#Princessabitchessa

[ollieolzzz]

@princessabitchessa OMGGGG I CANT WAIT TO READ IT <333

imagine a Cattonquick Hanahaki AU

- Oliver would ofc hide it from everyone

-Felix would only find out after it nearly kills Oliver and he’s pissed

-Oliver throws up red hydrangeas. Just like the potted flowers in Saltburn

-He would do anything for Felix even if it meant feeling the flowers constrict his lungs as they grow larger and take root

-Mr-I-Never-Have-To-Ask-For-Anything-In-Life Catton getting Hanahaki and not knowing what to do

-He is bad at hiding it from Oliver. He can never hide anything from Oliver

-He starts smoking more in hopes that the cigarette smoke will get rid of the flowers from the inside out

-When he sees Oliver and Farleigh sitting so closely on the couch at Oliver’s party he has to leave the room because he can feel the petals itching at his throat

- Felix’s flowers are Love-in-a-Mist meaning unrequited love. They grow in rich and fertile soil

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @PrincessaBitchessa!

Hello hello! I got a bunch of the things you asked for and, like my previous two works, this is completely stupid fluffy goodness and I hope it'll put a smile on your face! Merry Christmas!

Read on AO3

*****

Infamnia

The money lasted longer than he thought it would, but not long enough to get out of the dog house of all the debt from medical bills and the mortgage. Stiles didn’t know what to do, how to find himself out of the zeroes and commas and the red ink on the envelopes, until he remembered the letter inside the safe his father set aside before he was killed. He pulled it out from where he’d locked t away, wanting nothing to remind him of what took the better part of two years to even partially come to terms with.

The blue-lined paper still had the frayed edges from where it was torn from a notebook, and the penmanship was as dicey as his father’s ever was.

Stiles I’m so sorry you have to read this letter. But since you are, let me say that whatever happened to me was not your fault. It wasn’t, Stiles, and if you’re blaming yourself I’m going to haunt your scrawny little ass. Don’t. There’s more that I want to say than I can ever put into paper, but this is held securely in the safe specifically because this information is extremely confidential.

If you’re ever in trouble, if you need money, protection, a job, anything, you give the following number a call, and ask for whatever Hale is in charge. You tell them you’re John and Claudia Stilinski’s son. They’ll take care of you. Whatever you find out about me, about what I did and what I accepted, know that it was to protect the town. From what it didn’t want to know about. They owe me a debt, one that I saved for you.

Love you, kid

Dad

Stiles’ bony fingers trembled slightly as he held the paper, mulling over the words as if this was the first time he’d read them. In truth, it was the first time he ever was really taking in the meaning. While he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what exactly whatever you find out about me, about what I did meant, he would maybe check this out before selling foot pics.

Phone in hand, he tapped a pen on his knee, waiting for someone to pick up. Pick up pick up pick up pick u- THANK YOU.

“You’ve reached Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve Management, how may I help you?” Secretaries all had this extremely creepy customer service voice that was robotic. Every one of them had the same voice.

What in the flying technicolor fuck was the Beacon Hills Wildlife Preserve number doing in this bizarrely ominous letter? This couldn’t be real. “Uh, could I talk to whoever’s in charge?” He sounded so lame. He could hear himself sounding so incredibly lame.

“May I ask for the purpose of your call so I can route you to the correct person?” The woman’s voice indicated that she could hear his lameness.

“Uh, I got bills I need to pay and I need help, I was told to call the number.”

“I’m sorry, we have no open positions at this ti-“

“Wait, wait wait, can I speak to the, uh, Hale in charge?” He remembered there was a name in the letter, maybe the name would help.

“Transferring your call now.” The voice cut directly to a hold tone. Well, that got him instant results.

The pen tapping his knee increased in speed as he waiting for someone to pick up the phone.

----

“This is completely insane.” Talia Hale rubbed her temples, a headache coming on. The fae wanted to move their court to the Preserve, even though that would not only effectively shut down anyone else trying to use the land. Some true galaxy-brain level genius released no less than five wolpertingers into the forest and now every one of her soldiers was out hunting goddamn flying jackalopes. And now, this.

“We have to do something, though.” Laura stood in the middle of the room, arms folded. “They won’t just stop here. Jerry’s bloodthirsty, and he wants a werewolf with an apple in his mouth on his Christmas dinner table.”

“Not it.” Peter said, because it was the most inappropriate thing that he could possibly say. He felt the eyes of the ladies staring at him, and decided not to acknowledge it. “Would you prefer nose game?”

“Thank you for your contribution.” Unhelpful ass. Talia stood, looking at the map of the preserve on the center table in the room. The lines marked out territories, the fenced off areas for endangered species, paranormally important spots, the Nemeton of course, everything of relevance. And right on their eastern border was a brand new Argent Armory establishment. How they got clearance for that when California had some very impressive gun laws was beyond her. The local lines had been redrawn and somehow those French-blooded fucks had gotten the ordinances to allow a firing range. Which would allow them to have a massive store house of guns and ammunition right there, so they could plan to clean house.

“Can we claim it’ll disturb the birds?” Laura offered. “It must, right?”

“Maybe. But you know the people love their guns. And don’t care about birds.” The phone started ringing across the room. “I’m more worried one of em will gun down a wolpertinger and then I’ll have way too many questions to answer.” The door opened brusquely and a young man strode in, looking cross as ever, throwing the body of a rabbit-quail-deer looking thing on Talia’s desk. “Number three.” He was slightly out of breath, looking at the body like it had personally called him a bitch. “And maybe they won’t shoot wolpertingers, but someone definitely did fucking shoot me.” He yanked off his coat and, yep, that was a bullet wound on his shoulder.

Laura poked it, just to hear him yell at her. Cain instinct.

“Stop it.” Talia gently smacked Laura’s hand. “You see who did it?”

“Y’even need to ask?” He snapped. He watched Gerard Argent smile and wave just a little from his property line, walking back as calm as he pleased at the edge of the woods. The bullet wasn’t wolfsbane, but in a way that was even worse. A wolfsbane bullet would at least do something. It would kill him, yeah, but it was a purpose that had a ‘reasonable’ point. The point of this mundane bullet was just to piss him off. And it was working.

“Will someone answer that phone?” Talia asked, fussing over her wounded boy.

---

Stiles sat in the office of the BHWPM headquarters, with a cup of coffee in his hands. The woman in front of him had introduced herself as Talia Hale, and given that two of the children in the room had the same severe cheekbones, dark hair, and piercing stare like they could see right into his bone marrow, he was fairly certain they were her children. They were attractive in the exact way that terrified him, which was probably not a good thing, because that was definitely his type. “Your father has done a great deal for us over the years, we are happy to help you now in payment for the help he gave you. Is it money you need?” Talia asked, looking over the young man. While not unkempt, there was something in the rakish hair and the unpressed shirt that said he might not be doing so well.

“A job would probably be better, I’ve been trying to get further in the FBI, but-“ He shrugged, not keen to detail his psychiatric history to people he didn’t know. “That’d be more of a help than a one-time get-outta-debt free card.”

“The FBI?” Talia asked, looking at him with new eyes. “Do you know what your father did with us, exactly?”

Stiles was entirely clueless. “I’m....guessing he helped clear drunk hooligans outta the preserve?” Stiles was definitely not the drunk hooligans ever, shut up. “Nah, I’m guessing he helped you hide bodies, smuggle people, and/or doctored police records for Scary One and Scary Two over there, and instead of taking bribes he took it on future favors.” The vibe in this room was way too Corleone for it to not be some undercover operation.

While the woman’s expression didn’t shift even at the comment to her own children, something in her eyes imperceptibly altered. Something a bit like amusement, or interest. “Would you want a job with someone who would do those kinds of things?”

“If my dad thought it was a good thing to do, it must have been for damn good reasons. I’m willing to find out.

“Derek, why don’t you take Stiles to get a proper suit. If he’s running with us, we need him looking the part.” Talia said with a smile. “And get him a proper gun.”

Scary Two: Tall Dark And Terrifying stepped forward and walked Stiles out the door without a word. He could work with that, and hey, any excuse to ogle the boss’ kid, right?

-----------

And Stiles thought those little fuckin wolpertingers were bad.

This was, in fact, infinitely worse.

He sat next to Derek in their little foxhole, only yards away from the Argent stronghold. Apparently Cora, the last piece of the Hale puzzle, and the so-described baby of the family, was inside. Who the fuck steals a baby, Stiles thought. And every one of them was ready to go utterly feral to get it.

Feral being both the operative word and unsettlingly accurate, as it turns out, with his boss lady on all fours and snarling at the people lobbing smoke grenades at them. Derek had his fangs out and everything, but luckily said nothing about how clearly Stiles wanted to climb him like a slightly more angular pine.

Because werewolves. Of course werewolves. Why wouldn’t there be werewolves.

Stiles popped out of the foxhole and nailed one of the Argent soldiers directly in his face, giving a startle to the others behind the line and giving an opportunity.

Stiles didn’t run out first, everyone else could go first and get shot at, he didn’t really want to catch any of them. Instead, he snuck out and around the melee, getting his gangly ass right into their stronghold as Talia was probably ripping someone’s throat out. Ew.

Inside was warm, and a little off-beat. “Hey, Cora?! Where you at!” He hissed, gun drawn in case someone stayed behind. He snuck around, looking for where the baby would be. Make a sound kiddo, come on, something, Uncle Stiles didn’t have a super-sniffer equipped.

After poking around what felt like a century, he finally heard the whine of an itty bitty kid, and lo there the child was, adorable as a button. “Aw, heya kiddo, c’mere.” He picked up the child, humming a little to try and keep them calm as he now had the great joy of having to get out of there. With the kid. He walked the whole back-asswards way around to stay far enough away from gunshots and yelling, because if that baby started crying, both of their asses would be dead! And the werewolves could smell his and Cora’s cocktail of gross or whatever, they could track him down anyway and it would be fine! Cora was fine, he was fine, everything was Gucci.

Back at the headquarters, he started looking around for anything that would help the child, blankets or diapers or at least something. But there wasn’t even a car-seat or anything. Where were they keeping the kid if the whole family was there the whole damn time? Stiles sat in one of the office chairs, baby sleeping soundly on his chest, as he waited for the family to get back.

