strawberry blonde goddess


Sterek one-shot, word count: 4k. 


Derek’s relationship with Stiles is about 40% eyebrow conversations, 40% innuendo, 5% puns (on Stiles’ end), and 15% fighting over the radio in the Camaro.

Except when Lydia Martin comes on. Then it’s 0% fighting over the radio, and 0% complaining, and 0% passive-aggressive commentary, or else Stiles will dump his ass, no exceptions.

“Not even when it’s your birthday in a week and your boyfriend is about to spend hours upon hours of his life baking you an unnecessarily complicated Millennium Falcon cake?” Derek asks.

“Not even,” Stiles agrees cheerfully. He cranks the volume a little higher as he says it, just to be a little shit, and adds, with entirely too much fondness given that this is a woman who regularly threatens to crush men’s skulls under her stilettos, “She’s my strawberry-blonde goddess, you know this.”

“Yeah,” Derek mutters, “I know.”

“And you can quit it with the judgey eyebrows, because I know you listen to Celine Dion in the shower.”

Derek shuts up.

It takes a whole four minutes for the song to end. It’s one of her quieter songs, one that doesn’t get a lot of air time. It’s not that bad, he supposes. A little twangier than he likes, a little more saccharine, but–pleasant. Like a lullaby. What makes it annoying is Stiles sitting over there crooning at the stereo and making heart eyes. No song–or singer–is that good.

Stiles sighs contentedly into the last notes and wriggles his butt against the seat. “I know you and I are, like, werewolf-married, but dude, if I ever met Lydia Martin in person … All bets are off, is all I’m saying.“

It’s not like Stiles really means it (does he?), but it still makes Derek’s hands clench into claws on the steering wheel.

"Yeah, if,” he says, and keeps his eyes on the road.

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Chris&Eva #6 (Skam)

This was requested by @askevamohn . I hope you will like it! I certainly enjoyed writing it! ;) xx

It was doorbell ringing  at 4 in the morning, that woke Eva up from the nice dream she was having. She was annoyed to say the least, but her annoyance quickly vanished, because the object of her dream was standing right outside the front door ,reeking of  alcohol
“Chris, what the fuck? Do you even know what time it is? What are you doing here?” Eva asked, not inviting the drunken boy inside. She didn’t want to clean up in case Chris got sick all over their expensive carpets that her mom adored.
“No, Eva, you don’t get to ask questions,” Chris snarled back and took another swing of his drink. She had never seen him so angry. She was used to seeing him slightly intoxicated, but he was always the fun drunk, not angry drunk.  But now, boy, was he mad.
“Tell me, Eva Mohn, am I a horrible kisser? Are my jokes too rude or too dumb, or too corny? Or maybe you don’t like that I get into fights frequently? What is it?” Chris asked practically shouting out the questions. His eyes were blazing with fury and… hurt. She had never seen hurt in his eyes. Chris didn’t get hurt… Ok, he did get beaten up from time to time when he got into fights, but there was never any emotional evidence that he was hurting, it was always physical.
“Where is this coming from? Did something happen or-“
“YOU HAPPENED! “ Chris yelled throwing the bottle,he had been holding, away,”You think you can just come into my life, mess it up, and I will be fine with it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. And ,can you please keep it down? Just because you’re awake doesn’t mean that the whole neighbourhood has to be,” she hissed, suddenly furious. How dare he? How dare he show up at 4 in the morning and throw accusation in her face?
“I won’t let you screw with my life like that. Go and be with him, see if I give a shit,” Chris said turning away to leave.
“For God’s sake, who the fuck is he? What is this about?” Eva practically was starting to yell herself, but she didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t allowed to just walk away from her without an explanation. For the first time, the fear of loosing Chris made her heart clench. She  wasn’t going to let that boy go and loose whatever it was that they shared, not if she could help it.
She ran up to him and grabbed his hand, making him turn to face her and placing her lips on his. She kissed him with such ferocity, one hand tugging at his hair and other sliding under his shirt, making the boy shiver under her touch. It made her feel powerful in a way, she liked having this type of control over a guy, who everybody believed was the dominant type, but not with her. With her he wasn’t Chris the Penetrator, he was just… Chris. Funny, charming,protective, vunerable Chris. She kissed him so ardently, hoping ,praying, for him to realize how much she needs him, how much she cares for him, how much she loves him…
Chris wasn’t sure if it was from all of the alcohol, or was it Eva  kissing him, that made him feel like he was flying, but he knew that he would rather die, than stop this. Because this… this was everything. In that moment, Chris knew that there was no one, that he would rather be with, than this strawberry-blonde goddess. She was by far the greatest thing that had ever happened to him and he felt so angry that it took some rumor about Eva hooking up with someone else at a party, and too many drinks to count, for him to realize, that he loved her.And that he would rather be alone than without her.
They broke apart after what felt like an blissful eternity, both thirsty  for air.
“I don’t know who you want me to be with, but if this doesn’t prove that the only person I want to be with is you, then I don’t know what will,” Eva said leaning into Chris, who in respsonse, wrapped his arms protectively around her waist.
“Me… I want you to be with me… Forget what I said before. I was insecure, stupid and drunk. Well, I am still drunk, but less stupid than a moment before,” Chris said giving her an affectionate kiss on forehead.
“What about insecure? Are you still insecure?” Eva asked dumbfounded. Never in million years could she imagine Chris feeling insecure, least of all him admitting it.
“Right now? I feel happy,” he answered giving her one of his smiles, that she was convinced, he had designed just for her.
“Me too.”



Submitted by: doessheknow

Description: It was hot and not just in the temperature type of way, though it was hot in that sense too. No, what he was talking about was the image in front of him, the way her hips swayed to the beat of the song, her clothing accentuating her curves so perfectly it almost hurt for him to watch.

Rating: MA

Genre: Smut, Established Relationship

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@loofalover said: i have a prompt: since tyler hoechlin’s gonna be on cbs’s supergirl, how about sterek with superman!derek? thank you!

