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josswritessometimes · 2 years ago

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When History Met Science

(Teen Wolf | General Audience | Sterek | 30k words | 11/11 Chapters)

AO3 Link

Professor Derek Hale has been teaching History for three years, and has painstakingly kept his private life, private. He would not consider himself a lonely man (no matter what his sister says). Until a certain biology professor, Stiles Stilisnki, arrives at the university. From mistaking him for a student, to becoming friends, could Stiles be the person that makes Derek want to give love another chance?

Chapter 1.

The Wrong Vibes

Professor Derek Hale was in the middle of explaining the Ottoman rule in Palestine from 1840 to 1918, deep into the topic of the Second Wave of Jewish Immigration to Palestine. It was one of his favorite topics, so he allowed himself a little more time to explain certain events. Given the significance of the time period, it was important his students understood what exactly had happened and why.

His class was almost always full, which he was thankful for. However, he was aware that some students were there for all the wrong reasons. He had joined the faculty almost three years ago now, but, according to Isaac, he had become somewhat of a sensation among the students. Derek liked to believe it was due to his very thought-out explanations and his willingness to always answer any question a student may pose, but he isn’t blind. Even if he’d rather lie to himself sometimes.

To his credit though, he seemingly developed a sixth sense about two and a half years ago. He’s very good at knowing when someone walks in late, even with his back to the door, and at knowing when someone is being disruptive, even in a lecture hall of over 100 students. And right now, someone walked in almost halfway through his lecture, and was sitting somewhere in the back whispering to someone else. Derek stopped talking for a second, letting his chalk remain on the chalkboard without writing anything down. He stayed like that, not saying a single word, until the only sound he could hear was the low buzzing of the projector. It took less than a minute, and then he continued on like nothing had happened for the last thirty minutes of class.

Once class ended, he turned around to dismiss his students, while trying to dust off the chalk from his hands. It had taken a while, almost his entire first semester teaching, but now all his classes knew better than to leave without being dismissed. All 107 eyes were still set on him, and everyone was still sitting down. Which made it easy for him to find the person who had disrupted his teaching today.

He was slightly taken aback, but not completely surprised, when he saw a smiling Stiles Stilinski sitting in the back row. Derek scoffed slightly, trying not to laugh in front of his entire class.

“Class is dismissed, thank you for your time,” he said, loud enough for every row to be able to hear him. The class erupted into chaos, everyone trying to rush out while cramming everything on their desks inside their bags.

Derek turned toward his desk, back to the class once again, carefully putting everything into his briefcase in the exact order he liked it. If he took a little longer than usual to give Stiles time to navigate the wave of people while going against the flow, no one other than himself had to know that. He zipped his briefcase at the same time as he felt someone stand right next to him. It was always easy to know when Stiles was near, the energy around him seemed to vibrate in a way that only someone with Stiles’ levels of anxiety might be able to emanate without physically shaking.

“You interrupted my class today,” he said in lieu of a greeting, turning to the younger man.

“I got here as soon as I could, the Biology and History departments aren’t exactly next to each other. And we scientists aren’t exactly known for our physical prowess either. I ran like a madman which, you know, means I was going barely above average speed.” Stiles smiled widely, sitting down on the desk.

Derek couldn’t help but snort at that. “Stiles, I’ve seen you run. Sure you run weird, limbs going everywhere, and most of the time you end up on the floor, but you’re actually fast.”

“Not fast enough for you not to bite my head off, apparently.”

“Why are you here, Stiles?” he asked at last, motioning for Stiles to follow him to his office. The lecture hall will be needed in about 15 minutes, and Derek is a firm believer in better safe than sorry.

“Oh, so, you know…”

“So, a favor. Start talking, Stiles.”

“There’s a faculty dinner tonight.”

Derek was slightly more confused now than he usually was in all his interactions with Stiles. “I…Yeah, I know.”

“And, you know, I am faculty.”

Derek rolled his eyes at that. “It was one time, Stiles. One time.”

“You almost threw me out of the break room! I had had a total of 0 coffees that day, and we were doing bacterial growth kinetics. I was sleep deprived!”

“Okay. We’ve had this discussion before, Stiles. You looked way too young to be faculty, you had a Batman shirt on and the biggest under-eye bags I have ever seen, and when I walked in you greeted me with ‘hey, dude’. Was I really supposed to think you were a college professor?” Derek raised a single eyebrow at Stiles, daring him to fight him on this. Once the man had opened and closed his mouth three times without emitting a single sound, Derek turned around to open the door to the office he shares with Isaac, stepping aside to let Stiles walk in first. Isaac was probably still in the middle of his class, so they had a bit of time. Isaac usually arrived at the office after class with one or two students trailing behind him, asking a million questions.

“Look, whatever. You were wrong, dude, “

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek admonished, before Stiles could really get started in on his tirade.

“You were wrong, Professor Hale. I’m a genetics professor, and I’m old enough to be a genetics professor. Actually, I’m old enough to have a PhD in something you still think is a weird STD.” Stiles bypassed Derek’s chair and both the visitor chairs to sit on the desk, his pointer finger flying wildly while he accused Derek.

“I still think transposing cripsy cas sounds like an STD,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ finger and pointing it away from his face, while he made his way to one of the guest chairs, so he could sit down facing Stiles. He had long ago given up on trying to force Stiles to sit on something made for sitting.

“I know you know that isn’t what it’s called! And transposons and CRISPR-Cas technology are absolutely going to save your life one day, mister. But now that we’ve established that we’re both professors and, therefore, members of the faculty, I wanted to know if you’d be my ride to the faculty meeting. I’m staying late to work on an experiment tonight, and my car is still in the shop. Lydia said she’d pick me up, but the school is way farther away from her than the restaurant,” Stiles explained, turning big hopeful eyes at Derek.

Derek tried hard not to let his feelings show. Lydia Martin was their star math professor, just back from a year-long absence, where she was working on a new math program with the university, in collaboration with MIT, while also winning two world-wide contests. The woman was as smart as she was elegant, and she seemed to be really close to Stiles.

When Derek first joined the faculty, Lydia Martin was all the students and professors seemed to talk about. About a year later, she left to work on the new joint program, which the university was more than happy about. During that year, Stiles arrived, mid-semester, after Professor Greenberg had to take sick leave from some kind of lacrosse accident. Somehow, during that first semester, Stiles and Derek had become really good friends. Derek had even thought that maybe they could be something more. But then Lydia Martin had come back, and now Derek had to share Stiles’ times with Lydia.

He smiled tightly. “Yes, I will drive you to the dinner, Stiles. I’m working late today, anyway,” he offered, not meeting Stiles’ eyes.

“I know, man! You have to grade papers today; I’ve been hearing your students complain for like a week. That’s why I knew you wouldn’t make me walk! Or get a taxi. I get very dizzy when I ride in the back,” Stiles talked animatedly. Soon, the topic changed and both men were talking about nothing and everything, in easy conversation the way they had always done. Exactly what had made Derek once believe they could be something more. But now was not the time for that.

“It is not a generality, Aimée, like I said you need to apply it case by case. There are no laws when it comes to psychology.” Isaac’s voice carried from the corridor, as he made his way to his shared office. Like Derek predicted, Isaac came inside followed by two girls and a boy. Based on Isaac’s face, they seemed to be very curious about a topic Isaac loved talking about. Derek did what he did best and ignored everything happening on the other half of the office and focused on Stiles. The man talked with his whole body, so it was easy to dedicate all of his attention to him.

After a few minutes or maybe a half hour, Derek wasn’t really sure anymore, Isaac made his way to the other visitor’s chair to Derek’s left. It had to be before 3 pm, because Stiles had class at 3.

“What are we talking about?” Isaac asked animatedly, while taking out a few tests to grade.

“Aliens!” Stiles answered happily, grinning at the Psychology professor. To Isaac’s credit, he didn’t even blink.

“Do we believe or do we not?” he asked without looking away from the test he was currently grading.

“We, as smart people, do. Derek, as a general hater of the universe, does not.”

“I… you know what? Yes, that, Isaac.” Derek gave up trying to explain to Stiles he believed in aliens, he just didn’t believe in short, green, angry people. Or gray probe-obsessed things.

Isaac nodded once. “You know, I was under the impression that professors were mature and professional. You two prove to me every single day that that isn’t the case.”

“I only signed up for being hot and smart, scarf boy,” challenged Stiles, crossing both legs under him, now entirely on top of the desk. How that was comfortable, Derek would never understand. “Is that why you wear the scarves every day? For professionalism?”

“No, Stiles, same as you. For the hot factor.”

Derek just sighed. He had known Isaac for almost 12 years now—they were both on the basketball team in elementary school, though Isaac was a year below him. They had been inseparable ever since and had somehow ended up teaching at the same university, reuniting after having gone to different colleges. And while he was glad for the chance to spend more time with his best friend, he sometimes felt like there was a much bigger age difference between the two of them than there actually was. Like whenever he was speaking to Stiles.

“Oh, don’t worry, you are the hottest girl at this university,” assured Stiles, taking one of the tests Isaac had finished grading. “And also the meanest girl. Half points for this half-a-page essay?”

“It doesn’t say what it’s supposed to say, no matter how long it is.”

“I don’t understand how you can be this big of an asshole and still be so loved.”

“It’s the scarf,” Derek quipped, making Stiles bark a laugh. Isaac only shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe it’s the hot girl part. We will never know.”

“I think it’s the whole hot girl/mean girl combination. Makes you irresistible,” joked Stiles, winking at Isaac.

The three of them were laughing openly when someone knocked on the door. Derek stood up to answer, only to find Lydia Martin standing there, in a beautiful baby blue tartan skirt suit. Sobering up immediately, Derek smiled tightly.

“Doctor Martin, how can we help you?” He moved aside to let her come in. Lydia had never come to his office before, but he guessed it had more to do with Stiles currently being there than anything.