There was no calm awakening for either, as a foot blasted through the door of the wildlife preserve office, splintering it instead of opening it. The sound of the voice cursing was definitely Derek, and he busted it down properly, a slight girl’s arm over his shoulder and a quart or so of blood apiece on everyone.

“Stiles, where the fuck did you go, we-“ Derek halted his scolding when he looked at him.

“Shhhhh, you’ll wake Cora up!” Stiles hissed.

Derek blinked those stupid pretty eyes as he looked truly lost for words. “Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you get a baby?”

“Whaddaya mean? In the stronghold, where you all said-“

“This is Cora.” He said, pointing to the unconscious woman he dragged in.

Oh. Baby of the family meant. Youngest sibling not. Actual infant. Huh.

Huh.

So then who exactly was he holding???

“Who the fuck steals a baby?” Peter asked,  pointing at the kidnapper.

Stiles looked at the child like it had turned into a 30 megaton nuke.

Talia sighed. “Stiles.”

“Yes’m.”

“....Laura, go get some formula and diapers. I’ll....ask around about the baby.”

----

Stiles didn’t get into the family business to actually start a family. This was not his intention in the slightest. But here he was, singing a very off-key Jurassic Park theme song he composed himself to a tiny baby girl he decided to call Izzy, after his suggestions of Katie, Smelborp, Stormageddon, Cirilla, and Dreamsmasher were all shot down.

Derek walked in, and stood next to Stiles, hands out, offering to take the kiddo. Derek shouldn’t be allowed to dress down ever in Stiles’ presence, because the thin tee and the sweatpants were doing far too many good things for him. Too much was on display.

“No. Mine. Go kidnap your own.”

Derek exhaled, which was as close as Stiles ever got to a laugh from him. “C’mon, you’re dead on your feet, you adrenaline crashed hours ago, and the kid’s not falling asleep anytime soon. Give her over, alright?”

“Mine.”

“I get it, I get it, you like the kid. But what happens when you get attached and we have to hand the kid back over?” Derek folded his arms, and it....hhough he shouldn’t be allowed to fold his arms either, what were those arms even??? It wasn’t fair. Stupid werewolf whatever magic bullshit.

“Give her back?” Stiles asked, offended by the suggestion. No, they were not giving Isabel back, no no no, not happening.

“Yes, give her back. Do you think you can just keep her here forever? The Argents might burn the whole preserve down if this is one of their daughters. You don’t have a birth certificate for her, even.”

“Shhhhhh stop saying sense words.”

Derek slipped his arms in and yoinked the baby before Stiles could react, but as soon as the baby was nestled against him, Stiles didn’t have the heart. Derek looked hot as hell all the time, but that, with the light from the lamp bouncing off of his face, and even a smile? He was beautiful. “There, was that so hard?”

“Yes. Give her back.” But Stiles wasn’t trying to take her back, he knew in a battle of strength he wasn’t going to win that. Unless it was strength of will, that he could go toe-to-toe with any of them. Stiles sat in one of the chairs, ready for a long night ahead of him, watching Derek pace softly in socked feet around the room.

With Izzy settled in a makeshift crib, Derek sat in another chair, rubbing his eyes that were still dusted with gunpowder and smoke from the fight. Cora was up and running again, talking things over with Talia and Laura, his job was to watch the baby. And Stiles, though they came as a joint package.

Stiles fiddled with a fraying end of the chair. Ever since he joined the family months ago, he didn’t ask any of the specifics of what his father did, but he was curious. “You know what my dad did, exactly, to get this kind of treatment for me?”

Derek looked up. “You sure you want to know?”

“Yes.” Stiles had stolen a baby he wasn’t exactly king of the moral high ground that day.

Derek sighed, thin mouth pressed so tight it was almost one dimensional. But something in his mind must have won out, that Stiles deserved to know, so he told. About how he was fifteen, with a girlfriend, and given some frankly terrible advice from Peter, that ended up getting her in a bad way, and Derek had to snap her neck. It was a mercy kill, but that was a dead girl’s body, and any whiff of that reaching the public would ruin Derek’s life forever.

Talia and Claudia had been friends for years, so when Talia asked for John to come to the preserve, no lights no sirens, for a favor, she made a leap of faith that John wouldn’t betray her family. But he didn’t. John fixed the autopsy results to show she was hit by a car, fixed everything up so she was mourned by her family in the normal way for a tragic death, and no one was the wiser that Derek had killed her.

Stiles was silent for a long time after that. Derek thought he’d fallen asleep, but finally Stiles spoke. “He did the right thing. He warned me, you know, that he did and accepted some things I might not like. But that’s....that’s not what happened.” They looked at each other for a moment, the quiet intimacy of secrets laid bare broken by the sound of a stirring baby.

“Aw c’mon Izzy, please just sleeeeep.....be a good lil Mafia princess for me, huh?” Stiles begged, getting up.

“We’re not the Mafia!” Derek objected.

“You wear suits, you talk about the family business, you run a front organization to alter cashflow, just cause you’re wolves doesn’t make you not-Mafia.”

----

“She’s a spark.” Talia announced to the collected family, Izzy playing with the square in Derek’s suit pocket.

“Shiiiiit, where’d they get one of those?” Peter asked, side-eyeing the little one. Someone snapped at him about his language choices, but it didn’t matter, as he would continue to do what he wanted. Stiles didn’t care for Peter too much in general, but after hearing what happened with Derek and Paige, he was not exactly feeling it.

“Explanation for the newbie?” Stiles asked with a raised hand.

“Spark, you know, magical talent. Some channel it into Druidism, some channel it in other magical schools of thought, that kind of thing. They become our emissaries, or...if the Argents raise one up from the ground, a devastating weapon.” Laura explained, looking at Isabel with a look more concerned and less suspicious.

“Oh, you mean like this?” Stiles snapped both sets of fingers, and a shot of electricity arced from one thumb to the other.

Every wolf in the room stared at him in utter silence for a solid ten seconds of uncomfortable quiet.

“Stiles.” Derek ventured the conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you could do that.”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Are you always this- never mind I know you are.” Derek shook his head.

Stiles grinned at being so well known, but the conversation was too serious for many jokes. “We’re not giving the her back to those unhinged fu- people, are we? She’s like me. Mine.”

“Well. That depends. If she was born to one of them, they are their child.” Talia wouldn’t like that if it were the case. “But, the fact that the police haven’t knocked on our door tells me that either they think we’ll kill the kid if they do, or they have no better right to her than anyone else. I think it’s the latter. However, they’ll bring their whole force against us to get her back. If we had John-”

Stiles froze at the mention of his father’s name, but said nothing more.

“If we had John, we would definitely be able to sort her paperwork out. But we don’t. We need to find a new contact in the police that can arrange us those papers. Until we get that, Derek and Stiles, I want you both to take her into the vault with everything you need to last a week with her. You’ll be safe there. Any questions?”

Stiles raised his hand again. “Is there wi-fi in the vault?”

---

There was no wi-fi in the vault.

There was also no cell service either, which meant no Netflix, which meant no video games, no Youtube, nothing to amuse him. And it was only two days in. He had nothing. Except for, of course, annoying Derek. At least Derek was very generous in this.

“Twenty questions.”

“No.”

“I’m thinking of....a noun.”

“No.”

By four days, Stiles had run out of annoyances and had drifted into just mindlessly babbling at Izzy, while Derek’s forehead wrinkles got worse and worse with every minute that his brain cells slipped away.

On the sixth day, Derek finally decided to play ball. Either Stiles had worn him down enough, or maybe the two bottles of whiskey were going to help him cope.

“Truth or dare?” Stiles offered, smile with as he took the offered booze.

“Only because I don’t have a deck of cards. As a warning, never play Laura in King’s Cup, she has never lost a game and given me alcohol poisoning three times.”

“How does the whiskey even work on you, Mr. Healsalot.”

“Is Healsalot the best you can do?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s actually a bit of halite. Disables werewolf abilities while in close proximity, if something happens I toss it away as quick as possible and I’m good in, I’d say a minute or so with this level of exposure. Cora had a couple day’s worth, which is why she was knocked out.”

“Gotcha.” At least it made as much sense as anything else these weirdo furries got up to. Once each had downed a respectable amount of alcohol, they could begin. “Alright, truth or dare, big guy.”

“Dare.”

“Dare you toooooo.....fuck never mind there’s nothing fun to dare you with in here. These are all your family’s valuables and shit how am I supposed to dare you to dress up in Auntie Myrtle’s wedding dress and sing Poker Face on video for my own personal blackmail?”

“Truth, then.”

“You like guys?”

Derek stared at the directness of the question. “Subtle, aren’t we?”

“Literally never.”

“Okay. Sometimes.” Stiles didn’t look happy about the answer. “Why did you steal the baby?”

“I thought she was Cora!”

“You thought they wouldn’t have any sort of defenses around the hostage they’d taken from the werewolf family that they were fighting a turf war with?!”

“Shhhhhhh it’s fine it’s fine it all worked out right?”

“Did it? We’re hiding in a vault, that you have not stopped bitching about once since we came in here, and we might be giving her back, and even if we don’t, who’s going to take care of her?”

“Me.”

“You.”

“Moi. Yo. Io. You want it in any other language?”

“Polish?”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.” Derek had something of a grin as he took another shot.

“Do you wish you could fuck me?” Stiles was getting bolder a couple shots in.

Derek took a moment to answer. “Sometimes.” Vague bastard.

“Oh? Like when?”

“Ah ah ah, my turn.” Derek took a swig, forgetting the dainty shot glass. “How many moles you got?”

“You wanna count em up?”

“Not an answer.”

“Over a hundred.”

Derek nodded, considering this thought as carefully as someone half-drunk really can. “Interesting.”

“Where do your eyebrows go when you shift?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to answer that question?”

“It’s your body, dude! How am I supposed to know how many moles I got when you don’t know where your friggin eyebrows go?!?!” Stiles’ limbs flailed as he gesticulated his exasperation.

“You’re gonna wake Izzy.” Derek warned. The baby was in another room of the vault so she could sleep while the adults could have their last-day-of-vaulting fun.

“Alright alr- wait, you called her Izzy.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yeeeeeeees, yes you did you called her Izzy instead of the baby. You like her.”

“Shhh.”

“New question: do you like Isabel Stilinski-Hale, the new baby of the family?”

