#derek hale drabble

[soulofapatrick]

Rebuilding - Derek Hale x female reader

Summary: You show Derek the rebuilt Hale House you did for him

Words: 1.8k

warnings: none really; heavy making out

Notes: I can make a smutty part two

Y/N’s POV

The old Hale House had stood as a haunting reminder of the past, a testament to the tragedy and loss the family had endured. But now, it has been transformed into something new, something hopeful. With the combined effort of the pack and my Dad, it had become a symbol of rebirth and unity, a mansion that has welcomed every member with open arms and spare rooms for new pack members. 

As I stand in front of the restored mansion, I can’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Derek, who had once lived here in its glory days, deserves to see what I’ve done to the place. He’s been through so much, and I wanted this surprise to be a new beginning for him… for us hopefully. 

The anticipation in the air is palpable, and I can’t help but fidget with the key in my hand as I wait for Derek. The old Hale House, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, seems to hold its breath in eager anticipation of his arrival. And then, I hear it - the familiar purr of Derek’s car engine. It’s a sound that I’ve come to associate with his arrival, and my heart quickens in response. The car pulls down the long, winding driveway, and I keep staring at the house, my hands shaking a little as I fiddle with the keys. 

Suddenly, there he is. Derek appears beside me, his tall, brooding frame casting a shadow on the gravel driveway. He looks rugged and handsome as ever, with that alluring air of mystery that has always drawn me to him. His dark brows are furrowed in curiosity and confusion, his eyes scanning the mansion before us as if he’s trying to work out where we are. It makes my heart drop as he doesn’t recognise it despite me trying to keep it as near as I can to the original Hale house. 

But then, something remarkable happens. As his eyes roam over the mansion’s exterior, his brows furrow even deeper, and then there’s a hint of disbelief in his expression. It’s as if the familiarity of the place has begun to dawn on him, piece by piece. The realisation hits him like a tidal wave. His kaleidoscope eyes widen, and a gasps escapes his pretty and plump lips, “Is… is this….?” His voice trembles with emotion, and for a moment, he can’t seem to find the words. 

I hold out the keys for him and he looks between the house and the keys and then back at the house, “I can’t… I… can you…” His voice falters, and it’s clear that he’s fighting back tears, the enormity of the moment almost too much to bear. Without a word, I’m nodding and reaching for his trembling hands. Our fingers interlace, and with a gentle squeeze, I lead him towards the grand entrance. 

Derek’s eyes remain locked onto the mansion, his disbelief and wonder still etched across his features. But he doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand the whirlwind of emotions storming within him. 

I turn the key in the lock, my own fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. The door swings open, revealing the lovingly restored interior. The warm, golden light spills into the entryway, painting a new chapter on the old canvas of the Hale House. The grand entrance is now invitingly open, Derek taking a step forwards. His presence is so close to me that his chest is practically pressed against my back. The feel of him so near is electrifying, and it sends a shiver down my spine. 

“Welcome home Derek.” I say, my voice a soft, heartfelt whisper, as we cross the threshold together. 

The atmosphere inside is a mixture of nostalgia and fresh beginnings. The original features of the Hale House have been preserved, the hardwood floors polished, the walls adorned with artworks from the pack. The spaciousness of the rooms has been maintained, yet there’s a sense of cozy warmth that wasn’t there before. 

Derek’s gaze dances the space, a mixture of awe and sentimentality reflected in his expressive eyes. He appreciates the care and attention that went into preserving the essence of the house he called home. 

Then, he grabs my hands again with a gentle yet firm grip, leading me through the echoing halls as the pack gave us the house for Derek to see alone.  It’s a touch that sends a rush of warmth through me, the electricity of his touch palatable. We move through the house, our footsteps echoing, and Derek’s strides confident, as if he’s revisiting his own memories. 

As we ender the kitchen, Derek stops in his tracks. A soft, almost reverent sound escapes him, and his eyes widen again as he takes in the layout. It’s practically identical to the original Hale House kitchen, meticulously restored to match his recollections with the help of creepy uncle Peter. 

His grip on my hand tightens, and he turns to me, his expression filled with amazement, “This… it’s just like I remember it.” He says, his vice soft and filed with wonder, “You’ve brought it all back to life.” 

I can’t help but smile at his reaction. The kitchen holds countless memories for him, both happy and bittersweet, and seeing it so faithfully restored means the world to him. "We wanted it to feel like home," I reply, my voice equally hushed, knowing how much this place means to him. Derek’s thumb brushes over the back of my hand, his touch conveying the depth of his gratitude. It’s a silent exchange of emotions, the unspoken understanding between us.

And then, something changes in the air. Derek turns to me, his kaleidoscope eyes now shining with warmth and something else, something that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. His gaze flits down my lips, and in response, I can’t help but wet them with my tongue, suddenly feeling acutely aware of their dryness. It draws a small sound from Derek’s throat, low and almost involuntary, a testament to the magnetic pull between us. He leans in, closing the distance between our lips with a purposeful intent. Our mouths meet in a soft, longing kiss, a silent declaration of the emotions that have simmered between us for so long. 

His lips are soft yet insistent, moving against mine with a deliberate tenderness. I can feel the gentle, rhythmic movement of his mouth, each touch setting my heart racing. There’s a hint of urgency in his kiss, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface. Derek’s hands finding their way to my waist, holding e close as if he never wants to let me go. The touch of his fingertips against my skin sends shivers down my spine, and I press my body closer to his, wanting to feel every inch of him. 

