#how does a shadow exist without the sun and body to cast it. so scott would always get back up

[alisonhales]

#okay so this is about. where the lines blur. the venn diagram of who they both are#a true alpha is a miracle and the first chimera is a monster#both are made by sheer force of will. neither is rly supposed to exist. how were they supposed to exist together. how could they exist apar#so theo is a killer and scott is killed. but who desires what and who is satisfied and who is rotting#scott tells liam that he can't let him kill him and then tells theo he has to kill him himself. theo kills scott and looks miserable#theo killing scott frees scott and traps theo. the only alpha who can exist outside of being an alpha is a dead alpha#the only chimera that escapes the doctors is a dead chimera. or else a chimera with dead doctors (but we haven't gotten to that part yet)#their roles dictate how the part is played. they both have to conform to their roles. they do not exist outside of them#so obviously theo is not allowed to win and scott is not allowed to die#what is a shadow but the place where ground meets body. so theo would always get him on the ground#how does a shadow exist without the sun and body to cast it. so scott would always get back up#is this making sense to anyone but me#stiles can leave town and lydia can go to college and malia can go to paris if she really wants to and so can isaac#and jackson and ethan can go to london and etc etc etc#but once in the town neither scott nor theo can really get away from it. scott because he's scott and theo because scott is scott.#the story revolves around scott and theo revolves around scott and not even death allows them to escape the narrative#this is the crux and core of them both (bericas)

sceo weekend 2023 (day 1) → identity (what do their identities mean to them? to each other?)

the problem with liking is the conflation of desire with similarity. ↳ claire schwartz

[basicjetsetter]

Part V

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Fluffy scenes, anxious moments, cliff-hanger

▹ Words: 3.3k

▹ A/N: We are reaching the eye of the storm. Happy reading!

“ ‘Kay, so there’s no way they’re gonna win this game without him turning into the Wolf, right?”

“Finish watching it, Peter.”

Peter musingly shakes his head, mouthful of his fourth slice of pizza. “There’s no way.”

You level a patient smirk at him and point to the television, wordlessly telling him to see for himself.

The screen’s brightness fills your otherwise dark living room, casting shadows along the angles of Peter’s concentrated face. His body is sloped forward, and if he didn’t possess the body control of an enhanced being, he’d fall face-first into your carpet.

Tonight’s movie selection was your choice, and you didn’t want to disappoint. So when Peter said he’d never seen Teen Wolf, you were over the moon. Usually, you’d watch every single second of the classic film, but with Peter sitting cross-legged next to you, his hip pressed against yours as your crossed leg rests on top of his, you spent the entire time covertly peeking at his fascinated expressions.

Well into the third month of your friendship, Peter’s presence in your apartment remains to be an odd sight in a good way. Out of your ordinary. His first time in your apartment came on a day you both chose to escape the sun’s sweltering heat with A/C and ice cream, and like your first conversation in Hal’s, he never made it weird.

It was effortless. Every moment with Peter was like breathing.

If anyone else suggested Friday-night movie nights, you’d have spared no time shutting them down. But your yes to Peter harbored no resistance.

“No way!” An excited smile spreads across Peter’s face as Scott steps to the baseline to take the game-winning free throw shots. “Is he seriously gonna make these?”

You seal your lips, choosing not to spoil the moment, but Peter doesn’t see. His eyes never stray from the screen, and his lips slightly part from the nail-biting suspense. As the last shot falls through the hoop, Peter’s whole jaw drops.

When the end credits roll, he slowly claps. “That was awesome. Like I’ve got some serious chills. How am I going to top that?”

“Eh, you probably won’t,” you reply with a boastful grin. Hidden joy thrums through your body from his excitement. “Might as well call a wrap on movie nights.”

Peter playfully nudges you with his elbow, then checks his watch. “Ah, man, it’s late. I needed to be on patrol half an hour ago.” He’s up in a flash, slipping his shoes on and chewing up the rest of his pizza.

“Do you have to go?” A hint of sadness tinges your words. 

