They stare at each other, half-grinning, and Derek knows it’s definitely the absolute wrong time for this, but he wants. He wants to grin at Stiles over dinner every day for the rest of his life, baffled over yams and Moon Pie Day, and, god, crap, goddamn, when the fuck did he have time to fall in love?
The life and times of Deputy Stiles and Supernatural Foster Dad Derek Hale
“’M tired,” Stiles whines. “Derek if I just -” “No,” Derek says. And he says it so simply; it’s not mean or meant to hurt Stiles, it’s just his honest answer. Stiles chokes on a sob. He’s so tired, and all he wants is just one. One shot. He knows he’ll feel better, and he hates Derek for saying no.
Or, In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice…With the Same Person
Stiles sees the flyer on his very last day at Beacon Hills High School. It’s hanging, unassuming, in the hall near the front entrance along with bulletins and other flyers, advertisements, posters for free student concerts, but the fact that the word “sex” is written in a font two times larger than the rest of the page catches his attention.
It’s an advice hotline for a whole range of things, from teenage angst to how to deal with your parents telling you you’re adopted and a whole mess in the middle. Stiles thinks it’s funny, though, that they offer advice on sexuality and sex education. It makes sense on the one hand, since high school sex ed does jack shit for actual learning, but anyone who really wants to know stuff has an infinite source of knowledge right on their phone—the internet.
From the bathroom came sounds of the guy brushing his teeth. Stiles rubbed the fifty dollar bill between his fingers and felt cheap. “Dude, I’m not taking your money.”
The guy spat and turned the faucet on. “Take the money. You said you lived in Queens last night? Who the hell lives in Queens.”
The fifty seemed gritty in his fingers, but he put it in the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans, anyway. That was, like, a five-hour shift at the coffee shop where he worked, Common Grounds, with tips. “And don’t call me ‘dude,’” the guy continued, turning off the faucet. “I’m not your college bro. It’s Derek.”
i’m looking for a tumblr fic (i think) that appeared on my dash this evening, the summary was something like this: stiles and scott lived together and then derek moved to the same neighborhood, and i guess boh derek and scott were alphas and were like competing who could woo stiles better??? or something like that? do anyone know this?? thank u so much!
Or, you know, this: Stiles has pretty much always known he wasn’t a girl. It’s why he started going by Stiles in elementary school: Zofia isn’t actually that hard to pronounce, but it isn’t him. Stiles, though, yeah: the first time Scott says it, Stiles is sold. That’s his name. He knows who he is.
No one will cut his tits off until he turns eighteen but he’s pretty small-breasted anyway, lanky and lean, so under a sports bra and a couple of layers, no one knows the difference. His mom buzzes his hair with clippers up until she dies and then he starts doing it himself; it’s cheap and easy. Jackson and Matt call him a lesbian all through middle school but freshman year Stiles starts insisting on male pronouns and actually everyone at school just kind of goes with it. They don’t all remember all the time and he’s still not allowed to play lacrosse on the boys’ team, and he’s still a total loser, but it’s not that big a deal. It’s not like he’s the only openly LGBTIQA student at Beacon Hills High, anyway: there’s Danny, of course, and a genderqueer person who calls themselves Tugs and makes out with a girl who wears cat ears in the hallway outside Stiles’s history class every morning, as notable examples.
Not long after Derek and Stiles meet, Stiles goes on his period. As soon as his scent hits Derek in the doorway of the loft, Derek jerks back, blinking rapidly at him.
“That’s kind of embarrassing,” Stiles says, laughing at least half-heartedly. “You can smell it?”
“Oh,” Derek says. “I didn’t know you were – um. I didn’t realize.”
It’s Stiles’s turn to blink incredulously, looking down at himself. “This shirt has the trans pride flag on it. You’ve seen me wear this a million times. You – last week you asked me if I ever washed it.”
“I didn’t know there was a trans pride flag,” Derek says.
Stiles rolls his eyes. “There’s a pride flag for everything. So, can I come in? Or is my stench too offensive?”
