#established sterek

[hedwig221b]

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

Stiles knew the moment it happened that something was terribly wrong. It was the middle of the night when he was woken up by a scorching hot fire, running up his entire body. It took him a full minute of panicked breathing to realize it wasn’t a nightmare, but the pain of his mate he felt through their bond. It stopped rather abruptly, but that did little to calm him.

He didn’t feel Derek. On the other end of the bond, blessedly still existing, there was no usual warmth and steady presence. There was nothing but agonizing emptiness.

Stiles knew, he felt that it was wrong to let Derek pick up their son from Beacon Hills alone. Eli whined all week that he missed his grandpa and Derek, who couldn’t for his life say ‘no’ to their son, volunteered to drive him over for a mini-vacation.

Stiles should have listened to his gut, tell his boss to fuck off and go with them.

It took one wave of a shaking hand to open the portal. He didn’t care about the magic exhaustion. He wanted his husband.

To say that BH residents were shocked to see the empty space in front of them tearing apart in a strobe of lightning…

“I couldn’t do anything,” Scott shook his head, looking up at him remorsefully. Stiles learnt long ago not to believe him.

“Papa!”

Eli.

Stiles raced to his son, who was sitting on the cold ground, reaching with both of his hands towards him. His entire face was red and wet from tears, though his eyes shined beautiful gold.

“Oh, pup,” he murmured, taking Eli into his arms. The boy put his forehead on his shoulder and sniffed silent tears. It was obvious he was in too much of a shock to tell anything — Eli clutched at his father’s back, digging into the skin with the claws, but Stiles paid them no mind.

As Stiles shushed his pup, scratching the back of his head, he looked up at Scott with murder in his eyes.

“Where is he?”

“Nogitsune,” Stiles’ father rasped. He looked almost as awful as his grandson.

“He sacrificed himself,” Scott interrupted him, clenching his jaw. “For the greater good. For the pa—“

Stiles shut him up with a growl he learnt from his husband.

“We have our own pack!”

“He helped kill the nogitsune,” Scott insisted, stepping closer, but then immediately flinching backwards at Stiles’ glare. “He died as a hero.”

Eli’s anxious and terrified breathing grew heavier.

“Shh,” Stiles muttered in his messy hair. “He didn’t die, pup, it’s alright.”

He didn’t know what the fuck happened that brought the fucking thing back, but apparently it had something to do with Derek’s disappearance.

Oh, he would never allow them to take another step in this forsaken place anymore.

“Nogitsune can’t be killed,” he grit out, taking Eli’s hands from him and standing up. “Dad, look after him. Take him to your house, make a mountain ash circle — he’s not in control yet.”

“Stiles…”

“Our bond is alive,” Stiles shouted, making everyone shut up again. “I don’t see a body, and I bet you didn’t scream, either,” he thrust an accusatory finger at the banshee, who just looked away in shame. “If I’m not back in an hour, call Kira.”

---

“Papa?”

“Yes, pup?”

Eli stomped in one place near the bedroom door, glancing nervously at Stiles. He was afraid to look at his dad’s scarred face.

“Is he gonna live?”

Stiles looked up from his husband’s burnt red skin on his torso, but didn’t stop moving his glowing golden-white hands in an intricate pattern of healing magic. Derek already looked better than fifteen minutes ago. By the morning, Derek wouldn’t feel an ounce of pain and all his scars will be gone.

“Of course,” he smiled tiredly. “You know dad’s a tough cookie.”

Eli shuffled towards the bed and fell on his knees in front of it, putting his chin on the bed. He leaned on his side, putting half of his weight on Stiles’ legs. His big eyes didn’t leave his dad’s still body.

Stiles wanted to hug his little boy so much, but it will have to wait. For now he just nudged Eli with his toes, making him look up at him.

“I’m proud of you, Eli,” he said quietly. Eli squeezed his eyes shut and put his temple against Stiles’ knee, breathing harshly. “You shifted. That’s amazing.”

“Lot of good it did,” Eli muttered. “If I was faster…”

“Nuh-uh, the guilt wagon is stopping right now,” Stiles shook his head. “Dad wouldn’t have risked taking you with him back to that inside-out place. None of this is your fault, kiddo.”

Eli sniffed.

Suddenly, Derek grunted something under his breath. All attention instantly zeroed on the wolf, both his mate and his son waiting with bated breath for another sign of consciousness. One of Derek’s hands, lying closest to the edge, moved bit by bit, until it reached Stiles’ knee.

Eli sniffed once again, then carefully took his dad’s hand, mindful of still healing burns, and put it on Stiles’ knee, then laid his head on top. Clever pup, letting his Alpha know his pack was here.

“Eli,” Derek breathed out, his eyelids fluttering.

“Shh,” Stiles shushed immediately, lightly caressing his cheek with his glowing hand. “He’s alright.”

“Stiles.”

“I’m here, love. You’re safe.”

Derek relaxed once again, falling into much needed sleep.

“See,” Stiles said with a relieved smile, looking down at Eli, who finally had some hope in his puppy eyes and a wobbly smile on his lips. “Everything’s gonna be alright.”

ao3

[teencopandthesourwolf]

LOVE YEW

on ao3 HERE

.

“Here!”

Stiles slams something down on the coffee table to the left of Derek's (Stiles's) laptop.

Derek is searching online, only a little psychotically, in the hope of finding a store that sells these very specific organic coffee beans he tried in a hipster coffee house recently. Derek isn't a hipster—he isn't—he just likes nice coffee, is all. Really, he should have asked the barista to find out not just the brand name but their supplier's address too because this is driving him insane. Maybe he is insane? More likely just incredibly shit at the internet, but he thinks he'd prefer to plead insanity if challenged.

Derek unknits his eyebrows and looks down at… a green thing. It's sort of feather shaped and has many spindles with bronzed edges.

It's a leaf.

His eyebrows knit themselves back together as he blinks down at the thing a couple of times.

“It's a leaf,” he says, because he doesn't know what else he's supposed to say.

Then he looks up—and back and forth at Stiles who is now pacing the apartment and alternating between clicking his fingers and flicking his thumbs and shaking his arms out at the sides of his body; his stimming can get pretty extra when he's anxious.

Derek's frown deepens with immediate concern. He must've really been deep in it with the infuriating Google searching to not have noticed the smell of Stiles's distress when his mate first arrived home.

“Hey, what's—”

“Yes, Derek, it's a leaf. It is a leaf that I brought all the way home. For you. From the cemetery.”

He's still pacing.

“Okay, well do you want to tell me—“

“It's an Apology Leaf. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“And, Derek, do not laugh, because—"

“I won't but could you just—“

“—this isn't funny. I'm ridiculous, I know, and I know that that's funny. But this? This is decidedly deeply unfunny, alright? This is totally not at all funny, Derek. It's like, a thing without one tiny ounce of humour in it, as in not the slightest bit funny in a gazillion sombre years. Do you hear me?” He inhales deeply, holds the breath, then blows it out harshly via puffed-out cheeks as he clicks and flails some more.

Derek hears Stiles and is of course prepared to wait for him to explain whatever this is, because Derek would wait for Stiles until the end of time, if he had to. Although that's not likely a thing to happen in any reality as this is Stiles who can't go for longer than fifteen seconds without talking. But still, Derek thinks it's the sentiment that counts. 

“You, Derek Hale, are good, and someone as good as you deserves somebody far, far better than a ratbag like me. Hence the leaf,” Stiles now tells him in a rush of even more confusing words, his chemo-signals tinged with shame for some worrying reason Derek is yet to discern.