“Yeah, the city would be a mess without me,” he jokes, but you weren’t remiss of his undertone sincerity. “Oh! That reminds me. Some bad guys are out on a robbing spree lately, tailing people at night, so if you work late, can you ask Chris to walk you home? Y’know, just in case I’m not there.”

He does this every time he’s over. Each week, there’s a new thing or group to be leery of, and each time he asks, you immediately nod to erase the gut-sinking concern in his brown eyes.

You rise from the couch and follow Peter to the door. He turns just as he’s about to twist the handle, stalls for a second, then envelopes you into a small, reluctant hug, leaving his arms lax just in case you wanted to pull away. 

Hugging is new, something you’ve only done about five times. The first was an unplanned disaster featuring a hard shove, repeated apologies, and a long, awkward moment of silence. 

You didn’t mean to push him away. It was one of those moments where, even though the urge to reciprocate was there, you couldn’t allow yourself to find comfort in such an innocent gesture. You weren’t ready. He respected that.

You knew your rash reaction bruised Peter more than he let on, but he learned to ease his way into your comfort zone with small touches. An intentional brush of his hand against yours, scooching closer to you on the couch, hi-fives with minimally laced fingers.

It took a while for the second hug-attempt, but you were cautiously prepared when it happened.

This time around, you return the gesture, winding your arms around his middle and setting your chin on his shoulder, resisting the urge to nuzzle your nose against his warm neck. His closeness frazzles you, even more so when he diminishes the gap between you, holding you tighter to his chest before releasing you and clearing his throat.

“Be safe,” you warn softly.

He puffs out his chest. “I have nothing to fear except fear itself.”

“That confident, huh?”

“Comes with the job. You get knocked down enough times, you get pretty confident once you realize you can always get back up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And yet you still have a fear of heights.”

“Never said I wasn’t afraid of falling. Just that it gets easier getting back up. ‘Sides, most of those petty offenders scare easy. All I gotta do is say I can plant eggs in ‘em.” He shudders at the idea himself.

“Please, Peter,” you implore, a smile sullying your stern frown.

Peter’s grin, always so wholesome and calming, blankets over your nerves. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I think Spider-Man needs someone to worry about him, sometimes. Even if he can get back up. Just… let caution work alongside confidence.”

He heeds your words with a more allayed smile, curtly nodding. “Vigilance. I can do that.”

You’re tempted to wrap him back into your arms to protect him from whatever dangers lie outside of your apartment. Instead, you exchange simple goodnights and shut the door once he reaches the stairwell.

The room and your shirt preserve his crisp evergreen scent long after he’s gone. It lingers as you crawl into bed. An aromatic reminder of his caress and warm skin.

As far as friendships go, you’ve never had one quite like this. The line you drew in the sand moves. Accommodates. Shrinks. Whether he’s aware of it or not, the time you spend cracking jokes with Peter at Hal’s, listening to his adventurous feats, becoming comfortable with his physical proximity, seeing his smile and the way his eyes light up when you smile at something funny or interesting he’s said, you fall just an inch.

He's growing on you. His presence. His laughter. His beaconing smile. His tentative touch. His uncanny ability to endear himself to your foreclosed heart.

It was easier to deny the connection when you didn’t know Peter. But now that you do, every moment you’re with him intensifies what you’ve painstakingly tried to avoid.

You’re falling in love with your Soulmate.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

Once again, it’s the Saturday brunch rush, and once again, Hal’s is up to its neck in bloodthirsty customers. All the booths are packed, as well as the stools. Some of the parties compact a seat meant for two with four people, and the aisle clogs with those who just came to grab a cup of coffee and conversation.

Chris is in his element, swinging from one booth to the next like a controlled tornado collecting orders, while you and Wendy are the unfortunate bunch who have to clean up desecrated tables and feed the greedy.

“If someone asks me what the specials are one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out,” Wendy grouses behind the counter as she puts away five menus.

You grumble back the same sentiments. Menus exist for a reason. And most of these people aren’t new to Hal’s, so the fact that they always have to ask grinds your gears.