Derek chuckled, man he really must be drunk. “We’re hyphenating?”

“I found her so I get first billing, but like y’all took me in so like, I guess you can join. Whatever.”

“Yes, I like the kid. She’s pretty good for a baby. Only projectile vomited on me twice. That’s not bad.”

“She’s the best kid.”

“Do you really think you’re in a good place to adopt her right now in your life?”

“Nooooo stop with the serious questions.” Stiles whined. “Serious ones aren’t fun let’s get back to the flirty ones those were fun.”

“It’s my question.” Derek shrugged.

“If I stole you as a kid I’d name you Moodkiller the Great.”

“Is ‘the Great’ my last name or is ‘the’ my middle name, like Kermit.”

“God you’re such a fucking nerd.”

“You know, no, I’m not in like the...perfect spot. But who IS when they get a kid? And I got the magic thing, and she does, so like....I dunno, she’s got no one else, probably, so.....wouldn’t you guys help me?” Stiles’ big dark eyes looked so beautiful in the scant light of the vault. Derek’s kryptonite.

“Of course we would, don’t be stupid.” Derek mumbled, looking away.

“.....Isabel Stilinski-Haaaale you’re gonna come home with uuuuuuus.” Stiles grinned, getting his own way.

“Whose turn is it?” Derek asked, not sure where the game had gone.

“Mmmmmine. I think. Maybe. Does it matter?”

“Guess not.”

Stiles paused for a second, looking at the distance between them on the floor, the thought process unfolding before Derek’s eyes as he saw Stiles decide exactly how to ambulate himself closer. With a thud, Stiles flopped on top of him and they fell flat on the floor.

“Ow.”

“Oh shut up that didn’t hurt, you big baby.” Stiles wasn’t going to let Derek get another word in, pressing his mouth against his, clumsy and off-center and everything bizarrely fitting together despite everything.

Derek only let Stiles win that for a half a second, before pinning Stiles down to the floor himself.

----

Stiles’ hangover next day was legendary. The wakeup screaming baby was violence to his ears and Derek was disgustingly FINE and Stiles hated him so much except for the fact that he still wanted to make out with his stupid face. Once he got up off the floor maybe. Everything hurt. Ow.

“C’mon, dumbass, Mom and Laura showed up outside, they said we got the kiddo and gotta go fill out the paperwork at the station. Gotta tell the world she’s your girl.”

“Yeah.” Stiles mumbled a little, looking up at Derek with the baby on his hip. “Mine.”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Can you find me some fics where Stiles is addicted to either sex, drugs, and/or alcohol and the pack tries to help him? I am okay with both sad and happy endings. Thank you!

AND

Anonymous said:Hello! Do you know of any fics like Bad Habits by fudgebug where Stiles is a massive party animal? Drinks, does drugs, basically just self-medicating to run from some deeper stuff. Bonus points if members of the pack help him through it, and bonus bonus points for Sterek. Thank you in advance!

Suuuurrre, @princessabitchessa. And the tag.- Anastasia

Bad Habits by Fudgebug

(12/12 I 108,296 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Mmmmh pretty.“ Stiles purrs in a way that makes a wild fire torch the planes of his skin.He knows Stiles is drunk and that the boy would probably stroke a pineapple and compliment its attractiveness, but Derek can’t help the way his heart starts to be a huge backstabbing dick, thundering uncontrollably against his chest.It’s painful, because Derek knows it isn’t real.

A story about goody-two-shoes Derek crushing on a Polish Prince Charming with a drinking habit - also the universe keeps on shoving astral poop into his face. It’s utterly spectacular.

***

Down on My Knees by Vendelin

(1/1 I 2,614 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles gets addicted to a new computer game, and Derek just wants their relationship back.

I don’t need you, but i really do by VoidSterekOTP

(1/1 I 3,297 I Mature I Sterek)

“Why weren’t you at school?” Scott asks concerned.“I wasn’t feeling to good this morning and I threw up last night. Dad let me take the day off” Well it wasn’t exactly a lie he just left the part out where he spent all day in bed with his boyfriend snorting coke off of each other’s chest and smoking pot.

Change (new and approved) by Skookyumi

(1/? I 3,748 I Not Rated I Sterek)

He wanted to be gone. He longed to be high, to be so gone that the sofa looked nonexistent from the sky, but it wasn’t like that anymore. It was just slow burning, black numbness. Dying would be better then this. Maybe that was what he should do, because there was nothing left for him.

What Scott doesn’t know… by godrics_quill22

(3/3 I 10,580 I Explicit I Stisaac)

Isaac has a weakness for scents…whenever he catches a scent, he had to savor it.

Stiles has a beautiful scent..captivating and damaging in a good and bad way. It doesn’t help that he has a weakness for anything touching, brushing ….or *scenting” his neck.

So it all started with a friendly hug……until they felt no regrets.

The Weekend by TriDom

(1/1 I 11,055 I Explicit I Steter I Rape)

Stiles’s bank account is in the red. He’s running low on his stash. His dad is getting sick of giving him money. He’s sick of asking. So he puts up an ad and wades through the perverts to find someone he wouldn’t mind sticking their dick in him for a little cash. He never expected to open his door to Peter Hale.

Chronological Order by InsertName

(1/1 I 11,567 I Mature I Sterek)

Stiles travels, becomes an addict, falls in love, almost dies, and makes a friend. Not in that order.

Twelve by PolarisTheYoungWolf

(6/? I 16,743 I Mature I Sterek)

It started with him being alone and feeling worthless…feeling like nothing. Then the drug Twelve made him feel everything, and he loved it…craved it. No matter how expensive it was, Stiles found a way to get it. Using his college fund, selling his things, trading his virginity to his dealer for another hit, and then selling his body to White Collar John’s for more money after. In his mind…it was perfect. He loved sex, he loved drugs, he loved the attention he got by the John’s who wanted to please him, who wanted to save him. He felt powerful. He felt happy.

So naturally his old friends chose that time to take interest in him again. Acting worried, pretending they cared. Stiles didn’t buy it and was pissed off that they were “trying to fix him”. He wasn’t broken!—When the pack and more specifically Derek, notice Stiles’ distant behavior, they’re horrified to realize just how bad things actually are. Derek almost kills Stiles’ favorite regular and the Sheriff won’t deny he wishes he’d gone through with it.

[ao3feed-sterek]

Prompt Me or Tempt Me Tumblr Fic 04: Crackle

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EZ9Pap

by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)

From a prompt by princessabitchessa: Stiles is /not/ a virgin and the pack only finds out after he smells like he was in an orgy. Bonus Points: He actually was in one!!!

And my notes/response: The idea for this is something I’ve been toying with for a while. Hopefully I’ll get around to writing a full version of it as some point, but until then? This will have to do.

Words: 1032, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Prompt Me or Tempt Me

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not Beta Read, Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha Derek Hale, Wolf Isaac Lahey, Magical Stiles Stilinski, not so secret relationship, Misunderstandings, Scott is a bit of a bad friend

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EZ9Pap

[sterekexchange]

Loyalty Is A Virtue

24k | Teen And Up Audiences

for PrincessaBitchessa

Feeling the full wrath of Lydia Martin, Scott quickly changed his argument to one of defense, leading to one small comment about how Stiles hit Theo first, which only stirred a hurricane of harsh insults. Lydia’s face brightened, just a tone lighter than Scott’s own crimson cheeks.

“Stilinski, Raeken, and the rest of your little entourage! Principal's office, now!” Coach shouted over the mayhem, as he pushed his way through the crowd. Taking one look at Stiles who was still attempting to catch his breath, Coach motioned his hand towards the teen, “oh, for the love of God, someone get Stilinski to the nurse!”

Or, the time Theo Raeken ruined Stiles' life, which somehow ended with him being even closer with the Hale's. Oh, and did he mention that he was apparently magic?

Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed the fic!

[ao3-sterek]

Prompt Me or Tempt Me Tumblr Fic 04: Crackle

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EZ9Pap

by LupusScintilla (inkandblade)

From a prompt by princessabitchessa: Stiles is /not/ a virgin and the pack only finds out after he smells like he was in an orgy. Bonus Points: He actually was in one!!!

And my notes/response: The idea for this is something I’ve been toying with for a while. Hopefully I’ll get around to writing a full version of it as some point, but until then? This will have to do.

Words: 1032, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Prompt Me or Tempt Me

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not Beta Read, Alpha Scott McCall, Alpha Derek Hale, Wolf Isaac Lahey, Magical Stiles Stilinski, not so secret relationship, Misunderstandings, Scott is a bit of a bad friend

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2EZ9Pap

[yetanothersterekblog]

Day 1- Words of Validation

Fic Writers Week 2017

Probably the best and funniest comment I've ever received

"THAT'S IT. I JUST READ THE LAST PART AND ITS DECIDED: ME AND YOU ARE GETTING HITCHED!

I'm serious. This is the best thing I've ever read and I have so many of the feels right now."

By @princessabitchessa on ao3 for this fic that I'm still working on and will hopefully update extremely soon

[pinshekonsha]

My art piece for Sterek ReverseBang, a little high school AU!

Telenovela Type: Badly Written Teen Drama by PrincessaBitchessa

The dumb kid that used to follow you around (That's not what you were) By scarlettletterr

Sterek ReverseBang in Ao3 and Tumblr so you guys can check it out 

[sterekreversebang-blog]

Sterek Reversebang Daily round-up JUNE 7th

Author: fearfrost1211

Artist: beerwolves

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Wolf Pack: Beacon Original

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: When his father landed the Deputy Chief of police position in Beacon Hills, Stiles moved to his new town gladly, embracing the chance of a fresh start. What he didn’t expect was to find himself hopelessly drawn to the gruff Vice President of the local motorcycle gang, the Wolf Pack. Derek Hale, resident bad boy of Beacon Hills, spent his time helping his sister lead the Wolf Pack and working on motorcycles at his family’s automotive garage. Then, one hot summer afternoon a bright-eyed boy walked into his life and turned his world upside down.

Length: 33186

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Biker AU, Canon-Typical Violence, mild panic attack, Stalking, Werewolves, First Kiss, Getting Together, Motorcycles, biker culture/knowledge courtesy of SOA

Notes: n/a

Author: PrincessaBitchessa

Artist: kenshymizu

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Telenovela Type: Badly Written Teen Drama

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Drama and fluff for Sterek.