Stiles glances over anxiously from his place of animated, mysterious penance—and then looks away again just as quickly while still trying to wear footprints into the recently painted varnish on the wooden floor of their new apartment.

Derek is clueless as to the cause of Stiles's meltdown, but neither things are a first. Stiles struggles sometimes—just like Derek does, who has plenty of his own outbursts (albeit more moody than vocal) that Stiles has to Private Dick his way through.

Derek is also trying his best not to worry too much about thinking that this is somehow his fault, so now sets his mind on attempting to marry these seemingly unrelated things in his head.

He thinks about the facts he's been presented with:

What is, at an educated guess, a Pacific Yew leaf.

and

Stiles's rather unhinged and self-deprecating dig at himself-slash-compliment for Derek.

...Yeah, no, he's not getting better at this game any time soon. 

“Uh,” he says helpfully, and Stiles rolls his eyes in that Do I really have to do everything myself around here? way of his which, rude.

Good job Derek loves the kook.

“It was just sitting there, on top of my mom's gravestone when I got there,” Stiles says quietly, incredulously, gesturing at the innocuous leaf.

Then he's off again with the pacing.

“And I knew, straight away, I knew,” he says, getting louder again and laughing in this accusatory sort of way, pointing somewhere into the ether, eyes manic.

Derek scratches his nose. He hopes he will soon know, too, because honestly, he's kind of blindfolded in the dark here.

“She was obviously telling me what a dipshit I was! What a douche I am! A massive ass-hat! Total loser!”

“I mean, that's mostly fair, but maybe total loser is a little strong.” Derek will often speak Stiles's language when Stiles is freaking out, using humour to try and ground him. 

Stiles carries on as if Derek hadn’t said anything.

“And I was like, Come on, mom, give me a break, will you? and she was like Seriously, Mischief? You really wouldn't let the special person in your life, your special little guy—”

“You can just say boyfriend, Stiles.”

“—come with you to the cemetery to visit me? Like, as if with that leaf she was reminding me that you are the one person who actually gets this shit, which, I do know. Of fucking course I know. And then—get this—I swear to God, Derek, I felt her literally slapping me upside the head! No fucking word of a lie, man. Like, thousands wouldn't believe me. Millions. They'd say that it must have been the wind or my incredibly vivid imagination. But I know, Der. I know that it was her,” Stiles continues with the confession without stopping for breath.

Derek has thought it before and he'll think it again: the kid's lung capacity is seriously impressive.

“And I also know that I totally should've said yes when you asked me if I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery this morning. Because the thing is, I did want you to. I really, really did. But I just… I just…”

Stiles starts slapping himself on the forehead with both his hands and Derek has had enough of that already. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to Stiles, catching those slim wrists in his grip, gentle yet firm.

“Please don't,” Derek says, imploring Stiles to stop. Derek can understand frustration, but can't stand Stiles hurting himself.

Stiles deflates a little. He then takes a step towards Derek and leans in, resting his forehead against Derek's, their noses lining up like penguins.

“I just—I should have said yes to you when you asked because I honestly, truthfully wanted you there. It's just that I've only ever been there with my Dad. And even then, not as many times as you might think. Not even Scotty has been there with me. It's just a place—it's usually something I do alone. You know?” Stiles' front teeth worry at his pretty lip. 

And yes, Derek does know.

So he says, “Because you feel guilt, right? Even though there isn't a thing in this universe or any other that you should feel guilty about.”

Guilt just for being alive. 

Slightly cross-eyed with the proximity and angle, Stiles looks at Derek in a way that says he knows just how much Derek knows about this stuff.

“Yeah. Yes, exactly. And I guess I didn't know how to be that with somebody else around.”

“But Stiles, that's completely—”

“No, Der. It isn't, actually. Because you're not just somebody else. It's you. And I'm in love with you.” Stiles finally takes a breath while Derek's heart is busy swelling to twice it's size. He will never tire of hearing Stiles Stilinski say those words to him. “And I absolutely should've trusted in that. In us.”

It is, of course, completely fine that Stiles went to the cemetery alone to visit his mother, but Derek also gets where the kid is coming from. He too takes a breath, now, a big one, because this kind of stuff doesn't come as easily for him as it does Stiles.

He swallows his nerves and pushes on.

“I love you, Stiles. And it's alright that we're not perfect. Neither of us are. Us—you and me—we're both just… Finding our way.”

After a moment, Stiles adds, “Together.”

They smile at each other like huge dorks.

“Yeah.” Derek breathes, and his heart might just burst.

Derek scents Stiles, and Stiles breathes deeply too, now. “Thanks,” he says, then Derek kisses him, just as deep and for a long while, because it's his favourite thing to do in the whole damn world.

Eventually Derek pulls back, runs a thumb over Stiles's mouth and says, “You know what?”

Stiles's brow lifts inquisitively.

Derek lets go of Stiles's wrist and takes his hand instead, leading him back to the sofa and sitting them both down squarely by the coffee table where he had been sat fruitlessly Googling not so long ago.

“I believe you,” Derek says.

Stiles frowns. “Huh?” It's his turn to be confused.

“Millions wouldn't, but I believe you, Stiles. About your mom.”

He reaches across and picks up the Apology Leaf, cradling it for a brief moment in his palm before nudging at Stiles's hand and urging him to take it, which he does.

Derek then grabs the laptop, side-eyeing his previous Google search—WHO NEAR ME SELLS PHOENIX ROAST ORGANIC COFFEE BEANS THAT TASTE LIKE HOME—and forcing himself not to get instantly sucked back into that particularly vexing nightmare, while also trying his best to angle the screen away from Stiles who, if he saw, would fall off the sofa laughing at Derek's admittedly pathetic research skills.

Not everybody is a… Technophile? Cyberpunk? Derek has no fucking clue about any of this shit.

With Stiles now passing comment on the aesthetic qualities of the Apology Leaf, Derek uses both index fingers to tap out the words of the thing he wants to look up, taking no notice of Stiles who is trying his annoying not-very-best to smirk at Derek's sorry efforts in Derek's periphery. Clicking through a few different links, this time Derek manages to find what he's after without any trouble, amazingly. He then hands the laptop over to Stiles, who carefully places the leaf down on the arm of the sofa beside him before fully taking the computer from Derek. 

Stiles purses those pretty lips of his as he scans the information on screen, squinting a little.

“Uh, well yeah. It's like you said, Der; It's a leaf. From a Yew, according to this.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Your mother's ghost is infinitely more clever than you.” Stiles's squint deepens further. “Stiles, she is absolutely spot on about this. Just—scroll down the page a bit, dumbass,” and he ducks his head and smiles, seeing as accusing Stiles of Internet-related Dumbassery is really fucking funny because, irony. 

Stiles tuts but does as he's told.

Derek gives him a minute to read the passage on the website he found. It says:

The Yew tree can live for many, many years. It has deep connections with magic and the universe. It was regarded as the protector of the soul by the ancient Greeks. You’ll find this tree planted at many burial sites throughout the world as it’s recognized as a guardian of the dead.

It is believed that Odin (from the Nordic legend) hung himself from the Yew for nine days and nights. It’s symbolic of its everlasting and regenerative properties and is often associated with transformation and change after a difficult time. The Celtic tradition honours the Yew tree for symbolising death and rebirth.

Stiles is smiling this gorgeous, open smile by the time he's finished reading, and Derek makes an unrealistic wish to be able to keep it there forever.

“So, you were right,” Derek says, “when you said that she knew. You were just a little mixed up about what, is all.” Derek takes another deep breath. “What your mom knows is that you got the chance to begin again, Stiles. After all the shit we went through, you actually got to start over. With somebody who will absolutely protect your soul with their life.”