As if to prove his point, Stiles immediately jumped off the desk and stood up straight. “My queen. To what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you had lunch off campus today with Erica?” he asked confused, though he relaxed his posture. He was back to half-sitting on the desk.

“Hello, Professor Hale, Professor Lahey,” she greeted them cordially, giving them a small smile, and completely ignoring Stiles. “You can just call me Lydia, both of you, no need for so much formality,” she added with another smile. Then she turned to Stiles, the warmth she previously had when speaking to the other two professors suddenly gone. “And no, Stiles, we do,” she corrected, crossing her arms over her chest and giving Stiles a meaningful look. She looked like a predator.

Derek expected Stiles to recoil at that. Even he felt the need slightly, but he found that the younger man was anything but intimidated by her.

“What? No, she specifically said girls’ night, and I have that experiment in class in like an hour. I cannot do lunch, Lyds,” he defended immediately, pointing widely at his wrist watch. Derek noticed that it was a digital Star Wars Casio watch and tried not to laugh. Although he was pretty sure those were collectible, it looked much too old-fashioned to just be from Stiles’ childhood.

“That still gives you an hour, move your ass or we’re leaving without you.” With a small nod at both Isaac and Derek, she turned around to leave. “Have a good day, professors.”

“Derek.” Derek hadn’t even realized he had spoken out loud until he felt all eyes on him. “If you’re just Lydia, then I’m Derek. Like you said, no need to be so formal. I don’t actually like being called professor by my colleagues,” he explained quickly, fighting hard not to blush. He might have pulled it off because while Isaac was looking at him weirdly, he wasn’t outright laughing at him.

“Isaac,” his best friend offered immediately after. “And it’s very nice to have you back, Lydia. The Math department just wasn’t the same without you. I really missed seeing students cry right after my Psychology of Cults class.”

Lydia smiled widely at him—the first time Derek had ever seen her smile like that. She was absolutely gorgeous; no wonder Stiles was always around her. “Me? Isaac, I have had your students come crying to me, begging to be allowed late entry to one of my classes.”

“I don’t know whose idea it was to keep your introductory math class right next to mine, but I love it,” he answered honestly. Derek could see he was still looking at him from the corner of his eye, but he ignored him, keeping his attention on Lydia Martin.

Stiles marched over to Lydia and offered his arm to her, which she took gratefully. Derek saw another type of smile he hadn’t seen on her. While not as wide as the one she shot at Isaac, the smile was warm and completely sincere. “I knew you would come around, Stiles,” she said, almost too low for Derek to catch.

“I have no clue what the two of you have planned, or why you want me there, but we have 50 minutes. I hope you can walk fast in those death traps you have on,” he mentioned, signaling toward Lydia’s stilettos.

“Stiles, I can walk better in these shoes than you can barefoot. If you trip on your own feet and make me fall, I will make sure you wake up bald. And your hair is one of those things that are actually working for you.”

“I used to shave my head in high school.”

“I remember.”

“You said I looked okay!”

“That I did.”

Derek could still hear them bickering until they were too far down the hallway for him to make out what they were saying. Isaac and he remained silent for about 3 minutes, before his best friend decided it was time to grill him.

“Why do you always bring him here after class? Is this some weird attempt to make him fall in love with you? Normal people just ask other people out, you know. Your office—actually, your shared office—isn’t exactly romantic.” Isaac spoke way faster than he normally did, while closing the door to their office and going back to sit on Derek’s visitor’s chair.

“I love teaching right next to you?” Derek shot back, unable to get over that little comment.

“That is not what I said, but unlike you I do speak to other professors on the regular, and it’s nice having Lydia around. The man that was filling her position while she was away nearly as fun, and the students didn’t seem to want to cry every time. It was as if you were replaced by Professor Harris. No one likes taking history with that guy, he’s weird.” Isaac was speaking slower now, and Derek realized he was sidestepping what he wanted to say.

“Out with it, Lahey.”

“You’re jealous of Lydia Martin. But I don’t think she’s dating Stiles. Sure, they seem close, but I don’t think they’re dating. I don’t get those vibes.”

“Vibes?” Derek asked incredulously.

“Yes, vibes, Derek. Like those very strong vibes I get from you because you really want to smooch Stiles within an inch of his life. Lydia and Stiles don’t have any perceivable sexual tension between them.”

Derek nodded, thinking about the interactions he had seen between the two adults, before the full meaning of what Isaac had just said dawned on him.

“Wait, no, I don’t…”

“It’s too late, bro. You gave yourself away,” Isaac interrupted, with a satisfied smile. He looked like a proud puppy.

Derek sighed. “Look, Stiles is not interested. And I am not interested in dating. So, it’s all for the best.”

“Derek, Stiles is interested. Why else would he follow your weird mating rituals and come to your office almost every day, or join your weird coffee run every morning at 6:30 am? I think you keep denying yourself the right to be happy, man. And I don’t know why, because while he is the weirdest person at this university, and that’s counting the students, he makes you smile and enjoy yourself in a way I haven’t really seen you do before.” Isaac spoke softly, but every word still felt much too heavy for Derek to really digest.

“He was here because he needed a ride to the faculty dinner, nothing more Isaac.”

“Yeah, but you do know he is friends with the entire Humanities faculty, right? Not just you. I think he’s roommates with Kira Yukimura, from English Literature and Asian Studies. But I’ve also seen him around with Vernon Boyd from Archeology, and Malia Tate from Dramatic Arts. I think they’re all like friends from before they started teaching here. He could ask any of them for a ride, but he made his way here—and to be clear, we are not the closest building to the labs—to ask you for a ride to dinner.”

Derek stared slightly open mouthed at Isaac. “How do you even know all that?”

“Like I said, I hang with the rest of the professors. You should know that too, really, since they’re mostly from your college.”

And Derek knew all of those professors, had shared a conversation with them here and there. But he didn’t know they were friends with Stiles.

“I have to go, I have class. But think about it. I’ll see you for a late lunch after your Shakespeare class?” Isaac asked, while making his way to his desk to pack his already marked exams in his bag, grabbing a few other things from his desk as well. Derek only nodded, before being left alone with his thoughts.

Stiles Stilisnki was friends with all these people?

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #professor!derek #professor!stiles #au no werewolves #jwritessometimes #fluff #derek hale deserves the world

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patolemus · 7 months ago

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at least you can say it was in 7th grade i’m currently (as in my doc is open RIGHT NOW) repurposing a sterek fic i wrote a while ago so i can send it in for an assignment for a college level writing class

i just had a flashback of 7th grade back when i was so obsessed with teen wolf and we had to write a short story about this book called the knight with the lion by chrétien de troyes, and i said the knight was surrounded by wolves and one of them was called derek. teacher thought it was very funny and gave me an a+ but she never knew i was just deranged. or how i wanted to make a derek hale blanket burrito and make him hot chocolate. so that's that

#I’m so normal about teen wolf #I swear I am #anyways I’ll never tell my professor it’s sterek fanfiction #I can already see the light leaving her eyes if she ever found out #she thinks I’m so talented guys 😭 how do I tell her I’m rabid over a teenage show that wasn’t even that good??#teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #also to answer your question the tw fandom is NOT dead #we’re alive and kicking #the movie was admittedly a train wreck but that’s what fix it fics are for #patolemus speaks

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hedwig221b · 1 month ago

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Do you have recommendations for Jock Stiles fics? 🥵

Here you go💕

Hotsky to Trotsky by paintedrecs

Derek had his future mapped out: there'd be graduation, followed by college, followed by (he hoped) a good grad school, then a career as a professor whose students didn't spend their time flicking paper footballs at each other and obsessing over their dating lives. He had good friends, a good family, and no time to focus on distractions like high school gossip or relationships. He hadn't factored Stiles Stilinski - lacrosse player, class clown, part of the popular crowd, currently spending his entire day staring at Derek and smiling - into his plans.

read the signs by bleep0bleep

Sure, Derek isn’t how they became a thing really, he doesn’t really know why awesome lacrosse player, popular and funny Stiles Stilinski even likes awkward, nerdy, Derek, but he does. Which is why Derek takes it personally when Cora laughs at him and says, “Dude, there’s no way you are dating Stiles Stilinski.”

Of Glasses And Lacrosse Sticks by charlesdk

"Okay, how 'bout this? One date, just one date, and if you still don't believe I'm genuinely interested in you, then I'll leave you alone for good. How does that sound?” Derek hesitated for another moment, before he sighed and said, “Fine. One date.”

The Athlete & The Criminal by damnfancyscotch

"What’re you doing here, Stilinski? Did you only score half the winning points at the last lacrosse game instead of all of them?” Stiles snorts and says, “I thought you were locked up, Hale.” Derek huffs a laugh and drawls, “Not quite yet.” or A Breakfast Club AU

Wanna Dance? by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (Sara36913)

Stiles hates it when Derek picks on him. Derek hates it when Stiles rejects him. Eventually, the two work out their frustrations.

Your Voice is My Favorite Sound by army_of_angels

Derek has had a crush on Stiles since Freshman Year. It's Junior Year and suddenly Stiles is paying attention to him but it's probably some sort of prank, right?

I'll Be Yours, If You're Mine by mercury_caduceus

Derek has been pining over Stiles Stilinski for three years but he knows nothing will ever happen. Derek is the nerdy kid that nobody really talks to and Stiles is one of the most popular kids in school. Stiles barely even knows he exists. Right?

Frat Flirt by LadyDrace

Stiles keeps inviting Derek to things. It's very suspicious.