My own hands move to rest on his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his body beneath my touch. They gradually work their way up, entwining in his shirt, wanting to pull him closer still. The connection between us deepens with every passing second, a silent confirmation of the emotions we’ve held back fr so long. 

Derek’s hands, which had been gently holding my waist, suddenly tighten their grip and before I can react, he’s lifting me up with a powerful yet careful motion. My legs instinctively wrap around this waist as he sets me on the edge of the kitchen island, never once breaking the kiss. 

Our lips remain locked in a heated embrace, a heated embrace, a testament to the fiery passion that's been ignited between us. Derek's tongue brushes over my lips, seeking entrance, and without hesitation, I part them, with a small, embracing sound escaping my lips which he swallows, tongue slipping past my lips. It's a dance of desire, a clash of longing, and a melding of two souls that have been drawn together by an irresistible force. Our mouths move with a shared urgency, each kiss deeper and more consuming than the last.

As our tongues explore and intertwine, Derek’s grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer until I’m arched on the edge of the kitchen island. The sensation of his body pressed against mine is electrifying, sending heat down south where I’m pressed against his growing problem. It has my thighs tightening around him, hips jerking a little and drawing sounds from both of us. 

Finally our lips part, but only slightly, our foreheads resting against each other as we catch our breath. Derek’s voice is a husky whisper, filled with raw desire, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He confesses, his words heavy with yearning, “ I couldn’t keep it in any longer.” 

My heart flutters at his admission, and I look into his kaleidoscope eyes, my own filled with the same longing, “Der…” I breathe, “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve wanted this as much as you have.” 

His lips find mine again, and the kiss that follows is fierce and fervent, a passionate culmination of our unspoken desires. It's a promise, a declaration, and a celebration of the love that has finally been acknowledged. 

But then, Derek's lips trail down from mine to my neck, and his kisses ignite a trail of fire across my skin. I gasp as his mouth leaves a mark, a fervent, possessive hickey, and another one right beside it. Each one is a silent proclamation of his desire, a mark of his longing for me. As Derek's kisses continue to trail down my neck, I gasp and my fingers clutch at his shoulders. The sensation is almost too much to bear, the heat of his mouth leaving a trail of fire across my skin, marked by possessive hickeys.

“Y/N,” He murmurs breathlessly voice heavy with desire, “If we don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop myself.” He pulls away slightly, his eyes dark and smouldering now and he lets out a low and sensual chuckle when an embarrassing moan escapes me. 

“Maybe…” I have to clear my throat, “Maybe we should check out your room.” My heart is racing as I say it, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and desire, eager to hear his response but also somewhat ready for the rejection. 

Instead, he groans, head falling to my shoulder before he growls out, “Don’t… don’t say things like that baby girl.” I stay silent, knowing there’s more and he kissing my collarbone sweetly before murmuring, “But, I think it’s a very, very good idea.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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@bellabadacadabra

[velvetcloxds]

HSHDHS YES and I can imagine just having dinner trying to comfort Derek touching his arm or something and he flinches so hard trying not to elicit a good reaction cuz Chris is watching😭

MONIQUE OHMYGOD I NEED A DEREK VERSION OF CRAZY STUPID LOVE NOW SJFHDH like it’s one of my favorite rom coms ever and it’s fitting perfectly right about now😭😭 and that pose with Der omg!!

CRAZY STUPID LOVE | D.H.

word count: 1k

warnings: age gap, dbf!derek, argent!reader, "I met you while trying to kill you for being a werewolf but then you helped me get a girl to help me get over my wife and now you're dating my daughter" vibes, fem!reader

Derek wore his fancy jacket, his "this is serious" jacket, his "today you're a gentleman jacket"- how was he to know he'd need more than his jacket and his perfect meet-the-family lines to win over his best friend to let him continue dating his daughter? Dinner was awkward to say the very least, neither your dad nor Derek had acknowledged where they knew each other from before meeting tonight, the night of your birthday dinner, but it was clear there was history there and no one was going to say something first so no one was yet to say anything at all.

Your dad was slicing at his steak in a way that made the whole act seem a little personal, his eyes on Derek's every move as the werewolf tried not to react to you slipping your hand onto his knee like you always did, it was one of his favorite little gestures which is why you were a little surprised when he didn't slip his hand onto yours right away, taking a big gulp from his wine glass in the process

"You two are pretty cozy," your dad noted and you were grateful for Allison's presence next to you to share in a questioning stare because does no one remember you coming home from at least a hundred dates talking about just how amazing Derek was? "What's it been like a week or two?"

"Dad, we've been dating for a few months now," you breathed, not even thinking as you scooped the crunchy carrots from your plate into Derek's, smiling your usual sweet smile and silently asking him to get rid of them for you. "I'd say it would be a little weird if we weren't cozy," you scoffed, thumb brushing over Derek's as you leaned into his side, extremely confused when it made him take in a loud breath of air. You didn't want it to be too obvious when you gave him a little look to ask what was wrong, but it wouldn't have mattered because the man wasn't even looking at you to begin with.

"So, Derek, have you two thought any more about moving in together?" Allison had no idea the terror her question would cause both Derek and your dad looking at her with complete horror as she took another bite of the bread Derek made. "What?" you were curious too, finally being able to meet your boyfriend's gaze and having no idea why he would be so surprised by the question when you talked about it just the previous day.

