A twig snaps, and then Stiles hears breathing and the rustle of leaves. He strains to get a better glimpse into the darkness, but it’s pointless. There’s nothing but a black void.
It’s Stiles’ senior year, and he’s trying to concentrate on normal things – like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) – when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he’s being haunted by a hag. Great.
“But, you don’t run,” Derek pointed out, confused.
“People can get new hobbies,” Stiles snapped. “Geez, if I’d known it was going to be this big of a deal, I’d have called you first. Want me to give you my workout schedule? That way you can coordinate your nose accordingly?”
In which Stiles’ summer starts off so badly he starts running, gets pelted by paint balls, and decides he is, in fact, going crazy if he willingly wants to hang out with Derek Hale.
A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.
He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.
While still suffering from the after effects of the Nogitsune, Stiles and the pack stumble upon and save a trapped fairy. The boy’s parents, not wanting to be in the pack’s debt, offer each member of the pack who assisted in the rescue, the opportunity to bring a loved one back from the dead.
Having been blissfully reunited with several of their once-lost friends and family members, everyone must work together to figure out how to function as a new pack, and how to defeat a new incoming threat.
The sight before him is breathtaking. Wide opened whiskey eyes searching above his head, pink lips slightly parted, tongue wetting them as he considers his choice, messy brown hair sticking in every direction, moles dotting a pale skin, Derek can’t wait to ask for his name.
A soulmate AU where people have the first name of their soulmates written on their body.
It all started with a strange scent in the grocery store, and now Derek can’t imagine his life without the hyperactive little shit that is Stiles Stilinski. He didn’t know why he always felt the need to be close to the boy but his mom’s knowing looks certainly weren’t helping.
Derek Hale is pretty much the worst person in the world to hypothetically develop a crush on, being a murder suspect, a dangerous werewolf, a weirdo who stalks people from the treeline, and also living in a train car, Jesus Christ.
(In response to jennova’s prompt: Five times Stiles tries to make Derek smile and one time he succeeds but doesn’t notice because kissing or something.)
After the night in the warehouse, relationships are strained and everyone is unsure where they stand. Stiles is angry at his best friend and doesn’t know why his thoughts are being taken up more and more by a certain Sourwolf. Derek also doesn’t know why Scott’s betrayal isn’t as painful as the prospect of Stiles knowing about it. As they try to mend fences and acclimate Jackson to life as a werewolf, both discover that there may be more to their feelings than they are willing to admit.
Derek and Laura seriously lucked out with Stiles as their neighbor. Yeah he can be loud, but he keeps it to normal hours, and he brings them food, they have movie nights, he’s so beautiful, and okay, Derek might be pining. The only problem is, Stiles has a girlfriend. And Derek HATES her.
OR
The one where Derek and Laura live next door to Stiles, and Derek has a completely out of control crush. A Sterek as neighbors one shot AU that got wildly out of control.
Summary: It’s no secret that Stiles can work with mountain ash. What he isn’t expecting is just how easily he can do it. He can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s more to it than him being a Spark.
A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge – prompt #295: ash
It’s a perfect circle.
Stiles stares at the ground around him in amazement, stunned into silence. That alone should be a cause for alarm, not that anyone is able to pay attention to him. Scott is off to Stiles’s left, fending off two Betas of the pack that they’re fighting. Derek… Stiles isn’t quite sure where Derek is, but it’s likely that he’s in the pile on the other side of the clearing, where Stiles can see Erica and Boyd doing their best to put their recent training to good use.
They’d been attacked during a training session out in the woods, not far from the old Hale house – which made it just far enough from anyone’s home that it was less of a deal than if the attacking pack found them in town somewhere. As it is, Stiles still wondering how they were even found, why Deaton’s newly set up boundary wards didn’t alert them to intruders. He reaches into his pocket – the one where he doesn’t carry vials of potentially useful stuff, which he now sees is perfectly warranted – and he glances at the screen.
The phone mocks him with the name of the operator but no coverage bars on the screen. Of course. Even if the wards did work, Deaton wouldn’t have a way to get in touch. And seeing as they were kind of close to the boundaries, the lack of a warning about the intruders – attackers, Stiles’s brain points out – suddenly makes sense.
“Stay right there!” Scott calls out, interrupting Stiles’s musing. “Stiles, don’t fall out of the circle!”
Mildly irritated at the assumption, Stiles glares at Scott for a moment, then sighs in resignation because it’s not a pointless remark, not with Stiles’s ability to fall into and out of places everywhere. He’d like to think that Scott noticed the circle of mountain ash, the perfect curve that surrounds Stiles, but it’s unlikely. The wolves who came out of the woods immediately started snarling – Stiles wondered if that was a sound that could be made by a human or another wolf – and swiping at the others. They didn’t seem to be paying attention to Stiles at all, but he knew better than to trust it.