11:30 a.m. is your saving grace. If you can hold on until Peter gets here, you’ll be fine.

Chris stops by the bar, pocketing what appears to be a twenty-dollar bill. “Lighten up, ladies. At least you’re off tomorrow.”

Wendy, in her 5’3’’ stature, looks feral. “I want to be off now.”

A rowdy group of high-schoolers sitting in the farthest booth is holding a contest to see who could drink a milkshake the fastest, and the two unlucky contestants shriek like banshees from self-inflicted brain-freeze. All three of you wince.

“We don’t get paid enough for this.”

Hal shouts from the back. “Order up! And stop slackin’ off out there!”

Wendy’s eye twitches as she marches to the back to pick up the orders. You’d have acted the same way if you didn’t have something to look forward to.

“They’re not going to tip me. I just know it,” Chris says to you, despondently looking over at the teens’ table again.

“They’ll come around. No one can resist this moneymaker.” You lightly bump him on the chin to indicate his smile. Heck, his whole chiseled face is a moneymaker, but that exuberant smile sells it all.

Over the last three months, just like your friendship with Peter, your friendship with Chris has improved. Even with Wendy. You aren’t at each other’s throats nearly as much as you used to be. Last week, she complimented your hairstyle, though it was immediately followed up with a snide comment: progress, either way.

Chris laughs. “And here I thought my friendly personality racked up all the tips.”

“It’s a bonus.”

He chuckles again, then blows out a hesitant breath. “So, Y/N…”

“So, Chris…”

“There’s, um, there’s gonna be another music festival in Cunningham Park tonight, and I was wondering if, y’know, you and Peter might want to come and hang?”

You and Peter… As if you were a pair. An item. A couple. To unsuspecting eyes, you knew you and Peter seemed to be just really good friends. Not even Hal questioned why you spent half an hour talking to him every weekday. If he had an inkling of who Peter actually was to you, he’d have confronted you by now.

Chris, on the other hand, kept a sharp eye on you when Peter was around. As meticulous as you were about keeping up pretenses in public, sometimes you’d slip. Your smile would be a tad too bright when Peter walked through the door and took his usual seat. You’d giggle at his jokes too loud. You’d stare into his eyes too long. Signs too blatant for Chris to miss.

You’re just waiting for him to put the last piece in the puzzle.

“I’d… I’d have to ask Peter.” You take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “But, yeah, I’ll go.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Sure. Sounds like it’ll be fun. What time is it?”

Chris lays a hand on your forehead. “Temp seems fine. Pupils aren’t dilated. How many fingers am I holding up?”

You swat his hand down with a laugh. “Shut up.”

“Look, I know you probably don’t want me saying this out loud, but I’m glad you met Peter. We all are.”

“Why?” Evidently, you’re not that great at hiding your feelings as you thought.

Chris leans against the bar top, keeping an eye on the door just in case customers walked in. “Well, for starters, you literally just agreed to hang out with me for the first time since you started working here, which was—what—two years ago. And… you… I don’t know. You’re more open, y’know? Smiling and such.”

“I smiled before,” you say, a little defensive.

“Not like you do now. Before, it was all—,” Chris screws his mouth up. It’s strange. Alienated and wire-tight. The corners of his lips don’t fully come up, and it barely reaches his eyes. You instantly recognize it—the smile you hid behind.

Did you really smile like that? How is it that you never noticed how off-putting it was? If a server ever smiled at you like that, you’d assume they wished you disappeared off the face of the earth. Is that the smile people saw? More importantly, when did you stop putting it on?

“Two more strawberry milkshakes over here!” shouted one of the brain-freeze victims.

Chris hops to it. Always the perfect server. On his way to make the shakes, he says, “7 p.m.”

“I’ll be there.”

You weren’t going to confirm for Peter until he was there to answer for himself, but he doesn’t show. 11:30 a.m. and the rest of your shift flies by without a sight of him, which is strange, but not uncommon. Homework might have him tied up. September is a pretty busy month for schoolwork, and mid-terms are approaching, so he might be buried in assignments.