"Are you okay?" Your question was quiet really, only for his ears but it drew your dad's attention still, the echo of his knife hitting the plate enough to steal your focus. "Are you okay?" you reprised your question to the man opposite of you.

"You're dating my daughter," he wasn't looking at you, eyes burning right into the side of Derek's head before he snapped to meet his gaze, explanation already on his tongue. "You're dating my daughter," he repeated and boy were you lost but by the looks of it you'd be caught up real soon. "You want to move in with my daughter? You?" he had stood up now, plate clinking against the table in the process, glass almost tipping were it not for Derek being fast enough to catch it. "The man who taught me the best way to get a woman to sleep with me wants to move in with my daughter?" Allison swallowed a gasp. You weren't sure who to question first but your dad was moving before you had time to think it through.

"Dad!" you didn't even hesitate before jumping up and moving in front of Derek, stopping the man with your hands firmly on his chest and your face blocking his gaze before he could get close enough to Derek's chair. "Let's take a breath."

"Look, Chris, I can explain."

"Maybe not this second, babe," your tongue slipped, you didn't even realize you'd thrown the petname in there but your dad sure did and it did little to aid your case, even less when Derek stood up behind you, hand falling to your waist out of pure habit as you pushed back a little to stop your dad from moving. "You're the guy he's been playing wingman to?" a little angered nod was all you got in reply. ''And, Der, you're the floozy playboy that's been giving him dating advice?" You couldn't hide your amusement even if you tried your hardest.

"Yes, but this was before I met you and heaven knows not even my best tips worked on her so trust me when I say, Chris, this is different," With his voice back he was brave, very smooth when he took hold of your elbow and guided you behind him. "Look if you want to punch me then I'll give you one free shot but then best believe I'm taking a shot of my own, old man."

"Don't tempt me," your dad was less brave now, narrowed eyes shifting between you and his so-called friend with enough disapproval to write a novel but all he offered was a grunt of defeat. "It goes without saying that I do not even slightly approve of this."

"I don't blame you," your hands gripped his biceps as Derek spoke, you gave a little squeeze to his arms before you peeked your head over his shoulder. "You need time, I get it, we need to talk things out but eventually you'll see that this is different."

"Very," you noted, chin on his shoulder as you nodded, and were it another time anyone would be able to recognize just how cute the gesture was. "He talks a big game, Dad, but he's actually a big uncool softie," you teased and you were happy when Derek smiled, even happier when your dad gave a soft scoff.

"Careful, now," Derek warned and it was entirely not his intent to rub anything in Chris' face but he couldn't even stop himself from pulling you around and into his side, smiling lightly as you looked up at him. "I have a reputation to protect."

"Oh, mister womanizer, how could I forget?" you laughed and stole a glance over the table to where Allison was starting to clean up the dirty dishes. "Why don't you take your brooding self over to the kitchen to help my sister with the dishes and I'll try and convince my dad not to try and murder you again before dessert, " you had no doubt the idea was still very much lingering in his head.

"Yes ma'am," and Chris had to be blind not to notice just how happy you were, just how alarmingly different the little moment between you was to anything he'd seen from Derek before but it would take a hell of a lot more to convince him not to take him out in his sleep.

"So, you had any luck with his advice yet?" It was far too soon to joke about it but you'd not be his daughter if you didn't at least try.

"I need a drink."

[shieldofiron]

Stiles being all clingy and Derek’s pack not getting it. Because it seems like Derek isn’t into it, just quietly enduring it. Until one night Isaac can’t sleep and wanders down the hall for some water.

“Please just a little more?” Derek’s voice is muffled through the soundproof doors, but soundproofing only does so much and Derek refuses to have a witch spell any part of his new house.

“You’re so needy. Would you please tell the pack, they think I’m torturing you.” Stiles grumbles. “You’re the cuddle monster, not me.”

“Fuck ‘em. They hardly ever scent me anymore.”

Isaac feels a pang of regret. It just never seemed like Derek liked it, so he’d tapered off. And Erica and Boyd had too. They just had more of a loner alpha.

Didn’t they?

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice is reproving.

“I’ll… work on it. Just… one more back rub?”

The next morning Isaac nuzzles up to Derek, ignoring both the confusion on his face and the sex-soaked Stiles scent burned into his skin. Stiles beams with approval, and Isaac feels like he finally gets it. At least part of it.

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Derek opens the door, lets out a shocked exclaim and slams it shut right after. Stiles rushes out the kitchen, face smudged with flour and hands on his hips, pants, "What happened? I've never heard you make a sound like that before."

"There's- there's. Uh-um there's a you outside," Derek whispers, eyes wide and raising a trembling hand to point at the door.

"Huh?" Stiles asked, confused, moving closer to hug Derek. "Sourwolf, I'm right here." Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, catching his lips in a gentle kiss.

Caught in the moment, they don't notice the door slowly slide open. They jump apart when a disgusted voice exclaims, "Ugh, were you two always this gross?!"

Stiles and Derek gape at the teenager standing in the doorway. With floppy brown hair and similar moles dotting his face, he stood with his face twisted into a frown, clad in a batman t-shirt with a flannel on top.

Stiles moves closer to the boy, ignoring Derek tugging at his t-shirt from behind and gasps, "Holy fuck."

"That's ten dollars in the swear jar right there," the boy says.

"That's a bit steep," Stiles remarks, hand moving to poke at the boy's moles.