Cue, the mountain ash ring.
He’s been practicing, learning from Deaton – and the internet. The latter was a bit of a time-waster, for now, the former proving a lot more informative than Stiles was used to. It’s how he knows that not even Deaton can manage a perfect circle, the line of ash around him smooth and steady. Deaton told him once that making anything even a little circular would be a success, enough to prove that Stiles does indeed have a Spark. As it is – Stiles thinks when he notices the inner edge of the barrier he put up – the mountain ash seems like it’s glowing. It’s too dark to see the change with his normal sight.
“It’s the same,” Derek says when Stiles asks about the rules for anyone who attacks.
He emerged from the pile of bodies which now includes Erica – she’s smirking from her spot, Boyd already halfway across the clearing, on the way to Scott. Isaac is running over too and the rest of the visiting pack seems to be restrained enough.
“We capture, question, then see what to do about these,” he tells Stiles as he circles around and then heads towards Scott.
The barrier is holding, Stiles thinks, judging by the way Derek couldn’t get any closer, which has got to be driving him crazy. At least this time he can’t blame Stiles for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no way of knowing that Stiles should be skipping today’s training session, he got caught by surprise as much as the rest of the pack did.
Instead of dwelling on what Derek will find to be unhappy about, Stiles looks at the defeated – but very much alive – werewolves who already submitted to Derek. There’s not a red eye in sight, not among the newcomers. Stiles frowns and glances to where Derek and Scott are still fighting two other weres – now significantly more human-looking than when they barged in here. But when those two flash their eyes just before they obviously give up the fight, they’re not red either, just one blue and the other yellow.
They’re all Betas, Stiles thinks in amazement. They don’t have a leader.
Just as he realizes that the fight seems to stop. Stiles notices because Derek steps forward slowly, one hand on the unknown werewolf enough to keep them in line. Stiles figures that they’ll all head over to the Hale house ruins for the questioning that Derek mentioned. He’s loath to put down the barrier though, considering that it seems significant that the ash fell on the ground the way it did. It turns out that he’s not wrong about Derek’s plan for the attacking Alpha-less pack.
“We’re going to bring them to the house,” he says to his own pack.
They all nod and start ushering the intruders away from the clearing when Derek lets go of the one he was holding. He heads over to where Stiles is still standing and stops when the ash barrier won’t let him get any closer.
“You should talk to Deaton about this,” Derek says, pointing at the circle. “I’ve only ever seen Druids make a circle.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Stiles says, stepping across the line. “Guess maybe I’m more than a Spark?”
Derek smiles – something that he still doesn’t do often, but more so when it’s only him and Stiles – and pulls Stiles closer.
“I think maybe you are,” he says before leaning in for a quick kiss. “You know, if you are, there’s an Emissary spot open in my pack.”
Stiles grins and returns the kiss, not needing to say anything else.
Stiles can’t take the pain away, but the skin-to-skin contact helps. It calms Derek, stops him from using all his energy in the instinctive fight or flight response that his injury causes. “It’s working, just—” He takes Stiles’ arm by the wrist, pulls it over his chest, then tips Stiles’ head onto his shoulder so he can feel Stiles’ breath on his skin. “Yeah. That’s good.”
yeah you’d fuck a werewolf, but would you take a long stroll through the park with them? walk along the beach with them? go window shopping with them? watch a nice movie together? at least buy them dinner first, yeesh
stop werewolf objectification 2k17
Stiles Stilinski would reblog this.
Stiles Stilinski wrote this, what are you talking about
Either Stiles or Derek wrote this……I don’t know which.
Derek wrote it, and it was kind of a big step for him because despite knowing how awful it makes him feel when people treat him like a monster or a novel sex toy, and despite hearing from Stiles and others that it’s not okay for people to treat him like it, he’s still got most of it internalized. He still makes excuses for the people who hurt him, he still talks like what they’re doing makes sense.
(Talking to Scott in the early days, first couple of episodes, saying ”Some of the people who died in the fire were perfectly normal!” Normal, meaning human. Human, and therefore not an out of control wolf that would fit the hunter’s code. Because he’s been taught and on some level believed that every wolf fit the hunter’s code.)