Stiles suddenly blinks furiously, like somebody just threw salt in his eyes.

“And you knew it, that she knew... something,” Derek smiles back, lovingly, before that smile turns a little wry. “It's just that you were kind of—now, how should I put this…?”

“No. Do not do it!” Stiles shouts—instantly catching on because he'd easily be the brightest bulb in any box—and he's pointing again, at Derek this time. “Puns are my stupid thing, you charlatan, and I can and will sue!” he warns, outraged yet smiling again as he wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“—barking up the wrong tree,” Derek finishes, his smile now positively wolfish.

Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes, but he's chuckling, too as he says, “You do remember that it's you who's the canine in this relationship, right, 'wolf? If anybody's going to be making barking sounds, it's you.”

“Speciesist,” Derek quips.

Stiles pokes his tongue out. Then he's quiet for a few seconds (but definitely no more than fifteen).

“You know, I really was wrong when I said you deserve better than me. We actually absolutely deserve each other, Hale. Because it turns out we are both humongous assholes.”

After a moment, Derek grins more.

“Well, I would have answered that with I love my asshole, but you had to go and use the word humongous, and there's no way I would say that about my asshole—even though I would have technically been talking about you when I said it, seeing as it's actually you that is my favourite asshole.” And he pulls a rare, goofy face, just for Stiles, who laps it up. “Also, thinking about it, I would also have to say that loving my actual asshole is, in fact," he points at Stiles, “your job.” 

Stiles dramatically slaps a hand over Derek's mouth.

“Oh my God, Derek, stop! My ghostly mother could be listening in to us right now! Jeez, dude, have a little decorum, won't you?!” And if Stiles saying that isn't ironic, Derek really doesn’t know what is.

“Sorry, mom!” 

Grinning even more, Derek pushes Stiles's hand away from his face.

“Hey, wanna know the coolest thing?” he asks.

“Why in the name of anything sacred did you bother posing that as a question, Der? Like, when would I ever say no to that?”

Derek leans over and kisses Stiles again, soft and languid this time. The boy's lips are dry and warm and he tastes just like autumn.

Stiles hums and smiles into Derek's mouth as if he really, truly does love Derek. 

After another glorious moment, Derek pulls back, looks at Stiles and says, “Yew trees aren't even native to this part of California.”

.

for @greyhavenisback my beloved <3 sorry i'm a dipshit, douche, massive ass-hat and a total loser, sometimes xp

(i got the info on tree symbolism HERE btw)

[kbirbpods]

Original Work: The Search by Goddess47

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Tags: sterekdrabbles, Drabble, Established Relationship

Audio Length:  1 minute, 15 seconds

Notes: podded as a Summer Swap '23 gift for @roseszain

[hellmersy]

I need people to understand that I want more scary Stiles Stilinski. I'm feral for this little sopping wet cat of a man whom everyone underestimates until he goes from 0 to 100. One second he's being a little damsel in distress but then one of his friends gets hurt and suddenly he stands in a field of gore cackling at the sky because the bloodlust has driven him nearly insane. Bonus points if Derek is there and matches his freak.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

“It was either that or I have a microchip shoved in your ass.” - Stiles, probably.

Imagine Derek (somewhat reluctantly) agrees to wear a collar on full moons while he’s learning to control his full/evolved shift. The tag on the collar just says “Return to Stiles” because everyone in town knows who Stiles is.

Except for one person who just moved in and found a dog asleep under the tree in their yard. They don’t know who Stiles is and the vet doesn’t open for another hour or so, so she takes the dog/wolf to the police station. Derek just walks past the front desk and straight into the sheriff’s office where Noah looks at him and simply asks, “Again?”

The person comes chasing after him and apologises but the Sheriff explains that it’s his son’s dog. The person gets instructions to take him home and when they get there Stiles is waiting by the front door, exhausted from not sleeping all night because he was worried about Derek not coming home, and Derek walks up to him and whimpers apologetically. Stiles thanks the stranger and walks Derek inside, where he changes back to his human form and takes the collar off before half-dragging Stiles upstairs so he can get some rest.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi

Back again to bother you

I’m looking for a fic I know was removed from ao3 but I think you’ve posted before

Derek is a police captain in nyc and his detectives think he is really scary and cold. They find out Derek is married and try to figure out who and why would someone marry Derek

Then they all go to a party for the city and meet stiles and talk about Derek without knowing stiles is his husband.

Stiles’ dad is the police commissioner and stiles is an ME I think

Please let me know

Also just sending general love ❤️

Hi anon! Thank you for the love. @imlikeamockingjay and @hedwig221b say it's this deleted one.

show me something beautiful by starcanopus

[dropofbittersea]

“Where do you think you are?” Stiles asks, carefully. He still hasn’t moved. Derek searches for his heartbeat as his mother has been teaching him and finds it easily: a steady lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

Derek looks around. Dressers and a closet door and bookcases. He’s never been in this room. “Smells like home,” he says anyway, cautious, and Stiles’ smile softens.

“Okay. Okay, that’s great.”

[omgtheywereawooomates]

fic recc + my moodboards:

reccer's notes:

a truly delightful bit of Sterek flavored shenanigans.

Sterek | ch 1/1 | 1,931 | E

Fluffing Gobstoppers by mikkimouse

Summary:

“What did you just say?” Scott asked, eyes huge. “What?” Stiles said. “I said it’s fluffing anti-climactic…wait. What the fluff? Fluff? Fluff!" === Stiles is cursed not to curse. He's really not happy about it.

also checkout the delightful podfic, read by roseszain

[elisela]

think twice stiles x derek wild about you, established relationship for @missanniewhimsy 💚

-

It’s the smallest thing. The smallest, most inconsequential thing; so small Stiles can’t believe he’s been fixating on it for the better part of nine weeks—and the only reason it’s only been nine weeks is that Derek doesn’t come to many of his games and it took him at least a month to figure it out.

Derek doesn’t wear his jersey.

read on ao3

[hedwig221b]

Mountain to Hide Behind

Dearest anon, I bestow upon thee a prompt fill. (whacks you on the head with it)

ao3

Stiles was going to be the best parent that ever parented. Any other option was out of question. The end.

He had swept all of Derek’s boring business books from the front of the shelves, replacing them with baby books. The baby wasn’t even here yet, but he already had his schedule figured out. Stiles was the master at swaddling and changing diapers, had a content of ingredients for a perfect baby formula fucking memorized.

So, safe to say, he wasn’t quite yet ready to deal with heartbroken teenagers.

He thought he had time! Then Cora’s boyfriend decided to downgrade to an ex and here they were.

Stiles was standing in the doorway of their guest room and wringing his hands for a few minutes, before finally taking in a deep breath and opening the door.

“Cora, sweetheart,” Stiles forced out a smile. “The lunch is ready, darling.”

The she-wolf took out one headphone and turned to glare at him in a scary imitation of her brother.

“Fuck off,” she muttered and turned away again to lie down on the bed.

Okay, then.

Eli kicked him in the stomach in the show of silent support. Stiles caressed his round stomach and went (he wasn’t waddling, it was too early yet, shut up!) to the kitchen to eat his pasta alone.

*

Cora stomped downstairs right in time for dinner, though. Stiles highly suspected it was because she heard Derek’s car getting closer. At least now she was going to eat. What would Talia say if she heard he was starving her precious baby? No, ma’am.

The girl slumped down on her seat and started scraping a fork through the contents of her plate with the grumpiest expression. Was something wrong with food?

“Stiles?”

