the following prompt: The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU


“Erica,” Derek says calmly—very calmly, he thinks, considering the situation. It’s two in the morning, he just trudged back from the library with a pounding headache behind his eyes, and he comes home to find their apartment the site of a raging house party, with drunk undergrads everywhere.

“Hey, Der,” she says, with that wide grin that only comes out when she’s had one drink too many.

“You didn’t tell me you were throwing a party,” he says, his jaw clenched, and she scoffs.

“This? This isn’t a party. This is a, uh, just a little get-together.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s finals, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to bed, at least turn the fucking music down.”

He pushes through the crowd—accidentally hitting some of them with his backpack, oops—and finally seeks refuge in his room. The noise is dulled, blessedly, when he shuts the door behind him, and he exhales, letting his eyes fall shut. His momentary calm evaporates, however, when he opens eyes and notices the very important fact that someone is currently asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his stomach like he owns the place.

All Derek can see is broad bare shoulders, messy brown hair, and half of a mole-dotted face, pressed into the pillow and currently slack with sleep. Huh.

Derek sighs. He’s fucking exhausted, he doesn’t want to deal with babysitting some drunk kid right now, and he really doesn’t want him to wake up and then throw up in Derek’s bed or something.

Plus, the traitorous little voice in his head says, he’s really cute.

Derek shakes his head, irritated, as he drops his backpack on his desk chair. He strips down to his boxers and skips brushing his teeth—he’ll do it twice in the morning, and people are probably fucking the bathroom anyway, Jesus Christ.

Derek pulls back the comforter and gently slides into the bed, trying not to disrupt the mattress before he realizes that he’s being ridiculous. Why is he even considering a stranger’s comfort? It all seems for naught, anyway, because this kid apparently sleeps like the dead.

He takes a quick peek under the blankets, and at least the guy’s still wearing briefs, thank god. Derek doesn’t want to have to worry about accidentally sexually assaulting someone in his sleep.

He flops over onto his other side—thanks to the king size bed, his only grad school indulgence, there’s plenty of room—and closes his eyes. He’ll deal with this shit in the morning.

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flora’s first sterek fic rec

guys this was literally a long time coming and this was only the first 8 pages of my bookmarks on ao3 (which if u wanna see is here) from my first post ever. there will be more to come pal!

also @michelanqelx (i’m sorry for being, like, months late for this fic rec!)

i see the best of me inside your eyes by grandeur [1663] NR 

“I feel like this might be MTV show worthy,” Stiles says suddenly, and even at Derek’s exasperated look, adds, “This should be an episode of True Life. True Life: I’m Seventeen and Already Shopping for Curtains Because My Older Boyfriend Is a Moron.”

animal skins by gasmsinc [2278 words] G

The first time Stiles dresses Caleb up in a ridiculous outfit, Derek thinks it’s a joke. He comes home from work one day, and is greeted by the sight of their newborn pup in a zebra onesie complete with ears and a tail.

Seaside Framed in Glass by mrecookies [2435] T

“I’m going to name you Derek,” Stiles announces, still looking cross-eyed at the puppy in his hands. It’s looking back with a confused and sad expression, probably asking Stiles in some baby dog language why it’s being named after a brooding werewolf. “It’s because you’re always sulking, even though I got you a nice basket and biscuits and everything,” he says sternly. The puppy whines and hangs its head.

Derek is pretty cute.

Can’t Sleep by TylerM [3210] G

When Isaac is woken up from a night terror that he can’t get back to sleep from he seeks comfort from the two people he needs to know are okay.

The only problem is he is too scared to actually ask for it.

Sterek relationship. Everyone is pack. Pack mom Stiles to the rescue.

Your Mark on my Skin by afullrevolution [5551] T

Everyone had a mark scrawled somewhere across their body. A name, usually a signature to represent their soul mate, their one and only true love. Stiles has known who his mark belonged to since the third grade. He doesn’t understand how Derek can be so oblivious.

The Scientific Method by uraneia [5947] T

Stiles’s life was so much easier before his BFF got super powers. “But, so, werewolves have super strength, right? And super speed. And better vision, and better muscle control, and healing powers, and stuff. And some of that’s probably, like, genetic, if you can be born a werewolf. Right?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. From the perplexed look on his face, he doesn’t yet know where Stiles is going with this. “So?”

“So what if you have condom-defeating supersperm?”

Stiles has a lot of research to do. He decides Derek’s kitchen is the place to do it. Derek probably regrets giving him a key.

Extenuating Circumstances by flaming_muse [18411] T

Five times Stiles doesn’t believe it when Derek shows him affection (because he’s spent too much time reading stupid things on the internet), and one time he finally listens.

(Or, the one where I laugh my way through fandom tropes.)

set after season 2, no spoilers for season 3

*flora’s note: this was apparently bookmared with “absolute fave” so i’m definitely gonna go read it right now! maybe, you guys want to too!*

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Sterek Week Day 2: Kids! Writer!Derek and Coffeeshop Owner/Baker!Stiles as single dads AU:

Derek didn’t have time to deal with any romance nonsense. Between his writing career and his daughter, his focus was limited.