Length: 4416

Warnings: Author Chose Not to Use Warnings

Tags: Fluff, Teenage Drama, Lydia isn't as bad as we think, Kinda Slow Build, Shy Derek, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alive Hale Family, stiles is a junior, Derek Is A Senior

Notes: n/a

Author: Britt_pknapp

Artist: frogsandboxes

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: So Say Goodnight

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: How was this his life? Seriously? An hour ago, Stiles was crouched in a damp alley trying to catch a glimpse of that rich guy walking into a brothel. He even had his camera to get a picture, just in case they wanted to run it with his article. But no. That was not his life apparently. Because now, he had his hands bound behind his back and a bag pulled over his head and he was stuffed in the backseat of a car, the engine chugging away, taking him and his two abductors to god knew where. Holy shit. He was going to die.

Length: 29831

Warnings: Author Chose Not to Use Warnings

Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Mafia/Mob, Mob Boss Derek Hale, Journalist Stiles Stilinski, Racism (very mild), Sexism (very mild), Threats of Gun Violence, Gun Violence, Murder, Major Character Death

Notes: n/a

[rufferto9]

Chris Argent Week: Roundup

Day One July 9th: Primary Theme: It happened one day at the Beach Theme. Surf and Sand.   Day One July 9th: Secondary Theme: Fluff, Humor, crack, Mermen. Chris Argent Appreciation Week Day One by kiranightshade Chris/Stiles , Chris/Isaac, Mermen The boy is ethereal, enchanting, beautiful. Chris is captivated. Even in anger, he is magnificent. Is this the siren's call? Chris doesn't know. Chris doesn't think he'll care either way.

Ch-Ch Changes by SlasherFiend  Chris/Peter, Chris/Victoria The Argents live in Beacon Lake, instead of the sea to raise Allison. It's peaceful until Kate attacks and kills almost all of the Hales, a fishing family that lived on the lake's edge. Chris must try and stop Kate from harming the remaining survivors and his whole world falls apart in the process. OR a quick rewrite of seasons one and two but with merpeople.

Unlikely to Forget by Rufferto Chris/Peter. Chris Argent is a lifeguard one summer and is lured into inappropriate actions by a boy who isn’t that much younger than him. He doesn’t learn who the boy is until it is too late.

Breaking Down by PrincessaBitchessa The world was such a cruel place, even to those who were not.

Day Two July 10th: Primary Theme: Dark Secret Theme. Revelations Happen.   Day Two July 10th: Secondary Theme: Dark, Gothic, horror, blood.

The Truth Hurts by Rufferto Chris/Derek Derek tells Chris a shocking Secret. Chris can't admit the truth yet, but it's nice to hear it from Derek. 

Day Three July 11th: Primary Theme: Green Eyed Monster. Someone gets jealous and possessive and does something about it. Day Three July 11th: Secondary Theme: Kink.

Chris Argent Appreciation Week: Day 3 by kiranightshade

Allison/Isaac  Chris & Peter. POV Chris: He can see it happening right before his eyes. The new Hale pack is gathered in the new loft. His daughter sits among them and Chris thinks back to where she was a few months ago. Before his father died. Before Jackson was saved. He sees her and a werewolf share glances and he knows. He knows and yet...He's starting to think he just didn't like Scott. 

Tell Me You Own Me by Slasherfiend Chris/Peter Peter tries to make Chris jealous by spending time with Stiles, only for Chris to show him what he really thinks.

The Plan All Along by Rufferto Chris/Peter, Malia & Scott Chris watches Peter and Malia dancing at Scott and Malia's wedding and is jealous and heartsick because he'll never have the chance to do that with Allison. Naturally, Peter takes advantage to press a few more buttons.

Like Porcelain by Twisted_Mind Chris/Stiles Daddy Kink.

ABO Magazine: Dynamics and Life : Chris Argent by  abodynamicslife  

Day Four July 12th: Primary Theme: Genderflip! It doesn’t have to be Chris who flips gender. Fairies and Witches are bitches, man.

Day Four July 12th: Secondary Theme: Shenanigans! Such as, but not limited to: Sex pollen, Tropes, Gender changing etc.

For You I’d Walk through Fire by Slasherfiend Chris/Peter Chris comes to rescue Peter and Derek instead of Braeden.

Follow Me Down by Slasherfiend. Chris/Peter While chasing faeries in the Preserve Chris and Peter stumble upon a bush full of sex pollen

What could never be by Rufferto

Chris/Peter Lydia's body is taken over by Peter Hale. Peter uses her to play vigilante. Chris catches him and offers the truth in exchange for Lydia's freedom.

Day Five July 13th: Primary Theme: Exotic Interlude on Vacation. While on Vacation somewhere different, exotic and weird things happen. Think: Hot Springs Monsters? Training in Tibet?

Day Five July 13th: Secondary Theme: Mystery, Drama, Weird

The Bitch and the Beast by Rufferto (WIP)

Chris/Peter

Peter is curious about the monster who lives in Argent Manor. He's seen Chris' picture and carries it around with him. He wants to know why the man is the way he is. He gets unexpected results and comes back for more. Can he lift the curse and help the man within?

Day Six July 14th: Primary Theme: Friends to Lovers aka Fuckbuddies to Lovers or I hate you, I know. Day Six July 14th: Secondary Theme: Romance, all kinds.

Sweet Things are Made of This by Slasherfiend Peter/Chris Peter gets Chris to go on a nice date with him. Chris thinks about a previous date they had.

Day Seven July 15th: Primary Theme: The Rule of Three aka PolyAmoryDay. Note this does not mean other days can’t have PolyAmory. This day just celebrates it.:) Day Seven July 15th: Secondary Theme: Free for All or throw everything and the kitchen sink at poor Chris.

Three Heads are Better than One by Slasherfiend Chris/Melissa/Peter Chris takes turns giving Peter and Melissa what they want, despite the insistence that they should give him what he wants too. 

Something they can’t take away by Slasherfiend Chris/Peter/Stiles Chris is captured by hunters who can't understand why he's in a relationship with Peter. Little do they know Peter's not the only one they have to worry about coming to rescue Chris. A Crack in the Sidewalk by Rufferto Chris/Peter, Chris/Victoria As Peter Fights for his life, Chris has flashbacks.

ALL DAYS by Red_crate: Day 1-7

•Day one: beach theme; Chris/Victoria; genfic •Day two: blood theme; Chris/Stiles; pre-slash •Day three: possessive behavior theme; Chris/Derek; pre-slash •Day four: sex pollen theme; Chris/Peter; rated T •Day five: mystery theme; Chris; genfic •Day six: frenemies with benefits theme; Chris/Peter; rated E •Day seven: polyamory theme; Chris/Derek/Stiles; rated G 

Whew. I’m not too good at these list things but anyway! The fics are all here: http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Chris_Argent_Appreciation_Week_2k17

Question: Can I still post something if I wrote it for this theme for Chris? Yes, if it is Chris Centric and based on these prompts please feel free to post to the archive for the next 1-3 weeks.

Thank you everyone for participating. If I’ve missed something, please let me know.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @Princessabitchessa!

To my giftee, @Princessabitchessa, this is a round-about way of delivering on some of your favorite troupes, and I hope you enjoy the ride. Happy Holidays!!

Read on AO3

*****

Count your Blessings (instead of sheep)

John

Judge John Stilinski doesn’t intend to eavesdrop, but his robes are hanging from a hook on the back of his office door, and the hushed, heated whispers in the corridor draw his ear like a moth to a flame.  

“I can’t let you do this, Derek,” says a soft voice edged with ivory and steel.  “I won’t let you do this.  You could go to jail.”

“Then I go to jail.  We’ve talked about this, Laura, and you know it’s the only way.  Peter promised to check himself into a treatment facility, and we’re going to hold him to it.  After today, no matter what the verdict, it will all be over.”

John flips open the file folder of documents in his hand, thumbing through the records until he sees the case titled Hale, Derek (DES alpha) vs Argent, Katherine (DES alpha).  He’d only breezed over the case before lunch.  Something about an assault at a bar; two alpha’s fighting over an omega.  John had reviewed the arresting officer’s statements, but hadn’t read the omega’s deposition.  He flips to it now, sees the name Lahey, Isaac.

John should open the door, make his presence known, but the girl, Laura, laments, “This is all my fault.” Tears threaten her voice.  “If I hadn’t asked you to keep an eye on Peter, you’d never have been at the club in the first place. And it will never be over, Derek.  You’ll be forever labeled as a violent alpha. Your chances of finding a mate will be—“

“Stop.”  He doesn’t raise his volume, but the alpha command is evident.  “My mate is dead, Laura. I don’t want or need another. If my going to jail ends this insanity, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Even though you’re innocent?”

The blood freezes in John’s veins, the papers between his fingers crunching like ice when he squeezes his fist.  

“I may not have committed this crime,” the man called Derek says, “but I’m far from innocent.”

__________

Hale v. Argent is the sixth hearing on his docket, after two drunk driving cases, an arson, a petty theft and, finally, a flasher.  John bangs his gavel, nicking the varnished wood and causing half the courtroom to startle in their uncomfortable chairs.  

At the defendants table sits Derek Hale, one of the two whispered voices from the corridor.  The young alpha can’t be a day over thirty, with piercing eyes and jet black hair. He wears a look of hopeless determination that, for some reason, makes John think of his deceased wife, Claudia.  Behind him sits his sister, Laura, the second voice from the hallway. David Whittemore lords over the prosecution table, slick and smarmy as usual.

“Counsel and parties in the case of Hale versus Argent, approach the bench.”  John takes great satisfaction in the furrow of confusion carving across David’s brow.  Laura, hands white-knuckling the railing separating the gallery from the court, looks like she will be sick all over the floor.  

“I’ll cut straight to the point,” he says, once David and Derek stand before the podium.  “Derek Hale did not commit this crime.”

Whittemore and Hale start speaking at once, trying to talk over each other.

“Be quiet,” Judge Stilinski demands, and he’s no alpha, but every mouth in the room snaps shut.  “For whatever reason, Mr. Hale seems determined to take the fall for the assault of the alpha, Katherine Argent.  But witness testimony is telling a much different story.” He turns to Derek. “Care to shed some light on what happened last month?”

