<I>(first I have to tell you that I started playing the video and my cat came to investigate. funniest fucking thing.)</I>
The problem with adopting triplets, Stiles thinks, is that they pick up on each others’ moods horribly well. It’s a sure bet that if one starts crying, they’ll all be crying, and if you didn’t see which one started it, you’ll be playing “Guess Which Triplet Has An Actual Problem,” which is not a good time. Sure, sometimes you can get them all laughing by amusing one. Abby is the easiest target; she thinks everything about Stiles’s face is hilarious. He’d be more offended if she weren’t so dang cute, screwing up her little face and letting out these hiccuping laughs.
The other thing about triplets is you need two adults at least. One person just doesn’t have enough hands to deal with three crying toddlers. It’s incredibly common for someone to be calling for parental backup at all hours of the day. Only, Stiles uses his phone or his words. Every once in a while, Derek howls.
They hadn’t picked it up the first time he did it. But one day, Derek tips his head back and howls, knowing most of the pack is in the Preserve. And little Laura howls back. She’s been crying her little heart out with the other two, but when Derek howls she stops and instead lets out this watery little <I>arrooo</I>.
Derek is thrilled. He takes video of Laura, and then as Abby and Claudia catch on, he records them, too. By the time the others arrive, the room is a chaotic mess of <I>arrooo</I>s and laughter, the original reason for tears long forgotten.
Howling does not count as a first word, no matter what Derek says.
inspired by #hot weatherman derek hale and all the other comments under my TH gifset and this I saw two fics link/ written under the gifset (here and here)
so annoyed that I had a decent amount of a sterek fic written that i lost wherein Stiles goes to college and he’s like pumped because he’s gonna do things different then in HS
no more supernatural bullshit
and then his first night on campus he gets bit by a rogue alpha who turns out to be his very timid sociology professor who only became Alpha because his died by some ridiculous accident like being hit by a bus
cos being scraped off the pavement actually is a bit far beyond werewolf healing. But he’s a terrible Alpha so Stiles takes over. There’s probably some ritual in which his Alpha power can be transferred to Stiles (basically i wrote the true alpha idea before teen wolf did so fuck you jeff davis)
Anyway, so Stiles doesn’t bite anyone he just adopts omegas from around campus that are homesick for their pack and they have study groups and spar together and become a tight knit group.
Meanwhile, Stiles doesn’t know how to tell anyone back home so he doesn’t, but scott and derek show up on campus to check up on him. And they see him being “viciously attacked” by a couple of betas so they “rescue” him except they’re stopped in their tracks pretty hard by Stiles’ red eyed Alpha roar in protection of his betas.
Imagine all the ridiculousness, that bit of angst where Scott and Derek feel responsible, and ultimately Stiles’ complete competence at being an Alpha.
my favorite headcanon is derek coming to Stiles one day and asking him ‘how do you know if you’re into guys?’
cos like all i can see is the opposite with confused Stiles. but imagine derek, sweet beautiful derek in his early 20s just confused as fuck because he’s only ever been with women but he has also has these squiggly squishy disgusting emotions over stiles.
and he’s like i dunno what THAT’S about.
Because he’s Derek, repressed as a defense mechanism, Hale.
And Stiles, trying to be helpful and accepting and make sure Derek knows he’s Valid. And it’s only after they talk a lot that Derek even realizes he’s only asking because he’s into Stiles.
And Stiles is probably into Derek but he’s never let himself think about it, cos it’s Derek. Except, Derek doesn’t know. Because Derek is Derek. And Stiles probably has thought it was obvious this whole time how into Derek he is.
Derek the bisexual dork.
Stiles the slightly more self aware bisexual dork.
The One Where Derek Doesn’t Realize Sheriff Stilinski is Stiles’ Dad Derek knew he was going to embarrass himself in front of his new boss eventually. It was inevitable. Maybe by tripping over his laces, spilling his drink – something minor that could be laughed at and easily forgotten. Inadvertently revealing the sexual exploits between him and Stiles to his boss wasn’t supposed to be an option. Finding out that his new boss is also Stiles’ father? Well, Derek’s never going to be able to look the Sheriff in the eye again.