"Yeah well, we had to after you wouldn't - wait, I don't think I can tell you that." The boy says, face leaning into Stiles' touch. When Stiles moved his hand into the boy's hair, he whined, eyes flashing gold as he crowded Stiles into a hug, burying his face in his neck.

Stiles eyes widened and he turned his head to look at an equally shocked Derek. Stiles started to stroke the boy's hair as Derek walked towards them. "Tata, I was so scared," the boy whispered.

Derek placed a hand on his back, gently rubbing up and down. The boy twisted a hand back towards Derek, tugging him in, and sandwiched himself between Stiles and Derek.

"Pup," Derek whispered in awe, locking eyes with Stiles again. "Our pup?"

Stiles smiled, tears gathering in his eyes, and nodded.

The boy poked his head up and said, "Fuck, I should have introduced myself-"

"No swearing," Derek and Stiles said at the same time, giggling after.

"What - I'm not even going to address the hypocrisy in that. Anyways, tata, dad, I'm Eli Stilinski-Hale, your future son." He said, flaring his hands out after in a tada gesture.

[meaganvondoom]

21st Century Romance-

And Derek did exactly that. But only that one time. No matter what time it was, no matter how inane it was, Derek always answered.

_

Stiles' phone rang then, and he sighed deeply. he geared up mentally for some sort of patented Derek Hale lecture about perseverance, but instead Derek just started talking. for hours. for more words than Stiles had ever heard come out of his mouth, ever. He talked about his pack, and wolf history, and culture. Stiles isn't sure when he fell asleep, but he did know that Derek didn't fall asleep or even hang up until after the younger man had woken up the next morning.

Stiles didn't text Derek for quite a while after that. He didn't know what he was feeling and all his research pointed to a mate bond forming. the pulling at an invisible string and he feelings that we was feeling. feelings that definitely weren't his own.

Stiles set his phone down at that point, trying to focus on a random episode of Golden Girls that was on the living room TV. He must have fallen asleep on the couch, because he only woke up when he heard a knock on the door. When he opened it there was no one there, only a large tupperware, a white Gatorade and a box of orange pekoe tea. There was a post it note on top of the container that simply said 'feel better, D. x'. Stiles pointedly did not think about how Derek knew his favourite Gatorade colour.

it took him a few minutes to snap out of his surprised stupor and take everything into the kitchen, but when he did he sat down and opened the container, only to be assualted by the most wonderful aroma of homemade chicken soup chocked full of veg and garlic.

Stiles got more and more confused with every text interaction with Derek but he happily ate his soup. And if he swore he could feel someone else's affection when he ate it? Well, that was his business.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Mr Hale and Mr Stilinski Are NOT Dating

There have been whispers around the school that Mr Stilinski and Mr Hale are dating. They decide to set the record straight.

They’ve heard the whispers circulating the school, a buzz of chatter filling the school halls like a swarm of bees.

Mr Hale – the English teacher – and Mr Stilinski – the history teacher and assistant coach for the lacrosse team – are dating.

They weren’t quite sure when it started, but whispers of their alleged relationship had spread throughout the school. Snippets of gossip and rumours would trail back to them.

“Did you see the way Mr Hale looked at Mr Stilinski today?”

“I’ve never seen Mr Hale smile, but Mr Stilinski makes him smile.”

“They’d make such a cute couple.”

“I saw Mr Stilinski in Mr Hale’s office the other day.”

“Mr Hale helped Mr Stilinski put away the sports gear after practice yesterday, and they were in the equipment room for quite some time.”

“Mr Hale and Mr Stilinski always spend their lunch breaks together in their classrooms.”

For the most part, they were amusing, harmless gossip and stories made up by kids who had watched a few too many romance movies, but it was starting to get out of hand. So Stiles and Derek decided to address the rumours.

They called all their students together and gathered in one of the larger classrooms. Students crammed in where they could, sitting in chairs or on the floor, a few perching themselves on the cabinets that lined the far wall. The room was filled with a quiet buzz of chatter, a mixture of confusion, concern, and excitement.

Derek stood in front of his desk. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leant back against the edge of the desk. Stiles stood beside him, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.

“Alright,” Derek said gruffly.

The room fell silent.

“We’re heard quite a lot of talk around the school about whether or not Mr Stilinski and I are dating,” Derek started.

The students started cheering. Some let out excited gasps and a few students shouted, “I knew it!”

Derek drew in a deep breath, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He waited for them to settle before continuing, “We’ve decided to clear this up, once and for all. Mr Stilinski and I are not dating.”

The room filled with shocked gasps, hushed whispers and a one student who was brave enough to shout, “Yet!”

Stiles ducked his head, hiding his smirk as he struggled to smother his laughter.

Derek waited for the room to fall quiet, his stern stare hushing the room.

“Mr Stilinski and I are not dating,” he reiterated. Pausing for a moment – waiting to see if the students would object again – before adding, “We’re married.”

The room burst into a cacophony of noise: cheers, screams, applause. You could have sworn they were celebrating winning the nationals, not finding out their teachers were married.

Stiles couldn’t hold it in any more, he burst out laughing, turning away from his students so that they couldn’t see how bright red his face was.

Derek glanced over at him, his harsh features softening as he smiled lovingly at Stiles and let out a quiet chuckle.

Stiles drew in a dep breath, gathering himself as he raised his voice above the noise to say, “And nothing happened in the equipment room.”