Grey Rainbow by PencilTrash

"Stiles?” Derek glanced at Stiles’ sleeping form. He didn’t even twitch. Derek continued. “If we…” his lips curved in a fond smile, fingers moving to smooth the creases of Stiles’ eyebrows, his voice coming as whisper. “… as in, you and me - If we get a chance someday… any day, to be together, y’know? I wouldn't mind you wooing me with flowers and all that cliched romantic shit. And you can even flirt with me. I approve.” He gazed at Stiles’ calm face for a long while before drifting off into quiet slumber with the sound of Stiles’ soft snoring in the background. [aka, after pinning for his best friend for four years, Derek learns his teenage crush is easy, but his life isn’t]

Chance Encounters by haletostilinski

Derek is studying on the grass on his college campus when he gets hit with a football out of nowhere, and the jock who comes to retrieve the ball and apologize to Derek takes his breath away. It really sucks that he'll most likely never see him again.

The Lawn Ranger by Snowjob

In which Derek is an adolescent werewolf with a penchant for chocolate bunnies, and instead of the dream summer of lazing around the house playing video games and nibbling on his hoarded supply of easter candy his mother makes him get a job. In which Stiles is a showoff jock with a broken arm and an embarrassing crush who can no longer push the lawn mower around the yard.

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #sterek fanfic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anon asks #hedwig221b replies #sterek fanfiction #sterek au #sterek fic rec #teen wolf sterek #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic rec #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek

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christinesficrecs · 10 days ago

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Do you know of any good outsider POV fics? Like people encountering Sterek in town and putting together the pieces?

Here are a few. ❤️

Derelictions of Duty by Regann | 10.8K

No one wants to be the bearer of bad news to someone as nice as Sheriff Stilinski – especially when he’s your boss. That’s why none of his employees want to be the first one to tell him about the scandalous goings-on between his only son and the former murder suspect Derek Hale. For all of their sakes, hopefully the Sheriff will find out all on his own…

the lovers [murderers] in 9B by ofherlionheart | 8.1K

There is a new resident in apartment 9B, and he and his boyfriend are either serial killers … or just really loud in bed.

Much Ado About You Two by clotpolesonly | 2.2K

In which Professor Stilinski and Stiles are such different people that nobody makes the connection.

Outside Looking In by trulywicked | 2.6K

The never ending parade of deliciously hot people who came to see him were a fantastic source of entertainment for Stiles Stilinski's college roommates.

Welcome to Rosie's Diner can I interest you in an eye-opener? by crossroadswrite | 2K

The one where Stiles and Derek are regulars at Rosie's diner and exactly zero of the employees believe they're not actually a couple, I mean come on look at them.

Statistically Proven by har1ey_quinn | 1.6K

Andy whips his head to look at her. “He’s married to Stiles?” As if on cue, Stiles sidles up to Professor Hale (at least Andy thinks its Hale), two drinks in hand and a cookie half hanging from his mouth.

Bree continues glowering at the couple. “Yeah, but studies show that you if you married under 25, you’re more likely to get a divorce.” She shrugs. “So Stiles may yet have a chance at happiness.”

P and Not-P by the_deep_magic | 5.6K

In real life, unlike formal logic, all the premises can be true but the conclusion can still be false.

show me something beautiful by starcanopus | 9K | dropbox

Isaac is the one who first catches sight of the ring, an entire two months after the captain had joined the 14th precinct. It’s somewhat pathetic, really, considering the fact that an entire floor full of detectives hadn’t noticed right off the bat.

But when he does see it—a thin, silver band so innocuous that it could have just been a trick of the light—he trips headfirst into a recycling bin, earning a dirty glance from his boss through the window of the man’s office and Isaac kind of wants to sink into the ground and never come back out, but he has a duty to fulfill: spreading the news to every floor of the precinct that the captain is married.

Captain Derek Hale is married.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #forgottencartoons #outsider pov

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fairytales-and-folklore · 2 months ago

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Error 404: Brain Cell Not Found

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: Error 404: Brain Cell Not Found

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: He means to send the photo to Scott. Really, he does. But it's barely 9AM and he hasn't had coffee yet so his brain isn't exactly firing on all cylinders, single brain cell chanting an endless chorus of Derek Derek Derek. Which is how he ends up accidentally sending the photo he'd just taken to Derek instead, along with the lovely accompanying caption: seriously scotty, just look at him, I think I'm in love.

By the time Stiles realizes his mistake, it's too late to hit cancel. He hears the telltale chime of a successfully sent text, the little grayed-out delivered notification staring back at him with a mocking checkmark. He glances up, watching in abject horror as Derek pulls out his phone. Clocks his exact time of death as the moment Derek's eyebrows arch high enough to meet his hairline.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Text Message From Stiles At 8:15AM: I think Derek is trying to kill me Text Message From Scott At 8:20AM: what??? Text Message From Scott At 8:20AM: why??? Text Message From Scott At 8:21AM: what did you do this time Text Message From Stiles At 8:22AM: okay, first of all, ouch Text Message From Stiles At 8:23AM: second, because he's wearing this red henley with these adorable little thumbholes and it's so hot I think I might catch fire and die Text Message From Scott At 8:24AM: oh Text Message From Scott At 8:24AM: hahahahaha Text Message From Scott At 8:24AM: damn you've really got it bad for this guy huh Text Message From Stiles At 8:25AM: understatement of the fucking century bro

Stiles leans back in his desk at the far corner of the lecture hall, front legs of his chair swaying dangerously about a foot above the ground as he taps out a slew of replies to his best friend studying to be a vet tech at the opposite end of the country, the monotonous drawl of his biochem professor little more than background noise.

It's fine that he's not paying attention — Mondays are lecture days, and since Stiles had already read the book cover to cover before the term even started, he figures he's allowed to coast. Besides, it's Wednesdays and Fridays — lab days — that really matter. One, because he's all about practical application. Two, because it means he gets to spend time with his lab partner he's been head over heels stupid for since the first day of class. And right now, the fact that Derek is half a lecture hall away looking that fucking fine is an absolute crime.

Which is exactly what he texts Scott. Repeatedly. With enough crying face, heart eyes, and ghost pepper emojis to fill a Lucky Charms essay. (Hey, he'd had to hear Scott wax poetic about Allison all throughout high school, so it's only fair that Stiles finally gets to return the favor.) He's scrolling through Pinterest, trying to find a color palette that matches the exact hues of Derek's eyes, when his phone buzzes with another notification from Scott.

Text Message From Scott At 8:35AM: you've been sweet on this guy all semester and I still have no idea what he even looks like Text Message From Stiles At 8:37AM: you're right, how rude of me Text Message From Stiles At 8:37AM: hold that thought Text Message From Scott At 8:40AM: what do you mean Text Message From Scott At 8:40AM: what are you gonna Text Message From Scott At 8:41AM: wait Text Message From Scott At 8:41AM: Stiles, no Text Message From Scott At 8:42AM: at least remember to turn the flash off!!!

Like every other well-meaning warning and keep out sign, Stiles flicks the little notification banner out of the way and proceeds to whip out his camera app. Pretending he's checking his email for next week's homework assignment, Stiles casually tilts his phone to snap a photo of Derek while his head is turned, too busy jotting down notes from the whiteboard to notice.

It's perfect — clear, in focus, decent lightning — he'd even managed to capture that cute little nose wrinkle Derek does whenever he's concentrating — and it only took him one try. See? He could be subtle. Scott was worried over nothing. With a self-satisfied little smile, Stiles swipes back over to the message thread and begins writing out his reply.

He means to send the photo to Scott. Really, he does. But it's barely 9AM and he hasn't had his morning coffee yet, so his brain isn't exactly firing on all cylinders, single brain cell chanting an endless chorus of Derek Derek Derek. Which is how he ends up accidentally sending the photo he'd just taken to Derek instead, along with the lovely accompanying caption: seriously scotty, just look at him, I think I'm in love.

His heartbeat is a wild, thunderous thing, pulsing through him like a jackhammer. Every inch of his skin feels like it's simultaneously buzzing and on fire. Paralysis creeps over him like a fast-acting venom, hands shaking as he sends a flurry of rapid-fire apology texts.

Text Message From Stiles At 8:45AM: oh my god I am so sorry, that was meant for my friend Scott Text Message From Stiles At 8:46AM: not that that explains why I just creepily took a photo of you and then sent it to you Text Message From Stiles At 8:47AM: and then confessed that I've got an embarrassingly huge crush on you Text Message From Stiles At 8:48AM: Jesus fuck I'm just making this so much worse Text Message From Stiles At 8:49AM: welp, that settles it Text Message From Stiles At 8:50AM: after class I am driving to the coast and walking straight into the ocean

Post-lecture plans sorted, Stiles jams his phone back into his pocket and sits there, staring down at his desk in panic-stricken silence. He's not normally one to wish for natural disasters, but given the fact that he feels like a natural disaster at the moment, he's kind of hoping for a bigger one to come along and cancel him out — a tsunami, a sharknado, a black hole, a meteor, anything — didn't he just read an article the other day about how the sun is supposed to explode and take out the earth? Why couldn't that happen right now? Why couldn't—

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he nearly leaps out of his seat, fishing it out with the same level of trepidation as a march to the gallows.

One New Message From Derek Hale.

Fuck.

This is it, he thinks. This is the moment where everything changes. He'd spent all semester working up a steady flirt, getting the guy to laugh at his lame jokes, casually dropping random bits of trivia about their coursework well before Professor Harris covered it so Derek would think he was smart, getting to know all of his favorite bands and books and movies and tv shows.

Hell, he even knew how the guy took his coffee — black, with a dash of hazelnut creamer — after overhearing his usual order in the school café, delighting in the way Derek's eyes lit up every time he'd show up to class with an "extra" cup he'd ordered "by mistake" and offer it to Derek with a casual, Oh cool, that's your favorite flavor too? What a crazy random happenstance!

All that time spent pretending he actually knew what the fuck he was doing when it comes to romance, and then he goes and ruins it by being…well, himself.

Stiles takes a deep, steadying breath as he slides his thumb over the notification bar and opens up their chat history, dread washing over him at all the possibilities of what he might encounter — a scathing rejection, or— oh god, maybe even a photo of Derek's super hot secret boyfriend, just to rub it in — but no, that's not the kind of person Derek is. If anything, he'll probably be really nice about it and let him down gently, which is honestly worse.