“It’s not offensive,” Derek grumbles, stepping back to let Stiles through the door. “I was just surprised.”
Derek doesn’t seem to like Stiles much, but Stiles is pretty sure it has a lot more to do with his ever-rambling mouth than the trans thing – after all, Derek likes Scott even less, and Scott is as unfortunately cishet as they come.
Stiles comes back from his first year of college, and he knows he looks a lot better than he used to. He took up running and weightlifting and between the gym and the T, he’s filled out. His skin is golden from (too many) days skipping class to lay on the beach. He let his hair grow back shaggy enough for boys to wrap their fingers in while he sucks their cocks and, yes, he lost his virginity and was even mostly sober when it happened.
Derek stares at him really intently without any expression for a long time. Finally, he says, “You look different.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “You know I had surgery over winter break.”
Derek’s eyes travel down Stiles’s body, all the way to his feet, and then slowly back up. “It’s not that,” he says.
“Wanna see my scars? Hey, would a werewolf scar from surgery like that, do you think?”
“I’m not sure. No, I don’t need to see them.”
Stiles throws himself on the couch. “You’re being really weird. Weird even for you.”
When Derek trails off, Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Like what?”
“Like someone’s been touching you.”
Stiles blushes. “Well, so what? Someone has been touching me.”
Derek looks away, turning his whole face from Stiles like he’s in pain. “Is he good to you?”
“Um, sure? It’s not a big deal. It’s just a hookup.”
“He knows that you’re trans?”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yes, Simon is intimately familiar with the state of my genitals. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“I know. I just – worry sometimes.”
“Little Trans Human does not require a Big Scary Werewolf to take care of him. It’s awesome, dude. Simon thinks I’m hot.”
It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “You are hot.”
Stiles laughs, but Derek isn’t cracking a smile, just back to staring at him intently, like he can erase the mole on Stiles’s cheek with his laser eyes. It’s unnerving. “Uhh,” Stiles stammers a little, “you think I’m hot?”
“You know you’re attractive.”
“But I don’t? I’m ok, I guess, and let’s be real, T is helping, but it’s not like – I’m not running around looking like you.”
Derek looks down at himself, the cloth of a henley clinging to his stomach, his too-tight jeans. Stiles realizes that Derek is dressed a little nicer than usual, and his hair is overly-styled, too. “Wait a second,” Stiles says, all too aware – as usual – that Derek can hear his heart pounding. “You’re – are you into me?”
Derek sighs deeply, deflating, eyes still cast downwards. “I had this stupid idea,” he says, voice low and resigned, “that I could be your first.”
“Whoa,” Stiles says. “Holy shit.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek says.
“Back up, nothing to be sorry for, I just need a second to kind of filter this through my brain, because, like – wow, I mean – ok, there’s a lot of stuff I still haven’t done, though, you know. Like anal. You could totally be my first at that. Or, um. I haven’t tried the strap on thing yet. If you’re into that. Honestly mostly I just blow him and he fingers me.”
Derek growls and stalks up to Stiles on the couch and leans over him. He rakes his fingers through Stiles’s hair – yes, definitely a good idea on growing it out – and tugs Stiles’s head back to kiss him.
It’s gentler than Stiles would’ve expected, if he had ever let himself entertain the idea of kissing Derek before, which he has mostly avoided for his own sanity, because up until about two minutes ago he was one hundred percent certain that Derek was one hundred percent unattainable. Now that all seems a little short-sighted, as Stiles’s lips part to welcome Derek’s tongue into his mouth.
It’s a long kiss, and Stiles gasps a little when they part. Derek’s eyes are dark, flaring red at the edges. Ridiculously, it turns Stiles on – he can feel it tingling from his groin to his stomach to the tips of his fingers.
“So, uh, you want to become intimately familiar with my genital situation, too?”
Derek sighs, long-suffering, but Stiles is pretty sure the edge of his mouth tips upwards, too. “Yes, Stiles. I would like to become intimately familiar with your genital situation.”
Summary: The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning.
Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles–147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn’t his only weapon.
