#or because the yarn is kinda packed in on this one haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

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Her Matching Pair of Socks - George Weasley

Title: Her Matching Pair of Socks Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader (ish, not really) Summary: George will always protect Y/N, even if it means confronting his true feelings . A/N: for the anon who wanted George being overprotective of the reader who was being teased!! The house of the reader is unspecified b/c it truly doesn’t matter but I pictured her as a Hufflepuff as I wrote, please do with that what you will haha. Feedback is always welcome!!! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley

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“George? George?” Y/N asks, waving her hand in front of his face. She giggles as his eyes seem to refocus on the world and he smiles at her. “Were you listening to anything I just said?”

George nods as he searches his brain, trying to see if any part of it retained any of the things Y/N had been talking about just a second ago while he’d been daydreaming. Y/N is magnetic. She has warm eyes, a kind smile and the biggest heart George has ever seen. She draws people in with one look, and once she’s captured them they have no chance of getting away; not that they’d want to. Unfortunately for George this means he rarely gets a moment alone with her, which is something he so desperately craves. Y/N has been the star of George’s thoughts since the first moment they met when she had quite literally saved his ass.

He and Fred had just pulled a prank on a few Slytherins and were running away from Snape. They had split up at some point, and as George ran away he could hear Snape gaining on him. George was sure he was about to be caught when a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him into an empty classroom. Y/N had simply placed her finger over her mouth and winked at him, and as soon as Snape ran by their hiding spot she’d burst out in a fit of giggles. George had never heard anything so beautiful, and he sat there with her for hours, sometimes talking, but mostly just watching her knit. Y/N is sunshine encapsulated, and George could have sat there for days, basking in her rays of light and warmth.

Fred had found him eventually and dragged him back to the Gryffindor common room, and George worried that he’d never see her again. But the next morning at breakfast the hat she had been knitting was sitting in his usual spot waiting for him, and when his eyes met hers across the Hall she winked. From that moment on George has been caught in Y/N’s magnetic field, constantly swirling around her but never quite connecting the way he wants.

“Were you? Then what did I say?” she questions with a grin, one of her eyebrows raising.

George’s heart melts and he leans in closer to her, resting his chin on his hand. “I’m sorry, love. I wasn’t giving you the attention you deserve. Tell me again.”

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully and puts her knitting needles down so she can ruffle George’s hair. “That’s okay, Georgie. It wasn’t that important anyway. What’s on your mind?”

“Just this Transfiguration assignment,” he lies. George isn’t quite sure why he hasn’t shared his true feelings with Y/N, and it’s not as if he hasn’t tried either. There have been quite a few times when his confession was resting on the tip of his tongue, but each time someone ended up being drawn to Y/N and stole her attention away. “McGonagall’s really giving it to us this term.”

“Maybe your assignments would be easier to handle if you didn’t wait until the last minute to do them?” Y/N suggests with a wink.

George’s heart flutters in his chest and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself down. “Ah yes, but if I didn’t leave my homework until the day before it was due then who would sit here with you and keep you company while everyone else is outside soaking up the last of the weekend?” George is sure that anyone Y/N asked for companionship would drop everything to sit with her, and he feels honored that she always chooses him.

“Now how can I argue with that?” she teases, picking her needles up once again.

Watching Y/N knit is one of George’s favorite pastimes. She’s tried to teach him a few times, but he always ends up just creating a big knot of yarn and using the needles as drumsticks. The way her fingers move mesmerizes George to no end and he loves watching whatever she’s making start to take form before his eyes. More often than not whatever she’s making somehow always ends up in George’s possession, not that he’s complaining. So far this school year he’s added two new jumpers, three hats, a scarf and half a dozen pairs of socks to his wardrobe. Every item radiates the same warmth Y/N does, and on days where he can’t have her to himself he puts something on and when he closes his eyes it’s as if she’s right there with him.

“Whatcha makin?” George asks, completely abandoning any attempt at finishing his homework. McGonagall will probably be shocked that he did any of it at all, and he doesn’t want to put her into an early grave by actually finishing it.

“A sweater,” she responds sweetly, not looking up from her work. “And before you ask, no it’s not for you,” she chuckles and gestures towards the skein of yarn she’s using. “Though you may recognize the yarn.”