Whatever he's expecting, it definitely isn't—

…his own face?

Or, more accurately, a photo of himself — hair sticking up at gravity-defying angles from rolling straight out of bed and rushing to class earlier this morning, hooded sweatshirt a perfect match for the furious blush blossoming beneath the smattering of moles and freckles scattered across his cheekbones and the column of his throat — followed by a single line of text.

Text Message From Derek At 8:55AM: since we're sharing, here's the guy I've got a crush on

Stiles's gaze snaps up so fast he nearly kinks his neck, heart fluttering inside his chest at the sight of Derek staring back at him from across the crowded lecture hall with a big, goofy grin on his face. By the time Stiles manages to school his features into something other than open-mouthed shock, Derek has already looked away, eyes cast downward as he taps out another text. Seconds later, Stiles's phone lights up.

Text Message From Derek At 8:57AM: so you gonna ask him out, or what?

Stiles stares down at his phone, hardly daring to believe it. He wills his one working brain cell to think of something clever, something charming, something that'll sweep Derek right off his feet — wills his hands to move so that he can write back something, anything at all, instead of just hovering uselessly over the keyboard — when the bell rings, signaling the end of class, and a third text appears in the thread.

Text Message From Derek At 9:00AM: I guess I'll just have to do it myself ;)

Stiles wonders, vaguely, if it's possible to die of heatstroke from the temperature of your own skin. At the very least, he's destined for a heart attack, with the rate his pulse is pounding. Derek — snarky, surly eyebrows, will growl at you like a feral wolf if he hasn't had his morning coffee — just texted him a winking emoji, and Stiles thinks he might genuinely die from sheer lack of oxygen.

He glances up in time to see Derek striding purposefully toward him, worn leather jacket draped over his shoulders, textbook tucked under one arm. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of Stiles's desk, and for a moment, he looks just as nervous as Stiles feels.

"Hey," he says in a would-be casual tone, but the smile that curls across his lips is nothing short of giddy, the tips of his ears a delicate shade of pink.He takes a deep breath, fiddling with a small tear in one of the thumbholes of his henley, and says, "So I'm thinking coffee at that new place that just opened up down the street. You in?"

There's the slightest tremor to his voice as he speaks, and Stiles nearly surges forward and kisses him right then and there, because it's just about the cutest goddamn thing he's ever seen.

"Yes," he answers in a breathless rush, nearly toppling over his desk and bowling over half his classmates as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. "Oh my god, yes. I am so in."

Derek merely chuckles and shakes his head, all fond exasperation as he reaches down to lace his fingers with Stiles's, giving his hand an affectionate, reassuring squeeze, before steering them in the direction of the quaint little coffee shop downtown.

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #error 404 brain cell not found #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore teen wolf #fairytalesandfolklore sterek

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allovertheplaceficrecs · 6 months ago

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Hemingway Can Suck It by orphan_account

“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.” Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too. (Or: In which Stiles is a Biology professor and Derek thinks he's a student.)

Words: 10,054

It is a truth universally acknowledged that i ADORE acadamia fics. The sterek in this is stunning and super well done. Its a personal hc of mine that Derek is a literature nerd anyway so this hit the spot.

#teen wolf #fic recs #sterek #derek x stiles #ao3 #sterek fics #fanfic #teen wolf fic

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spencerreidswhore187 · 2 years ago

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False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten.

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent.

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right?

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since.

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are.

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name.

Your phone vibrated.

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator.

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night.

You were about to reply when a voice cried out.

“Hold the door!”

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors.

The person entered beside you.

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut.

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied.

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days.

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting.

You and Spencer were the last to arrive.

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.”

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature.

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence.

Hotch nodded.

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold.

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.”

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked.

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair?

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added.

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.”

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.”

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.”

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied.

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.”

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked.

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died.

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body.

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.”

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up.

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused.

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.”

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest.

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it.

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.”

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day.

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed.

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up.

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.”

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends.

You spun on your heels to face Spencer.

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?”

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted.

You noticed the way his jaw tensed.

You grinned, “Lie.”

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk.

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage.

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies.

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online.

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying,

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie.

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock.

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately.

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong?

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :)

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious.

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers?

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him.

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You?

SherlockHolmes1887: Work.

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it?

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly.

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery.

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl.

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed.

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener.

He typed for what seemed like an eternity.

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once.

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted.

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her.

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard.

I fell hard.

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat.

You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death.

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid.

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room.

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen.

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.”

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile.

Why did it make you smile?

You decided to change the topic before your face went red.

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned.

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see.

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions.

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.”

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…”

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.”

“We need to call Hotch.”

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat.

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him.

You both stared forward, at the road.

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something.

Spencer eventually broke the silence.

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.”

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours.

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening.

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you.

You dropped Spencer’s hand.

“Sh-she called you what?”

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that.

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.”

Spencer held his face in his hands.

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say.

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.”

He cradled your cheek with one hand.

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.”

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him.

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #light angst #enemies to lovers

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puppiesinbeacon · 3 months ago

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Teen Wolf Fic Rec List

I've never done this before, but I've been on quite the binge recently and feel that if anyone is as picky as I am, then maybe I could help out and share the ones I have so meticulously curated for myself. So here goes:

In My Blood by lolo313 - "Scott is hurt while rescuing Stiles from the Monster of the Week. But when a seemingly innocuous injury awakens long dormant feelings and threatens Scott's very existence, Stiles must decide how far he is willing to go to save his best friend's life." Scott/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571406

Every Step You Take by Nokomis - "Stiles accidentally ends up magically bound to Derek. It’s super." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/454948/chapters/781487

Patterns Of Intention by drunktuesdays - "Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had— “No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.” " Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/699898

Apparent Lack Of Ceremony by Loz - "Scott keeps climbing into Stiles' bed at night to cuddle. They don't talk about it in the morning." Scott/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/518799

Sleeping Dogs by starsystems - "Let sleeping dogs lie. Prov. Do not instigate trouble; Leave something alone if it might cause trouble. Derek Hale is asleep in Stiles's bed. And it just escalates from there. Because of course it does." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/494729/chapters/865537

I Want To Say All Those Things That Would Be Better Unsaid by aeneapsych - "Derek is a lonely professor who decides to call a phone sex line. Stiles is a poor grad student who needs to make a living somehow. 'One night stands were never this good. Hell, his previous relationships were never this good. Derek was so screwed, but right now he didn't care.' " Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183688

The Love You Save (May Be Your Own) by Nokomis - "Everyone falls magically in love with Stiles. Well, except for Derek, who is suspiciously immune." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/960052

Human Contact by bloodwrites - "Stiles can't take the pain away, but the skin-to-skin contact helps. It calms Derek, stops him from using all his energy in the instinctive fight or flight response that his injury causes. "It's working, just—" He takes Stiles' arm by the wrist, pulls it over his chest, then tips Stiles' head onto his shoulder so he can feel Stiles' breath on his skin. "Yeah. That's good."" Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136325

Numbness by PineWitch - "Stiles and Derek have been feeling atraction for each other for some time (basically since the beginning), but instead of talking about it, they argue. A lot. But then Stiles goes through a hard time, and Derek helps him. Everything just becomes softer after that." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/44344210/chapters/111521128

Speak Of All That's Been And All That Won't by Daisyapples - "Stiles stood in front of him; eyes wild, fists clenched, shoulders tense, but still. The stillness was what made Derek's hackles raise. Stiles was never still. "Stiles?" "Stuck in a time loop. Know where Erica and Boyd are. Need help saving them. Cora is alive and we need to save her too."" Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/56495686/chapters/143572942

Nowhere Else But Here by p1013 - "Derek’s naked, his back glistening with sweat. The muscles roll, his whole body moving like a wave as his hips snap forward. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is loud, and the moan that follows has Stiles’ throat closing. There’s a split second where Stiles can almost convince himself that Derek doesn’t know he’s there, but then that dark head turns his way and green eyes meet his, pupils blown. He almost drops the package. Instead, he sets it unsteadily by his feet and flees." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/742335/chapters/1382626

I Wanna Reach So Deep Inside by silverdawn89 - "Isaac's got a dirty mouth. Scott is surprisingly receptive to that. Shameless PWP, not even gonna front." Scott/Isaac https://archiveofourown.org/works/579711

Come Fly With Me (Or Don't) by stilinskisparkles - "Stiles is overworked and stressed out when his flight home gets delayed due to copious amounts of snow. He finds entertainment with one Derek Hale, whom he hasn't seen since high school but really doesn't mind getting reacquainted with. Especially when it turns out Derek is surprisingly hilarious and will reluctantly play snap with him. And can walk on his hands." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/609537

Warm Shadows by stilinskisparkles - "“Fine,” Stiles spits back, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.” “I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peace and quiet for once.” Stiles grins suddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark and desperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly, infuriatingly beautiful." Derek/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361611

I'll also leave this honorable mention. A Teen Wolf/Supernatural crossover that I've been reading for years, that just put out a new chapter in December 2024.

No One Chooses This Life by lapsus_calami - "Stiles wasn't running from his problems. Except he kind of was, but at least he was being productive while doing it. He gave himself one year. One year away from Beacon Hills, away from the pack, away from his dad. One year to get himself pulled together, to stop spiraling into panic attacks, to stop falling into pits of despair, to stop screaming himself awake every night. One year to learn everything he could about his spark, about hunting, about the supernatural. One year so that when he went back maybe, just maybe, he could do more good than harm." Mild Dean/Stiles https://archiveofourown.org/series/240129

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #scott mccall #isaac lahey #teen wolf fanfiction #fic rec #sterek #sciles #scisaac

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endwersed · 2 months ago

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Snippet Sunday ☀

So! I'm currently working on the edits for my divorcee Derek/hot-for-older-men Stiles AU, and, whilst it unfortunately isn't as ready to post today as I had originally hoped, I do have a li'l snippet I can share until it is fully edited (fingers crossed, that'll be next weekend!) 🤗

“So, class,” Professor Boyd continues, “I’d like you all to meet – Mr Derek Hale.”