The voice brought a beaming smile to Stiles’ face. Problems? What problems? His mate was here, therefore nothing mattered.

He lifted himself up from the chair and went to greet his husband, who was already smiling at him in return.

Derek dropped his suitcase, took off his tie and cupped Stiles’ face with his big hands.

“Hi, baby,” he muttered into his lips and kissed him.

After so many years of dating and then being married, Stiles found that the whole ‘the spark is gonna die out’ thing was utter bullshit. Like, how on Earth was he supposed to not want to drop to his knees when faced with this absolute hunk of his husband? Stiles could swear on his life he was falling more and more in love with Derek since he became pregnant. He was ready to build a shrine to his mate, he was so motherfucking sexy and so handsome and so caring. Stiles was obsessed, to a scary degree.

He moaned into the kiss, winding his hands around Derek’s muscular shoulders for support. Mmm, so tall, so big, so handsome.

“Missed you,” Stiles murmured, pressing another kiss to his stubble-covered cheek.

Derek chuckled. His eyes were soft. “Missed you, too.” He then put a hand on Stiles’ stomach and snorted a laugh at being immediately kicked. “Hello to you, too, love.”

“I’m telling you, he knows when you’re coming home,” Stiles remarked, leaning his weight on the alpha, as the man put arms around him. “He’s a little alarm clock.”

“And a soccer player, and a kickboxer, and a—“

“A wonder! He’s a wonderful boy of an amazing father who’d better hurry and wash his hands or his dinner will get cold.”

Derek smirked at him. “As you wish, sweetheart,” he said and sneaked a gentle bite on Stiles’ jaw, before immediately jumping away from Stiles’ hand and disappearing down the hall.

Stiles bit his lip, stretched wide in a smile. He was so incredibly silly, just ughh!

His good spirit, however, dwindled a bit after a murderous glare that Cora gave him upon entering the kitchen. Seriously, what was going on? They weren’t inappropriate and it wasn’t like they’ve left her alone for that long…

During the dinner Cora stayed silent, having only muttered a ‘hi’ to her brother. Derek, who grew up with two sisters, was used to this kind of behavior, so he just ignored it. Which, rude! The girl needed support! Maybe not Stiles’, based on her glares, but someone’s!

Feeling Derek’s eyes upon him, Stiles looked up and instantly felt himself blush from his mate’s half-lidded look.

“What?” Stiles smiled.

Derek shrugged. “Just wondering how do you get prettier each time I see you.”

Oh, my GOD.

The thing about Derek, one of many that made Stiles lose his mind, is that he was an insane flirt. Was, during their dating period, then smoothly carried it over to their married life. Honestly, who needs the blood of a hundred virgins — Derek’s compliments made Stiles feel ten years younger.

Stiles beamed at him. “You’re so nice to me.”

“Just being honest.”

A fork clung against the plate with an awful loud sound.

“Is this how it is going to be with you two?” Cora grumbled, grabbed her plate and shoved it inside the sink.

“You mean, with me and my mate?” Derek lifted an eyebrow.

Cora threw a sour look at him, pursed her nose, then went back upstairs. Her door shut with a frustrating thud.

Derek and Stiles looked at each other in an unspoken solidarity, before the alpha sighed.

“Come here,” he spread his arms.

As if Stiles needed to be asked twice. He dove right into his lap and for the warm embrace, pressing his stomach to Derek’s front. It wasn’t long before Eli realized there were hugs going on and started drumming on Stiles’ insides with his feet.

It took one wince from Stiles for Derek to put his hand against his stomach and pull out the pain.

“I love you,” Stiles sighed, laying his head on his husband’s shoulder.

“Love you, too.”

*

New day, new try!

“Cora, darling, do you want to watch ‘Moana’ with me?”

“No, I don’t. Fuck you and your stupid cartoons.”

… Alright.

Was he really the same as a teenager? Stiles shoved another handful of popcorn into his mouth. Surely, he wasn’t that bad. There was one time when he and Scott sneaked out to the forest to have a drink over Scott’s broken heart. Very dangerous and irresponsible.

So, yeah, it was for the best that Cora was staying here and not vomiting her guts out in the forest.

Stiles could handle some misplaced teenage angst. He could! He was an adult. An adult who would soon have his own child.

Oh, god.

Great, now his eyes were burning. Stiles sniffled and picked up another popcorn, glancing down at his stomach. He wasn’t even that huge yet, but the feeling of being a beached whale was creeping up on him with a concerning speed.

But that wasn’t the reason for his sudden mood change. He just realized how much he wanted to watch cartoons with his kid. To have him sit on his lap, to munch on the popcorn together, laughing and singing songs. Stiles sniffled again.

And he wanted Cora to be better! And not snap at him.

*

Unfortunately, Derek’s strategy of ‘leave her alone and she’ll come around’ wasn’t working. Well, for Derek it might have been wonderful, but not for Stiles, who was locked inside with the girl for days.

She refused to eat lunch with him, which only made Stiles worry more; she snapped at him constantly and was downright rude sometimes. And, while Stiles grit his teeth and reminded himself that she was just a hormonal teenage werewolf going through some hard times, he was also a hormonal, albeit human man, with a freaking baby inside him.

His temper wasn’t as steel as it was before. If it ever was, at all…

Stiles tried to remember that Cora probably didn’t mean what she said, but… Sometimes, it felt like she did.

“You look huge.”

Stiles frowned at his own reflection, where he was trying on new pants.

“Well, I am pregnant, so…”

“So? You still look huge.” Cora rolled her eyes.

Stiles’ eyes fell down without a thought from him. He smoothed a hand down the round top.

“It happens sometimes,” he argued weakly. “It will pass. Besides, I don’t care.”

“I bet Derek does.”

Stiles’ heart missed a beat.

He knew, he knew for a fact, that Derek still found him desirable. The pregnancy didn’t drop their libido, but instead made it fucking sky-high. They had an extremely active sex life, thank you very much; Derek was an attentive partner, always gentle with him, but no less hungry. One time Stiles actually caught him drooling at the sight of him, walking naked and rubbing his belly after a shower on one particularly hot day. And the wolf hadn’t even denied it, instead lifted his eyebrow like ‘yes the sight of you makes me extremely horny, are we going to do something about it or what?’.

So the notion that Derek somehow cared about the weight he gained was completely ridiculous. Completely. Ab-absolutely. Yeah.

Stiles looked down again.

“Have you seen people he works with?” Cora continued, appearing not interested and scrolling through her phone. “Like, Erica and Isaac? He got an entire building with people looking like them. And then he comes home to this—“ she lifted her eyebrows and shook her head.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Cora,” Stiles started throwing the clothes he pulled out for a try-on back into the closet. “We are mates. He loves me. End of story.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Stiles tried to swallow a lodge in his throat; once the grain was planted in his mind, he knew he would obsess over it to the very end.

“He’s allowed to look, though,” Cora added as if in an afterthought, before huffing at the mess he made.

“He is,” Stiles bit out, left everything as it was and stormed out of the room.

*

Derek was late.

Between Eli kicking up a storm and Cora’s meaningful smug glances, Stiles was going mad. Yes, definitely mad and not close to tears.

He ate half of his own usual portion, before putting the rest in the containers and retreating to his and Derek’s bedroom for the remainder of the evening.

*

“What are you doing?”

“Sniffing your shirt, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Derek snorted and walked over to him, slid hands over his stomach and snatched the shirt from his hands. The wolf brought it to his face and sniffed.

“It’s a fresh one, love.”

Stiles just sighed. Did he really become one of those spouses that suspects their significant other at every turn? It was humiliating a little, but the worry was brewing in his mind and heart, buzzing around like a bunch of angry wasps.