“Jeez, Derek,” Stiles says, bringing up the front page of the Beacon Hills Herald on his tablet. “Again?”

Derek has the decency to look a little shamefaced. “Stiles, I cover local politics, not…” He waves his hand at the tablet. “That.”

“What? Actual news?”

Derek rolls his eyes at the teasing tone, and Stiles worries for a second that he’s taken it too far.

“Not that the council vote on changing the zoning restrictions on Maple Street isn’t totally exciting,” he adds, wrinkling his nose despite himself.

Derek smiles at him, and sets a cup of juice down on their rickety little kitchen table. “Opening it up to residential? Have you seen some of the loft spaces in the old factories down there? We could move out of here and get somewhere with a decent square footage. How great would that be?”

“That would be awesome.” Stiles tilts his head up for a quick kiss.

Stiles loves Derek to death, but he really is the most boring boyfriend ever.


The sheriff is old school. No tablet for him. When Stiles arrives at his office, his dad is reading an actual newspaper, the pages crinkling as he shakes them out straight.

“Seen this?” John asks, setting the newspaper down and pointing at the front cover.


“Yep,” Stiles tells him. There’s a kind of blurry picture of Superman flying—flying!—right out of the bank with a hostage in his arms. “I also saw the three assholes in the holding cells on my way in. Let me guess, he trussed them up and dumped them right on our doorstep?”

“Show pony,” John mutters.

Stiles laughs. “Dad, come on! He’s a superhero! Don’t go getting all grouchy and jealous!”

John snorts. “I see that Derek missed the scoop again.”

Stiles tries to sound supportive. “Derek covers local politics, Dad. You know that.”

“Oh, you mean the local politics that happen in the town hall right across the road from the bank?” John jabs his finger at the headline. “This Lydia woman beats him every time.”

“Lois,” Stiles corrects, and sips his coffee.


“It’s Lois, not Lydia.”

John frowns. “Who am I thinking of then?”

“The strawberry blonde goddess I was in love with since third grade?” Stiles hazards.

“Oh, right.” John looks a little pensive. “Whatever happened to her?”

“She’s being brilliant and awesome at the University of Metropolis,” Stiles tells him. “And still ignoring me on Facebook.”

“Ah,” John says.

“Anyway. Are we here to talk about Derek’s lackluster career, or mine?”

John folds the paper up. “Well, now that you mention it.”

Stiles tries to be cool about it, he really does, but his dad is wearing a combined Dad-and-Sheriff look that makes Stiles squirm like a guilty three-year-old.

“Three complaints in a month, Stiles,” John says sternly. “That’s more than most of my deputies get in a year!”

“But two of them are from Jackson Whittemore, and you know he’s just being a douche!”

“And the one from Mrs. Masterson?”

“That was an accident!”

“You ran over her letterbox.”

“Only because I was avoiding her cat!”

“Why were you even driving on the sidewalk?”

“Um,” Stiles says, and wracks his brain for an excuse he just doesn’t have. Because “to prove to Reyes that I could” probably isn’t going to work. “Okay, so. It’s kind of a long story.”

His dad sighs, and settles in with a look on his face that says he knows this is going to be total bullshit.


“I got takeout!” Stiles yells that evening, shoving the door open. “But probably our last one for a while since I’m stuck on desk duty for the next month and banned from picking up any overtime, and also I owe Mrs. Masterson two hundred dollars for a new letterbox.”

The salary of a deputy sheriff is not exactly a big one. Stiles kind of relies on picking up a few extra hours here and there.

Derek stands up from where he’s been working on the little desk in the cramped living space of their apartment. He shoves his glasses up his nose. “What sort of letterbox costs two hundred dollars?”

“I know, right?” Stiles grumbles, letting Derek divest him of the takeout bags. “The old woman’s totally scamming me.”

Derek’s smile is soft and fond.

Stiles heads to the bedroom to get changed out of his uniform and into his sweatpants. When he gets back to the kitchen, Derek is setting out two plates and a selection of their mismatched cutlery.

“So,” Stiles says a few minutes later, though a mouthful of kung pao chicken, “did you mean what you said about looking at lofts on Maple? I mean, like, it might be good to have somewhere big enough to have an actual dining table. And invite people over and stuff.”

“It would be good,” Derek says. “And, um, maybe we could look at buying instead of renting?”

Stiles’s jaw drops open. “What?”

Derek’s ears go a little pink. “I mean, we should buy a place together. If you want.”

“That’s, um, that’s…wow.”

“Too big of a step?” Derek looks worried.


But also, no. Of course not. Stiles knew a week into dating Derek Hale that this was the guy he wants to spend his whole life with. This shy, awkward guy who has somehow managed to make it this far through life without even realizing how ridiculously hot he is. This sweet, polite guy from Kansas, who helps their neighbors carry their groceries up the stairs, and fixes their leaking taps for them when the building super has pulled one of his magical disappearing acts. This totally earnest guy who actually likes covering local politics and gets more excited over the announcement of a new children’s playground than he does over the latest headlines about some high-profile crime.

Stiles wants to climb right over the table and kiss the hell out of him. Then he thinks about the mess that would make, and settles for reaching out and taking his hand instead.

“Derek Hale,” he says. “I love you. Let’s buy a place together.”

Derek’s smile is the most beautiful thing in the universe.


Stiles is happy to be finally off desk duty. This is what he signed up for, right here. Driving around the streets at night, poking into dark corners, and basically being a curious, suspicious-minded busybody. It’s the role he was born to play, actually. And it’s not like Beacon Hills is a hotbed of dastardly criminal activity. Especially not with Superman turning up all the time. His dad might not be a fan, but Stiles is. Stiles has even seen Superman a few times. Once, at a traffic accident, he was close enough to even talk to him, except he didn’t because his brain did that thing when he shut down. It was lucky, really. He probably would have said something dumb about how Batman was actually cooler. Anyway, instead he’d watched as Superman bent back a hunk of twisted metal that had formerly been a car, and lifted an unconscious child out of the wreckage. It had been awesome.