A man walks through the open doorway along with the introduction. Stiles’ jaw drops all the way down to the freaking floor.

What he was saying earlier, about his thing for older men? Well, this guy – this Mr Derek Hale – is every-fucking-thing that has made Stiles’ dick hard since pretty much he was old enough to know what to do with it.

Short, dark, soft-looking hair that is patched with spots of grey, his sharp jaw covered in a beard that is thick and coarse and close to being more salt than pepper. Even from where Stiles is sitting, even from this row way at the back of the room, he can still see the lines of age that show on his face, the faint wrinkles in his forehead, the creases around his pale eyes.

He is wearing a dark green sweater, tight across the strength of his broad shoulders, the fabric an expensive cashmere to Stiles’ inexperienced eye. Underneath it sits a crisp, white shirt, its starchy collar folded neatly along the line of his clavicle and a tie knotted snugly just below the prominence of his Adam’s apple. His legs are draped in the dark material of his slacks, skimming close enough to the muscle to reveal the definition of his thighs, and Stiles cannot fight back the thought that he kind of really wants to bury his face between them.

This guy is well into his forties, easily, and he is also, to put it bluntly, the middle-aged man of Stiles’ wettest fucking dreams.

There is no ring on that left hand, either. Interesting. Very, very interesting.

From her place next to him, Stiles can feel the searing heat of the side-eye that Lydia throws him the moment Derek steps into the room. If he cared even one lick about her judgement, he might be cowed into at least trying to hide the raging heart-eyes he probably has going on right about now.

Unfortunately for her, he lost any shame long, long ago – and that’s if he ever truly even had any in the first place.

She wouldn’t get it, anyway. Her taste in men has always been much more mainstream than Stiles’. Has been, barf, Scott, all the way since high school. She likes a nice boy her age, and she found that boy back when they were still stumbling their way through the awkward years of puberty. He is happy for them, of course, but that does not change the fact that his preferences have always taken him well, well beyond those years.

“Hello, everyone.”

The sound of Derek’s voice snaps every fibre of Stiles’ focus back up to the front of the class. The cadence of it isn’t as deep and as growly as his appearance might suggest, those thick eyebrows and that bushy beard, but it’s – nice. Really nice, actually. Stiles is, perhaps, more than a little bit interested in learning how it might pant and grunt and moan when a mouth is wrapped around his cock.

Pausing after just those two words, Derek slides a hand into the pocket of his pants, knuckles visible through the fabric as he rummages around. Eventually, he retrieves a long, rectangular box, flipping it open and pulling out –

Oh, fuck. Pulling out a pair of dark-framed glasses that he slips onto his face, sitting them low across the strong slope of his nose, peering over the top of them with that light, captivating gaze. Stiles thinks he may actually be fucking drooling. He dazedly ignores Lydia’s knee digging pointedly into the side of his thigh.

“Thank you for having me,” Derek carries on, both hands now tucked into his pockets. “As Professor Boyd said, my name is Derek Hale and I’m new to town. I hope you don’t all find me being here today as boring as I told your professor you definitely would.”

A light ripple of laughter filters around the class. Stiles is too entranced to join in with anything but a faint uptick at one corner of his mouth. Like anyone could find being in the presence of someone this freakishly hot boring. Stiles is growing less and less certain with each passing moment that he will even make it out of this class alive.

Stiles’ eyes are wide, his eyelashes fluttering ticklishly against the height of his cheekbones with his rapid blinks, and he leans forwards, pressing closer for more, more, as much as he can get. He rests the bend of his elbow against the solid plane of the table in front of him, his palm flat and open for him to lay his cheek against. It is the best position for gazing dreamily at the aging hunk gracing the next hour of his life, after all.

“I thought I’d start by talking about my years as an associate,” Derek says, light eyes sweeping slowly across the room. “I started with Pearson and Howe straight out of law school, and I –”

His words cut abruptly off. Quicker than a heartbeat, his entire body freezes, a visible tension in the square of his shoulders, a stunned-slack parting of his mouth as he stops, and stills, and stares out ahead of him, stares out at… something. It takes Stiles a few seconds of blinking confusion to figure out what the hell he is staring at, what the hell has made him react like some deer about to caught up in somebody’s bumper.

A grin spreads wickedly across Stiles’ mouth as soon as the realisation lands.

It’s him; it’s Stiles. He is what Derek is staring at, he is what has made Derek apparently lose control of his ability to speak, he is what has Derek gaping like a fish in front of a whole room of law students. Derek’s gaze is snagged with his and Stiles’ heart is kicking up into overdrive inside of his chest.

Lifting his face from his palm, he makes sure to hold Derek’s eye, sure and steady and still smiling stupidly. The room around him murmurs in confusion, and Professor Boyd has an eyebrow quirked that looks more amused than anything else, and Lydia is scoffing a quiet laugh beside him, but the only thing Stiles has the attention span for right now is Derek’s eyes, locked with his.

Heat pools around the flutter of his stomach. He bites his bottom lip and dares to throw out a wink. The tips of Derek’s ears burn brightly as he closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“Sorry,” Derek says, the word coming out low, a little choked, raw until the pointed clearing of his throat. “Sorry, I just, uh… I lost my train of thought there for a second. But anyway, uh – as I was saying.”

No pressure tags! @dear-massacre @heavensenthale @like-lazarus @myrrhhymns @renmackree

#sterek #my fic #i didn't get much writing done today for... reasons #but i made some good progress yesterday #pray for me that my will to sit in front of a word document returns into next week!!

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andreafmn · 15 days ago

Text

I'm Not Afraid | Chapter 28

Word Count: 3.4K

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack, as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

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Tension grew in the Argent household, the air thickening as (Y/N)'s uncharacteristic explosion rang through the room. The girl’s face had grown red with anger, every emotion she could feel rushing forward and pointing at the one person she was most disappointed in. “How dare you?” she spat. “How fucking dare you take me from my mother? You didn’t even let her hold me—see me. What kind of monster are you?”

“Now, come on, honey,” Rebecca scrambled. “I was a different person back then. You need to understand that I was raised with those beliefs, (Y/N). I didn’t know any better.”

“You didn’t know better than to steal a child from their mother?” (Y/N) scoffed. “Come on. You were young, but you weren't dumb. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Okay, watch yourself, (Y/N). You don't get to disrespect me just because you're mad.”

“And what do I get to do?” the girl seethed. “I'm not just mad, mom. I'm irate, I'm raging, I'm livid. I am absolutely and completely disappointed in you both.”

“Munchkin, I know this is a lot to take in,” Henry said, trying his best to diffuse the situation. “Things have changed over the years. Rebecca and I have done everything in our power to give you a good life regardless of how things started, and...”

“Dad, you can't sit there and defend her when she literally threatened your life and took your child away from the woman you loved,” (Y/N) argued. There were so many things she wanted to say, so many curses she wanted to yell. But nothing was sprouting to the surface like she wanted. She wanted her parents to read her mind, to be inside her mind as she listened to them tell her a large percentage of her life had always been a lie. “How could you stay? After so many years, you could have just left.”

“It's not that easy, (Y/N),” her father replied. “You met your grandfather. There is nowhere I could have hidden where he would not have found us. And I don't even want to think what he would have done to you if I ever left. Staying under his nose was the safest place for you. I hope you understand that.”

“I just... I don't understand how anyone could do what you did, mom,” the girl found herself sniffling, comforted only by the wet muzzle of Brody. "Somewhere out there is the woman that gave me life, and she hasn't even held me once. There is nothing you could ever do that would rectify that. Not for me, and certainly not for Raina.”

(Y/N) didn't give either of her parents a moment to respond. They'd had her entire life to tell her the truth and had chosen to keep her in the dark. Truthfully, she didn't want to hear them out. All she wanted was to hurt. “I have spent my entire life trying to fit into this mold you guys have created for me,” she cried. “I get good grades, I don't really get in trouble, I didn't complain about moving every year. I didn't even beg to go back when everything went down with Josie. “When the whole supernatural thing was revealed to me, I didn’t hold the lies against you. I took it because I believed my parents were doing the best they could,” the girl continued. “But this is another fucking low. We are talking about ripping away a part of myself. I'm not the daughter of an arms dealer and a chemist professor—I never really was. I was born to a hunter and a werewolf, and I never got the chance to meet a half of me. All because a goddamn hypocrite ordered it. “How did that work out? Huh, mom?” (Y/N) taunted, ignoring the painful expression on her mother's face. “You blindly followed a man that turned to the very thing he spent his entire life hating because things got difficult. A man whose only idea of parenting was to be an abusive ass. You may have been raised a hunter, but that doesn't excuse following someone like Gerard.”

Neither parent talked, knowing the girl was nowhere near done. Her words cut deeply, picking at their decisions one by one and twisting the knife that had been jabbed in their chest for over seventeen years. They should have said something to calm her, anything to keep her from spouting hurtful words. But they deserved it. If there was anything they were certain of, it was that they deserved each and every shot she threw. “At any point, did you guys think how this would affect me?” (Y/N) questioned. “In the seventeen years you had to think this over, did it ever cross your mind that taking so long to tell me the truth would be a bad idea? I mean, you guys have made questionable decisions as parents, but this really takes the cake.”

“(Y/N), come on,” Henry tried to speak but was once more cut off by his daughter.

“And you know none of this answers why the hell I’ve been experiencing the things I have,” she argued. “Am I gonna become a werewolf now? Shouldn’t I have turned by now? And what were you planning to tell me if I did turn years ago?”