So he says things, things he doesn’t think twice about, that excuse or minimize the things people do to him, and it drives Stiles nuts but he can’t exactly chastize Derek for it, because it’s not really his fault. But he pushes, a little, gives Derek reminders that no, the woman who hit on him at the hotel bar after the interpack convention and jumped straight into questions about knotting was not “just curious”. It being unusual doesn’t excuse her efforts to pull at the front of his jeans and sneak a look. And maybe if he feels the need to defend Invasive Dick Lady to his friends even when he’s still shaky and upset from the encounter, he should rethink some things.
Then one day Stiles logs onto tumblr. He’s had a blog for years, but the rest of the pack created accounts mostly because of his wheedling, only in the last few years. Derek’s tumblr is hilarious, mostly because it swings wildly between depressing aesthetic posts of boho apartments looking out on rainy cities, and in depth analysis of the intricacies of Jay and Silent Bob.
And then he sees a text post, no notes yet because it’s only been up for an hour, and he finds himself grinning when he sees Derek’s picture next to it. Despite the joking tone, he can feel the outrage through the screen, and it’s wonderful because Derek being outraged for himself? For his own wellbeing? It’s like seeing a unicorn.
Stiles reblogs it immediately, and with his considerable number of followers it manages to hit 100k notes before the end of the night. He hopes that seeing it reinforced will help.
Okay so I’ve been drinking wine all night and binge-watching The Great British Baking Show, and I remembered that I’ve been meaning to not!fic about the pack going to one of those wine and painting places.
Really, it’s just Team Human that’s going to go—Stiles, Allison, Lydia (she’s honorary Team Human), and Danny—because they’re the only ones who are going to enjoy the wine and they’re not going to be overwhelmed by the smell of acrylic paint and the loud music. But Scott makes horrible puppy dog eyes when he finds out they want to go and Erica practically begs to be included as well and that means Boyd and Isaac are going to want to go, so Derek throws up his hands and buys everybody a seat and calls it a “pack bonding exercise.”
They get there and they take up almost an entire table all by themselves, and the rest of the pack swaps the paper plate name badges around until they’re sitting in the order they want to sit in, and this means that Derek and Stiles end up sitting next to each other at the very end of the table. Stiles snarks that he’s surprised Derek wants to paint something with colors other than black and Derek snarks that Stiles is already halfway through a glass of wine the size of his head, and then the instructor gets up and starts talking and it’s time to start painting.
Stiles is, unsurprisingly, a faster painter, covering his canvas in black almost as fast as the instructor is. He’s fantastic with blending the paint together to make it like the moon fades seamlessly into the night sky.
Derek’s a lot more meticulous. He’s slower and much more concerned with getting his outlines absolutely precise. The detail he manages to get with the smaller brushes is frankly astonishing, as far as Stiles is concerned.
(Stiles also happens to hear, more than once, Derek singing quietly along to whatever song happens to be playing over the loudspeakers when the instructor isn’t talking. His personal favorite is when he hears Derek singing “Don’t Stop Me Now.”)
It’s just as noisy as Derek expected it to be, and he really doesn’t like the smell of the paint that much, but what he smells from his pack is pure happiness and joy. Scott’s got a streak of blue paint on his cheek that might have been put there deliberately. Allison is almost through her first glass of wine and is laughing at something on Lydia’s canvas. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac all seem to be collaborating on one giant painting instead of following along with what the master painting is. Danny is well into his second glass of wine and playing Pokemon Go while he’s waiting for his paint to dry, pausing occasionally to assure Jackson he’s doing a good job. Even Cora, who likes to pretend she’s too cool for this kind of stuff, is getting into it.
And Stiles is sitting right by him, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he very carefully paints a lake monster climbing up onto the dock behind the two figures sitting at the edge, a glass of wine between them.
Honestly, it’s a better pack bonding exercise than Derek ever expected it to be.
Everybody is thrilled with their paintings when they’re done, and they’re splitting up to head home when Stiles taps Derek on the shoulder and holds out his painting.
Derek is not drunk, but he has been filtering out ridiculous levels of noise all night, so he blames that for why he sits there for a minute and finally says, “What?”
Stiles shakes the painting. “Here, big guy. I made it for you. Used lots of pretty colors and everything. That’s supposed to be us at the edge of the dock.”
“You painted us getting attacked by a lake monster,” Derek points out.
“No, we’re totally going to take it out!” Stiles argues. “Besides, you have to admit, that’s probably how a night on the lake would end for us.”
Derek snorts. Stiles isn’t wrong.
Without thinking too hard about it, he hands his painting to Stiles. “Here.”
Stiles blinks at it. “For me?”
Derek shrugs. “You should have one, too. Without the lake monster.”
Stiles breaks out into a gigantic grin that is likely at least 50% the wine he’s had and 100% guaranteed to make Derek’s heart do somersaults. “Thanks, Derek.”