“I’m an alpha. Ms. Argent is an alpha.  We were out at a bar, both perused the same omega, and got into a fight over him.  The witnesses were drunk. They don’t know what they saw.”

“Your Honor, this man is—“

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet, Mr. Whittemore?” John’s voice cracks like a whip.  “Don’t make me hold you in contempt.”

John Stilinski scrutinizes Derek’s face.  The alpha stares back, green eyes desolate and challenging.  “Nope. I don’t buy it. I’m a father, Mr. Hale. When he was young, my son and his best friend found themselves involved in all manners of mischief, and whenever something bad happened, my son Stiles would always take the fall for his friend Scott.  Even when he was blameless. That’s exactly what is happening in this situation.”

Derek’s face is a stoic mask, but there’s panic seeping out from underneath. “I’m pleading guilty.  How much jail time do I need to serve?”

Judge Stilinski shakes his head.  He opens the case folder and flips over a document so it faces Derek.  It’s an intake form for the regional food pantry. “No jail time. But after you’ve served some time here, you might wish I’d locked you up.”

Whittemore squeaks in protest.  “Community service?! My client was in the hospital!  The Hale’s are vicious animals and—“

“Your client was in the hospital for eight hours.  Most of that time was spent sitting in a chair in the emergency waiting room.  And, Mr. Hale,” the judge continues as if the Argent lawyer never spoke, “you will attend mandatory counseling sessions and, in addition to that, one year’s probation.  If you fail to serve at the food pantry three evenings a week for six months, you’ll be back in front of this bench before you can blink. And trust me, I’ll find out if you step even one toe out of line.”  Judge Stilinski leans forward, mock whispers to Derek. “I’ve got a very dependable man on the inside.”

He smashes a stamp dripping red ink onto several pages of paper. He hands over the first paper to a slack-jawed David Whittemore.  “Give this to Pamela at the front desk.” The second paper he hands to Derek. “Have the therapist sign this form and return it to the courthouse at the end of your sessions.”  And the third. “Here is your work order at the food pantry. Give this to the director. I’ll let him know you’ll be coming. Everyone settled?” Stilinski clutches the gavel, eyeing the mumbling Argent lawyer like his fantasy is clobbering him over the head.

“My client will be extremely dissatisfied with this verdict, your Honor.  My office—“

“Your client is a liar,” Judge Stilinski proclaims.  “You’re all liars. Get out of my courthouse.”

The courtroom is a blur of bewildered faces and astonished rumbles, none more confounded than Derek Hale himself.  But that’s not who John’s looking at. Even the ugly scowl slashing across David Whittemore’s face is ignored.

John focuses instead on the tears of relief in Laura Hale’s eyes.

__________

Later, after he’s eaten a salad he wishes was a steak, and the dishes have been washed and left to drip in the drying rack, John sits in his ancient recliner, and thinks about the mischievous son he’d mentioned to Derek in court.

When the prenatal blood tests had come back showing the rare omega designation, there’d been no one more shocked than John Stilinski.  Not a single omega graced the branches of his family tree. Hell, he’d never spoken to one until he’d sat next to Claudia his first day of college.  “It’s a blessing,” his wife whispers, skin and smile radiant despite the nurse lecturing them on the fragile health of some omegas, their predisposition to diseases.

“A blessing is not what I’d call him,” John jokes, when his wild boy comes home day after day covered in dirt, when he bounces off the walls, radiating energy.  “I thought omegas were naturally demure?”

Claudia smacks him on the arm.  “That’s a bunch of sexist hogwash.  It’s not about being reserved or shy or meek.  Omegas are fierce, curious, intelligent and loyal.  They’re strong.”  Then she smiles, the same smile that enraptured him in sociology 101 on his first day of college.  “Besides, I’m an omega. Have I ever been demure a day in my life?”

“It’s a blessing,” John chokes out, day after day as his son grows angry and distant, unable to process his grief over the loss of his mother.

“It’s a curse,” Stiles spits back.  “It makes me weak.  My body isn’t my own.  It’ll betray me, like it did mom.”

“No, son” John moans.  “I was married to an omega for twelve years, and she was the strongest person I’ve ever known.  One day… one day you’ll see.”

Tonight, John picks up the phone, dials Stiles’ number.

“What’s up, daddy-o?” he answers.  John closes his eyes, sees Laura Hale’s tears of relief painted on the inside of his eyelids, hears the desperate self-sacrifice in Derek Hale’s voice.  His son’s not a typical omega, but he is a ley line, attracting lost souls, and Derek Hale has ghosts. John sees the same haunted look in his son’s face whenever he visits.  He prays he’s making the right choice.

“Stiles,” he greets, all business.  “I’m sending someone your way.”

Erica

Erica’s walking to the break room when she sees the new guy—Dustin? Darren? David?  It’s on the tip of her tongue…Oh yeah, Derek!—holding a mop and bucket, standing stock still in the doorway of the community gymnasium.  She swivels, her gut telling her to change direction, march over and confront the rumored-to-be-violent alpha and ask why he’s just standing there staring at a bunch of kids.  Is he a predator, too?

The halogen bulb above Derek is flickering on and off as she stomps over in righteous fury.  She’s been nagging Stiles to fix it for weeks. Erica is ten feet away from him when the bulb flashes back on, light glinting off the wetness at the corners of Derek’s eyes.  Erica stops short.

His face as he looks at the kids running around the basketball court begrudgingly reminds her of her fiancé, Vernon Boyd.  It had taken her six months to work up the courage to talk to Boyd, the quiet, standoffish chef Stiles had hired for the pantry cafeteria.  Boyd is huge and gruff, and it took three dates before he cracked a genuine smile for her. At first she’d had some doubts whether they were compatible, but on the fourth date he brought Erica home to meet his grandmother, the woman who’d raised him and his little sister.  The moment Boyd leaned over to scoop his grandmother out of her wheelchair to place her tenderly into bed, Erica looked at his face and knew.  He was the man she wanted to marry.  The brusqueness had been hiding someone gentle, thoughtful, and intelligent.  Derek is looking at the children the same way Boyd looked at his grandmother; with a little bit of longing for better days, and a lot of love.

She shows up in Stiles’ office doorway.  “You need to come see this,” she hisses, motioning him to hurry out from behind his precarious stack of paperwork.

“What, exactly, am I looking at?” Stiles asks, as she bodily pulls him into the hallway.  The light is flickering again. “Damn it Erica, I’ll fix the stupid lamp, I promise.”

“Not the light bulb, dumb-ass,” she murmurs.  “Him.”        

“Oh,” Stiles says, when he sees Derek watching the children.  “Oh.”

“I guess you can never know someone, or what they’ve gone through to get here,” she muses.  “I would have pegged him as allergic to children as you.” Stiles is suspiciously silent. She glances over, and he’s watching Derek with the same open yearning.  

Oh, she thinks.  Oh.

Derek

“Anger is a perfectly normal, healthy human emotion.  We’ve all felt it. But when it becomes too powerful, and we allow it to get out of control, it can be destructive.  We can’t always remove the things that anger us, but we can learn to control our reactions to it,” Dr. Morrell informs Derek.

“I don’t have anger issues,” Derek tells her again, rubbing his eyes.  He’s been saying it since their therapy session started almost an hour ago.  “I saw a situation that needed to be handled, and I handled it. It was a one time thing.  I’ll never do it again.”

“You handled it with violence,” Morrell stresses, as if he needs reminding of his Uncle’s face contorted in rage, more animal than human.  “A level of extreme violence, to say the least. Aggressive external reactions are a result of internal events. I strongly believe your anger with Kate Argent was fueled by something.”

Yeah, it was fueled by her setting fire to my family, Derek thinks, and Peter being too drunk to bottle up his hatred.  He can feel the ire creeping up his neck, but is desperately trying to maintain control in front of Dr. Morrell.  She sees right through him.

“During your mandated therapy sessions with me, we’ll get to the root cause of your anger, Derek. Sometimes patients have no idea what is causing their heightened emotional responses but, more often, patients already have some idea of what lies at the heart of the matter.  It could be emotional trauma or grief.” Dr. Morrell levels a searching look at him. “What about you, Derek? Do you already know what it could be?”

A wisp of slick black hair and thin, translucent skin flitter across his vision. Red flames lick the night sky.  Derek blinks and the images disappear.

“No,” he lies.  “I have no idea.”  

_________  

Derek is certain he was never meant to be an alpha.  He really sucks at it. “You’re so lucky,” his big sister Laura, a beta, used to grumble.  “Alpha’s have it so easy.”  And at first, Derek thought that was true.  His mother was an alpha, and instilled in him pride at being part of only fifteen percent of the population with that designation.  Being an alpha meant strength, stamina, good health and good looks. Alpha’s were charismatic, got high paying jobs—they were sought after.  It meant he was capable of soul-bonding, while the majority of the population was not. Only omegas could soul-bond as well, but they were even more rare than alpha’s, making up only four percent of the population.

But being an alpha had its downside, which Derek learned at the age of fifteen when a jealous alpha set fire to his family home, killing his parents.  Being an alpha meant he was constantly challenged, assumed to be a violent meathead, only capable of thinking with his cock.

When Laura calls him to say Uncle Peter headed to the local bar, Derek knows there will be trouble.  For a beta, Peter has somehow made replicating every awful alpha stereotype an art: he’s brash, violent, and angry.  Derek has had to pull him out of bar brawls too many times to count in the last year, and tonight Derek’s had enough.  Peter needs help, more help than Laura and Derek can provide.

When he walks into the bar, Peter is trying to steal a young omega from Kate Argent, whose red eyes flash as she grabs the omega’s arm.  Derek doubts Peter has any interest in the curly-haired young man at all, but Peter would like nothing more than to start shit with the Argents, who they know—but can’t prove—set their house fire.  

“Let go,” Derek commands, stepping up to the threesome.  The omega’s eyes go round as dinner plates. Kate Argent snarls.  Peter looks at Derek like he’s a piece of shit stuck to the bottom of his shoe.  

“You’re a pathetic excuse for an alpha,” Peter sneers, then launches himself at Kate, the omega trapped in the middle be damned.

__________

He shows up at the community center at four in the afternoon on Monday, flashes his work order and is directed down the hall to the food pantry and kitchen.  A guy named Scott, also an alpha, greets him. He’s weary, but friendly enough, and directs him to the rooftop garden, where their director is pulling vegetables for the upcoming dinner rush.