The yarn Y/N is using is a soft lilac color with glitter interwoven throughout the soft strands and George recognizes it because he’s the one who bought it. He and Fred had ventured into Diagon Alley a few days before Christmas to check out the space they were thinking about opening their joke shop in, and the yarn had caught George’s attention from a window display. He spent quite a bit of money buying every skein the store had, but it was all worth it to him. Lilac is Y/N’s favorite color, and George would do just about anything to see her smile. He gave it to her on the first day back from break a few weeks ago, and he can practically still feel how tightly she had hugged him.

“Does look kinda familiar, I bet a world class bloke gave that to you,” he jokes. Y/N laughs, and it makes George’s stomach feel queasy.

“Best bloke I know anyway,” she compliments with a wink.

George can feel his cheeks heating up, and he’s thankful for the distraction when students start to pour into the Great Hall for dinner. He sighs heavily and starts to pack his homework up, disappointed that his time with Y/N is already coming to an end. “See you in class tomorrow?”

Y/N nods as she stands up, gathering her latest project into her arms. “Most definitely, Georgie.” She leans over and boops him on the nose, before turning away and heading towards her house table.

“Hello lover boy,” Fred greets suddenly.

George jumps, having been too focused on Y/N to notice his brother’s sudden presence. He glares at Fred as he plops into the seat next to George, and he smacks him on the chest. “Screw off.” Suddenly the tables in the Great Hall fill with everything needed for dinner, and George starts piling his plate with food. “You get everything we need?”

Fred nods as he does the same as his brother. “Oh yeah. We’ve got enough Chinese gun powder to level all of England. It’ll be delivered to the store next weekend. We can apperate to Diagon Alley from Hogsmeade to meet the delivery person.”

“Wicked,” George responds, a glint of mischief in his eye. Fred had used the secret passageway into Honeydukes basement to meet a guy who deals with explosives at the Hogshead Inn. They’re starting to put their plans together for their joke shop, and the first step has been to find decent suppliers so they can start producing some stock. “You take care of the other stuff I asked?”

Fred rolls his eyes and hands George a bag from Honeydukes. “Yes, you big softie. I got everything on the list, don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, prat.” George takes the bag from Fred and peers inside to make sure he actually did pick up everything George requested. Y/N’s sweet tooth is one of George’s favorite things about her and he’s always sure to have a stash of her favorites on hand at all times. “Where’s my change?”

Fred grins and pats his pocket. “Consider it my fee so you could spend the day staring at Y/N inside the warm castle, while I tread through a dark underground tunnel.”

“Whatever, drama queen,” George huffs with an eyeroll. He puts the bag down and starts to eat, turning his attention to Y/N. She’s sitting with her friends talking happily, and George can feel his heart rate increase as a smile spreads across his face. But just as quickly as it appears it vanishes, when Adrian Pucey comes up behind Y/N and taps her on the shoulder. He watches her nod as they talk, and when Adrian walks away he looks way too smug with himself.

“That didn’t look good,” Fred comments, nudging George with his elbow.

George shrugs, trying to seem like his stomach isn’t churning with dread. “You know how Y/N is. People like talking to her. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“What did Adrian want yesterday?” George asks Y/N the following evening, trying to sound casual. They’re sitting in the library working on a Potions assignment, and it seems like there has been a never ending stream of people approaching them to speak with Y/N. He’s been dying to ask her about Adrian, but he wanted to wait until they were alone.

Y/N bites her lip as she looks up at George. “He asked me on a date, actually. To Hogsmeade next weekend.”

“Oh,” George says softly. His stomach has dropped into the floor and it feels like he was punched in the chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him that I would think about it.” Y/N gives George a look and there’s an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you think I should say yes?”

The tips of George’s ears feel like they’re on fire, and he has to put his quill down so he can wipe his sweaty palms off on his school trousers. What he wants to say is no, that she should go with him to Hogsmeade instead, and then lean forward and kiss her. But instead he shrugs and says, “If you want to, I guess.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N responds quietly, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. “Thanks, I guess.”

George refocuses his attention on his homework for once, hoping that the sound of his heart pounding in his chest isn’t audible.