Sterek AU: In a particularly bad battle with the Alphas, the pack almost loses Isaac. Stiles, the only one who sees how hard Derek is taking it, gets stuck driving him home.
“you’re the security guard I distracted by pretending to be drunk while my friend broke into the building, and you never caught on but you thought my confusion and deliberately terrible come-ons were adorable, now we’ve run into each other somewhere else and you’re asking me out for coffee and I genuinely don’t know what to make of this” au
It’s late, but Stiles knows
these woods like the back of his hand. Probably even better than that, seeing
how he’s acquired several new scars over the past year and a half. The
leaves rustle under his heavy boots and he feels himself start to relax for the
first time since the war started.
Home was never a concept Stiles understood.
Well, maybe back when his mother was alive. After she died, the house he grew
up in lost that feeling. So Stiles spent his youth drifting, feeling rootless and
unanchored, never quite belonging. Until he met Derek. It took time, but
as Stiles approaches the house nestled far from the road, he can’t help but think
that this is what home feels like.
Despite the late hour, there is a light burning in the
kitchen. It spills, warm and inviting, across the clearing floor and Stiles
hesitates. It’s been one year, five months, and four days since he last saw
Derek. Five hundred and twenty-one days
in total. There had been letters at the start of the war, but during the final
months Stiles was behind enemy lines and had no way of even letting Derek know
he was still alive.
Then it had been a rush of medical evaluations and discharge
paperwork and frenzied troop convoys. Stiles doesn’t even know if California
still has working telephones. Most likely not, since the blackout affected the
entire northern hemisphere.
Taking a deep breath, Stiles walks up the wooden stairs and
onto the porch that he and Derek had built that last summer, when everything
was still bright and hopeful. He sets a hand on the doorknob, remembering Derek’s
laugh when he’d griped about locking the door before bed.
No one will come this
far from the road, he’d insisted. Plus,
I’d be ready for them before they even reached the tree line.
And with that memory in mind, Stiles steels himself and turns
the knob. Just as he’d expected – just as he’d hoped – the door swings inward. Stiles may have changed a lot in
his time away, but he’s relieved to find that Derek has retained at least one
of his bad habits.
“Hands where I can see them,” a familiar voice growls and
Stiles freezes.
Even in the dim lighting, he can see Derek’s eyes go wide in
shock. The gun in his hand drops to the floor and Stiles wants to roll his
eyes. The idiot hadn’t even taken the safety off.
But then he has an armful of alpha werewolf, Derek squeezing
him tight as if he’s afraid Stiles is going to vanish before his eyes.
“Easy on the ribs, big guy,” Stiles says, though he makes no
move to free himself, just slides one arm around Derek’s back and strokes the
other through his soft hair.
Derek hums contentedly at the touch, pausing his scenting to
suck a bruise onto Stiles’ throat. All of a sudden, it’s a frantic push and
pull of limbs as they drag each other down the hall. Derek keeps stopping to
burying his face in Stiles’ neck and Stiles loses his duffle at some point;
then they’re falling onto a soft mattress that smells like their homemade
detergent and Derek’s fancy soap.
Derek stares at him until Stiles gets uncomfortable, turning
his face toward the windows. He isn’t the same person who left this house a
year and a half ago. There are frown lines carved into his forehead and
crinkles around his eyes from squinting too much. Bits of shrapnel left twisted
scar tissue behind and chemical burns cover the majority of his lower legs.
But Derek doesn’t seem to notice any of that. “I can’t
believe you’re here,” he whispers, as if saying the words too loudly will
shatter the dream.
Stiles pushes away the dark thoughts, filing them alongside the
memory of a thick stack of letters currently taking up too much space in his
duffle. “I am here, Derek. I promised I’d come home.”
At that, the disbelief and worry fade from Derek’s expression,
leaving nothing behind but pure joy. Stiles smiles back and finally, finally, Derek leans in and kisses him.
theproblemwithstardust 