What about a Sterek vigilante au, pretty please? :D
“I’ll make you watch, Wolfman, as I slice your precious sidekick into pieces!” the villain crows with a maniacal laugh.
“I’m not a damn sidekick,” Stiles complains at the same moment as Derek sighs, “He’s not my sidekick,” and they really have more pressing matters to attend to- like, say, the death ray pointed right at Stiles’ stomach- but they pause, roll their eyes at each other in exasperation.
Derek explains, “This is a partnership,” and Stiles adds, “You tell ‘im, baby,” and the villain is confused just long enough for Derek to spring into action while Stiles happily watches.
“Don’t you think that’s enough now?” Derek asked and he
“I think it will never be enough,” Stiles said as he danced
in front of the television.
“You don’t have to be this happy,” Derek groused and let his
head fall against the couch.
“Oh no, I don’t think you understand. I am not happy. I am serendipitous.
I am jubilant. I am rejoicing,” Stiles
called out and Derek rolled his eyes.
“It’s just a stupid game,” he grumbled and Stiles stopped in
his little victory dance.
“Just a stupid game. Just
a stupid game. Do you know how long it’s been since I won anything when I
play against Scott? Exactly since the day he got bitten. His reflexes, man, I
can’t beat him,” Stiles explained and crashed down on the couch next to Derek.
“And you are just the same. You beat me every single time,”
he said and then jumped up again to resume his dance around the living room.
“But now, now I beat you, you lost, I decimated you, I destroyed you,” he happily exclaimed
and Derek smiled softly at him.
Which made Stiles stop right in the middle of an awkward hip
“You fucker,” he whispered and Derek frowned, smile wiped
off his face.
“What?” he asked, obviously confused by Stiles rapid mood
“You fucker let me win on purpose,” Stiles cried out and
jumped on Derek to slap his hands against his chest. “You lost, so I wouldn’t
be too sad,” Stiles said and then stopped for a second. “Which is actually
kinda sweet, now that I think about it.”
“I didn’t lose on purpose,” Derek said and there was a slight
blush covering his face. “You beat me fair and square.”
Stiles stared at him for a moment, taking in the blush, how
Derek seemed to be slightly embarrassed, but still happy and he leaned in to
brush a soft kiss against his lips.
“So I just have better reflexes than a born werewolf,” he
whispered against Derek’s lips, which curled into another smile underneath his
“I would say you had a lot of practice with Scott. And this
is just not my game,” Derek explained and Stiles got up again.
“You are just bitter you lost. You are a sore loser. I have
better reflexes than you and you can’t take it,” Stiles almost yelled and Derek
“Maybe,” he finally admitted and he didn’t really seem all
that bothered by it.
“You usually are a sore loser,” Stiles observed. “Why are
you all happy about it?”
“I am not happy,” Derek said back and got up. “I am just overjoyed
that you are, what did you call it, jubilant,” he said and then he took Stiles’
hand and spun him around.
“I’m just happy you are happy,” he whispered against Stiles’
ear when he caught him against his chest.
“You, Derek Hale, are a big old sap,” Stiles seriously told
him and could feel Derek smile into his hair.
“Only when it comes to you,” Derek told him and then gently
swayed them from left to right.
“Are you dancing with me?” Stiles asked, slightly
breathless, and he buried his face in Derek’s shoulder.
“I sure am,” Derek said and spun him around again.
Stiles was in no way coordinated enough to make this without
causing an accident, but Derek’s grip on him was sure and steady and Stiles’
didn’t falter once.
“I can’t dance,” Stiles said surprised at how easy it had
been to just swing back into Derek’s arms.
“Those werewolf reflexes have to be good for something,”
Derek whispered right as he spun Stiles around yet again while Stiles laughed,
bright and happy, before they slow danced some more, without causing any kind of accident.
In June 2009, MTV announced that they would be adapting the 1985 film Teen Wolf into a new television series ‘with a greater emphasis on romance, horror and werewolf mythology.’ On July 21, 2016, the cast announced at Comic Con that season six would be the final season.