The next day by lunch time word has gotten to George that Y/N agreed to go on a date with Adrian. It makes his chest feel hollow, and he avoids her gaze at all costs. He avoids her in the hallways and when she asks to study with him in the library George brushes her off, claiming that he already has plans with Fred. He can tell that she’s upset, and it breaks George’s heart as he walks away.

He’s never been jealous over Y/N before. Even though he craves her presence and would give anything to spend every moment of every day with her, George has never minded sharing her with others. He’s spent countless hours with Y/N where they never even speak because her attention is captured by other people. Whether it’s people catching her in a casual conversation, or someone who takes a seat with them for a deeper interaction. George has always been content to just sit there and watch her face light up as she talks about whatever topic is at hand. Even if he’s not around Y/N, he loves to watch her from across the room as she talks to people. He finds everything she does absolutely adorable, and Fred often teases him for how hard he swoons.

But the thought of Y/N being alone with Adrian fills his chest with so much jealousy it feels like he’s drowning in it. He knows he has no right to be jealous, he’s never shared his romantic feelings with Y/N, and she isn’t his girlfriend or even a girl he’s casually dated. She’d even asked his opinion on whether she should accept. And instead of doing the smart thing and just telling her how he feels, he’d basically brushed her off.

As much as George wants to avoid Y/N, he’s still stuck in her orbit, so on Wednesday afternoon during break he parts ways with Fred and heads over to Y/N. “Got room for one more?” he asks, grinning down at her. Y/N moves over but doesn’t say anything. George frowns as he sits down. “What’s got you down, clown?”

Y/N cracks the faintest smile before she lets it fall from her features. “Just wasn’t sure you were talking to me is all. You haven’t been around lately.”

“I’m around now,” George points out, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ve just been a bit busy with Fred is all. You’re still my number one girl.” George’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest as he raises up one of his pantlegs. “I wouldn’t be rockin’ these bad boys if you weren’t.”

Y/N giggles as she looks at George’s sock, shoving him playfully. It’s neon pink and is truly the most offensive piece of clothing she’s ever seen. The yarn had been left over from a Christmas present she made for a young cousin a few years ago, and Y/N needed to use it up somehow. She originally planned on leaving them in her sock drawer for a few months before donating them to a charity, but the second George saw them he nabbed them from her, and he’s worn them quite a few times sense.

“They look wonderful, Georgie. Though I think it’s best you keep them hidden, they clash terribly with your Gryffindor tie and your fiery hair.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on a strand of George’s hair and he can feel his blood pressure spike.

“Well in that case.” George leans down and rolls up the cuff of both his pant legs, so a few inches of the socks are visible. “How do I look?”

“Ravishing,” Y/N says with a laugh.

It’s the most beautiful sound George has ever heard, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “Bet you wished you kept these for yourself now, don’t ya?”

Before Y/N can respond, one of her other friends swoops in to talk to her about her upcoming date with Adrian, and George sneaks away to avoid the heart break.

“Are you excited for your date?” Y/N’s friend Emily asks as they head towards the entrance to the castle.

Y/N nods happily, letting her eyes scan the crowd of people heading out of the castle. She gets her hopes up when she spots a shock of ginger hair bobbing above the crowd, but they evaporate when the person turns around and it turns out to be Fred. Y/N hasn’t seen George in three days, and his absence has been driving her crazy. She’s friendly with everyone but only has a few true friends, and she considers George to be one of them. She would even consider George to be her best friend, and it feels weird to not have spoken to him in a few days.

“What are you guys going to do?” Emily asks, pulling Y/N’s attention back to the present.

“Just have some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, hang out, talk. Nothing too super crazy. I don’t really know Adrian that well, so I think it’ll give us a nice chance to get to know each other.”

Y/N had agreed to meet Adrian there, so when her and Emily reach Hogsmeade a few minutes later, she parts from her with a wave and heads right into the pub. She grabs a drink at the bar before settling in at a table in the back corner. When Adrian is 5 minutes late Y/N brushes it off, figuring that he got caught up leaving the castle or lost track of time. When he’s 30 minutes late, Y/N has already ordered another drink, figuring that he’ll be there any minute. And when he doesn’t show up after an hour Y/N decides to throw the towel in and head back to the castle.