Worry doesn’t settle in until you’re getting ready for the music festival at 6:30 p.m., and Peter still hasn’t sent so much as a voicemail.

Evening summer sunlight filters in through your open window, the active sounds of Queens’ busy streets and subway station not allowing your room to fall quiet. Nights like this are perfect for outdoor festivals because it’s warm enough to sit in the grass and not bring a jacket.

Rather than enjoy the idea of getting out for the first time in years, your mind remains hooked on Peter.

It’s not like him not to leave a text if he’s caught up in other things. He’d make sure to tell you where he is, how far away. Since the beginning of this friendship, starting with his little notes, Peter’s constant communication wasn’t something you expected. But now that you do, this behavior just doesn’t match what you’re used to.

You pace the floor of your small bedroom, back and forth, wall to wall, abusively chewing your lower lip and turning your phone around in your hand, working up the nerve to call him, summoning up the will to voice your concern if he did answer.

When you do call, you get his voicemail. Trying again, you end up with the same result. Okay. He’s not picking up his phone.

Fear foregrounds your frustration. It bleeds into your words as you leave your fifth message. One after the other, they morph from mild concern to despairing panic. As the sun dips lower and lower on the horizon and the orange sunlight dwindles, so does your desire to go out.

Because… maybe you shouldn’t go. Maybe you should search for Peter. Finding any trace of him at all would be a stretch, and Chris might be upset about you ditching your plans the next time you see him, but you can’t possibly go out knowing something may be horribly wrong with Peter.

No. No, you won’t cancel plans like that. Peter is fine. Of course, he’s fine. He’s Spider-Man. His duties as a hero come first, no matter what. And he wouldn’t want you to stress so much about him.

Wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, he is okay. He’s alive. You feel it.

Somehow, you break the trance of your pacing and convince yourself to grab a cab ride to the park. When you arrive, the festival appears to be at a content standstill. It’s not as crowded as you assumed it would be for a Saturday night. Many of the attendants, ranging from all ages, are sitting on the grass, soaking up the fading rays of the sun while the bands finish up prepping. You’re greeted by the distinctive smell of hotdog vendors intermingled with ripening leaves.

There is nothing truly scenic about Cunningham Park, aside from the interspersed trees and trails. You’d been here a handful of times when you were younger, hanging out with friends during summer break, and one thing you loved about the park back then is how the sun shone through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on nature.

You’re more appreciative of its beauty without the sun’s effect.

It wasn’t that hard finding Chris. All you had to do was look for the person most likely garnering friends from other groups. He’s on a blanket, seated in the center of the crowd and chatting with a group of three people.

When you’re close enough to be spotted, Chris’s face mouth out into a wide smile.

“You came!” Then his eyes roamed around. “Where’s Peter?”

You try for a carefree grin but let it fall when the effort became too much. “He couldn’t make it. School stuff.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine.” His smile drops fractionally, less joyful and more sympathetic. “I’m really glad you made it. Hey, guys. This is Y/N, my friend from work.”

You wave a little and hope for a genuine smile to grace your lips as they all scoot to make room for you on the blanket.

Chris introduces them all. He points to a buff, curly-haired guy named Dez, who you wouldn’t have guessed would be the type of guy to enjoy small park festivals. He looks like the kind of person who regularly crowd-surfs at huge concerts and somehow always winds up with a VIP pass. The next person is a slender girl named Asha, who has thick black hair knotted into a messy soccer bun and a glowing smile. 

The last person Chris introduces you to is his Soulmate. You knew just by the way he said his name. Resounding. Reverent. Borderline fanatic. His name is Quint, and unlike the others, he wraps you up in a surprising hug. What’s even more surprising is you hugging back.

“Nice to finally meet you.” His voice is richly robust, exactly how you would expect someone with his Adonis-like face to sound. Two gorgeous, outgoing Soulmates just seems unfair.