It had even made the front page of the paper, since of course Lois and her photographer had turned up to capture the action. Stiles’s left arm made the picture. Luckily his slack-jawed face didn’t. And Derek? Well, Derek had been covering a Rotary meeting. Stiles hadn’t even known Rotary was still a thing.

Derek’s never going to win a Pulitzer, just saying. Which is okay, because it would look kind of out of place on their bookshelf next to Stiles’s video games and collection of action figures.

Stiles turns down Main Street, traveling at a crawl. It’s the middle of the night and the middle of the week. There’s nobody about. At least, there shouldn’t be. Which is why Stiles brakes when he sees the van parked in the alley beside the bank.

It’s a white van with the logo of a cleaning service on the side. A cleaning service Stiles has never heard of.

He grabs his radio. “Hey, Parrish?”

Correct radio procedure is not one of Stiles’s strong points.


It’s not one of Parrish’s either.

“I’m off at the bank. There’s a van here that says Industrial Cleaning Services. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Okay, Stiles. I’ll get Reyes to swing by too.”

“Cool bananas.”

Stiles gets out of the car and walks slowly down the alley toward the van.

Situational awareness is one of Stiles’s strong points. The van door opens as he approaches, and he hears footsteps coming from behind him as well, and he knows that he’s suddenly in a world of fucking trouble. Knowing it doesn’t make a difference though. He doesn’t even have time to reach for his gun before some asshole smacks him over the back of the head and it’s lights out.


When he blinks himself awake, Stiles discovers he’s sitting just outside the entrance to the bank vault. He’s handcuffed to the barred doors between the vault entrance and the basement elevator. There are two men down here with him, and their attention is focused almost solely on the vault doors, and on the plastic explosives they’re jamming into the holes they’ve drilled around it.

Well, that can’t be a good thing.

It takes a little while for one of them to notice him.

“Cop’s awake,” the first guy says.

The second guy approaches him. He’s holding Stiles’s radio. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You tell the other cops to back off, and we don’t shoot you. Got it?”

It’s a simple plan, and one Stiles can get behind.

He waits until the guy presses the button on the radio. “Parrish?”


“I’m in the bank. I’m being held hostage. If anyone tries to come in, they’ll shoot me.”

The guy doesn’t even give Parrish a chance to respond. Just twists the knob on the radio that turns it off.

Stiles slumps back against the bars. This was not how he intended his night to go. He was going to check out Maple Street and imagine he and Derek living there, and then he was going to meet Reyes for a burger at the twenty-four hour diner on Oak, and then he was going to win ten bucks because they have a long-standing bet that he can’t drink a milkshake as big as his head in under thirty seconds. And then he was going to go home to Derek, and snuggle up with him for that one glorious hour between Stiles getting home and Derek having to leave for work. That one glorious naked hour.

Stiles wants an entire lifetime of those.

He watches as the guys do whatever it is they’re doing with their plastic explosives and their wires. Then he watches as they retreat past him, rounding the corner into what Stiles guesses leads to the utility rooms or whatever. Leaving Stiles sitting there, right in the fucking blast zone.

“Hey!” he yells. “Hey, come on!”

Oh shit.

A counter on the explosives starts to beep.

“Hey!” he yells again. “You can’t just fucking leave me here!”

He struggles uselessly against the cuffs, tears streaming down his face, because this is how he dies. Right here, right now, and he’s not going to see his dad again, and he’s not going to see Derek again, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it. He draws his knees up, tries to curl over and hide his face. His heart is beating fast enough to escape his chest, and this is it. This is how he dies.

There’s a moment of awful, sudden silence as the counter stops beeping.

A moment of stillness.

And then the world rips apart at the seams.


He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

Except, if he’s dead, where’s his bright tunnel of light? Stiles blinks, but all he can see is dust and smoke. There’s a figure crouched in front of him. Just a formless shape at first, but as the dust settles and Stiles’s vision clears he sees that it’s a man. A man in a blue suit that clings to his stupidly built body. He’s holding his red cape out to the sides like it’s a shield. Or like it’s wings, and he’s a mama bird protecting a fragile little fledgling from harm. Which in this case is the remains of the vault door that were blasted toward Stiles on the wave of the explosion. He has dark hair and beautiful eyes, and a single curl in the middle of his forehead that Stiles just wants to touch.

“H-hey, Superman,” he says. Do not say Batman is cooler. Do not say it.

“Let’s get you out of here, Deputy Stilinski,” Superman says, and if his voice doesn’t melt Stiles, then the way he leans over him and then reaches around to just snap the cuffs does. Stiles is as shaky on his feet as a newborn gazelle when Superman helps him stand.

“I, um,” he says, and then sort of collapses.

Superman sweeps one arm under him, and suddenly he’s in a bridal carry, and omigod it’s Superman!

Superman looks up, and Stiles follows the direction of his gaze. And that’s when he realizes the explosion has brought down the floor above them, and hell, even the roof, and he can see starlight though the dust and the smoke.

“Ready?” Superman asks him with a smile.

Holy shit, yes.

And suddenly they’re flying.


Derek bursts into the hospital room, hip-checking a tray of instruments and sending them scattering all over the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaims, shoving his glasses up his nose before he gets down on his hands and knees to start cleaning up the mess. Then he springs to his feet again, looking pink and rumpled, and rushes to Stiles’s side.

“Are you okay, Stiles?” His eyes are wide with worry. “Your dad called and said you were in an explosion?”

“I’m okay,” Stiles assures him with a dopey smile. “Superman saved me.”

“Oh, thank God,” Derek says, and squeezes his hand tightly.

“Der, when I get out of here, we’re going looking at lofts on Maple, okay? No more waiting. No more putting it off. I want to buy a place with you, and I want to come home to it every single day.”

Derek’s answering smile is beautiful.