Y/N feels emotionally drained as she makes her way back up towards Hogwarts, and she blinks back a few tears. Even though she’s not particularly interested in Adrian romantically, it had felt nice to be asked out and she truly was looking forward to getting to know him more. She always gives anyone who wants it a piece of her day, and Adrian not showing up make her feel as if she’s been taken advantage of. Her plan is to try and forget this ever happened until dinner that evening.

Y/N turns around when she feels something hit her in the back of the head, and when she turns around she can see Adrian, Marcus Flint and Theodore Knott laughing amongst themselves. There’s a piece of balled up parchment on the ground, and Y/N tries to ignore their stares as she leans down to pick it up.

How was the butterbeer? Lonely?

Y/N’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and she quickly turns back into her seat, shoving the piece of parchment into her pocket. She forces her tears away as she tries to get back into the conversation going on around her, unable to stop herself from searching George out in the crowd.

For the next week it seems everywhere she goes Adrian, Marcus and Theo are following a few paces behind. They never directly talk to her, but they talk about her loud enough for her to hear.

“Can’t believe she actually thought I wanted to go out with her!”

“How pathetic. I can’t believe it took her over an hour to realize you weren’t going to show up! What a moron.”

“She’s such a weirdo, no wonder she has no actual friends.”

It doesn’t help that George seems to be avoiding her as well. He doesn’t pass her stupid little notes in class anymore and when their eyes lock across the Great Hall he immediately looks away instead of giving her a cheeky grin. Every time she tries to ask him to come sit with her in the library he turns the other way in the hall before she catches him, and when she catches a peak of him and Fred outside pelting snowballs at Ron, he’s wearing his Gryffindor beanie, instead of one of her knit caps.

She misses George like crazy. He’s one of the only people who doesn’t want something from her. Most people only spend time with Y/N when they need to vent or ask her a question. George is the only person who is content with just sitting there with her in silence while they do their homework, or she knits. She could sit in silence with George for hours and just exist, so having him gone while also being tormented by Adrian and his gang has left Y/N with a deep ache in her chest and a pit of loneliness in her stomach.

Avoiding Y/N has to be the hardest thing George has ever done, and he once spent a week with his Great Aunt Tessie when he was 8. He craves her presence, but the thought of hearing about Adrian endlessly makes his stomach churn. Watching Y/N’s face fall every time he dodged her absolutely broke George’s heart, but he can’t stand to see someone else make her happy.

“You think she’s going to cry?”

George grimaces when he’s brought from his thoughts of Y/N and notices that Adrian and his goons are a few feet in front of him. Most of the school is in the Great Hall having dinner, but George didn’t feel like eating. Y/N had spent most of Transfiguration trying to get George’s attention, and ignoring her has left his stomach queasy.

“Reckon she might with how soft she is. Bet she’s cried herself to sleep every night this week.”

He has no idea who they’re talking about and he figures they’re tormenting some first year who is walking ahead of them. George is a little too far behind them to see who it is, but he decides to follow them anyway, in case he needs to intervene.

“What a stupid girl.”

Adrian’s words cut George deep. How could Y/N be interested in someone like him? George clenches his fist and starts to walk faster to catch up with them. He’s been wanting to smack Adrian and his smug face since the day he asked Y/N out, and this seems like a perfect excuse.

“Will you leave me alone!” Y/N shouts, and George’s blood runs cold. Her voice is shaky, and George knows that if she’s not already crying she will be soon.

Adrian, Marcus and Theodore stop in their tracks and cackle, and the sound makes George even angrier.

“Aw, poor pathetic Y/N has finally managed to stand up for herself. How cute,” Adrian taunts.

Y/N sniffles, and George can feel anger swell up in his chest. “Standing me up wasn’t enough for you, was it? Now you have to torment me about it too? Is that why you asked me out? So you could be mean to me?”

“Why else would someone ask you out? You’re not worth anyone’s time.”