“Nice to meet you, too.” You can’t help looking from Quint’s face to Chris’s, then back again, and wondering if this is what people see when they see you and Peter—a perfect match. “Chris has told me a lot about you. All great things.”

“He better,” Quint says, jokingly gazing at Chris as a blush flared across Chris’s cheeks. “And he’s told me a lot about you and Peter.”

There it goes again: people pairing you two. It’s hard not to notice how natural that sounds, as though you two were meant to be spoken about as an inseparable whole.

You brush off your startled expression as best you can and ask, “Good things, right?”

He nods, then shares a smile with Chris. “I would’ve liked to meet him.” You roughly translate that to mean, ‘I would’ve liked to meet you both.’ The blush on Chris’s face deepens into an embarrassingly bright shade of red when he catches your eye.

A plucked, low-pitched guitar string echoes out to the crowd and effectively commences the start of the music festival. You must’ve missed the band's introduction because they got right into their music, playing a melancholic pop song that sounded pretty good. You were more interested in the guitar riffs and melodic piano notes than the lyrics, but they’re no doubt about love.

Halfway into their set, your stomach growls, and you remember that you didn’t have anything to eat since you got off work. The whole thing with Peter staved off your hunger. He’s still in the front of your mind, but you’re doing your best to enjoy the night with Chris and his friends.

Standing up, you tell Chris, “I’m gonna get a hotdog.”

He tilts his chin up in acknowledgment, then goes back to swaying his head to the music.

You got up just in time to beat the line. There are only two vendors in the park, and they’d be slammed once the music hits its intermission. The one you’re at resides near the outskirts of the crowd, closest to where you left the group, and two people are in front of you.

You wish Peter were here.

Your hand touches the outline of your phone in your back pocket while you wrestle with the idea of calling him again. Maybe he’ll pick up this time.

You’re just about to unlock your phone when you hear someone calling your name—a girl.

The voice gets closer and more breathless, like they’re running at you full speed ahead and couldn’t reach you fast enough. You turn to the sound just as the body slams into you, yanking you out of line and clutching you to their frame.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You pull away and stare straight into her face, not trusting your own eyes. “Manda?"

...

Taglist: @alexandria-euphoria​

[nottooldforthisship]

Here’s the fics I read (and like) during this summer! As you can see, it’s a 2 months in one fic rec, so a very long post :)

(friendly reminder I read almost only Explicit or Mature fics)

☾  The Hollow Moon,  by  thepsychicclam   : It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all. After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people. (180k, E)

☾   Here's My Hand if You'll Take It (I Can Be That Part of You),  by Vendelin : When Stiles is away at college, he realises that he’s in love with Derek. He also realises that he doesn’t exactly have the qualities an alpha needs in a mate. Boyfriend. Whatever. So he decides to change, with a little help from Martha Stewart. It’s just that Stiles isn’t all that great when it comes to tending to the betas, baking or cleaning. But maybe he doesn’t have to be. (10k, E)

☾  Golden Boy,  by    trilliath  :    Apparently it still amuses his uncle to buy sex slaves for him, no matter how steadfastly he refuses to use them. Derek ducks into his tent with a resigned sigh, prepared to dress and reassign whatever new beauty Peter has bought him. They do make for loyal servants, so he can't really complain about Peter's 'gifts'. But it is annoying to deal with, to have to spend his evening sorting out a slave instead of being able to go right to bed. It's just something he has to learn to accept as a byproduct of serving alongside his uncle.But when he lays eyes on the boy laying amid his furs, he finds his breath catching in his throat. His skin is golden with the candle-light glimmering against the sheen of oil that has been slathered on his bared body. His lips are parted, and they work over inaudible words or sounds. His skin is flushed, nipples peaked and pierced with simple but unexpected golden rings. He's spectacularly beautiful in the candlelight. The many glowing candles that have been added to his usual lighting cast glittering edges and shadows, imbuing an almost unearthly golden color to his skin. It's enough that Derek hesitates. (127k, E)

☾   between the click of the light and the start of the dream , by thepsychicclam :  It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great. (105k, E)