“I just don’t get it,” Stiles says a few months later. “I mean, you hang out with Lois all the time, right?”

Derek considers that for a moment. “Not all the time.”

“But a lot of the time.” Stiles looks up from the catalog he’s been flipping through. They’ve moved in now, and they’re decorating. They are officially at the decorating stage of the relationship. Stiles can only presume the next step is buying a shelter dog together. He’s really looking forward to that part. It’s a lot more exciting than choosing dinner sets. “And Lois always sees Superman. She’s even interviewed him! So how come you’ve never seen him?”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not really that interested, to be honest.”

“Okay. So.” Stiles sets the catalog aside. “I know that you’re really into stuff like council policy and grassroots activism and those old people who are rehabilitating the Preserve, but, like purely objectively, Superman is interesting. You’re not allowed to be not interested in Superman. It’s like being not interested in fireworks. Or space travel. Or yetis.”

Derek looks at him oddly. “Yetis?”

“Like, I mean, if a yeti suddenly appeared, that would be interesting, right?”

“I suppose,” Derek says very slowly, like he’s agreeing with a crazy person.

“So there,” Stiles says. “You must be just a little bit interested in Superman.”

Derek slips into his thoughtful expression, and then smiles. “I’m more interested in you.”

“You’re hopeless!” Stiles crows, caught between exasperation and delight, and throws a cushion at him.


Sometimes Stiles dreams he’s flying.

It should be terrifying, but he’s never felt safer.

And then, when he wakes up snuggled close to Derek, it takes a few minutes to shake off the guilt.

It doesn’t matter, right?

Everyone’s got a crush on Superman.


Stiles proposes to Derek on the night of their housewarming, surrounded by their friends and colleagues. It’s not something he planned. In fact, he gives Derek an engagement ring made out of the twist tie off a bread bag. Derek laughs so hard his glasses fog up.

Stiles gets tipsy on cheap champagne, and almost breaks one of the new plates from the dinner set except Derek catches it in time. Who knew he had ninja reflexes? When everyone leaves, Stiles drags Derek out onto the balcony and makes him slow dance with him.

It’s romantic as fuck.

Then Derek goes inside to get him a glass of water, and that’s when Stiles sees it.

A kitten.

A sad, cold, shivering little kitten on the balcony next to theirs.

“Oh, hey, kitty,” he says. The loft next door is empty, so he has no idea how the kitten even got onto the balcony. But it’s stuck there now, and it looks so hungry and sad. Stiles leans out over the railing and reaches out for it.

“Jump!” he tells it. “Jump, and I’ll catch you.”

But clearly the kitten doesn’t speak English.

Stiles is slightly impaired from all the cheap champagne he’s drunk. Like, looking back, the smart thing would have been to go back inside, to go to the other loft, and to break in to get to the kitten. Except that doesn’t even occur to him. What occurs to him is that it’s only a couple of feet, and he can make it.

He totally can.

He climbs over the railing and reaches out.

“Stiles?” Derek calls from inside. “Do you want—Stiles!”

And suddenly Stiles is slipping, and then he’s falling.


Strong arms catch him before he hits the ground.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. He’s going to be sick. “Holy shit.”

Superman is holding him, and they’re rising slowly back up toward the balcony.

“You saved me,” Stiles breathes. “Again.”

“You should watch your step, Deputy,” Superman says.

“Y-yeah,” Stiles agrees.

He has such beautiful eyes. Stiles could lose himself in those eyes.

Superman sets them both down on the balcony again. Stiles glances around for Derek, but he’s not there. He must have raced downstairs when Stiles fell, and–

Stiles’s fingers snag against Superman’s. Something scratches him, and he looks down.

There’s a tiny little twisted piece of plastic-coated wire around Superman’s ring finger.

Holy shit.

Stiles starts to laugh.

“Deputy?” Superman asks.

Stiles smacks him in the chest. “Don’t even, you asshole!”

Superman’s jaw drops.

“Oh, my fucking God.” Stiles bites his lip and then, for good measure, smacks Superman again. It has about the same effect as smacking a solid brick wall. “Do you know how fucking guilty I felt for crushing on you, Derek? You fucking asshole!”


How did he never see it? How the fuck did nobody ever see it? The difference between them is literally a pair of glasses, a weird costume, and a curl of hair. Stiles has seen more convincing makeover shows on daytime television.

“Holy fuck. I’m engaged to Superman!”

Superman—Derek—has the decency to look a little shamefaced. “I can explain.”

“Can you?” Stiles asks. “Can you really?”

“I can possibly explain,” Derek says.

Stiles exhales heavily, and jabs his finger into Derek’s chest. “First, the kitten. Then the explanation.”

Derek steps over to the other balcony as easily as breathing, and returns with the trembling ball of fuzz cupped in his hands.

“I’m engaged to Superman,” Stiles whispers, his disbelieving smile broadening into an impossibly wide grin.


Derek Hale is not the most boring boyfriend ever. Derek Hale is Superman. And Stiles has totally hit that, and intends to keep hitting that for the rest of his natural life. He doesn’t care if Derek talks too much about council meetings and zoning issues and city budgets. They even join the group of old people rehabilitating the Preserve, and turn up every Sunday morning to collect trash and replant native trees. And zoning is interesting. Affordable housing is interesting. These are all things that can change the quality of people’s lives just as much as any superhero can.

They adopt a shelter dog. It becomes best friends with the kitten.

They live a small town life, with small town dreams and small town ambitions.

And some nights, when Stiles isn’t working and Derek isn’t saving innocent lives, Derek takes Stiles by the hand and they fly.

theworldwasinblackinwhite  asked:

Hey is there any abo where there both alphas?

yes there is!

Little Wolf by GreenasCole (4/? | 16,409 | R)

When Jackson pulls a nasty trick on Stiles’s seventeenth birthday, he may go off the deep end, just a bit. Peter notices and hatches a plot.

No one is surprised.