He steps onto the sun-baked roof through a steel door, and is immediately assaulted with the scent of an unbonded omega.  There’s a young man bent over a raised garden bed, plucking lettuce leaves and herbs with his ass in the air like he’s presenting.  Derek’s salivating, going hard inside his briefs in seconds.  What the hell is happening? It’s the kind of ludicrous, knee-jerk reaction seen in sappy romantic comedies (or more aptly, pornography), and he’s never had this strong of a response to an omega before, not even to Paige.

This man is the director of the food pantry?  Why on earth would Judge Stilinski send him here, to work under an omega, when he’d been accused of a violent crime?  He tries to back away, crashes into the rooftop door, and the omega glances over his shoulder with big brown doe eyes.

The omega stands, wiping his dirty hands on the back of his jeans.  The action does not go unnoticed by Derek.  As he moves closer, the man’s scent gets stronger; sweat, gingerbread, pine and sugar.  He smells like Christmas morning, like everything good Derek can remember about his childhood, before it was all burned to ash.

Derek nods in greeting, but doesn’t stick out his hand because an unbonded alpha touching an unbonded omega is taboo.  “I’m Derek. Derek Hale.” He pulls the work order from the pocket of his leather jacket, the corners crinkled and worn from being shoved angrily inside the confined space, and thrusts the pages toward the omega. When the man reaches for the note, their fingers brush, and they both pull back fast, almost ripping the dog-eared document.          

After a cursory glance, the omega’s pretty lips pull into a sarcastic smile.  “My name’s Stiles Stilinski. I’ve got one question for you, alpha.  Will you have trouble working for an omega?”

Derek bristles.  “My name’s Derek not al— wait.  Did you say Stilinski?  Like the judge?”

Stiles’ spine is now an iron rod, shoulders squaring for a fight, and Derek’s never met an omega with such a chip on his shoulder, or one so quick to physically challenge an alpha.  “He’s my father,” Stiles snaps. “And for some reason, he hand picked you to come work here.  But I’m the one who built this program; I may be the only omega here but I’m the person in charge.  So tell me, Derek, is taking orders from me going to offend your red-blooded alpha sensibilities?”

It’s Derek’s turn to straighten.  “I’ve no interest in causing problems. I’ll serve my time, do what you need me to do, and then you’ll never have to see me again.”

Stiles smiles and, though it’s sardonic, it still stalls the breath in Derek’s lungs.  This is the first day of the longest six months of Derek’s life. “That’s what I like to hear, dude.  Now come on.” He thrusts a bag of lettuce into Derek’s hands. “We have work to do.”

__________

A month and a half in, Stiles’ sarcastic smiles and comments turn genuine.  It’s like an icecap melting; Derek barely notices the trickle until he’s drowning in the flood.  Despite his gruff exterior, everyone at the community center decides he’s an ‘okay dude’, and pull him into the fold.  Scott is still a bit standoffish, but it’s natural since they are both alphas, and Derek knows Scott has Stiles’ best interest at heart.  

He’s helping Stiles in the garden again—his favorite project, if he’s honest— hands submerged in the cool, fragrant dirt, furtively sucking in deep lungfuls of Stiles’ baked gingerbread scent.  “Your uncle sounds awful,” Stiles comments on their conversation, placing a carrot in their basket.

Derek shrugs.  “He’s in pain, but doesn’t know how to handle it.  I’m glad he went to a facility that will help him with his anger.  He’s getting therapy, finally working through losing our family.”

Stiles clears his throat and wipes sweat off his brow, smearing it with dirt.  “And you’re in therapy too, right? As part of your sentence? Uh… how’s that going?”

“It’s going okay,” Derek says sheepishly.  “I’m not very good at therapy.”

Stiles laughs, all crinkled eyes and wide, generous mouth.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize therapy was something you could be bad at.”  

“It’s difficult to talk, to share, especially when the memories are depressing.”  He places a potato in the basket, and Stiles places two fingers on his wrist, right over his scent gland.  Right over his pulse.

“You do just fine when you’re talking to me.”

__________

He’d tried therapy once before, about a year after the fire, but found he couldn’t talk.  Looking at the psychologist, every word flew out of his head. Not long after his failed attempt, Paige had come into his life, and her love temporarily patched over the gaping hole in his soul.  

“Do you think that’s why you felt like you couldn’t deny her?” Dr. Morrell asks, pen poised over her notepad.  “When you wanted to stop trying to have a child? You couldn’t say no because you didn’t want to lose her love?”

The fourth time it happened, it was so early the doctors informed them it was called a ‘missed miscarriage,’ and it was ended surgically before Paige’s body even detected the loss.  The time prior, she had required a blood transfusion, and the relief, guilt and shame Derek felt knowing it was all over practically before it began, was palpable. The same emotions wrap themselves agonizingly tight around his ribs as he sits in the therapist’s office years later, until he feels like his heart might collapse under the pressure.

“Why don’t we reconsider having a child?” Derek had broached before Paige’s next heat.  She gaped at him with wounded eyes.

“Don’t you want a baby, anymore?” She’d sobbed.

“Yes, yes, of course.”  The words stuck in his gullet.  “But how many times do we try before we stop?  It’s like a roulette wheel; we keep spinning but our number never comes up.”

Her eyes flashed like lightning, a wild summer storm full of heat.  “How dare you, Derek? This isn’t a game!”

“Isn’t it, though?  We are gambling with your health, and we’re losing everything.  You heard the doctor say this might be a genetic issue.  When do we say enough is enough?”

She’d grabbed his hands in hers and pleaded.  “Once more? Just one more time. I promise, if it doesn’t happen, then we will stop.”

A better man, a better alpha, would have implored Paige to be grateful for the blessings life had bestowed on them.  A better alpha would’ve refused. But in the face of her anguish, Derek learned he was not a better man.  

It’s been four months of therapy, and Derek knows he needs to start being honest if he wants to heal, if he wants a real chance at finding happiness again.  “I couldn’t tell her no because I wanted a baby.  I was desperate for a family, because of all I’d lost.”  He looks at Dr. Morrell, grimaces. “But instead, I turned my marriage bed into a graveyard, and I filled it with bodies.”

__________

Everyone is avoiding eye contact when Derek walks in Friday afternoon.  Erica is practically bouncing on her heels. “What the hell is going on?  Did we accidently get an extra shipment of cookie dough ice cream?” Chocolate chip cookie dough is Stiles and Erica’s favorite flavor.  Derek prefers cookies and cream.

Scott sticks his head around the corner.  “Stiles wants to see you in his office right away.”  Derek’s heart picks up speed.

He pauses outside the office door, hearing hushed voices and smelling something odd.  Stiles’ scent is still there, warm and inviting, but there is another smell, vaguely familiar; fresh grass and lavender, hints of apple.  Another omega is in the office.

“Come in,” Stiles calls when Derek knocks, and he pushes open the door.  He’s correct; two omegas turn to look at him. One is Stiles, and the other is Isaac Lahey, the omega who’d been caught between his uncle Peter and Kate Argent that fateful night in the bar.  

There’s new emotions darting across Stiles’ features, and Derek wants to chase them, but he can’t right now because Isaac smiles at him, shy and grateful, and says, “Hello, Derek.  I came by to thank you.”

__________

The calendar is calling out to Derek each morning, warning him he only has a few weeks left of community service.  Only a few more weeks with with Erica and Boyd, with Scott and everyone he’s come to care about at the community center.  Even worse, his days with Stiles have an expiration date.

He wants desperately to be brave, to punch out on his last day and turn to Stiles and say Let’s get coffee or Have dinner with me? But it’s been so long since Derek has connected with anyone; he’s terrified.  Six months ago this whole endeavor felt worse than a jail sentence, but now he thinks maybe Judge John Stilinski knew exactly what he was doing when he sent Derek here.  

He crosses off another day, heads out the door, and prays for a miracle.  

Scott

Kira, the world’s cutest barista, waves at him from the counter before the bell above the glass door finishes chiming.  “The usual?” she shouts, and the six people on line in front of him turn to scowl menacingly at Scott. The coffee shop is bustling during the lunch rush today and Scott, stepping over to the pick-up counter, is shamefaced.  But his guilt disappears when Kira skips over, huge, sunny smile on her lips, and hands over the recycled cardboard tray with four warm drinks nestled in the cup holders. There’s a wet cappuccino for Stiles, a mocha with extra whip cream that has Erica’s name doodled on the side, a large black coffee for Scott and Boyd’s caramel macchiato.

“You tell Stiles he shouldn’t be drinking this much caffeine.  Too much can trigger an early heat,” Kira scolds for the hundredth time.  She’s a gender studies major in her senior year, writing her thesis on environmental health risks to omegas, and Stiles had gotten so exasperated listing to her well-meaning lectures he started sending Scott on the daily coffee runs.    

“I want to enjoy my illicit addictions in peace,” Stiles told him, handing over a slip of notebook paper scribbled with everyone’s order.   “Besides,” he’d said with a grin, “she’s your type.”

Scott smiles at her, and it’s so sappy two people in line roll their eyes, and another mimes barfing all over the tile floor.  “Early heat, right, I’ll tell him.”

There’s way too many people trying to order, the baristas scurrying around behind the counter like chickens with their heads cut off, but Kira still leans over the counter, silky black hair falling out of her messy work bun.  “And how’s the new guy making out? Derek, the alpha?”

He’s been there three months, so he isn’t new anymore.  When Derek first started, Scott had bemoaned his presence loudly and repeatedly to Kira, who listened with a sympathetic ear but never failed to remind him everyone deserves a second chance.  Now he thinks of Boyd, slapping Derek on the back, and of Erica’s giggle when Derek grumbles about the broken dishwasher. He thinks of Lydia’s knowing smirk as they all notice Stiles stand taller when Derek walks into a room, smooth down his hair and tug at the wrinkles of his plaid shirts.  “Ah… he’s fitting in, I guess.”

Kira smiles, megawatt, and smacks Scott in the bicep.  “See? I told you it would all be okay.”

“Hey!  Buddy? Want to get your shit and go sometime this century?  Some of us don’t have all day to watch your piss-poor attempt at flirting,” a disgruntled customer growls.  Kira blushes, but the smile never slips from her lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you,” Scott mumbles, backing out of the café door.