“If you’re so worried that I’m stinky, don’t refuse to shower with me next time.” Derek smacked a kiss on Stiles’ bared neck, then quickly got distracted and started trailing kisses down the neck, pressing Stiles’ ass back to himself.

Stiles closed his eyes and bit his lips. “You’re gonna be… mmmhm… late.”

“I don’t want to go to work,” Derek grunted, sucking a mark on his shoulder, lapping at it with his tongue. “You are here, so delicious and fucking glowing. Want to stay home and fuck you.”

This high libido of his may have started because of the pregnancy of his mate, but if it was that strong, who’s to say he wasn’t getting rid of it during the day? Stiles knew how others looked at his husband — the same way he did, but what if…

‘He’s allowed to look, though.’

… what if he looked back?

Stiles swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, begging for the images of his traitorous mind to disappear.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too.”

*

Derek was late for another few days after that.

Stiles tried to keep his head up high, mostly not to agitate Eli, who was getting angry at not receiving hugs from his father at appropriate times. But staying at home with Cora, whose jabs were getting more and more painful with each passing day, was even worse.

Thus, Stiles began to go for walks. For as long, as his feet and bladder would allow; he walked, lost in thoughts.

Derek’s behavior wasn’t really any different, if one didn’t count him being late every day. His kisses were still passionate, hugs tight, caresses gentle and loving. Maybe it was all in Stiles’ head.

But why wasn’t Derek telling him why he was late and acted like it was normal?

Coming back to the house with a heavy heart, Stiles didn’t expect to be faced with a wide-eyed and fuming Derek.

He didn’t even get to walk through the door like usual, before getting snatched off the street back into the house and patted down with shaking hands.

“Where the fuck were you?” Derek growled, looking carefully at every inch of Stiles. “Why didn’t you take your phone with you? Why did you go out alone, for fuck’s sake, Stiles…”

One thing Stiles could not handle was negativity, not from Derek and not now.

Derek’s face paled at the sight of moisture gathering in Stiles’ eyes. The man grabbed his face and flashed his eyes at him.

“What happened? Did someone do something? Stiles, baby, answer me, I’m going to fucking kill anyone who—“

“Start with yourself, maybe.”

Stiles’ breath hitched.

Both of them turned to look at Cora, who tried to look nonchalant, while leaning on the handrails. She had her lips pursed and lifted one very judgmental brow at her brother.

“What?” Derek blinked at her, confused.

“What I said,” she sneered. “Did you honestly think he wouldn’t notice your absence? He can’t even stomach his dinner, because he knows you’re busy fucking side-chicks as he does so.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

Right then, faced with the sentence he was too scared to even think of, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. At his first mortifying quiet sniff, Derek swerved around too look at him.

He looked horrified.

“Baby,” he said with desperate softness, “you… you know this is bullshit, right?”

Unable to look him in the eyes, Stiles lowered his gaze down on his chest and tried his hardest not to cry. He stayed silent, because what could he possibly say? That his mind was already plagued with scenarios of Derek leaving him? Because what would become of him then?

Derek raked a hand through his hair and turned to his sister, who watched both of them with her head pointed high. The wolf’s eyes flashed red, fangs glistened in the warm lighting of the hall.

“What the fuck have you been saying to him?” he growled.

“What you don’t have the balls to!” Cora shouted, making Stiles flinch. “All of you are the same! It’s ‘forever’ and it’s ‘I love you’ until the first flipped skirt—“

And then Derek roared, walking over to her. “I’m not the same as your dumb fucking boyfriends, Cora! I’m married to him, we’re fucking mates, for fuck’s sake! Are you insane? We’re having a child together, not an English lesson!”

“Fucking whatever,” her voice trembled as she looked to the side.

“It’s not ‘whatever’. He is not allowed to be stressed! At all! That’s why I was fucking late — I’m passing the business over to Peter to be able to stay at home with Stiles for the next months.”

Oh. Oh, Derek.

The wolf cursed and rubbed his eyes, then flashed them at his sister. “Go to your room, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Cora’s eyes filled with angry tears. Without any further words, she turned around, went to her room and slammed the door shut.

Stiles didn’t dare to look at him. A myriad of conflicting feelings tore his heart apart, most present of them guilt and misery.

“Kitten.”

Big arms wound themselves around Stiles, pressing him close to a hot body. Stiles tucked his face into Derek’s neck and sobbed.

“I’m sorry—”

“Baby, it’s okay.”

“But, like, how could I think—“

“Shh, none of this is your fault,” Derek kissed his temple and sighed against it, stroking the back of his head. “It’s all on me. I’m so fucking stupid. I wanted to make a surprise for you, I know how you want me home, but never say anything.”

In the safety of his protective embrace, swaddled up in the loving warmth of his words, Stiles began to calm down. Derek always had this effect on him. This man was his anchor, his mountain to hide behind when the storms are raging on.

Derek leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“You know, you are the only thing on my mind. And I mean it literally. There’s nothing in there, besides your angel face. Every time I walk outside to go to work, it takes every bit of my control not to turn back. Erica fucking hates me now, because Boyd got a baby fever because I don’t shut up about you and our plans for the kid.” He chuckled, making Stiles sigh and shiver from the heat of his breath. “You know what else I do? I sit at meetings and just look at the clock and count down the minutes before I could go home. Why do you think Peter is so eager to take over? I’m useless to them. I can’t think of anything else, other than you.”

“Derek,” Stiles whined, feeling relief in his heart and blush on his cheeks.

They fell into each other, with sighs and desperation, to seal the certainty on their hearts. Derek’s kiss was as demanding as it was giving, with his hands still trembling on Stiles’ sides.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

And, of course, their kid chose this moment to gently kick at Derek through Stiles’ stomach, as if saying ‘Are you two idiot parents of mine done? I need my hugs.’

They separated and laughed quietly, swaying in each other’s embrace.

*

“Cora, sweetie.”

“… What.”

Finally.

“Can you tell me what that was?”

The poor girl threw herself off the bed, with her hair crazy and bags under the eyes.

“What that was?! I’m tired of looking at the two of you! ‘Stiles this’ and ‘Derek that’, you’re disgusting! I get it, you’re happy and in love, and it’s never fucking like that in my life, so stop shoving it in my face! How are you not sick of each other?”

Stiles watched her pace around the room, as the realization dawned on him.

Fucking Hales.

“Because we love each other.” When Cora huffed and rolled her eyes, Stiles continued, not allowing her to interrupt. “It’s real and it’s not going anywhere.” He put a hand on his belly. “And that’s it. No drama, no bad feelings. We have an entire happy ending to live through.”

After letting the thought brew in her mind for a few minutes, Stiles patted the seat next to himself and Cora, to his surprise, obediently sat down.

“Why can’t I have what you have?” she said barely above whisper, not looking at him.

“Child, please,” Stiles poked her in the arm and smirked. “My life consists of trips to the bathroom and weird food cravings at two a.m.. It’s not fun. Yes, it’s amazing and it’s a miracle, but fun it is not. Live some life. Experiment. True love will come and whack you on the head and then you’ll be like me and Derek, stupidly in love. Speaking of life, have you ever kissed a girl?”

Cora spluttered and went completely red in the face, looking a little too wide-eyed.

“Stiles!”

“Did you like it?” Stiles grinned.

“Oh, god…”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles bit his lip to stop the ‘mad evil scientist’ laugh from escaping, before clapping Cora on the shoulder. “Now, bring me the laptop, we’re going to ruin your ex’s life.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

OH, DEER

for @sterekdrabbles 31.01.24 challenge. the prompt words were: SCENT, OBSCENE and CONTAIN.