Now Beacon Hills has a serious Alpha overpopulation problem, Scott is caught in a tug of war between Stiles, Derek, Isaac, and Allison, and the Sheriff knows everything.

It’s going to be a long summer.

Ready by ashley_ingenious (1/1 | 3,117 | NC17)

Derek Hale’s not an idiot, okay. He knew becoming an Alpha wouldn’t prevent him from going into heat. He just thought… he just thought he had more time, because Alpha’s don’t go into heat unless they’re in the presence of their true mate. And that, well, Derek hadn’t been expecting that.

The Orange is a Lie by GreenasCole (7/7 | 26,923 | NC17)

July was a always a rough month for the Stilinski men. It had been ever since Stiles lost his mother. This year was going to be different. After getting a perfect score on his PSATs (which nearly resulted in his evisceration at the hands of a certain wrathful strawberry blond goddess) the University of Chicago, his parents’ alma mater, had invited him to come spend a week being wooed by the alumni association.

Stiles was looking forward to reveling in the normality of this milestone with his dad and best friend, despite the potential for big love and drama. This was going to be their first step on their road back to a safe, happy, supernatural-free life.


Or the one where Stiles finds a book, botches an enchantment, and discovers that the skeletons in his mother’s family’s closet are the animated kind that try to kill you (meanwhile Scott causes a diplomatic incident and Derek struggles with a different kind of closet).

anonymous asked:

It’s not Lydia that Peter lures to the field – it’s Stiles. Fem!Stiles + Field!Sex.

Hey, I like this one! It’s a little brisk, and not exactly graphic, but I hope you like it anyway nonny!

Going to the formal with Lydia is a dream come true turned nightmare.

Stiles has always believed that if she could just get Lydia to look at her, to really and truly see who and what Stiles is and could be, that Lydia would at the very least be curious enough to let Stiles try and court her. Stiles has probably clung to this belief for far longer than she should have, but Lydia is worth it.

But, therein also lies the problem.

Because Lydia is worth it. She’s smart and clever and achingly beautiful. But she’s also ruthless, cunning, and completely without remorse or empathy. She feels, strongly so, but not for Stiles.

Stiles wants to grab Lydia Martin’s perfect shoulders and dig her fingernails in deep enough to scar that pretty, flawless skin. She wants to shake the strawberry-blonde goddess until common sense would rattle its way to the forefront of her brain. Jackson Whittmore is a dick, an entire bag of dicks even, and Lydia deserves better. And, fine, if Lydia doesn’t want or need Stiles, Stiles can learn to deal with that.

But not for Jackson.

But Lydia insists on finding the asshole, and so here Stiles is, trudging through the empty corridors of the school on what should have been the happiest night of her short life, looking for a douchebag jock who’s been just dying to get mauled on by an alpha. She grumbles and tugs at her too-short dress, silently bitching at Jackson for being the unfeeling jackass that broke Lydia’s heart in the first place, Allison for handing her the pale-silver dress with a forced smile and an quick “It’ll look good on you,” and Lydia, for leaving her all alone.

Stiles hates walking through the school by herself now. Especially at night. Everywhere she turns, she thinks she sees red eyes glowing in the darkness.

A noise to her left.

“Jackson?” she calls out, shivering.

She stands there for a moment, contemplating.

“Fuck this,” she finally says, loudly. “I’m not chasing your insensitive ass. I’ve seen the horror films. You can go fuck off.” She nods sharply, and despite the sharp clench in her gut and the sudden thought that this may not be Jackson at all but Peter Hale, she makes her way to the closest exit.

Just before she opens the door leading out to the lacrosse field, she looks behind her. There’s nothing behind her. No sound, no movement, no red eyes. She sighs, breathing a little easier, and steps out into the night.


Curious and curiouser.

Peter watches the small slip of a girl as she peers into the darkness of the hallway, amber eyes squinting. He had thought to lure her deeper into the school, for what purpose he hasn’t quite made up his mind about. Part of him wants to chase her down like prey and avail himself of her blood and her flesh, and another wants to chase her down and fill her with his cock and seed.

It’s terribly inconvenient, these conflicting desires.

But again, she’s too clever by half.

Though she’s clearly curious, she knows better than to get herself caught again in this maze of a school where a predator might be lurking. Admittedly, an open field isn’t much better, but with hunters lurking about, Peter can honestly say she knows she’d be better off outside where people could hear her scream.

He taps his fingers against his thigh, and smiles a little. Because she will scream. One way or the other.


And she does.

She submits so beautifully to him once he has her in his grasp. She’s so sharply curious and so sinfully touch-starved, attention-starved, that she literally falls right into his hands with little more than a few whispered endearments and acknowledgements.

He says nothing but the truth as he circles around her, closer with each rotation, watching with glee as she trembles beneath his gaze, listening to her frantic heartbeat slow and spike, scenting her growing arousal the longer she’s left in his presence.

It’s the alpha in him, partially. He carries a presence, a natural aura of dominance, power, and control that girls like Stiles would naturally feel drawn to. Part of it is also the monster in him. She knows what he is, what he’s capable of, and she clearly doesn’t mind. He’s heard her before, talking about him and his motives to herself even if she hadn’t realized it was him she was talking about. He’s heard the words she’s confessed to the silent night, and knows her only problem with his actions is that they involve Scott, and are a potential threat to her father.

Peter can work with this.

Can work with her.

She’s such a clever little thing. Clever and cunning and so loyal. He also knows that despite her natural sexual submission, if he takes her as mate, their bedroom will be the only place she will submit to him.

And he wants that. An equal in mind, something to protect in body, someone his in soul. She would make a glorious wolf, but he also knows that he doesn’t need to turn her. He doesn’t want to, to be honest.

She’s dangerous enough as it is.


Stiles doesn’t know why she isn’t scared when Peter steps out of the shadows like the giant creeper he totally is. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t scream when his eyes glow red or his claws trail teasingly over her bare arms. She doesn’t know why she listens to him as he talks, purring a devil’s sweet seduction.