“We were gonna cross that bridge when we got there,” her father sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. “But you never did shift, and I honestly can’t tell you why. When we had that talk, I thought maybe you were finally going through the change, but nothing’s happened in these past few months. I tried to find information about it through Chris, but Gerard would have none of it. I don't know what else to tell you, kid.”

“Great, so not only was I kidnapped as a baby, but I'm also a freak,” she laughed angrily, doing her best to keep back the tears that bit at the corners of her eyes. “What a fucking day to be (Y/N) Argent.”

She felt suffocated. As the seconds passed, the walls around her seemed to be closing in. Her house may have been big, but at that moment she felt sequestered and with no way out. She needed air; she needed space. Most of all, she needed to be anywhere but with her parents.

Without giving it much thought, (Y/N) hurried to the garage, grabbing her jacket on the way. Her parents called her name, but she couldn't hear much over the roar of her bike—not that she wanted to, regardless. She needed to escape, to sit with these newfound emotions somewhere other than where the lies had been born. If she was honest with herself, she was craving Derek's comfort at that moment. Regardless of how mad and rejected he had made her, Skyler needed to hear his words, feel his warmth, feel his arms wrap around her. She just needed him.

Wind nipped at her face as she realized she had left her helmet in the garage. Her eyes watered, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the air rushing at them or the situation. All she could notice was the streams were staining her face, and they made her rush even faster toward Derek's loft.

She killed the engine as soon as she made it to the parking lot, wiping away the sweat and tears that had mixed on her cheeks as she hurried toward his door. Her fist banged against the metal door, not caring about the late hours of the night. All she needed was him.

“Woah, where's the fire?” a groggy voice said as the door slid open. “Is everything alright, (Y/N)?”

“Isaac,” she breathed, crashing into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. He may not have been who she was looking for, but he was there. He seemed to always be there when she most needed him.

“What's wrong?” he asked as he engulfed her with his arms. “You're shaking.”

“It's a mess, Isaac,” she cried. “Everything's a mess.”

“Let's get you inside,” Isaac muttered. “You're freezing.”

The loft was quiet save for Isaac moving around in search of a blanket, letting her know that Derek was not there. And she wasn't sure if she preferred it or not. The boy returned from a room with a knitted throw, draping it over her shoulders and pulling her close while she calmed down. Even if it took hours, he would stay by her side until she was ready to talk.

It didn't take long, though. Not when (Y/N) was so tired of crying. She didn't remember a time she had cried so much. Ever since arriving in Beacon Hills, it seemed life had decided to throw at her every situation possible that would make her emotions spill out of her like a broken faucet. Maybe the universe was tired of her keeping it all inside and was forcing her to wear her heart on her sleeve, even if it was the last thing she wanted.

“What happened, (Y/N)?’ Isaac cooed as he ran his hand over her head. “What's wrong?”

“They've been lying to me my whole life,” she cried. “Everything up to this point has been a lie, Isaac.”

“I'm not following, (Y/N). What's going on?”

And with whatever strength she could muster, (Y/N) told her friend the entire story she had just found out herself. The girl spoke of her father's past, of her mother's treachery, of the fact that the woman who had raised her was not her real mother. It was a whirlwind of a tale, and had it not come from her father himself, she would not have believed it. “And for the longest time, I was right for never feeling like I fit in,” she sighed. “The worst part is none of this explains why I'm so different. I'm clearly not fully a wolf, and I have Argent blood running through my veins.”

“Wow, I, uh, I did not expect all of that,” he stammered. “Wha... How are you feeling?”

“Honestly,” she scoffed, “I feel like an abomination.”

“(Y/N), you're not.” Isaac placed his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “You might be missing a part of your past, but that does not make you an abomination.”

“How does it not? I'm not supposed to exist, Isaac!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “My father's family was literally formed from centuries of werewolf hunting. They are people who would rather kill themselves than be wolves. And here I am, born to a wolf—an alpha nonetheless—and the son of a direct Argent descendant. I would call that an atrocity.”

“I wouldn't.”

“And what would you call it?”

“Complicated,” he said kindly, the very kindness she was denying herself. “It's just complicated, (Y/N). We're talking about something a few months ago we didn't even think was possible. I mean, my dad was killed by a psycho lizard controlled by a murderous teenager. Oh, and I'm a werewolf. I don't think I should be this creature either, and I know you wouldn't call me an abomination.”

(Y/N) sighed as she ruminated on his words. He was right, of course, but she still had some fight left in her. “That's different, Isaac,” she said.

“How is it different?” he pushed. “How is you being part wolf different than me being one?”

“I...”

“Exactly,” the boy smiled. “If you wouldn’t call me all those horrible words, then don’t you dare call yourself them either. That’s my friend you’re talking about.”

Somehow, in the midst of her sadness, Isaac was able to make her laugh. Just being in his presence had lifted the weight that pressed against her chest. She felt herself breathe easier, and her heart beat slower. He was a calmness she could refuge herself into in the center of all her chaos.

“What do you wanna do?” He broke her out of her trance. “I mean—your real mom—she has to be somewhere out there, even if she doesn't want to be found.”

“I wanna try and find her,” (Y/N) confessed. “She couldn't have just vanished. My dad says he's been searching for her without much results, but I have something he doesn't anymore. And that's access to wolves.”

“You think any of us will have access to information?” Isaac questioned. “I've only been a werewolf for a couple of months.”

“I wasn't expecting you to know about her, Isaac,” she chuckled. “But Derek and his family...”

“They could know a lot more than we do.”

“Exactly. Especially his uncle. He seems to know a little bit too much about everything.” At the mention of Peter, Isaac stiffened, and she noticed. “What is it?”

“Peter is not a good guy, (Y/N),” he said. “He's dangerous and, from what I've heard, a bit dangerous. I mean, the guy literally came back from the dead. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“I have to take my chances,” (Y/N) sighed. “I need to find my mother one way or another and succeed where my parents have failed. She deserves to know I'm okay, and I deserve to know who she is.”

“Fine, but you're not going alone,” Isaac conceded. “I'll go with you to talk to Peter. You shouldn't be alone regardless.”

“Why's that?”

Isaac struggled to answer. He knew she deserved information that put her in danger, but she'd already gone through enough those past few days, and he didn't want to add to her stress. They had barely escaped with their lives only two nights before, and there was already danger lurking around the shadows. But he couldn't become another person keeping important things from her. Even if he kept one thing to himself, Isaac would always tell her the truth. “There seems to be a pack of alphas lurking around Beacon Hills,” he said. “We still don't know much about them or what they want, but we know they're here.”

“W-what does that mean?”

“It means we don't have a lot of downtime before something else strikes,” he sighed. “We don't know what they want just yet, but it can't be good.”

“What about Erica and Boyd? Do they know?” the girl worried. “Have you heard from them at all?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But I’m sure they’ll call when they can.”

“What if…?”

“Nothing has happened yet,” he assured. “So, I think we’ve got a bit of breathing room right now.”

“Christ,” (Y/N) exclaimed, slouching onto the sofa in disbelief. “The party really doesn't stop in Beacon Hills, huh?”

“You could say that again,” Isaac chuckled as he plopped back next to her. “But at least we don't have school for the next few months. Saving the world is really hard when you've got homework due.”

“I was doing quite well given the circumstances,” she teased. “Even if I got here mid-semester. Didn’t miss a single assignment.”

“Don’t have to remind me you’re better than me in almost every aspect,” he scoffed jokingly. “I’m sure if you were a wolf, you’d be better at that, too.”

“I’m not even better at living, Isaac,” (Y/N) sighed, sinking further into the couch. “I don't even know who my mother is.”

“My entire family is dead, (Y/N). I think I’ve got you beat.”

Dread washed over as she listened to her friend. Isaac had gone through so much, so young and by himself. She was more than impressed that he had been able to survive for so long. “You never talk about them,” (Y/N) whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I mean, you don't talk much about your past at all.”

“It's not something I like to revisit a lot,” Isaac shrugged as he rested his head on hers. “I had a normal childhood until I didn't, and it was all a nightmare after that. For a long time, I didn't think there was more to life until I met you and the pack. I thought I was gonna be alone for the rest of my life.”

“You're not alone anymore,” she said as she threaded her fingers through his. “And as long as I'm around, you'll always have a family who loves you.”

A moment of tension passed between them as Isaac moved to face her with a bright smile. His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips and back, his breath hitched in his throat, and his heart raced uncontrollably. Maybe it wasn’t the time, but he couldn’t get the thought out of his head—he hadn't been able to since he'd met her. “(Y/N), I...” the boy struggled to find his words. “I, uh...”

Whatever he was about to say died the second the lock on the door clicked, announcing the arrival of the only other person who lived there. (Y/N) tensed at the sound, scrambling to gather her things as though that door wasn't the only way in or out of the loft.

“What're you doing, (Y/N)?” Isaac questioned as his eyes followed a frantic (Y/N) slipping on her sneakers. “He's gonna see you.”

“I'm gonna try and run past him.”

“(Y/N)...”

“It's stupid, I know,” she whispered, placing her hand on the door handle. “But I have to.”

The door slid open before she had a chance to move it, and suddenly, she was hit with the image of him. Derek.

Derek, who had come to check up on her the night before, even after they had been fighting. Derek, who had taken it upon himself to show her around town. Derek, who had kissed her like she was the air he breathed. Derek, who had taught her vulnerability, didn’t have to mean weakness. Derek, who had promised her the world one day and burned it to the ground the next.

“(Y/N),” he said in surprise. “What’re you…?”

The sudden urge to hug him overtook the girl. She couldn’t help the way he made her feel. The way her leg wobbled in his presence, the way her heart picked up speed, the way her body looked for his. She could feel the tether that tied them together tightening the moment they were near. It was a feeling that came from deep in her bones, inscribed in the fabric of her being. She knew…

But everything about that moment stopped her.