☾  Now Until the End , by Dira Sudis (dsudis): Why the hell did you do that?" Derek demanded. "Why would you bond with me? You were going to leave me for dead, you didn't want anything to do with helping me."  "Okay, first of all, that was like two hours ago and I've grown a lot as a person since then," Stiles said. (17k, M)

☾  You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you), by standinginanicedress : Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb.Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn't even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record. The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man...it was great. Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin' Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again. Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him. (39k, E)

☾  One Dollar Yoda,  by  exclamation: Stiles is an unbonded spark, so he's been dealing with courting alphas since he was ten. It's gotten a lot worse since he turned sixteen. Some are assholes, some are nice, but Stiles hasn't wanted to spend the rest of his life bound to any of them. When Derek Hale shows up at his school, Stiles expects him to be just another asshole alpha attempting to buy him with expensive gifts. But Derek Hale puts no effort whatsoever into his courtship gifts. Stiles ought to be offended but instead he finds it refreshing. (10k, M)

☾  By Any Other Name  , by  entangledno: He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it. (33k, E)       

☾  love, the kind you clean up with a mop and bucket , by thatworldinverted:  “There’s no way you, of all people, could keep your hands off your dick for six days, let alone six weeks.”Six weeks is a long time to go without an orgasm, but when Derek challenges Stiles, all bets are off. (5k, E)   

☾  The Sweetest of Words (Have the Bitterest Taste) , by   Omni  : (Or: Five or so years after the show.  Stiles is in college, and finds himself getting stalked by a succubus.  Derek's determined that the best way to thwart her is to prove that he and Stiles are madly in love.  It's not really as much of an act as either seems to think.) (10k, E)

☾  Fight Fires In Your Best Clothes      by  standinginanicedress : The key isn’t actually being confident, he repeats in his head in Lydia’s breathy voice. It’s faking the hell out of it and looking as sexy as possible while you do it. For omegas, it’s easy. There’s a natural charm to all of us that only takes seconds to engage, and barely takes practice.Walk into the room, he chants in his head. Own it, and look people in the eyes. Find the best looking alpha, have them buy you a drink, and the rest is easy. (67k, E)

☾  Past The Breakers  , by  thepsychicclam  : Stiles and Scott get summer jobs at the exclusive Seawolf Beach Resort, and the last thing Stiles expects is to start taking surf lessons from the hot lifeguard. (40k, E)

☾  The Newlywed Game  , by  Captain_Loki : Stiles is (still) single when the pack's getaway to the Caribbean comes by (oh misplaced optimism); lucky for him Derek is committed to being uncommitted and even after all these years is still powerless against Stiles' unique forms of persuasion. Cue a romantic getaway for two: sun, sand, and sarcasm abound...and the two roped into competing in the Resort's version of the Newlywed game. Only it's completely obvious it's going to end in disaster. Probably homicide.Most probably homicide. Plot twist: It doesn't. (20k, M)

☾  The Start of Our Forever,  by  Cobrilee :    Stiles is ready to get out of Beacon Hills and start his new life, free of the supernatural. A random discovery in an antique store in Denver proves you can never leave it all behind... and encourages him to find it again. What ensues is four and a half years of pining, self-discovery, personal growth, a whole hell of a lot of love, and a realization that nightmares can still become fairy tales (happily-ever-afters included). (20k, E)

☾  Wild Horses  , by   thepsychicclam : Derek's a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family's failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn't expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff's shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn't expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast. (78k, E)

☾  Mǣnōn  , by  MyBeth :    Knotting. It’s a thing that exists. Like werewolves and weird lizard creatures. It’s just rated NC-17 so you don’t hear about it so much on TV. It exists and he gets it. Stiles. He’s the one that gets it. (9k, E)

☾  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. (42k, M)

☾  If I go, I'm goin' crazy , by  Gorgeousgreymatter   : They've come a long way from wall-slamming and punches. (5k, M)

☾  the difference between going back and going home,  by  thepsychicclam : Stiles and Derek were inseparable growing up, but then college, jobs, and life happened. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills a decade later, he doesn't expect to reconnect with Derek, and he sure doesn't expect to fall in love with him. (34k, M)