#established relationship, #werewolf derek hale, #stiles stilinski's scent, #food, #pov stiles.

.

Reaching for the venison jerky—dude, seriously?!—Derek drops a pack into the shopping cart before leaning in and sniffing Stiles's throat, growling at the scent right there in the snack aisle.

It is weird and hot, in embarrassingly equal measure.

“Venison’s from the Latin venari. Means ‘to hunt’... Did you, uhhh,” Stiles gulps. “Did you kn—oh, God.” His entire body shivers as Derek tongues his jugular.

S-l-o-w-l-y.

Stiles can't contain himself; he full-on moans, loud and unbridled and obscene.

“MADISON! CLEAN-UP ON AISLE FOUR!”

When Stiles' eyes drop absurdly to his own crotch, Derek innocently asks, “We need tissues, babe?”

.

[jocollins]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Talia Hale, Derek Hale & Laura Hale Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale, Talia Hale Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Good Sibling Laura Hale, Good Pack Alpha Laura Hale, Loss of Parent(s), Autism Spectrum, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Autistic Derek Hale, Coping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Survivor Guilt, Overwhelmed Derek Hale, Sensory Overload, Derek Hale has sensory issues, Derek Hale Has Panic Attacks, Anchors, Anchor Stiles Stilinski, Falling In Love, Stiles Stilinski Takes Care Of Derek Hale, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending Summary:

There's comfort in scents, especially for a born wolf. After losing that comfort, Derek never thought of ever finding it again.

[sterekbros]

Ficlet for @sterekweekly word prompt #sterekweeklytender @warmandfluffybingocards square baking/cooking together @sterekbingo square a/b/o

burnt cookies

Rating: General Audiences Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Eli Hale Tags: Established Relationship, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Mpreg, Fluff, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski. Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Eli Hale's Parents, Domestic Fluff, Baking, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Kid Fic

Stiles looked down at the sheet of cookies, or, well—burnt cookies. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to get the cookies right. Nice and tender, chewy and moist. It didn't help that Elijah insisted on helping with everything and Stiles loved him so much that, of course, he let him help with everything.

Then he’d get distracted once the cookies were in the oven baking, taking care of Elijah and playing games…taking naps. All of which was tiring Stiles out the closer he got to his due date with baby Ava.

He was on the verge of going to the store and buying the perfect cookies before Derek got home. But Elijah would rat him out, just like all five-year-olds did because they couldn't keep anything to themselves.

“So what do you think, kiddo?”

Elijah looked quizzically at the cookie dough and back up at Stiles. “Can you not burn them this time Daddy?”

Stiles should feel mortified that Elijah was calling him out on burning all the batches of cookies before this one, but he was also brutally honest because he was five years old.

“Let’s hope so, buddy. Maybe this will be the batch that comes out perfect. What do you say we try this one more time before we go to the store and buy up all the cookies they have?”

Elijah nodded, his hair flopping, and sometimes Stiles was thankful his son was a werewolf or his head might just fall off with how hard he shook it.

They both looked down at the cookies before Stiles helped Elijah off of the counter and they stepped back from the stove. Stiles opened it and then slid the cookie sheet inside the oven onto the top shelf. He closed the door and sighed, pushing buttons on the stove to set the timer one last time.

If this batch burned, he just wasn't meant to bake cookies for Derek today, or maybe ever.

They both peered into the oven window, the light from the coils shining down on the cookies as they bubbled and cooked.

“Well…” Stiles started, then looked at Elijah expectantly. “...I guess we have to wait now.”

Elijah giggled and looked at the cookies with his big, hazel eyes. “Maybe we should stay to make sure they don't burn, Daddy…”

Stiles looked back into the oven, watching the dough bubble. “I don't think that’s going to make them cook any faster…”

“But if we watch them, they won't burn and then we can eat cookies before Dad gets home.” Elijah’s eyes were big and hopeful as he stared into the oven again with Stiles.

“I think that’ll just make them take longer. How about we go sit on the couch and read your book for school?” Stiles smiled and wrapped his arms around Elijah, giving him a kiss atop his head.

He knew better than to pick him up so close to Ava’s arrival, especially because it would kill his back and he’d pay for it later.

Elijah looked thoughtful as he looked up at Stiles. “Okay!” He bounded off toward the living room and Stiles rubbed his belly as Ava gave her input on the whole ordeal.

The cookies ended up burning after they’d gotten wrapped up in first one book and then another, which meant that Stiles ended up Instacarting cookies to eat for dessert that night.

Either way, Elijah never stopped laughing at the burnt cookies and Stiles trying to dispose of them all before Derek got home.

It was a great day.

[green-fifteen]

Day 7: Kiss it Better

Prompt: Recovery Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Summary: Even a magical dad needs backup sometimes. Word count: 1,793 read on ao3 instead

written for @fluffyfebruary

The McCall house was full of people. They packed in together on the living room rug, leaned against the walls in the hallways, slid around each other in the kitchen to grab this or that. They spilled out of the door to the backyard, where John Stilinski and Chris Argent were not-so -passive aggressively fighting for control of the grilling spatula. Stiles couldn't believe they knew this many people, but he did recognize almost everyone he saw, with a few Argent exceptions.

His favorite (former) Argent was currently scrubbing a horrifically caked-on serving dish, muttering to herself about something he couldn't hear in the all of the party noise. Stiles, his hands and arms full of hot dog and hamburger buns, took pity on her. As Allison held the platter underwater, as if to drown it and be rid of it for good, he focused his gaze. It didn't take long for his magic to find the source of her problem and it scoured the baked-on food in an instant, as if it had never been there. She turned around to face him and almost grabbed him up in a hug before she noticed he was carrying bread. Thank you, you're amazing she mouthed instead.

These days, Stiles' magic was literally the ultimate household problem-solver. It seemed to have changed over the years as he settled and aged and now the things it did best basically amounted to chores. Cooking? Cleaning? Mysterious underwear stains? All he needed was a few seconds of focus and his magic could do it all.

Stiles waved away her thanks and continued outside to the patio, where the grill sat beside a pair of long white tables. There wasn't really any room for all the buns he held, so he just dropped them on top of some of the toppings, trusting the gathering of assorted mythical and/or magical beings to be able to open and use them for themselves. As he stood back, a shape darted out at his legs from beneath the tablecloth. Years of practice had honed his reflexes and he bent down to catch the beast just before it collided with his kneecaps.

"Grargh!" it cried, but its roaring dissolved into laughter as Stiles tucked it under one arm and began walking toward the woods that bordered the house on one side.

"I can't believe these creatures keep getting past my wards," he grumbled, letting out a frustrated huff. "Oh well." He set it down in the grass and nudged it with his foot. "Back to the woods with you, beast."

This time, the little thing jumped to tackle him, and Stiles let himself fall to the ground. "Oh no! Somebody, help!"

"Rarg! Graah!"

"I'm being mauled by a creature of the night!"

He continued wailing and being afraid for several moments, after which he seemed to find a second wind and pinned the little monster.

"I won't let you hurt any more innocent people," he cried, voice desperate and determined. "This is a birthday party!" And he reached down to tickle the creature's belly. It writhed in place, shrieking with laughter until suddenly it stopped. Stiles stopped too, watching its little face.

"Daddy," it said seriously. "I actually need to use the bathroom."

"Oh." Stiles climbed back to his feet and then lifted the little boy into his arms. Dry leaves and bits of grass clippings fell from their hair and clothes as they stood up.

"Do you need any help?" he asked.