He stops in front of the community center, stares at the cardboard cup bearing Stiles’ name.  He doesn’t see the black ink; instead, he sees the pink blush of Stiles’ cheeks when Derek is due to come in.  Omega’s only go into heat twice a year, and Stiles had barely been back to work a week when Derek started. He jerks the cup from the holder, and tosses in the trash can.  Too much caffeine can trigger an early heat.  He hears the words in Kira’s sweet, melodic voice.

“You can never be too careful,” Scott grumbles.    

Stiles

Thirty seconds after Claudia takes her last shuddering breath, the heart monitor flattens, and the nurse walks into the hospital room.  

“She’s gone,” the nurse says, and Stiles will never admit it, but mixed in with the grief is a weary sense of relief.  

The doctor patiently explains to Stiles and his father that frontotemporal dementia is genetic, and omega’s can be especially susceptible.  There’s no need to panic, but Stiles will need to be monitored closely his whole life. Without his mother there to run her fingers through his hair and remind him omega’s are exceptional, his designation becomes a death sentence.  “Any resulting children would also require monitoring.” The doctor’s words take root in Stiles’ eight-year-old heart, and grow thorns.

__________

The new guy is due this afternoon, the alpha his father asked him to take in.  “This isn’t a halfway house for all the criminals you want to rehabilitate,” Stiles had bemoaned, but of course he couldn’t deny his dad.  

He loses track of time up on the roof, the mindless, repetitive task of weeding and harvesting in the garden soothing him into complacency.  At first he doesn’t notice when the alpha steps out onto the roof, since he’s so focused and also upwind. But when he does notice…

Derek is nothing like any alpha Stiles has ever seen.  For one, there’s desire in his green eyes, but instead of the typical flaunting and posturing, it’s followed by a flash of fear.  He’s strong but gentle, thoughtful but quiet, and he pulls every long buried instinct in Stiles up from the roots.

And he’s attractive, gorgeous, the most beautiful man Stiles has ever seen.

Stiles is going to fucking kill his dad.

__________

Stiles falls into the staff room, dying of hunger, and throws open the refrigerator with a bang before promptly remembering he forgot to bring lunch today.  Shit.

“Ugghhhh why?” He laments, stomach rumbling.

“What’s your problem?” Lydia asks.  Stiles turns and sees she’s sitting next to Derek at the lunch table.  She’s picking at a leafy green salad topped with chicken, cranberries and walnuts.  Derek has a ham sandwich halfway to his mouth. Stiles salivates.

“I forgot my damn lunch.”

Without a word, Derek hands him half his sandwich.  Stiles should politely decline. He doesn’t need an alpha to take care of him, like he’s some damsel in distress.  Besides, he doesn’t even like ham. But before he can help himself, he snatches it from Derek’s grip, takes a huge bite and moans around the mouthful.  “Er ma ga, tha’s so goo!”

Derek’s ears turn a charming shade of red, and Stiles wants to bite theminstead.  Shit shit shit.

__________

Derek is scouring a piece of food caked on the stove top in the pantry kitchen, and Stiles is not admiring the play of back muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt as he scrubs.   He’s certainly not ogling the cut of Derek’s bicep. Nope. This is not what he’s doing.  He’s helping out Erica and Boyd, staying late to give them the night off together.

It’s so hot in the kitchen.

“So,” Derek say, and the word startles Stiles from his muscle watching stupor.  The conversation flows easily between them, but Derek is hardly ever the instigator.  “What led to you becoming the director of the food pantry? Was this something you always wanted to do?”

Stiles turns back to the dishes soaking in the sink.  “I wanted to do anything a typical omega wouldn’t, and running this center, being people’s boss, is anything but typical.”

“You’re certainly bossy.”  Stiles can hear the smile in his voice.

Maybe it’s the fact they’re facing away from each other, but it’s easy to throw the words over his shoulder, the pseudo-anonymity making him brave.  “After my mother died, I was angry. I spent years perfecting all the ways I could spit in the face of my designation. I can’t believe I didn’t give my father a heart attack.  Landing this gig killed two birds with one stone; my credentials beat two alpha candidates for the position, and to my father’s relief I’m doing something steady instead of rebelling.”  

“Do you still hate being an omega?” Derek asks.  His voice is louder, and Stiles swivels, see’s Derek is facing him now, soiled cloth flung over his shoulder.  

Stiles pivots back to the soapy silverware.  “Some days, yes. Others, no.” He plops a sparkling fork onto the drying rack.  “Fighting your instincts all the time is exhausting. I guess I’ve started to… reconsider some things.”  

“Like what?”

He dries his hand on a dish towel, and faces Derek.  “I’ve kept people at arms length, especially alphas. I’ve never even… but maybe I’d like a relationship.  A family.  I never wanted to have kids because I didn’t want to risk them being omegas too.”  He looks away, focusing on the digital display of the microwave, arms crossed and shoulders hunched around his ears.  “You must hate people like me, renouncing a family when you and your wife wanted a child so badly.”

Derek moves into his line of sight, forcing Stiles to look him in the eye.  It’s an alpha power play. Stiles should loathe it.  “I could never never hate you,” Derek whispers.  He reaches a tentative hand toward Stiles’ neck, broadcasting every move, allowing Stiles room to rebuff him.  When Stiles doesn’t flinch away, Derek slides his fingers over the gland behind Stiles’ ear, co-mingling their scents.  As soon as the alpha pheromones permeate Stiles’ senses, his whole body relaxes, a feeling of calm washing over him. It feels so good, so right, Stiles could cry.

He closes his eyes.  “Yeah, I could never hate you either.”

__________

Wednesday morning of Derek’s final week, Stiles wakes up feeling like he’s been hit by a bus.  His joints ache, he’s running a low grade fever and his head is pounding. But he doesn’t want to miss the last few precious hours with Derek, so he drags his ass out of bed and into work.  

“You look terrible,” Scott helpfully supplies when he stumbles in.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” Stiles snarks.  “It’s the golden rule.”

“Last week you said the golden rule was anyone eating chicken nuggets had to give you half.  You haven’t been drinking extra coffee have you?”

Stiles slams the office door in Scott’s face.  Screw him.

But by lunchtime Stiles knows this isn’t the flu.  His stomach is cramping, he’s sweating profusely, and his hole is feeling suspiciously wet.  He’s going into heat almost a month early. He bangs his head down onto his desk. He needs to go home, now.  He’s going to miss Derek.  He isn’t going to get to say good-bye.  

When he stands up, slick trickles down his leg.  Fuck.  He gathers his belongings, knowing he’ll be out of work until Monday, and throws open the office door, only to find Scott and Derek standing on the other side.  One look at Derek, one lungful of his scent has Stiles weak-kneed, and only years of stubborn pride and practice keep Stiles from falling forward into Derek’s arms.

“I called him, Stiles,” Scott says, sheepish but determined.  “I could tell you were going into heat when you walked in.”

“I wanted…” Stiles’ mouth is so dry the words croak.  “I didn’t want to miss seeing you. I wanted you to know—“

“Derek, can you drive Stiles home?” Scott asks. “I don’t think he can drive himself, and I need to stay here, keep the pantry open and get ready for the dinner rush.”  It’s a bold-faced lie. Erica and Boyd could easily run the show. Scott winks at him. “Go home, Stiles. You stink.”

“Will you be okay in such a confined space?” Stiles asks Derek on their way to the parking lot.  

“I’ll be fine,” Derek says, sliding into the driver’s seat, “knowing you’re home safe.  Trust me. I’ll take care of you.” Six months ago, Stiles would have shanked an alpha who said those words to him, but he knows Derek means them.  He knows Derek will drop him at home, respect Stiles’ body and his wishes, and accept taking care might mean leaving him alone.

The ride is quiet except for Stiles’ directions and Derek’s shallow breathing.  When they pull into Stiles’ driveway, Derek shuts off the car, placing both hands tightly around the steering wheel.  “I’ll help you inside, get you set up, and I’ll go. Unless you don’t want me to come in? I can stay outside, if it makes you more comfortable.”

Stiles takes a deep breath.  Here it is, the moment of truth.  He doesn’t want Derek to think he’s a pathetic omega begging for a knot, but it’s a price Stiles is willing to pay. “I’d be comfortable with you coming in.  I’d be comfortable with you staying, too.”

Derek looks at him, and Stiles doesn’t see pity in his eyes. He doesn’t see conquest.  He doesn’t feel weak or out of control. He feels powerful and special.  He feels strong.  Derek makes him feel that way.  What he sees is mirrored sadness, hurt and fear, and more importantly, the dawning realization neither of them are in this alone.

Derek gets out of the car without a word, jumps across the hood and pulls open Stiles’ door.  “I’m warning you, I may never leave.”

“I may never let you go.”

“Bossy.”  Derek scoops Stiles up into his arms, and Stiles doesn’t even mind.

_________

Derek’s plastered to his back, a long line of heat, knot buried snuggly inside Stiles’ body.  His inhalations are wet and stuttering, and Stiles reaches back, awkwardly trying to pet him.

“What’s wrong?” He slurs, still cum-drunk and more sated than he’s ever been.    

“Nothing.  I just… I haven’t… it’s the first time since…”. Derek doesn’t finish.  He doesn’t need to.

“I’ve never,” Stiles admits into the cool, empty air of his bedroom.  

“Stiles, I’m so grateful it was you.”  Derek pulls him closer, nuzzles the juncture of his neck and shoulder blade, the spot where a bond bite belongs.

“Right back at you, big guy.”  He snuggles in and closes his eyes, protected and content, all the things an omega should be, all the things he’s fought for so long, trying to keep his heart safe.  

He can’t help but feel blessed.

Laura

She’s running late, and blows past the Welcome to Beacon Hills sign at a crisp sixty-eight miles an hour.  There’s a niggle of guilt at the back of her neck; she should know better and she’s taking advantage of the skeleton crew of cops out on patrol because it’s a holiday, but it’s Christmas Eve and Laura wants to get home to the family she hasn’t seen in five months.  