She doesn’t know why she lets him touch her. She doesn’t know why she lets him tilt her head back with a claw pressed just beneath her chin. She doesn’t know why she lets him take her first kiss.

She doesn’t know why, but the thing about Stiles is that for as smart as she is, more times than naught she usually just goes with the flow of things. She’s a big fan of letting things go their natural course, ignoring problems until she’s either forced to deal with them or they go away on their own. And this – Peter Hale claiming her mouth thoroughly – is something that feels too good to be real.

This whole night feels like something out of a dream.

He notices her.

The words he whispers into the vacuum of their mouths, are no sweet nothings, are no empty promises. He whispers of her daring, of her loyalty, of her cunning. He rakes his claws gently over her bare flesh, teasingly licks at her lips, and asks her a question.

She’s only sixteen, still only a child in the eyes of the law, but Stiles hasn’t been a child for a very long time. It is a woman grown that looks at Peter Hale and sees the fragments of a solution to a problem she’s been trying to solve since the moment she knew what her best friend was. It is a woman grown, sly and cunning, that pieces together lore learned from Derek and even Peter himself (as relayed through Scott) and throws together a plan that will leave them all with their lives intact. It is a woman grown, pragmatic and resourceful, who looks at Peter and knows that while he may have never been her first choice, she can and will make this work.

She will be content, if not happy.

Scott will be safe. As will her dad.

She says yes.


It’s the screams that draws Scott to the field. High-pitched and breathless, they don’t sound quite right, but he’s well aware that there’s a psychotic alpha on the loose, and that there are people close to him that will suffer for his refusal to join it.

He’s careful as he creeps in the shadows of the brightly lit field, eyes straining as he struggles to see what the weird black splotch in the center of it is.

And then he sees.

Peter is crouched over Stiles, fucking into his best friend with an oddly gentle cadence, blood dripping down his chin, eyes bright crimson as he keeps his gaze locked on the girl beneath him. Stiles is naked, lying on the remains of the pretty silver dress Allison had picked out for her, legs locked tight around Peter’s thrusting hips, eyes closed and mouth open as guttural cries leave her throat, her hands fisted in Peter’s leather jacket.

There is blood dripping from one wrist, where Scott can just barely make out teeth marks.

He bit her.

The alpha bit her.

He whimpers, drawing the bright, feral gaze of his alpha to him, and Scott retches when Peter grins, all sharp jagged teeth and insanity. The older man’s hips thrust harsher, deeper, making Stiles scream beneath him.

Only now, Scott can hear the pleasure in those screams, the desire and eagerness.

Only now, Scot can see Stiles’ face, the flush that spreads down her face and across her bouncing breasts.

Only know, Scott can hear the squelching sounds of Peter’s cock rutting into Stiles’ slick cunt.

He can’t handle it.

He runs.


Derek is still in chains when he feels it – the solidifying of another bond. It is stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, despite its newness. He wonders at it, poking it with what lingers of his awareness, not noticing that the bond with his uncle is strengthening as well. He doesn’t have long to wait, because soon a howl rings out over the entirety of Beacon Hills.

Unlike all the other howls he’s heard the alpha give, this one is no deep roar of rage and madness, or an echoing call of frustration and loneliness. No, this is triumph. This is exultation.

This is a welcoming.

Derek relaxes into the cold bite of his chains as he is surrounded in the power of the bond growing strong and binding in the back of his mind. His alpha has mated, and will grow more stable and mentally aware with every passing second until the bond is firmly solidified.

Derek won’t be in chains much longer.

Not with a stable alpha.

Note: Peter didn’t turn her - he gave her a mating bite (a la fandom).

post s.2: Stiles doesn’t want just any summer fling. He wants Derek. And Lydia is determined to help Stiles get him.

For the stereksupportnetwork‘s July beach/summer/vacation prompt. I went a little crazy with the tropes here, including: summer fling, beach trip, beach volleyball, bonfire, misunderstandings, popsicle flirting, and more!

“What we need,” Lydia Martin, strawberry-blonde goddess and until recently the one and only love of one Stiles Stilinski’s life, slides her attention from the people passing the outdoor café to eye him critically, “is to find some summer flings.”

It’s been about two weeks since Jackson-gate, when his parents decided to up and leave the country on a moment’s notice, taking the newly minted beta and, until recently, one and only love of Lydia Martin’s life with them.

The Stiles of three months ago would have been ecstatic. The Stiles of right now still can’t say he’s terribly broken up about seeing the last of the person who had been the bane of his high school, middle school, and much of his elementary school existence, but he does feel some empathy for Lydia – who had to take the news in tandem with that of her best friend clearing out to France for the summer – and even for Derek, whose betas have been dropping like flies since April. Even Isaac, considering the amount of time he’s been hanging around Scott recently (and no, Stiles is not the littlest bit bitter about that), seems to be hanging onto Derek’s pack by a thread. The guy had spent about half a second being not totally alone in the world, and even Jackson Whittemore has got to be better company than nothing.

There’s a very good reason why Stiles’ brain is jumping straight to Derek at the mention of “summer flings,” and that reason is also why Stiles is able to flash Lydia a smile and respond with no real degree of seriousness:

“You offering, Lyds?”

Three months ago, Stiles would have been utterly serious. And three months ago Lydia wouldn’t have been sitting in a café smiling at him. All in all, he’s pretty ok with the trade-off.

Even if he has managed to trade one impossible crush for another.

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A shy author who writes a novel series which are super popular but is on indefinite hiatus. Soon after the ruler of hell appears in front of them in a dramatic burst of smoke demanding for them to continue because apparently demons are also very fond of popular literature.

Being a demon wasn’t so bad. All Stiles had to do was meet his monthly soul quota and other than that, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted. Stiles was very good at his job, he was the only demon in history to be named Soul Collector of the Year ninety-nine times. The year Greenburg won is still a sore spot for Stiles, it was 1967 the Summer of Love was in full swing and Stiles got a little… distracted. There were more than enough people out there willing to give up their souls for something and Stiles was more than happy to oblige them.