☾  the one with the accidental dick pic,   by  officerstilinskihale :  Derek has just disappeared out the window when Stiles pulls out his phone, takes a photo of the bottle of lotion on his bedside drawer and sends it to Derek, with the words, "may or may not be thinking about you right now".He hears a thud just across the tree line outside his house and snickers. (8k, M)

☾  Navigating This Space Between Us  , by  Omni: Derek gets forced to watch some sci-fi show about a surly, secret prince and the sarcastic young spaceship captain hired to aid him on his quest.  Strangely enough, he finds himself hooked on it.  So much so that he's even drawn into the fandom.  There he meets a popular fanfic author with an oddly endearing attitude, and he gets rather smitten.  Maybe this mystery guy could actually help get him to stop pining for Stiles... (10k, E)

☾  A Garden Is a Lovesome Thing, by   fauvistfly    : After the chaos has died down, Stiles attempts to find normalcy in his life. Somehow, helping Derek bring a garden back to life becomes part of that normalcy. Through the seasons, they fight, laugh, talk, eat, breathe.In the end, they find that what comes to life is more than just a garden. (28k, E)

☾   Traces ,  by  standinginanicedress  : Derek snaps his fingers and glares into Stiles' eyes. “You say you're not the same, but – there you fucking go, acting just like yourself.” Stiles bristles. “Oh, right. Because you know me so fucking well, don't you?” “Better than you seem to think,” he mutters under his breath in response, and Stiles gets even more incensed. “Pushing me up against walls, shoving my head into steering wheels,” he shrugs his shoulders, glares, “some real heart to hearts we've had!” “Holding me up in eight feet of water when I was paralyzed, nearly cutting my arm off for me to save my life. Doesn't seem so fucking shallow to me, Stiles.” (44k, E)

☾  The Electric House of God, Forever,  by   velveteenshadowboxer :   The sheriff clears his throat. “You can tell me, you know. If he’s pressuring you. If he’s pushing you too far.” He hesitates. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?” he asks quietly.Listening closely, Derek can just imagine Stiles’ amused smile, the way his mouth might quiver as he holds back a laugh. “No, Dad. He’s afraid of me.” (8k, E)  

☾  Safe in My Heart,  by   thecheekydragon  :  He remembers some details of his life quite vividly.  Stiles remembers his dad, Scott, Scott’s mom.  He knows he’s a junior at Beacon Hills High School and that his dad is the sheriff of the town, has been the sheriff for over seven years now.  He remembers having a pet guinea pig called ‘Bacon’ when he was six, and that he got suspended when he was in middle school when he threw a punch at a classmate who was bullying Scott.  He knows Scott is his best friend and that they have been best friends since the first grade.  He remembers that his mom died when he was eight and that both he and his dad had taken her death pretty hard.He doesn’t remember the man called Derek. (15k, M)

☾   How Is Your Heart? , by Sylvesterelle   :  Or: the AU where Derek goes feral after Laura's death and only the power of ~true love~ can bring him back.  (15k, E)

☾   Every Little Thing He Does is Magic , by   wishingonalightningbolt    : It’s not uncommon for someone with supernatural abilities to have a normal job.  There are only so many ways for people to abuse their powers, to start their own businesses and broadcast the things that make them special, and Stiles figures that if any type of thing would make a good Deputy, it would be a werewolf.  Still, it shocks him to see one in uniform, sitting across from his father. The Sheriff clears his throat.  “Stiles, this is Derek Hale, our new Deputy.”  (10k, E)

☾   If I Could Trade Mistakes For Sheep, Count Me Away Before You Sleep , by alisaj : The one where Derek is a terrible Alpha and Stiles ends up walking into a big pile of shit. (33k, E)

☾    Darling It Is No Joke , by   thehoyden   : The first thing Stiles thinks when he opens the door is that it’s not his birthday, but someone has sent him some kind of cop stripper. (13k, E)