The man reeked of booze. Not that he was drunk since it would take more than an entire distillery to make him feel anything. But it wasn’t the alcohol that made her nauseous. It was the sickeningly sweet smell of a woman’s perfume that mixed with his signature cologne, the sight of lipstick smeared on his neck, and the smudged numbers inked on the hand that opened the door. Derek didn’t want her, and now, it was finally clear.

She pushed past him without a word, scoffing at the burn of tears behind her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for him to witness her reaction. The image stung and burned itself into her retinas. The look of surprise on his face and the pink mark on his neck. It made her skin crawl, and it made her chest ache.

“(Y/N), wait!” He called behind her, following her down the stairs. “It's not what you think!”

But she didn’t relent in her escape. She had endured enough betrayal and disappointment for the night, and she was ready to put it all behind her. There were far more important things—people—to focus on. If everyone around her could move on as though she did not matter, then (Y/N) could do the same. She knew how to be selfish and guarded, and she had no problem going back to that.

As she made the engine of her motorcycle roar, Isaac jogged up to her, a look of worry painted on his face. “He's an idiot, (Y/N),” the boy said. “He doesn't know who he's lost.”

“I already know that,” she sighed. “And, honestly, I don't care anymore. I've got other things to worry about.”

“What're you gonna do, (Y/N)?”

“I'm gonna find my mom.”

As she sped out of the parking lot, her eyes met Derek's. There was clear pain in his eyes, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to get her to stay. But she didn't want to. She was tired of half-truths and hurtful explanations. If he wanted to talk, he would have to fight for her. In the meantime, she would try to do the impossible and find the woman who not only had given her life, but who had made her the enigma she was.

Next ->

A/N: Remember, don't get your hopes up. This book doesn’t end happily… 🫣 If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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rabidaly · 1 year ago

Note

Ok one more update from a shark in the water? Please???

Here’s the first 1k(roughly)! Keep in mind I haven’t edited and I had like. A three-month long writers block for this fic so I’m not super attached/happy with this intro— it may change when I go back next weekend!

Hopefully it’s enough to wet your appetite tho ;)

—

Stiles had friends.

Lydia was his friend. Erica. Danny and Kira danced the line between acquaintance and actual friendship, but gun to his head, Stiles would count them as the latter. And Scott. God knows they'd been inseperable for over a decade.

It's just—

Stiles didn’t text his friends the way he texted Derek.

Or as often.

It wasn’t anything serious. Just lots of little, trivial things: pictures here and there, Stiles blinking doe eyes at the camera, biting his lip. He texted Derek about his annoying professor, the chronological order of the Marvel movies, his attempts at latte foam art. Stiles rambled and vented and altogether talked too much, but—

Derek always answered.

Even if it was a simple, one-word reply. Even if sometimes it took a couple hours. Stiles wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop even if he didn’t; every little thing that popped into his head came with the companion thought of, oh! I wonder what Derek would think about this!

ive never seen you play a video game, he texted on Thursday evening.

I don’t. What are you playing?

COD

with scott

R u home?

At the gym.

Stiles had figured as much, but he still caught himself sighing. They were in the Hale-McCall living room, playing on Scott’s family Xbox, both sore and tired from their shifts at work. From his spot on the couch, Stiles could hear Peter humming in the kitchen, most likely prepping for dinner. Melissa was still at work.

And Derek was at the gym. Snooze.

how much can u lift? Stiles texted, before his character on screen ran into a wall and he had to put his phone down. Scott side-eyed him, hard.

Stiles caught the tail-end of Scott taking incoming fire before his phone buzzed again. He looked back down.

I can lift double your weight, easy, Derek had typed, cutting to the heart of the matter.

Stiles pinkened.

for how long?

For as long as it takes. Derek replied. it’s your endurance we need to work on, if anything.

Stiles could taste the sharp edge of Derek’s condescension on his tongue. Something inside him went molten-hot, liquified, like the liquid wax of a burning candle.

maybe you should take me to the gym with you, he typed, squirming at just the thought of it. Derek all sweaty, the graceful arch of spine, muscles flexing as he lifts himself. we could be workout buddies.

Would you wear leggings?

Stiles readjusted on the couch, his leg coming up against his chest.

in public? no.

but I could sit on you.

on your back. while you do push ups

A bit too daring. Stiles bit his lip when Derek didn’t respond. He focused back on the game, hoping to distract himself.

It didn’t help much.

Scott huffed, throwing down his remote when they both died.

“What is with you, man?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles said, peeking at his phone again. No new messages.

“I mean, you’re not even watching where you’re going. You just got us both killed!”

”I’m just—“ Stiles felt unreasonably grumpy. “Bored. Can’t we play something else?”

“Like what?”

Like Mario Kart, per Stiles’ suggestion. The best part about Mario Kart was that Scott was—

“Awful, man. Just terrible,” Stiles laughed as Scott swerved off the road, twisting his remote uselessly, as if that were going to do anything while he wasn’t holding down the gas. “Honestly, it’s embarrassing to watch. You should just stop. You’re bringing shame to your family name.”

“I used to beat you at every game!”

“Yeah, in like seventh grade.” Stiles shook his head. “How’s it feel, Scott? To have peaked in middle school?”

“I haven’t peaked, I’m just—“ Scott threw down the controller as the track completed, screen flashing the stats. Scott in tenth place, Stiles in first. Just like the last time. And the time before that. “Out of practice. God, screw this. I want to play Skyrim.”

“Skyrim is god-awful on the Switch.”

“Well, then, I’ll bring the PS4 down here.”

“But it’s single player,” Stiles scrunched up his nose. “I’m not going to just sit here like your girlfriend and pretend watching you play video games is interesting.”

Scott looked offended. “Allison isn’t pretending. She said she loves watching me play.”

Right.

“Sure she does.” Stiles rolled his eyes. "We can just put on a horror movie or something, play fuck, marry, kill." A weird little tradition of theirs, any time they break out the b-rate horror films.

"Which one do you wanna watch?"

Stiles shrugged, "You pick."

He checked his phone again. Sighed for the millionth time.

Scott noticed.

“Who are you texting?”

Fuck.

”No one important,” Stiles said quickly, and put his phone face down on the side table.

Scott stared at it. “Is that a new phone?”

”What? No.”

”It’s pink," Scott pointed out. "Your phone's not pink.”

Stiles really needed to get a case for the thing. “Okay,” he conceded. “It’s a new phone. I splurged.”

The reaction was immediate.

”Stiles! We’re supposed to be saving up for an apartment!” Scott shook his head. “You’ve got to stop spending money, dude.”

Scott was definitely right about that. Stiles might not have bought the phone, but he'd hardly saved a dime since he’d started his job. He’d been too busy buying— well. You know.

As if summoned by the thought of his underwear alone, Stiles' phone (finally, finally) buzzed. Stiles had moved before his brain had fully processed the sound, snatching his phone up from the table on reflex.

Stay put. I’ll be there in 10.

Stiles’ cheeks darkened to a fire-engine red. Uh-oh.

#siyw #am open to suggestions!! especially that first 300 words or so #I’ve written this beginning so many times I ended up just leaving it the way it is to finish the actual meat of the story #sterek

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sterek-ao3feed · 22 days ago

Text

Extra Credit: A Sterek Story

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/64342513

by WolfFeller

Stiles Stilinski never expected one little accident to land him in *this* kind of trouble. When a condom falls out of his bag in the middle of Professor Hale’s lecture, it earns him a sharp look and a very firm, *Mr. Stilinski, can you please stay after class?*

What follows is a lesson in control, consequences, and just how much authority Derek is willing to wield behind closed doors. Stiles, ever the overachiever, is more than happy to prove he’s worthy of *extra credit*—and Derek? Well, let’s just say he’s more than willing to provide a *very* thorough evaluation.

By the time Stiles saunters out of Derek’s office, thoroughly wrecked and completely satisfied, he’s already planning his next *accidental* disruption.

After all, learning is an ongoing process.

Words: 4089, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, College, Professor Derek Hale, Teacher-Student Relationship, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Classroom Sex, Condoms, Top Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Smartass Stiles Stilinski, Tumblr: sterekdrabbles, Desk Sex, Fucking, Shut Up Kiss, College Student Stiles Stilinski

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64342513

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #ao3feed Sterek #ao3feed #fanfic

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hedwig221b · 4 months ago

Note

Do you have any suggestions for stories similar to your Don’t Kiss and Tell or Incandescent? It’s hard to find Paige not being a love to Derek

uh, sorta, kinda... let's see if these ones will tickle your fancy

Unprofessional, Ms. Blake. But ARMS. by lalalathisisme

Ms. Blake, Erica's first grade teacher, may have a tiny crush on Mr. Hale, Erica's dad. He's tall, dark, and handsome and she has to remind herself to be professional and try not to climb Mr. Hale like a tree when he comes to pick Erica up after school. It doesn't help that he is completely adorable with his daughter – laughing and smiling and thoroughly impressed by every piece of macaroni-and-glue art that Erica makes. And every day he greets her with a hug, asking her how her day went. And he even says hello to Ms. Blake (“Jennifer” she insists, and yet he still calls her Ms. Blake) when he picks Erica up, looking like he actually cares to hear the random things that happened in class. She doesn't pry. She doesn't even know how to do it without seeming highly suspect. But as it happens, sometimes information is offered up relating to a class project, and she files them away in her brain in the folder titled 'This Is Unprofessional But Jesus, Have You SEEN His Arms?'

Professor D. Hale series by har1ey_quinn

A series of outsider POVs on Professor Hale and his significant other (with some guest appearances from the pack)

His by neil4god

He was always alone, head stuck in a book or glued to his phone. He never seemed to talk to anyone, was too busy running from class to the library and back again. Kent couldn't help but feel bad for him, after all he was his room-mate and he could see just how alone the poor guy was. At least, that's what he assumed, turned out he didn't know the first thing about Stilinski.