Stiles’ journey to becoming a demon was something of a cliché. He didn’t sell his soul to save some poor person’s life; he didn’t even sell it for riches. No, Stiles sold his soul for love. Her name was Lydia Martin, a 5 foot 2 strawberry blonde goddess. He didn’t even have the sense to negotiate himself a good deal. Blinded by infatuation, Stiles thought three years was an enough time so fifteen and stupid he agreed. In return for his soul, Lydia would fall in love with him.

But things didn’t exactly go to plan. Stiles quickly figured out that Lydia wasn’t really the perfect girl he thought and there was also that whole life-changing moment when he turned sixteen, and realised that boys were actually more of his thing. It turns out that demons don’t really care if things don’t work out so, when Stiles was eighteen, the demon came to collect. Faced with the prospect of burning in hell for all eternity, Stiles proposed an alternative – make him a demon instead, with his smart mouth and quick mind he’d definitely be an asset to the team. So here he was, a hundred years later and collecting souls for a living.

There was one big problem with the job; it got a little repetitive. You meet some poor shmuck down on their luck and desperate and it’s pretty easy to entice them with offers of a better life. You give them five or ten years, collect on the debit, and then their soul is yours forever. And so on and so on. Honestly, Stiles was bored; a hundred years of collecting souls is enough to drive even the finest demon a little crazy.

Away from collecting souls, Stiles had one pleasure in life and that was reading.  Wolf Moon, a series of novels written by the mysterious author D. H. Sales were Stiles’ particular favourite. The teenage misadventures of the titular character Scott, a werewolf, and his best friend Dylan were Stiles’ only escapism from his tedious life as a demon. It had been two years since the release of the fourth instalment and Stiles was getting a little frustrated.

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anonymous asked:

Hey guys :) Any fics with mistaken identities? (Where Derek or Stiles thinks the other is someone else, and they find out it's all misunderstanding :D )

Okay Anon, I have some fics for you!

And if you like this fic, you might like our: misunderstandings tag, and our online relationship tag.

Message From My Heart by Hepzheba

2,694  I  Fluff, Humor, Pining, AU-Human

General Audiences

Derek is forced by his relatives to pretend to be Laura on an online dating site so she can finally find someone. Derek wasn’t supposed to fall for someone there…

Message received by WeirdV

2,863  I  Cop Stiles, Artist Derek, Joke Gone Wrong

General Audiences

She’s drunk.
Very drunk, and that’s her defense for doing it.
When the guy asks her number - cute, sexy and into boys and girls - she gives him her brother’s number instead.
She expects it to come crashing down when he tries to call her later. Looking forward to see her brother’s face.
But he doesn’t call.
He sends a text.

Prompt: This guy/girl gave me her number last night but it’s actually yours.

Follow the Lead by r2metoo

4,177  I  Groomer Stiles, AU-Human, Dogs, Idiots in Love

General Audiences

Stiles’ favorite customer is Laura Hale and her little Cocker Spaniel. A handsome man comes into his shop one day with the dog, and Stiles learns Laura had a bad accident, he also learns that she has a very handsome husband…he is her husband, right?

Cherry pie by devilscut

7,300  I  Strippers, Deputy Derek


Much to his disgust new Deputy Derek Hale is dispatched to a party for excessive noise. However, when he arrives the reception he gets is not what he’s used to and when he encounters the drunk birthday boy, one Stiles Stilinski, Derek’s never felt this way about anyone especially not so quickly.

So what’s a guy to do when the hot birthday boy starts whispering naughty things in your ear.. and then you find out exactly who his Dad is - your new boss.

A tale of mistaken identity, strippers, werewolves and love at first sight (although neither of them will admit to that last one just yet).

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways by hologramophone

7,799  I  AU-Office, AU-Human, Fluff, Pining

Teen and Up

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him.
“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.
Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”

(Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

Handsome Hobo by relenafanel, and Swing Set in December (swing_set13)

8,853  I  Neighbors, Professor Derek, Comedy

Teen and Up

Derek should probably stop rummaging through garbage if he doesn’t want people to assume he’s homeless.

Navigating This Space Between Us by Omni

9,641  I  Pining, Bottom Derek, Oblivious


Derek gets forced to watch some sci-fi show about a surly, secret prince and the sarcastic young spaceship captain hired to aid him on his quest. Strangely enough, he finds himself hooked on it. So much so that he’s even drawn into the fandom. There he meets a popular fanfic author with an oddly endearing attitude, and he gets rather smitten. Maybe this mystery guy could actually help get him to stop pining for Stiles…

‘Linski’s Late Night Antidote To Lame by WhoNatural

13,865  I  AU-College, Pining, Radio

Teen and Up

Where Stiles has his own college radio show, and the mysterious, faceless Derek is his number one fan.

Also there’s this really hot guy he keeps meeting in the library who totally hates his guts.

Total System Meltdown by thegirlgrey

17,223  I 5/5  I  Pining, Misunderstandings

Teen and Up

Stiles has the hots for Lydia’s pool boy. Sadly, Lydia’s pool boy is not Derek Hale. Nobody’s told Stiles that.

One Way or Another by alis

22,181  I  4/4  I  Angst with a Happy Ending, Catfishing

General Audiences

Derek thought he had the perfect plan to get past Stiles’ defenses and know him better: by making an account on an online RPG Stiles’ plays, and getting closer to him.

Except Derek is an idiot, Stiles is just as bad as Derek, and everything goes wrong.

Catfish by crimandclove

26,763  I  8/8  I  AU-Human, Slow Build, AU-High School

Teen and Up  I  Part 1 of the The Art of Being Caught series

cat-fish (verb) - to lure (someone) into a relationship by means of a fictional online persona.

Stiles is sick and tired of being the only one without a date, so he decides to set up an OK Cupid profile. Little does he know, the guy he starts talking to isn’t all what he seems.