The members of the lacrosse team and a few other students who had heard that rumour started laughing.

[AO3]

[dykegoesdownwithship]

Finally, he can’t take it any more. Can’t handle Derek leaning close all the time, looking like that. His dark hair looks surprisingly soft up close, his lips are pink and there’s a tiny bit of blood from where he’s bitten one trying to keep his cool. Stiles can see the indents in his skin, feel the warmth of his body radiate out, and he can’t fucking take it anymore. Derek has his T shirt fisted in his hands as he holds stiles flush against the wall, face impossibly close, and stiles loses it— leans forwards and licks a thick stripe up dereks cheek. His facial hair prickly against his tongue and his skin tastes faintly salty, he smells like alpha.

[6lytherinn]

can't remember if i posted this before and I couldn't find it soooo yeah lol sterek drabble/fic I wrote last year. It's a bit rusty because I haven't written in quite sometime :/ but I'm trying my best to get back into writing again. my old blog (years ago) used to be so active and i would post daily idk what happened lol life I guess????

Stiles can't remember what happened, all he knows is he's in a lot of pain. Everything hurts, his face stings and he can feel the blood pooling there, but it's nothing compared to the feeling coming from his ribs. All he can think about is Scott, and Mrs. McCall. He just knows Scott will be here any moment and Melissa will bandage him up at their house and all will be well.

Except Scott never shows. And before he realizes it, he's being picked up softly by someone. He tries to open his eyes but it hurts.

“Shh, Stiles, it's me.” The voice is familiar. He thinks hard before smirking his signature lopsided grin. Except this time it's a little bloody.

“Sour wolf?” He mumbles. He relaxes as he's pulled into Derek Hale's warm chest. Derek is holding him bridal style, and if he wasn't in so much pain he would most definitely have something sarcastic to say in this moment but the warmth of the werewolves chest mixed with the feeling of safety has made him suddenly exhausted.

He could smell Derek's cologne, it smelled familiar and Stiles couldn't feel more pleased. Yes he had expected, and hoped for Scott, but right now Derek was a good contender for a knight in shining armor.

He was almost asleep when he heard Derek whisper that he would be at the hospital soon. Stiles jerked awake.

“No! My dad,” He gasped at the pain that shot through his body at the sudden movement. “We can't afford the bill. No hospital, please.”

He could have swore he heard Derek growl as he continued to yelp in pain.

“Fine. Then I'm taking you to my place so I can take care of you.” Stiles began to protest but was interrupted by another growl of disapproval.

“Okay, okay. You really are a sour wolf.”

—

Stiles awoke shortly after arriving at Derek's and found himself in said werewolves bed. He felt himself blushing as he realized Derek was sitting next to him, gently caressing his body, checking him for bruises and broken bones.

“You're awake.”

Stiles nodded, suddenly feeling self conscious next to the fit man that was Derek fucking Hale.

“You have some broken ribs. And your face is pretty bruised up.” Derek reached next to the bed and grabbed the warm rag and brought it up gently to Stiles’ face, pressing it so soft it made Stiles want to cry.

This reminded him exactly of the time his mom had taken care of him when he was a child and he had busted his eye playing with Scott one Summer evening. She had taken care of him with the exact same softness, the same care in her eyes that Derek had now.

He could feel the tears forming but couldn't stop them. He sniffled and apologized immediately.

“S-sorry.” He mumbled, looking anywhere but at Derek.

“Are you okay, Stiles?”

The younger boy nodded. “You just remind me of my mom,” his voice cracked and he realized how weird that must sound. Telling a grown man that he reminds him of his dead mother. He continued. “She used to take care of me like this when I would get hurt. It's been so long and I just- I miss her.” He breathed.

It was silent after that but Derek didn't pull away.

He was completely caught off guard by what happened next. He felt soft lips being pressed against his own and he let his eyes flutter closed. He felt himself leaning forward into Derek, pressing his lips against his unsure at first but then feverishly.

Derek's lips were soft, which Stiles thought was surprising. He had imagined kissing Lydia so many times and somehow kissing Derek in this moment was a thousand times better than anything he had imagined with her. The kiss lasted a few seconds, it was soft and warm and wet. It was completely perfect. It made Stiles' lips tingle in the best way and his heart was racing. He knew Derek could hear it but he didn't care.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles whined in disapproval which caused the werewolf to chuckle.

Stiles felt his whole face on fire and he didn't know what to say. He wanted that to happen again. Like a million more times again.

“Was that okay?” Derek asked. He figured by the younger boy's reaction that it was but didn't want to assume. He grinned watching Stiles nod frantically as he fumbled for words for once in his life.

“You're staying here tonight,” Derek whispered, “So I can take care of you.”

Stiles had no complaints with that statement. He simply nodded, still at a loss for words. Derek moved the items off the bed and grabbed the blankets that were bundled at Stiles feet.

“Do you mind if I lay with you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I would actually love for you to lay with me. Especially after that because that was amazing. I would also love it if that could happen again tonight. Actually if that could happen a lot tonight I think it would make me feel a lot better.” The boy said, grinning stupidly up at Derek as he guided them gently into a cuddling position, being oh so careful of Stiles' broken ribs.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

Well, technically it's still May 31st somewhere! Even if I am coming in a little late, here's a little Sterek piece I pulled out of my WIPs and finished up for Mental Health Awareness Month (but lbh, mental health is important for every single day of the year!). Also, there's a double drabble to go with this! This work crosses off the “quality time” square for my @hurtcomfort-bingo card, the "first choice" square for my @sweetspicybingo Beginnings Bingo card and the “your choice of prompt” square for @twbingo’s Grab Bag card 027. If you need a pick-me-up, I'm hoping some Sterek hugs can do the trick. Take care of yourselves, folks as we head into a new month!