"No. I can do it by myself," his son replied and then darted into the house.

"Patrick! No running on the patio," he called after him.

When he turned, his father was standing at his shoulder with a paper plate. "Grub time," he grunted. "Where's your husband? I bought cheddar dogs just for him and they're no good cold."

He shrugged and sighed. "He's supposed to be getting the cake but I think he got held up. He'll be here soon, just keep his food in the grill with the lid closed."

"Like I wasn't gonna do that anyway."

"Yes, yes, thank you, Dad."

At that moment, two things happened at once. Stiles heard glass break and turned his body toward the pool, where everyone seemed to have frozen in shock. Just as they started moving, everyone hurrying out of the water, he heard a second noise, one that kicked up his parental instincts the instant it hit his eardrums. Whirling around, he saw his kid sobbing on the concrete patio just in front of the sliding screen door, knee scraped up and beginning to bleed.

Without hesitation, he strode over to his son and hefted him into his arms. He was almost getting too heavy to be held like this and the screaming crying was happening way too close to his ear, but Stiles held on to him as he walked back over to the pool, trying to comfort him with soft words and rubbing his back.

Melissa McCall was pulling little kids out of the water, reassuring them gently that they'd be able to get back in soon. "You can't see shards of glass in the water," she said, voice gentle but firm. "You might really hurt yourself." As Stiles approached with his son, the kids looked up at him crying in pain and scrambled out as fast as they could.

Melissa met his eyes with a small smile, as if to say, Oh boy, what a mess.

Stiles could get the glass out of the pool. Without calling in a specialist or draining the pool, which would take too long, his magic was the only option if anyone wanted to use it again during the party. He looked at his son, gasping for breath where he was perched on his hip. Maybe he could calm him down and then come back to fix the pool? There was no way he'd be able to focus with him bleeding onto his jeans.

One thing at a time he told himself. He crouched down and pulled the little boy into his lap, rocking and shushing. "Really hurts, huh?" he murmured.

Patrick only wailed, tears and snot dripping down his face. Stiles heard another child start to cry somewhere nearby, likely startled by the glass breaking and only further upset by the sobbing Stiles had brought over the them. He was really starting to think, Those damn wolf powers would be pretty handy right about now and cursing his magic for being selectively useful, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Derek was crouched on the balls of his feet just next to him, eyes fixed on Patrick's red face. To Stiles, he looked like an angel sent to rescue the both of them. He squeezed Stiles' shoulder lightly and then reached out for the boy.

"Hey, Pat," Derek said, gently. "Look, Pat, Papa's here."

Patrick's eyes flew open and he lunged forward into Derek's arms. Stiles fell back onto his hands and patted his husband's thigh in thanks. He could see black lines tracing their way up Derek's forearms, beginning with the little knee he held in one hand and traveling up under his sleeves. The pained wailing was already dropping off, replaced by Patrick's normal, more familiar fussing. Even that faded into the background as Derek walked them both over to the food table, kissing and soothing the little guy as he went.

Stiles turned back to the pool. It was the work of a few heartbeats to make it safe again-- he stared into the water and imagined he could hear the tinkling of the shards as molecules of water brushed over them. He imagined he saw their jagged edges glinting beneath the brighter gleam of the water's surface. Then-- blink-- suddenly he could see the fragmented pieces and he could hear the barely-there tinkling of water on glass. Focus came easily with something to fix it to and he let his magic free to find the problem. The pieces were gone in seconds.

"Alright!" he shouted. "Open swim!" The splashing started up again immediately and he had to scurry away to avoid being hit. Smiling, he made his way to the grill. His father was holding Patrick while Derek stood at the start of the condiment line with two paper plates, a burger on one and a cheddar-filled hot dog on the other.

Stiles stepped in close to him and kissed his bristly cheek. "You never stop saving my life," he chirped. Then, "Is that for me?"

"Yes." He handed Stiles the plate with the burger. "Sorry I was late, there was an issue at the bakery and then traffic was pretty bad on the way back."

Stiles tsked. "That's what we get for going to the bougie place for a five year old's birthday cake. Grocery store sheet cake next time."

"Agreed."

When they finished filling their plates and returned to their son, he was staring raptly at the sheriff, who was telling a story in big, exaggerated motions.

"And that's why you never peel off your band-aids, son," he was saying as they came within earshot.

When Patrick saw them, he squirmed out of John's hold to the ground and ran up to Stiles.

"Daddy," he said. "Papa made my leg feel better, but it still hurts. You have to kiss it so it heals and I don't get a bacterial infection." Stiles shot a bewildered look at his father, who only smiled serenely.

"Of course," he said, smiling when he looked back at his son, then planted a loud kiss to the skin just below the open wound. "Now it will heal all better in no time. No infections."

Patrick stood up and dashed away before Stiles could even process it, screeching and chasing one of his little playmates.

"Has he eaten yet?" Derek asked him. Stiles stood up cracked his back.

"He can eat later. Or maybe he'll just have cake for dinner. It's his birthday, who cares?"

Derek sighed but smiled and tugged Stiles into a hug. "I cares. You cares. We all cares when the birthday boy doesn't fall asleep tonight. And Daddy and Papa and Patrick all stay up doing jigsaw puzzles until midnight again."

"You love family puzzle time," Stiles counters, poking him in the ribs.

"Is there really nothing else you would rather do tonight?" He pushed his nose into the space behind Stiles' ear. "I haven't seen you all day." He breathed in a huge inhale.

"Quit sniffing me, my dad is standing right there." Stiles smacked him and pulled out of the embrace. "Fine, I'll go track down the beast. Make a plate for him?"

Derek hummed an agreement and Stiles took off after their kid.

[outtoshatter]

Prompt 2: “Don't worry, I got you.”

Fanfiction | Fandom: Teen Wolf | Sterek

Warnings: none | Rating: Teen & up

Raining Cats and Dogs (also on ao3!)

Derek almost didn’t stop. The storm had picked up, the rain was coming down in buckets and thunder rumbled threateningly overhead. The flashes of lightning were bright and close. Even on the highest setting, his wipers could hardly keep the windshield clear enough for him to see.

It was a combination of good timing, Derek’s instinct to track movement, and pure dumb luck that he noticed it at all. He turned his head. Lightning struck, illuminating the rain drenched gray sky, and the soaked pile on the shoulder of the road twitched.

He jerked and then righted the wheel, cursing at himself. He pulled off more safely and flicked on his hazard lights.

The rain was icy, stinging against his skin and soaking him the second he got out. He ducked his head and ran along the road to where he saw it. He splashed through the deep puddles that formed as the rain flooded the ditch.

“Mrrr…”

He sped up; when he reached the soaked lump, he bent over, squinting through the rain to see if it was even alive.

The kitten bunched up in a shivering, wet ball, opening its mouth in an almost soundless warning hiss.

Derek tried to guess how young it was—old enough that it would probably make it, by his estimation—before, resigned, he stripped his jacket off.

He didn’t try to get closer or pick it up right then. He tossed his jacket over it from afar.

The kitten yowled with panic, flailing under the leather.

Derek lunged before it could fight its way out, scooping it up inside the jacket. “Don’t worry,” he said grimly, “I got you.”