The Orange is a Lie by GreenasCole

26,923  I  7/7  I  Canon Divergent, Magic Stiles, Pack Dynamics

Explicit  I  Part 1 of the Mandarin series

July was a always a rough month for the Stilinski men. It had been ever since Stiles lost his mother. This year was going to be different. After getting a perfect score on his PSATs (which nearly resulted in his evisceration at the hands of a certain wrathful strawberry blond goddess) the University of Chicago, his parents’ alma mater, had invited him to come spend a week being wooed by the alumni association.

Stiles was looking forward to reveling in the normality of this milestone with his dad and best friend, despite the potential for big love and drama. This was going to be their first step on their road back to a safe, happy, supernatural-free life.


Or the one where Stiles finds a book, botches an enchantment, and discovers that the skeletons in his mother’s family’s closet are the animated kind that try to kill you (meanwhile Scott causes a diplomatic incident and Derek struggles with a different kind of closet).

A Devotion by TroubleIWant

77,076  I  9/9  I  AU-Medieval, Prince Stiles, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending


There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes.

A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable.

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.”

Or: A medieval AU that’s a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

Enjoy these adorable motherfuckers falling in love!

Love and internet hugs,

Fluffy Wolf

Five Times Stiles and Isaac Didn't Switch Bodies – And One Time They Did

For Mal because she asked for Stisaac for this prompt! I hope this cheers you up a little bit!

1. Lydia

Lydia is not fooled for even a second. When someone hugs her from behind and whispers “Lydia, my strawberry blonde goddess” into her ear, she just shoves him off and without looking away from her course book says:

“Go and bother Stiles, Isaac, I’m busy.”

It doesn’t work unfortunately; he just drops into the chair next to her and keeps talking.

“But I am Stiles! We switched bodies; you need to help us change back!”

Lydia rolls her eyes.

“Not now, I’m busy. Just, go and make out or something.”

She sneaks a look at him from the corner of her eye, and wow, that is a bright red blush. Bingo.

“I’m not – we’re not – what are you – ” Isaac starts spluttering and seems to have already forgotten his claim that he was Stiles.

Lydia just smirks and says innocently: “Oh do you no longer want to kiss Isaac, Stiles? You told me just this morning that you want to grab him by one of his stupid scarves and kiss him silly, didn’t you?”

Of course he didn’t, Stiles is as deep in denial as Isaac is, if not even deeper. But Isaac, or should she call him “Stiles”, doesn’t, of course. Not that it would make any difference, he seems to have lost all higher brain function at that little tidbit of information.

“I, I have to go!”

Isaac stands up, knocking over his chair in his hurry to get away from her. He almost falls over it when he tries to pick it up and take a step over it at the same time.

Lydia sniggers and watches Isaac bump into several more tables on his way out of the room.

She’d almost believe that they’d switched bodies now.

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relaxinqx  asked:

Do you think stiles is gay or bi? Bc a lot of people do

Personally, I think it’s pretty rude to both Lydia and Malia to say he’s gay. Stiles is clearly at least somewhat interested in them, which means he’s probably not gay-identifying.

He loved Lydia for a long time, and while it was a childish love, it was based on real things, like his respect for her intellect, and her hair (“strawberry-blonde goddess” is something he took the time to think about). So there were physical aspects as well as emotional and intellectual ones involved there. The childish crush didn’t survive the kiss, when he realised he felt no sexual chemistry, but that doesn’t make his feelings for her invalid.

Remember too how he was uncomfortable when Malia was naked in the shower? If you’re genuinely not interested at all in someone, you’d turn away out of politeness, but you’re less likely to be obviously uncomfortable due to sexual tension. He doesn’t love Malia, in my opinion, but he does like her, and seems to have some genuine physical attraction for her.

As for boys, he’s clearly been interested in Danny, although slightly less overt about it than with Lydia.

He’s asked Scott to kiss him on multiple occasions, and while he played it off as a joke every time, I don’t think it was entirely a joke. Jokes Stiles says tend to turn out to be truth a lot of the time. I think you can make a strong case that Stiles has been in love with Scott almost as long as Lydia, and in a similarly childish way.

Also, he got Derek to strip at the first opportunity that presented itself. I think he was a bit naive about his actions there and didn’t realise he was doing harm until later, or that what he was feeling was sexual attraction for Derek, but it’s certainly part of this pattern.

In other words, while Lydia wasn’t a match, and Malia is looking unlikely to be a long-term match (unless he suddenly falls in love with her after all), there are/were things he was genuinely attracted to about each of them. Likewise, he was attracted to aspects of both Scott and Danny, but they weren’t matches either. He’s shown steadily increasing interest in Derek, right up until 3A, when they were last substantially together, and I think it freaks him out a bit because he likes him and is also attracted to him.

Any way you slice it, that makes him bisexual in my book.

He might be more often attracted to men than women, although canon evidence doesn’t really show that, but even if he were, he’d still be bisexual. Bisexual just means you’re attracted to your own and another gender, and how often you’re attracted to each one doesn’t really come into it.

Stiles does seem to be bisexual to me.

The Color Of Your Smile

For Sterekweek Friday

It was the week before senior year, and Stiles was getting a bit antsy. It was this feeling of slight panic that accompanied a regular work schedule and that gripped him every year right before school, even though he should be used to it by now.

Internally bemoaning the inevitable lack of freedom soon to befall him as well as those summer-bound lazy mornings spent sleeping in or dicking around on his X-Box, he slowly, almost reluctantly, strolled toward the meeting point they had agreed on—that new fancy café that had opened downtown two weeks ago that everyone and their grandmother was so jazzed about it was utterly ridiculous.

Maybe they put drugs into their coffee to make people crave their sweet, dark, ‘n piping hot ambrosia.

Whatever it was, Lydia had insisted, so naturally everybody else had eventually agreed in fear of retribution that would surely be dished out if they didn’t do what the strawberry-blonde goddess wanted.

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