Title: One Day, It'll Be Okay (<- read on AO3) Rating: Teen WC: 200 Tags: Friends to Lovers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dreams and Nightmares, Hugs, Mental Health Issues, Established Relationship, Digital Art, Fanart, Art, Double Drabble, POV Derek Hale

Summary: Derek and Stiles try to be there for each other whenever sleep seems impossible.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version now ON AO3 HERE

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“Um, are you—uhhhh, are you, like...” Stiles tries swallowing the boulder sized lump in his throat to no avail. The rest of the sentence then rushes out of him like word vomit. “Der, are you seeing other people?”

“No.” Derek's answer is immediate and definite-sounding, out of his gorgeous mouth before Stiles can even look up at him. “Are you?”

Stiles' eyes shoot up and almost out of his head. He somehow manages not to splutter his reply. “I most definitely am not.”

Oh my God, as if.

“But you... want to?” Derek half presumes because he's quite obviously fucking braindead. “Is that why you brought it up?”

“What? No! Not at all! Why, do you—” Oh shit, he might just vomit for realsies. “Do you want to?”

“No, not at all,” Derek parrots, and Stiles thanks all the Gods he's never believed in.

“Oh, right, well. Good. That's—that's good to know.”

Stiles just really, really, really needed to know. Like, either way, you know? But holy Toledo, Cousin Miguel! Thank baby Jesus and the donkey and those Frankincense dudes and the Brokeback cowboys for humongous gigantor mercies.

Derek takes a breath. “I mean, I'd share you if that's what you wanted, but I... wouldn't exactly relish the thought.”

Okay, Stiles is now thanking the Flying Spaghetti Monster from Pastafarianism.

His lips twitch when the souwolf's grim-set features soften just a touch.

“Fuck it, you know what?” Derek asks before barrelling on without waiting for an answer. “If you were a wolf, you'd know that I'm actually a lying liar who lies,” he admits, seemingly out of nowhere.

Stiles's eyebrows try to match Derek's but fail, obviously. His stomach is trying to relocate in the fiery pits of the underworld via Nilfheim. “Oh yeah? H-how so?”

He very narrowly escapes getting whiplash when he finds himself batting his lashes and sucking on his bottom lip as he realises—after studying Derek for a moment, like, really looking at him—that he knows exactly how so. He doesn't need to hear heartbeats or scent stuff or whatever to perceive the quiet fury simmering away behind those silly-beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

“Because...” Derek starts, hesitant, but that only lasts till he's looking up and seeing Stiles nodding furiously at him. Stiles knows. “Because you're mine,” he snarls, all wild and possesive and one hundred percent spectacularly correct.

Derek's eyes flash blood-red, and Stiles practically whimpers.

Then Stiles is lunging, slamming his face into Derek's while mumbling a garbled, “You're goddamn right I am,” directly into Derek's hot, wet, wide-open maw; fangs and growls and all.

Derek, ever the Big Bad, gobbles his words, and him, right the fuck up, ripping off Stiles's red hoodie before practically shredding the rest of his clothes with those lengthend black nail-claws.

As he gives himself over completely to getting gloriously mauled, Stiles idly considers how the only religion he'd ever align himself with is printed on the pages of Grimms' Fairy Tales.

Well, minus the grandma, of course. This particular retelling is way too saucy for his babcia.

[wordsarelife]

—sweeter than fiction

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!hale!reader

summary: stiles finds out you're dereks sister and has to cope with the news lol

warnings: none, just canon typical losers flirting lol

note: just gonna leave this here lmao. this is just a little drabble, but i hope you guys like it!!

“let me just clarify this. when you say brother, you mean…”

“brother”

“…right” stiles nodded. “and that’s like a 100% sure, yeah? no chance of misconduct or—“

“stiles”

"okay, you know what? it's fine" stiles smiled, but did not look even close to being fine. "i mean what's a little relation to derek hale, when there are far worse monsters, right?"

"right." you nodded, trying your best to help stiles calm himself down.

"i mean has he ever talked about me.. to you, i mean?" his gaze narrowed as he searched your face for any hints of rememberance. "i think he likes me."

"well," you paused, trying to think of the time before you had come back to beacon hills and what your brother had said about scott mccall and his idiot friend. "he's definitely mentioned you."

"ha!" stiles called, a victorious smile settling onto his face. his fist swung through the air and just nearly missed you as you swerved to the side quickly. "eh, sorry," he excused. "i'm still getting used to all these new proportions."

"are you talking about puberty?"

"well, it was a hard time for me, okay?" he bit back. "everything happened so quickly. like— like being hit by a bus. but not in a fun way."

"there's a fun way?"

"i—" stiles blinked. "it's definitely more fun than being ripped to shreds by your brother when he finds me here." stiles made a large gesture to signal that he was not supposed to be here. in your room. at night. in the loft you shared with derek.

"why are you emphasizing the word brother like that?" you furrowed your brows.

"ever heard of the phrase 'foreign concept'?" stiles muttered, before he lowered himself onto the bed in front of you. "i mean how is that possible? like biologically?"