This time two years ago, with the stress of her Uncle’s growing violence and Derek’s approaching trial date, she couldn’t imagine such a rich, hopeful future.  After the fire, it seemed to be one calamity after another, the ground beneath her feet always unsteady. But now, her last paper is handed in, her first grueling semester of law school is officially complete, and Laura’s heart is flying as fast as her Camaro.  She’s found her calling, she’s meant for this, and owes her revelation to John Stilinski. She’ll never forget the feeling swelling in her chest that day in court as she sat behind Derek, watching deep lines of determination furrow John’s brow. I want that, she’d thought.  I want to help people, too.  With a bang of his gavel, Judge Stilinski had changed all their lives.  It brings her joy to know someday Laura will do the same for someone else.  

She parks the car on the street in front of the small cape, and pops the trunk to grab overflowing bags of presents.  As she cuts through the front yard, she sees a slim figure sitting on the wrought-iron bench Derek restored from their family garden.  When the fire had been extinguished, they’d found it covered in a layer of ash, paint blistered and peeling from the heat. Derek had come back the day he bought his new home, washed and sanded away the grime and painted it a vibrant white.  In the warm, soft glimmer of Christmas lights and the moon, it practically glows, illuminating Stiles, sitting peacefully in the flower bed.

“Merry Christmas, Stiles,” she says, plopping herself and the gift bags next to her brother’s mate.  Despite his over-sized winter jacket, she can see the blossom of pink on his cheeks from the cold, smell the spicy, gingerbread scent of his skin.

“Merry Christmas, Laura,” he says, grinning.  Stiles reaches over, grabs her hand. “Welcome home.  Derek’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed you both.”  He squeezes her fingers. Inside, she can hear the music change over to another jovial Christmas jingle.  “What are you doing out here by yourself, anyway? Usually it’s my brother brooding in the dark.”

Stiles laughs.  “I’m counting my blessings.”  There’s something funny about the way he says the word; there’s history there, but Laura doesn’t know it yet.  It’s okay. There’s plenty of time to learn. “Plus, it was hot and crowded inside. I came out to take a breather, but my ass is starting to go numb.  Can I help you carry in your packages?”

They stand, and Stiles picks one of the shiny wrapped boxes from the bag and shakes it a little.  Something tinkles merrily inside. “These better all be for me.”

Laura laughs, poking him the the shin with the toe of her black boot and gathering up one of the bags.  “Don’t make fun, Stiles. It’s been too long since I’ve had a family to shower with gifts. I couldn’t help but go overboard.  I got your dad a low-fat cookbook.”

“Oh man, he’ll totally hate it.”  They grin at each other, conspiratorially.  “I, uh…I hope you’re still feeling so generous next year.”  Stiles picks up a bag with one hand, and parts his jacket with the other, smile shy but joyous in the blinking green and red lights.  Where five months prior Stiles’ stomach was flat as a washboard, his abdomen is now a small, distended bump.

Laura drops all the presents to the ground, something shattering inside one of the boxes.  “Oh my god, Stiles!” she shrieks, eyes welling with tears. She throws herself into his arms, as Derek throws open the front door.

“Stiles!” her brother bemoans.  “We were going to tell her together.  You are the worst secret keeper ever.”

“Says the man who told the entire community center the day we hit the third trimester.” Stiles’ voice is pure joy, love radiating toward his mate, who steps forward to wrap warm arms around him, one hand softly massaging the small of Stiles’ back.

“Let’s go inside and celebrate,” Derek says, reaching out to Laura.

Looking at the domestic scene—one Stiles fought against his whole life, one Derek never thought he’d get to experience—Laura feels happiness welling up inside her, the way it does so frequently these days.  For the first time in years, an aching sense of loss isn’t her primary emotion. The future which, not long ago, had seemed so rocky and unsure, is a happy place now, steady as a heartbeat, full of promise.

Inside, she sees Erica and Boyd, Scott and Kira, John Stilinski, Isaac, Lydia and so many others, the faces of all the people she and Derek have come to call family.  It’s a blessing, she thinks, next year there will be a new person to love.

What a gift.  

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

HEEEEYYYYY!!!! I missed you guys so I decided to comeback and ask for more :) I would like to know if there are any sad fics or sad ending fics centered around Stiles. THANK YOU!!!! XOXOXOXO

Get your tissues out!  Sad fics ahoy!  -Emmy

The Lover, But Not His Love by midnightcas 

(2,461 I General I Complete)  *sterek, demon!stiles, derek centric

After getting in the way of a demon, Derek is banished to hell. He returns months later, but he’s not alone....After an entire two months in Hell with the boy, he had grown accustomed to him.His ever fidgeting body, his endless questions, his streak of humor, his long winded ramblings, his clever mind, his broken ways.

“So,” Allison said slowly, “you’re back.”He nodded, not too sure what to say after the long explanation he had just given.“And…” Scott led on.Before Derek could repeat himself, Lydia spoke, “You brought a creature back from Hell with you.”“Hey!” the boy cried indignantly.

Won’t You Come Back by layalee

(2,705 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, derek leaves Beacon Hills

After Derek leaves Beacon Hills, Stiles has a hard time coping. He finds an outlet for his pain and uses it to reach out to Derek.

On a Sunday Night by quietlyintoemptyspaces 

(2,759 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek

And sure enough, at the very end of the bar, there stands some kind of freaking god in a leather jacket and a five o’clock shadow and burning eyes. On Stiles. So Stiles does what he does best.

Under the Grave by Hashtag_hale 

(2,837 I Not Rated I Complete)  *sterek, stiles dies

Derek brushes his thumb over the engraving. Over and over until his skin breaks.

He kind of wants to hug the stone, wants to know if he could reach a part of Stiles like that. Derek can feel the wetness on his cheek and he lets himself cry.

I Fall, I Fall, I Falter by affectingly 

(3,069 I Explicit I Complete) *sterek, hatesex

It’s been two weeks since the last time. Two weeks since Stiles let frustration and loneliness and need get the better of him.

Lies by Reaping 

(3,416 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, breakup, futurefic

April 28th Prompt: Alone

He feels a flash of guilt, sends out a skype call request, and feels only the barest hint of shame when the request goes unanswered, tempered by the relief flooding his system.

We Aint Even Getting Older by capsize (copenhagenborn) 

(5,520 I Mature I Complete)  *sterek, road trip

derek leaves for new york, stiles drives him there.

Calling Home by alchemy 

(5,654 I Teen I Complete)  *historical au - 1960′s, sterek

“Send me up a drink,” jokes Major Hale. The count goes on.

Taste of Ash and Sugar by Areiton 

(8,373 I Not Rated I Complete)  *major character death, sterek

Look, I don’t have any excuses for this. It’s angst with some fluffy sexy times but mostly it’s just the end of the world and all that comes with it. I’m sorry.

It’s Hard to Believe You Love Me When the Trust Just Isn’t There by jadebrycin2116

(9,022 I Not Rated I Complete)   *sterek

“Is this some sort of joke?” Stiles asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well I just can’t seem to figure out why you, Derek Hale, fairly popular star of our varsity basketball team would be talking to me…unless it was a joke or a bet or a deal, like Cruel Intentions or something.”

“Why does it have to be that? Why couldn’t it be that I just wanted to talk to you?”

“We’ve lived in the same town our whole lives and been at the same school since Beacon Hills Middle School. You never once talked to me before. You didn’t even know my name. I have a hard time believing you want to talk to me now unless you plan to embarrass me or something.”

The Words You Never Say by Tamyou 

(13,270 I Not Rated I Complete)  *sterek, major character death, soulmates, soul bond, terminal illness

Not every story has a happy ending. Stiles and Derek’s certainly didn’t. Can a person live without the other half of their soul?

Or

In a universe where your soulmate’s name appears on your left wrist on your 18th birthday, not everyone gets their happily-ever-after.

War of Hearts by DarkAlpha67 

(20,299 I Teen I Complete)  *stiles is an Argent, twins!stiles and allison, sterek, hunter!stiles

Stiles Argent lost his mother brutally. Her death took a toll on him, his father and his twin sister Allison. Now, finally he has the chance to exact his revenge.

Leaving France, Stiles and Chris move to Beacon Hills where their enemy lies and waits for them. Unaware of their plan.

Now all Stiles has to do is gain the trust of the Hale Pack and not lose himself along the way.

Give Me a Reason by siltoile 

(61,623 I Explicit I Complete)  *sterek, rape, rape aftermath, major character death, torture

The first time was a warning. The second time was for shits and giggles. The third time was for observation. The fourth time was for research.

I See You Hidden in the Night I Found You by garbagecat 

(89,416 I Mature I Complete)   *sterek, first time, self harm

“The wolves will guide you home, my darlingThe wolves will keep you nearThe wolves will protect you from the woodsThere’s nothing for you to fear.”

Into the Woods by lycanvirgin (phoenixzeal) 

(101,541 I Teen I Complete)  *sterek, character death

Life after Scott’s death wasn’t what Stiles expected it to be. Sometimes during sleepless nights he’d imagined the various ways that Scott might die and how he’d handle it if something like that ever happened. Not because he wanted Scott to die, absolutely not, but because after his mom’s death he kept expecting the people he cared about to be taken from him. This wasn’t how he’d imagined that Scott would die, and he would never have imagined that afterwards he’d be part of the popular group at school. Don’t even get him started about the return of Derek Hale to Beacon Hills. All in all, this wasn’t how Stiles had expected things to go.

[ao3feed-stydia]

Telenovela Type: Badly Written Teen Drama

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sUwkqV

by PrincessaBitchessa

Drama and fluff

Words: 2412, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Adrian Harris - Mentioned

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, sterek - Relationship, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski - Relationship, Allison Argent/Lydia Martin

Additional Tags: Fluff, Teenage Drama, Lydia isn't as bad as we think, Kinda Slow Build, but not really, I want a milkshake

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2sUwkqV

[ao3feed-sterek]

Practical Jokers

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zCPiGr

by PrincessaBitchessa

Why does no one trust a fox? All they want is to have fun.

Words: 930, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura

Additional Tags: Sterek Exchange 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zCPiGr

[sterekexchange]

AO3 user maraudersourwolf and PrincessaBitchessa please check your mails or contact us on tumblr!

[ao3-sterek]

Practical Jokers

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zCPiGr

by PrincessaBitchessa

Why does no one trust a fox? All they want is to have fun.

Words: 930, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura

Additional Tags: Sterek Exchange 2017

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2zCPiGr