The life of the irresistibly oblivious Stiles series by Nosiddam1

Just a series of cute fluffy one shots where Stiles is irresistible or oblivious or both and who only has eyes for Derek.

The Way You Look At Him by neil4god

Their relationship wasn't perfect, no-one's ever was, but she didn't know how broken it was until she met Stiles. Derek never smiled at her like that, he didn't rush home early from work to make her dinner or pick up her favourite snacks like he did for Stiles. Derek didn't look at her the way he looked at Stiles and she was starting to think that maybe Derek wasn't a commitment-phobe like she thought, maybe he just didn't want to commit to her.

Too Little Too Late by SolariaLunar21

Danny's always had a secret crush on Stiles Stilinski but never hopes for more until he over-hears Scott and Stiles talking about the other boy coming out to his Dad as bi.

2, 4, 6, 8, Who's Gunna Get The Date? by rebekahdarian

The five times a cheerleader asked Derek out on a date, and the one time he said yes.

Cursed

It’s just not fair. Stiles loves Derek but Derek never notices him. Why would he notice a Tea Cup? Besides, it’s not like he’s able to break the curse. It’s not like he can make Derek human again. Derek’s stuck in Beta form, Stiles’ a tea cup. They’re cursed.

Incandescent

“You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

Don't Kiss and Tell

Paige has finally got the boyfriend she always wanted. The only thing is, said boyfriend doesn't touch her, doesn't kiss her and spends all his time with Stiles Stilinski. You'd think they were dating, or something…

Untouchable

The day Stiles Stilinski entered the Berkeley campus was the day all the alphas went absolutely fucking nuts. See, omegas were rare, even more than redheads. Got to be extremely fucking lucky to even see one in a lifetime. They were supposed to be these ethereal creatures of beauty and elegance, irresistible and blinding. And Stiles Stilinski was exactly that.

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christinesficrecs · 16 days ago

Note

This may be a little niche but hoping you can help.

I'm looking for any fics where Stiles's friends think he's made up a fake boyfriend. Like they don't believe Derek is real or they know Derek separately and don't believe he'd date stiles. Or anything remotely like that. My brain is STUCK on this concept.

Hmm. Have you read these ones?

Stiles and the Not-So-Fake Boyfriend by CognizantCatastrophe | 2.3K

Stiles does NOT have a boyfriend: of that, the pack, his dad, and the entire community of Beacon Hills are completely convinced. It’s just a fact that Stiles is single. Poor Stiles; he’s probably lonely. Maybe they can set him up with someone!

Unless you’re Stiles, that is. Seriously. He DOES have a boyfriend. Why won’t anyone believe him?

The Tale of Stiles Stilinski and His (Non)Existent Boyfriend, Derek Hale by mackietommo | 2.9K

In which none of Stiles’ college friends believe Derek Hale is fucking real. But, Erica has a plan. And this is just really about the whole pack loves Stiles.

The Pope Would Brag by Hatteress (goddammitstacey) | 1.1K

The thing is, Derek’s really, really hot. Like, insane levels of attraction. What with the leather and the cheekbones and the stubble and the ass — oh god, that ass — Stiles can’t really be blamed, at all for freaking bragging.

Now if only his college friends actually believed Derek existed.

A love that does exist by bovineinteriors | 3.4K

During Stiles’ first year in college, his new friends have a hard time believing the amazing Derek Hale exists.

(Not so) Out of His League by har1ey_quinn | 3.5K

Sarah, however, knew better (or at least, now she did). It wasn’t until she was head TA (because it meant she had to go to all the lectures) that she actually got to meet the lucky person who managed to put a ring on Professor Hale’s finger. It was possibly one of the most embarrassing moment in her life (definitely in the top three), because she had pretty much insinuated that Professor Hale was so completely out of anyone’s league, she couldn’t believe a student, no less, was married to him.

untitled | tumblr ficlet

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #derek is real #stiles does have a boyfriend!

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fairytales-and-folklore · 2 months ago

Text

He May Not Be Drunk, But He Sure As Hell Is Thirsty

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: He May Not Be Drunk, But He Sure As Hell Is Thirsty

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Stiles is very supportive of Derek's acting career — among other things — and is determined to let him know through a series of (slightly tipsy) thirsty texts.

It's been weeks since Stiles last saw Derek, and he's…well, he wouldn't call it pining, exactly, but he's definitely excited that Derek is back in town. It had been difficult at first, when Derek stole away to the city to pursue his acting career, but after years of hard work and dedication, it's finally paid off. Tonight marks the premiere of his first major role, and Stiles couldn't be more proud. No, really. He marked it in his calendar and everything. No less than a minute into the pilot, he's already whipping out his phone and sending a flurry of rapid-fire texts, and Derek's phone lights up on his nightstand like a strobe at a blacklight party. Stiles can't help it. Every time Derek comes on the screen, he feels like one of those gifs of a dog tonguing the glass. Normally, he needs a hell of a lot more liquid courage than just two Angry Orchards to be this bold, but for Derek, his one working brain cell makes an exception. He may not be drunk, but he sure as hell is thirsty.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Two minutes to nine o'clock, Stiles comes bounding up the stairs, arms laden with all manner of sugary snacks, and dumps them in a pile on the bed. He kicks off his slippers, scoots to the middle of the mattress, and clicks on the television with seconds to spare before the opening credits start to roll. No less than a minute into the pilot, he's already whipping out his phone and sending a flurry of rapid-fire texts, and Derek's phone lights up on his nightstand like a strobe at a blacklight party.

Stiles can't help it. Every time Derek comes on the screen, he feels like one of those gifs of a dog tonguing the glass. Normally, he needs a hell of a lot more liquid courage than just two Angry Orchards to be this bold, but for Derek, his one working brain cell makes an exception. He may not be drunk, but he sure as hell is thirsty.

Text Message From Stiles At 9:01PM: Dude. I know I'm only a minute in but this is AWESOME. So proud of you, Sourwolf. Text Message From Stiles At 9:05PM: Damn, you look good. Text Message From Stiles At 9:07PM: Sorry, I know that shouldn't be the focus here, but it needs to be said. Text Message From Stiles At 9:10PM: Did they let you keep the glasses, by any chance? Asking for a friend who may or may not be into professor/grad student roleplay. Text Message From Stiles At 9:15PM: That ass in a skin-tight super-suit. Text Message From Stiles At 9:15PM: That's it, that's the whole text. Text Message From Stiles At 9:20PM:I know I said you looked good in all black, but holy fuck dude, the plaid is just…unf. You should wear plaid all the time. Text Message From Stiles At 9:25PM: The way the collar of your shirt blows back and shows that little bit of chest hair? Mmm. The wind out here doing god's work. Text Message From Stiles At 9:30PM: I want you to lift me like that truck and pin me against a wall. Text Message From Stiles At 9:40PM: Hi, yeah. I'd like to place an order for pick-up. I'll take three of you with a side of extra sausage. Text Message From Stiles At 9:45PM: I would lick literally anything off of your abs. Text Message From Stiles At 9:46PM: Chocolate, cheese, you name it. Text Message From Stiles At 9:48PM: It doesn't even have to be the good shit. Get me a can of cheez whiz and I'm all set. Text Message From Stiles At 9:50PM: Hell, give me a packet of parmesan, I'll snort that shit right off your pecs.

After the fifteenth text in a row, there's a low, throaty chuckle from right next to him, and Stiles glances up from his phone with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Stiles, I am literally laying in bed right next to you," Derek laughs, clutching his phone to his chest.

"Why are you texting me when you could just tell me all of this to my face? My—" he pauses, squinting down at his phone to read the latest text. "—'stupid, ridiculous, handsome face with a chiseled jaw that looks like it's been carved out of a marble statue of a Greek god and cheekbones so sharp they could cut a man if I turn my head too quickly.'"

Derek barks out a laugh, reaching behind him and bopping Stiles over the head with his pillow. Stiles lets out a high-pitched squeal and just barely dodges the attack, retaliating by sticking his ice cold feet into the legs of Derek's shorts.

"First of all," he says, wiggling his toes against Derek's thighs for maximum warmth distribution. "If I were to tell you all of this to your face, you'd have me pinned to the mattress in two seconds flat, and then we'd never make it through the episode."

Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he knows damn well he can't refute that.

"Two," Stiles continues, his tone slipping into something softer. "I figure, this way, you'll have a little something from me to make you smile the next time you're on set."

They've been together for years, and still, the shy little smile that curls at the corner of Derek's lips makes Stiles's heart leap into his throat. Warm fingertips trail across the palm of his hand before lacing with his own, golden band clinking against the matching one on his ring finger. Stiles takes a deep, steadying breath, sighing happily on the exhale.

"Man, that proposal, though," he says, rubbing gentle, soothing circles against the back of Derek's hand with the pad of his thumb. "I think if you proposed to me like that, I'd swoon on the spot."

"Stiles, we are literally married," Derek laughs, gripping Stiles's hand in a gentle three-pulse squeeze.

"Yeah, but I never got carried through the clouds like that," Stiles protests with a melodramatic whine. "I want a do-over."

"Fine, I'll take you sky-diving," Derek concedes with a long-suffering sigh, playfully nudging Stiles's shoulder with his own. "Now, put down your phone and come cuddle me, asshole."

Stiles snorts with laughter, dropping his phone onto the little table on his side of the bed, and burrows under the covers, snuggling up next to Derek and laying his head in his usual spot against his chest.

"So," Derek says as he flicks aimlessly through the channels, nuzzling his nose in the top of Stiles's hair and breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of home. "What should we watch next, Love and Monsters or The Maze Runner?"

#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #sterek fanfiction #he may not be drunk but he sure as hell is thirsty #fairytalesandfolklore #fairytales-and-folklore #fairytalesandfolklore fanfiction #fairytalesandfolklore teen wolf #fairytalesandfolklore sterek

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