"well, when a man and a woman—"

"don't" stiles interrupted. "you're supposed to be serious."

"you're not really serious either, are you?" you crossed your arms and leaned back against the headboard.

"i'm not supposed to be. i'm allowed to fight trauma with the inappropriate use of sarcasm. it's who i am. you shouldn't even be able to detect a joke or crack a smile, considering who raised you." he send a side-eye in your direction before he continued rambling. "and as always it's just my luck that i am hopelessly into someone who's related to derek hale. this is just great—"

"you're hopelessly into me?" you repeated surprised.

"i said someone related to derek hale." stiles corrected. "i could very well be talking about your mother."

"are you talking about my mother?" you repeated with a roll of your eyes.

"nah"

"okay, that's good. because you know she's dead, so your love would be doomed from the start."

"yeah, good argument, actually." stiles nodded repeatedly. "glad we talked about this. now that i've revealed my interest, is there a slight chance— i mean statistically speaking and considering, uh, that i—"

you interrupted promptly, taking his face into your hands and moving him so close, your lips were not far from touching. "you should stop talking."

"uh, yeah, i probably should"

you kissed him—quick, impulsive, no time for words. it was over in a second, but it left both of you breathless, staring at each other, the tension thick in the air.

your eyes wandered over the stunned expression on his face, before you moved closer once more, softly kissing him again.

the door to your room flew open with a bang and you and stiles jumped apart, similiarly surprised at the sudden sound.

your brother was standing in the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing at the scene in front of him and stiles quickly moved his hand away from your thigh, as if derek's stare alone had burned it.

"stiles." derek growled. "you have about five seconds to get your slimy little lips away from my sister before i rip you to shreds."

stiles shot you a look that clearly said "i told you so" before scrambling to his feet and practically bolting out of the loft, not bothering to say another word.

you couldn't help but smile up at your older brother. "oh derek, do you always have to be such a sourwolf?"

derek’s lips twitched into a humorless smirk. “yeah, okay. that’s it. you're officially banned from ever seeing him again.”

[lillaberry]

Rip Adam you would’ve loved Alice Cullen

[kittenshift-17]

39 Sterek?

Thanks for sending this one in! I hope you like my drabble.

39. "You are such a hypocrite."

"You know, you're such a hypocrite," Stiles huffed at Derek in annoyance when he walked into his bedroom and found the werewolf in question lounging on his bed.

"How so?" Derek quirked an eyebrow without taking his eyes of the book he was reading.

"You're always at Scott about using a person - using Allison - as his anchor. And yet here you are, invading my bedroom every other night and surrounding yourself with my scent and presence. I'm onto you, sourwolf. I know you think of me as your anchor. What happened to 'People don't make good anchors'? huh???"

"What makes you think I'm using you as my anchor?" Derek asked coolly.

Stiles faltered a little.

"Uh, the invading my room all the time, seeking me out when you've been shot, generally shoving yourself into my life?" Stiles suggested.

"That's called being Pack, not an anchor," Derek argued, snapping his book closed and glaring at Stiles.

"Uh huh," Stiles huffed doubtfully as he turned back to his computer. "Sure it is."

"Anchors shouldn't be people," Derek reminded him. "It's too dangerous to rely on another person as a means of clinging to our humanity."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it a thousand times when you lecture Scott," Stiles rolled his eyes. "People can't be trusted; people can leave you, or betray you, or try to kill you. You're so damaged, dude."

"Don't call me dude," Derek growled, and he sounded like he was coming closer. "I'm not trying to be a dick to Scott by telling him not to use Allison as his anchor, you know?"

"Not trying, but artfully succeeding."

Stiles flinched when Derek's large hands came to rest on the tops of his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

"An anchor is supposed to help us remember our humanity," Derek reminded him, and he had his lecture-y voice on, which meant Stiles was about to be bored to tears. "It's supposed to be something we can grab hold of and cling to when the wolfish side battles for dominance and threatens to overthrow our humanity, rendering us mindless, ravenous beasts."

"I know that, Derek."

"It needs to be something consistent. Something that can ground us. Something we can hold onto to keep from losing ourselves entirely, which means it needs to be something that isn't going to break up with us and swan off with someone else the second the flush of young love begins to ebb."

"You couldn't sound more tragic if you tried, sourwolf."

"I tell Scott that he needs an anchor that isn't Allison because she's an Argent, and sooner or later, we'll see her fall in line with her family's values and ideals, which will mean she hunts werewolves. And because they're dumb teenagers, head over heels for each other in the thrall of young love, and it will fade as they grow up. They'll go to different colleges, move away, or find other people they're romantically interested in, and Allison will be fine. But Scott will be a wreck because his anchor will be gone, and he'll be no closer to having full control of his shift and his wolf than he was when he was first bitten."

Stiles sighed and tipped his head back, peering up at the ceiling before Derek hung his face over Stiles's, brow heavily furrowed like it always seemed to be.

"Scott needs to find something that makes him feel human that isn't a girl," Derek repeated.

"Like what?" Stiles asked. "Anger, like you?"

Derek flashed a little bit of fang at him before he sighed softly.

"Anger was my anchor for a long time," Derek nodded. "But that's not sustainable either. Anger is only useful for as long as a person remains angry, and I'll never heal or move forward if I cling to my anger as a means of clinging to my humanity."

Stiles raised his eyebrows.

"So... I am your anchor now?"