“Anytime,” Derek says, and prays it’s dark enough outside that no one can see that he’s blushing.
(He hangs Stiles’s painting in his bedroom and ignores every lewd comment Erica makes about it. He feels more than vindicated when he visits Stiles’s apartment and sees the painting he drew hanging right above Stiles’s bed.)
“Robbery. Trespassing. Tax evasion. For these crimes and many
others perpetrated against the good and honest people of Beacon Hills as an
accomplice of the so-called Robin Hood, you, Derek Hale, are hereby sentenced to
hang.” Sheriff Harris’s attempt at solemnity was marred by his undisguised glee
at the prospect. Derek glowered stoically over the silent crowd.
Another voice rang out. “He’s already hung!”
Derek’s aching shoulders sagged in relief. “Release me so I
can high-five my husband,” he said. “He might let you live.”
A bowstring sang, and Harris leapt back from a red-fletched
arrow.
Pining is like porn for me. Imagine Stiles who is like…ridonkulously in love with Derek, but he’s too afraid to tell him.
Stiles working up the nerve to go through with it when Derek signs up on Tinder or some other dating site. He thinks, okay, maybe now is good, Derek is looking for someone, I could be Someone.
But then, Derek starts dating, and Stiles is devastated. He gets withdrawn and morose and spends less time around people, particularly Derek. Derek notices of course.
And then there’s maybe this moment where everyone is together and Stiles is sort of overwhelmed just being near Derek in general and he goes and sits out on the McCall’s back porch for some air.
Derek eventually finds him and sits down on the steps next to him and they sit quietly for awhile before Derek asks Stiles what’s wrong.
Stiles can’t really tell him, but he wants to because it’s eating him up inside. But Derek just gives him a look when Stiles shrugs it off and says he’s fine, it’s nothing.
Derek bumps their knees together and all Stiles wants to do is tell him everything. So, he settles instead for the truth with some deliberate omissions.
“I…I have feelings for someone,” he says.
“Oh,” Derek says, “and they don’t?”
“I um–well I guess I don’t know? I haven’t actually told them,” Stiles admits. He glances at Derek and then quickly away, afraid he’s going to give himself away.
“Why not?” Derek asks. Stiles is Stiles and he gives him a look in return.
“They’re sort of involved,” Stiles says, “and also I’m way too chickenshit.”
Derek huffs a laugh. “Are you two close?” He asks.
Stiles thinks about it for a moment before nodding. “We’ve known each other awhile I guess.”
“How long have they been dating?” Derek asks, voice soft, curious.
“I dunno, a few weeks?” Stiles says.
“A few weeks?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s not that long but what if…” Stiles sighs. “I could tell them and they end it with this person, and what if they would have been really happy together? Why should I get to ruin that just because I didn’t ask first?” Stiles says.
Derek is looking at him and Stiles flushes because he’s pretty sure he’s been caught. But Derek is a dumb idiot.
“How do they know each other?” He asks.
“Through–” Stiles clears his throat “–blind date.”
“So, they barely know each other?”
“Look, when you say it all like this it seems like I should just tell them, but what if it ruins everything?” Stiles is getting all worked up but Derek is sort of grinning at him. “What?!” Stiles huffs.
“You’re sweet, Stiles,” Derek tells him. It’s all fond and gross and Stiles flushes again and his heart starts pounding.
“No way,” he argues, totally not looking at Derek.
Stiles doesn’t tell him then. But Derek eventually finds out that it’s him Stiles was talking about and it kind of fucks him up. Because Stiles is so fucked up over him, and he’s never really had anyone that fucked up over him before.
Stiles is wrecked and sad and it makes that selfish part of Derek sort of thrilled and elated. Maybe he’s never really thought about Stiles like that before, not really, but then suddenly he finds it impossible to see him any other way. Everything about him becomes unbearable.
He’s always been…attracted to Stiles…in that way you are when you know someone is good looking even though you aren’t…you know…but now Derek’s heart starts pounding every time he sees Stiles, when Stiles looks at him.
He breaks it off with the woman he’s been seeing, obviously. They really have been only seeing each other for a few weeks. It’s not a tragedy or anything. And then Derek asks Stiles out.
Stiles is sort of floored and suspicious and Derek can’t help but wonder how it took so long for him to actually realize they’ve been heading to this point the whole time. Stiles has always been this bizarre anomaly, this obnoxious, yet selfless little shit that was willing to put everything on the line for him. Derek was always sort of too guarded to see it.
Derek used his forged identity to secure a spot at the Beacon – a flagship of the Intergalactic Alliance patrolling the edges of the known universe. That should be enough to escape his past, right?
theproblemwithstardust 