“It’s not a date. A romantic date anyways, it’s a play date. His kid is Jesse’s age and the sweetest boy. If you get bored, you can just go wander off or something.” Laura had told him, crossing her arms over his chest. “You’ve been holed up in your study lately, so I think Jesse would be up for some time with you and a new friend too.”

And that’s how they ended up in front of a random house. Derek sighed and glanced at his phone, the GPS helpfully chiming in that they’d arrived at their destination.

Read the fic Here!

A Thin Line Between Love and Hate

In response to this prompt I saw from @werewolfzeroSterek fic, future or AU possibly all humans, where Scott is getting married and his best friends Stiles and Derek are the two groomsmen and they both love Scott but HATE each other, everybody knows this, until suddenly they don’t know anything because Erica Reyes just walked in on the two in a closet goin’ at it with suits around their ankles and even though Scott is getting married in 30 minutes the only thing all his friends and family can talk about is how his best friends are hiding a torrid love affair and isn’t that just so interesting?


Erica closed the door to the bridal suite and sighed at the sight in front of her. “Oh my god, you two are pathetic.”

Scott and Allison both just grinned up at her from where they were sitting on the carpet, on opposite sides of the propped-open bedroom door. They were even holding hands around the door, Jesus Christ. 

“We’re not breaking the rules!” Scott protested. “I can’t see her.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped over to the full-length mirror to check her hair. “The cake is fine, by the way, it looks great. It’s all set up.”

Allison breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness. Thanks so much for checking on that.”

“Could you try to find Stiles and Derek?” Scott asked, puppy eyes out in full force. “They’re not answering their phones and no one has seen them in a while, so there’s a decent chance they’ve killed each other.”

Erica scoffed. “You know it was probably a terrible idea to pick two best men in the first place, let alone two best men who hate each other.”

“Yeah,” he said, sighing. “I know. But it’s my brother and my best friend! I couldn’t pick one over the other.”

“Even though they almost got into a fistfight at the engagement party?” she said dryly, and Allison stifled a laugh.

“They’ve pushed each other’s buttons since we were kids, it’s weird. I was hoping that they could put stuff aside for the wedding, but clearly that was too much to hope for.”

“Did you decide which one would get to stand next to you?”

“No,” he said sulkily. “It started a fight every time I brought it up. They said they’d figure it out between themselves.”

Erica rolled her eyes again and headed for the door. “Fine. But if I have to break up a fight and get blood on this dress, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Thanks, Erica!” Allison called out, and she tossed a halfhearted wave over her shoulder.

Erica took the elevator down to the hotel lobby and sighed, her hands on her hips. She had no idea where to start looking for two feuding best men. Lydia probably would, though, and since she was surely whipping everyone into shape in the ballroom, Erica headed in that direction. There was a long hallway connecting the event center to the hotel, and Erica paused when she heard a suspicious thump coming from…was that a door? 

Unable to resist her curiosity, she very gently tried the handle. Unlocked. Grinning, she pulled it open with a flourish. Erica was greeted by a manly yelp, and she blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness and pick out the two figures who were frozen in front of her.

Holy shit. It was Stiles and Derek, and from their messy hair, loosened ties, and undone pants, it wasn’t exactly a tough mental leap to figure out what they’d been doing. She laughed and stepped in closer, trying to get a better look, but Derek scowled fiercely and shoved Stiles behind him.

“This isn’t what it looks like!” Stiles called out, from behind Derek’s shoulder, and Derek rolled his eyes.

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Title: The Hollow Moon

author: thepsychicclam

wc: 180k

status: complete! (10/10)

summary: It’s the summer after Stiles’ first year of college, and he’s working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he’s okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn’t care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he’s just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

on ao3


“How can you not like milkshakes?”

“They’re empty vessels of sugar.”

“Excuse you, they are delicious!”

“Coming from the guy whose diet consists of Fanta and squeezable cheese.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

Derek just shrugs, and oh, fuck him, he deserves the french fry Stiles throws at his face across the booth. 

It’s not often the whole pack hangs out together, let alone gets dinner at skeezy diners outside of town. But it’s spring break after their first year separating from college, and Scott is a stickler for tradition, if anything. Or, friendship. 

Either way, that’s how Scott, Stiles, Lydia, Allison, Kira, Malia, Jackson, Derek, and Liam find themselves squished into a round booth in the back of Granny’s Closet.

“You’re like a twig, Stiles, how could he be calling you fat?” Kira retorts, taking a sip of her water. 

“He just shrugged!” Stiles exclaims brashly, and then glares at Derek. “You think just because you’re all buff and muscular and eat raw bunnies that anyone else is a disgrace.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I never said that.”

“Yeah, well, you said it with your eyebrows.” Stiles slumps in his seat. 

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