Derek huffed softly.

"Not you specifically," he grumbled.

"I so am," Stiles laughed.

"Your humanity is my anchor," Derek whispered. "Not specifically you, Stiles. Just your humanity. How breakable you are, how fragile compared to me."

He gave Stiles's shoulders a slightly firmer squeeze, making the joints ache just a little.

"Knowing how easy it would be to break you is what I use."

"So you think of maiming me to keep the wolf in check?" Stiles deadpanned. "Thanks, dude. I feel super safe with you right now."

Derek barked a little laugh before quickly suppressing it like he always did whenever Stiles managed to drag a smile or a laugh out of him.

"Knowing how easily I could hurt you and how much I don't want to do that is what I use as my anchor," Derek murmured. "Knowing how, even as human and breakable as you are, you still fling yourself headfirst into danger with little more than sarcasm, and your baseball bat is what helps me keep my wolf in check."

"What if... you said it's bad for Scott because he and Allison might be separated or whatever..." Stiles frowned, twisting his chair to peer up at Derek when the werewolf moved back to give him room before stepping between his knees.

"Scott and Allison aren't pack, even though they're dating," Derek shrugged.

"Meaning, what?" Stiles smirked. "We're pack, so I'm stuck with you for life?"

Derek's smile was all meanness.

"Something like that."

[shieldofiron]

Stiles ordered the creamiest, fluffiest seasonal drink every day. One of those barely taste the coffee drinks. He sat in the same chair, red hoodie pulled up, laptop out, occasionally glancing with dark shadowed eyes up at his favorite barista.

Derek was more of a fine espresso guy. Stiles could just tell, from the way he would curl his lip at Stiles’ orders. But he was a nice guy, quiet. Let Stiles nurse one drink and camp out for hours at the best table, the one closest the plug. One day Stiles had noticed his chair had been swapped with a less wobbly one.

One day he noticed a heart next to his name, in black ink on a white cup.

It’s a gradual thing, like a slow pour into a cup. One day he’s just hanging around and the next day he’s waiting until Derek gets off his shift.

And then once that’s been happening a few weeks, Derek explains a shift of a very different kind.

Stiles still likes the sweet stuff. But he’s starting to appreciate that straight espresso taste on his tongue.

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Stiles was feeling restless and antsy, laying on his side, chest to chest with Derek, who was trying to fall asleep.

"Derek? Der-bear," Stiles whispered, poking a finger incessantly into Derek's cheek.

"Sleeping, shh," Derek whispered back.

"But I'm bored," Stiles whined, finger tracing Derek's lips and slipping inside. He smiled when Derek opened his eyes and snarled, revealing his descended fangs and rubbed over them.

Derek playfully snapped his teeth and caught Stiles' finger in between his jaws, sucking it into his mouth.

"Mmmm, sexy time?" Stiles asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorted, releasing Stiles' finger and rolling them over so he was laying on top of Stiles. "Just made you cum three times, greedy boy, and you want more?"

"Always want more with you, Der," Stiles said, trying to catch Derek's lips with his own.

"Sleep first, sweetheart, please. You wore me out," Derek groaned.

Stiles giggled and tugged Derek down to rest their foreheads together. "You have 30 minutes," Stiles replied, his eyes flashing gold in response to Derek's red.

[meaganvondoom]

Talk me down- sterek drabble

Stiles sucked in breath trying to regulate the intake of air as much as possible, but he knew that he had left it too long. The images flashing in his head of the murder scene he had walked in on- with blood and viscera painted on every available surface- hadn't effected him then, but once he was done with the initial walkthrough he had retreated back to his car for what he knew was coming.

Truthfully, this happened every time he examined a crime scene, regardless of the severity of the violence or the deeds that had been done there. He would catalogue everything initially, and then it's like it would all hit his brain at once, and he needed OUT. He would high tail it wherever he could get some privacy. Sometimes it was just a panic attack and sometimes it was worse. Sometimes it was him hunched over, emptying his stomach of whatever he had consumed that day until the purge quieted his mind into a place he could manage to be again.

So far, he had been through both of those rituals and neither had calmed the cacophony of violence in his brain and he knew it was time to resort to the third option. One that he probably should have resorted to before there was leftover Pizza Pocket all over his shoes, but hindsight always was 20/20. He fished into the pocket of his suit jacket, and grabbed his scratched up iPhone and punched in the passcode without looking. He opened the contacts and hit the first options in the favorite's list. The phone rang. The line picked up after only two rings. 'Stiles? What's wrong?'

"You answered. I thought you might be busy.' Stiles' voice was shaky and rough and he was sure the other man could tell something was wrong.

'I don't know how many times I have to tell you- i will ALWAYS answer for you. I promise. Do you want to talk? Or do you want me to read?' 'Can you just read for a bit? I have to go back out there, but I c- I can't yet. It's too much in my brain. Please, Derek?' His voice was soft and small like a child's whisper. But really, he felt a little bit like a child who needed grounding so maybe that wasn't that far off. There was no more discussion, only the sounds of shuffling while Derek went to the bookshelf and got the same book as always. Stiles heard the leather of his armchair groan as the werewolf sat down. He cleared his throat and began reading. 'Everyone my age remembers where they were and what they were doing when they heard about the contest...'

Derek's calming timbre and even speech was a balm to Stiles' insecurities and anxieties and he immediately felt everything melting away and bringing him back to earth. He always brought him back to earth.

---