It struggled in his arms, no doubt shredding the lining of his jacket. He sloshed his way back to the car and got in with the jacket bundled to his chest. He cranked the heat and seat warmers, and dumped the spitting kitten in the passenger seat. It was still drenched to the point where Derek couldn’t tell what color its fur was, or whether it was a cat or a gremlin. It flexed its claws against the seat, backing up against the door with its greenish eyes locked on him. He faced forward. “That’s fine. We’ll just sit here and warm up a little. After this, we’ll go see…my friend.” He grimaced. Scott would tell Stiles about this, he knew it. But there was no avoiding it. Dr. Deaton was out of town and the kitten needed to see someone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it hunker down against the seat as the warmth seeped up. The rain eased after a few minutes; it was still coming down steadily, but it lightened up enough to give the wipers a fighting chance. Thunder cracked. The kitten flinched. Derek watched from the corner of his eye, careful not to turn his head. He’d already figured out it was best to just pretend he didn’t know they were there. He pressed his hands to his eyes. Stiles was going to kick him out. This was the ninth stray he’d picked up this year. He didn’t mean to, he just kept finding them, and he couldn’t just leave them out there. He sighed and put the car in drive, aiming for the vet’s office. Maybe the shelter would have room this time. Stiles wanted him to stop bringing home strays, so they didn’t have to keep saying goodbye. Bu it was a good thing. The six cats and two dogs he’d found had gone to terrific homes. This little one would as well. Maybe Scott would keep his mouth shut. He’d nearly reached the office when a slight, damp weight touched his leg. Four delicate paws pressed into his thigh, and then the kitten curled up in his lap. “Well, you’re a brave one,” he said evenly. His hands flexed on the steering wheel. Otherwise, he didn’t acknowledge it until they pulled into the parking lot. He gingerly worked his phone out of his pocket and called Scott. “I’m outside,” he said when he answered. “I have a…very wet and cold kitten.” He was quiet for a beat. “I’ll bring a towel out. Was it injured?” “I don’t think so, just caught in that bad storm.” “Alright, I’m on my way.” Derek risked glancing down at the kitten; it was either asleep or doing a good impression of it. Scott wasted no time wrapping the kitten in the towel, tightly enough that all I could do was yowl unhappily from its new swaddle. Derek went inside with them, unsurprised when Scott’s first order of business was to get the kitten warmed up; they’d done this enough times to have a routine. He looked at Derek while deftly avoiding the kitten’s outraged biting. He sighed. “I didn’t go looking, I saw it on the side of the road.” Scott hummed doubtfully. “Alright, why don’t you go to my office and grab the spare scrubs I keep in there so you stop dripping all over the floor while I deal with this?” Derek went to do just that, but he hesitated at the door. “Would you…not tell Stiles?” Scott didn’t look up. “Hmm,” was all he said.

Derek glowered, but there wasn’t much else he could do besides ask. He left to change. He should have expected it. He heard Stiles’s voice in the exam room when he left Scott’s office. With a heavy sigh, he pushed the door open. He couldn’t help smiling when he saw the kitten bouncing around the table chasing a mouse toy. “She’s healthy,” Scott said into the silence. “She’s going to need flea treatment and lots of food—she’s a little skinny—but there’s no microchip, and she seems pretty dirty for a pet. Probably a stray that lives near people—she’s fine being pet and handled. Mostly.” Stiles took a deep breath. His hoodie was wet at the shoulders from the rain, his hair damp. “We agreed,” he said slowly. Despite his calm tone, Derek could feel his disappointment. “I found her on the side of the road, half-drowned. I couldn’t just leave her.” “I know, but-” He rubbed his face. “We can’t foster again. Derek,” he sighed when he opened his mouth. “We agreed, remember, after the last one, that we wouldn’t do anymore fosters.” “There’s really no room at the shelter.” “Thank you, Scott,” Stiles said between his teeth without looking away from Derek’s face. “It’ll be okay this time,” he said. “She’ll get adopted really quickly.” His voice cracked, but that was just from the rain. “Probably a week. Look at her.” “That’s not what I’m worried about. You get attached,” Stiles pointed out. “And then they’re gone! And I can’t-” “Oh my god,” Scott blurted suddenly. “Oh my god.” “I can’t help it,” Derek said. “And I can’t just leave them there—I won’t.” “Derek,” Stiles said, his voice quiet, “I’m not asking you to, I-” He cut off. “I hate seeing you so torn up when they get adopted.” “Better that than them on the streets though.” Scott rubbed his temples. “Good god. Get out.” He scooped up the kitten and her toy, shoving her into Stiles’s hands. Derek flinched, reaching out to take her, but Scott slapped a bottle of flea and tick treatment in his hands. “I’m tired and I want to go home. Both of you are idiots. Go talk about this at home.” He pointed at Stiles. “Just say it.” He pointed at Derek. “Listen.” Then he stomped out, waving his hands over his head. “I meant it,” he shouted. “Get out!” Stiles looked at the squirming kitten in his hands, baffled. She bapped his nose. “I can take her,” Derek said. “Maybe Boyd…or someone else can foster her.” Stiles’s fingers curled more securely around her as he looked at Derek, his expression going thoughtful. “No, let’s go home to talk. She’s coming with,” he added. “I think Scott’s right and we’re just not hearing each other.” He took Derek’s hand and pulled, giving him a careful kiss on the lips. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Derek prepared his case in his head while he followed the jeep home. He was already attached, so it didn’t change things if they fostered her or gave her up now. He would find her a home quickly, so they wouldn’t be inconvenienced for long. They already had some basics, and she would already be at their house, so this was much less hassle than finding someone else to foster her. Stiles sat them down at the kitchen table when they got home, looking uncharacteristically serious. The kitten chased her toy across the floor by their feet. “Okay. Look. The reason I don’t want us fostering strays is because of how torn up you get when they go to their new homes.” Derek winced. “I can-” Stiles cut him off with a sharp look. “You just quietly retreat into your head for days after they’re gone. You don’t need to go through that.” He set his jaw. “I’ll try to get better about it, but I can’t promise to leave them if I find them.” “I told you, I don’t want you to do that.” Stiles rested his chin on his upturned palm, smiling as he kicked around the toy for the kitten to chase. That was how it started—Stiles got just as attached as Derek did, when they took in a new stray. But once a potential home was found, his demeanor changed. He got anxious and tense, and distanced himself from the dog or cat. Derek realized why as he watched Stiles playing with the kitten. You just quietly retreat into your own head after they’re gone. “Oh,” he murmured, guilt grabbing him by the throat. “Oh. Stiles, I-” “Can’t we just keep her?” he blurted. He straightened. “That’s all I’ve been trying to say. We can keep her, and it’ll be easier to let go of the others, for you.” Derek blinked at him. He thought of all the other strays, all the other conversations like this that never had a satisfying ending. “You want to?” “Yes.” Derek laughed breathlessly. “So do I.” Stiles beamed. “Good. Now let’s go give her that flea bath.” They shared a kiss first, then turned on their unsuspecting new kitten. They decided to call the kitten Lightning after they all three barely survived the bath and all of her escape attempts. Derek disinfected Stiles’s cuts while Lightning rolled around on a towel and glared balefully at them. Stiles took the hair dryer out with a gleam in his eye. “Come here, Lightning-bug, we have to get you dry.” He took just a little too much pleasure when he flicked it on, Derek thought. They all collapsed together on the couch after she was dry, too tired to make it up to the bedroom. Derek slumped against Stiles’s shoulder, one hand cupped under Lightning to keep her in place. He woke a little later when Stiles moved sharply. “Don’t worry,” he murmured sleepily, catching Lightning before she could slip off Derek’s slackened hand. “I got you.”

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! i’m looking for an established sterek fic where derek is either the chief of police or fire department and they’re at a party or gala of some sort and derek’s employees (the pack) are unknowingly talking (badly?) about derek to stiles, not knowing he’s his husband

Hi @iliketomovwit! @nerdherderette says it's this one.

show me something beautiful by starcanopus