George reaches them then, and he grips is wand tightly in one hand while the other grips the collar of Adrian’s shirt. He pulls him back sharply, causing Marcus and Theodore to take a few steps back as well. George takes one look at Y/N’s tear stained face and lets the anger in his chest consume him completely. “Leave her the fuck alone,” he spits, turning to face Adrian.

“Shove off, Weasley. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something,” Adrian seethes, squaring up against George.

“Not anymore you prick.” George can hear Y/N crying, and he moves slightly to shield her behind his back. “Now get lost before I make you.” Adrian takes a step forward and George raises his wand, pressing the tip of it to Adrian’s throat. “Unless you want to end up in the Hospital Wing for the next three weeks I suggest you move along.” George’s jaw is clenched, and his voice is deep and dark. George doesn’t move until they disappear down the hall. Only then does he drop his wand and turn around to hug Y/N.

Y/N presses her face into George’s chest and lets out a few more tears. “Thank you, George,” she mumbles.

“Of course, love. I will always be there for you, you know that.” George squeezes her tighter and resists his urge to kiss the top of her head. Instead he rests his chin there, and his eyes flutter closed as he soaks in her warmth. “How long have they been bothering you?” George asks quietly when he starts to feel like himself again.

“Since last Saturday, after Adrian stood me up.” Y/N pulls away from George’s chest so she can look up at him. “How come you’ve been ignoring me, Georgie? I’ve missed you so much.”

George’s heart breaks, and he brings a hand up to wipe away the last few tears from her cheeks. “I’ve missed you too, Y/N. I was being an idiot, like usual.” He takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. “I’ve liked you Y/N, for as long as I’ve known you. And after Adrian asked you out I got so unbelievably jealous that I couldn’t be around you, I couldn’t hear you talk about your date with him and how excited you were because just the thought of him being alone with you made me want to throw up.”

Y/N bites her lip as she considers what to say next. “You’d do anything for me George, right?”

“Of course, Y/N. Anything,” George confirms, cupping her cheek gently.

“Kiss me,” she breathes.

George hesitates for a second before he leans down and presses their mouths together softly. Their lips move together slowly, and George can feel his head spinning. His knees shake when they pull apart, and when George looks into Y/N’s eyes they shine brighter than the sun.

“Nice sweater,” George compliments as Y/N joins him in that Great Hall that Sunday. She giggles and does a little twirl for him and George feels like he’s soaring through the air.

“Thank you, my boyfriend gave me the yarn I used to make it.” Y/N leans over the table to press a kiss to George’s cheek before taking the seat across from him. She digs around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a pair of socks, knit from the same lilac material as her sweater.

“For me?” George asks, giving her a bright smile. He takes them from her excitedly and kicks off his shoes so he can pull them on.

Y/N laughs as George bring one of his feet up to show off the lilac sock, letting the glitter in the yarn shine. “Of course. What’s a sweater without a pair of matching socks?”

George leans over and kisses Y/N gently. “I’m always down to be your matching pair of socks.”

#George weasley #George Wesley imagine #gw #golden

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madness-of-void · 7 years

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The Luna

Also on AO3

Theme: Pack Mom Stiles (with a twist)

Oh! And check out this link! You’ll find out why ;3

Stiles has no idea when or why he was dubbed the Pack Mom.

In fact, he had no idea he was dubbed Pack Mom.

Didn't start realizing it till until his birthday.

And it all started with Jackson.

Jackson gave him a mug that said World's Best Mom. At first, he thought it was just Jackson being Jackson. Because, well, even after finally accepting the fact that he was part of a pack (which was before Scott's acceptation), Jackson was still a massive douche. Barely calmed down at all.

After Stiles put down the mug, rolling his eyes, he opened his gift from Erica.

Which was an apron. An apron obviously designed in a fifties rockabilly fashion with a pink and white polka dot tie, pocket, neck strap, and bottom trimming. The rest of it was an elegant yellow, adorned with different colored cupcakes. Erica was smirking as he gaped at it in stunned silence. Everyone else, with the exception of Derek (who was just as stunned as Stiles), was laughing hysterically. He didn't understand why he was given such a frilly apron, but hah! Joke's on Erica! He liked it and was going to wear the shit out of this apron when he cooked and baked for the pack!

(No, really. He loved it. A lot.)

On his third gift, a necklace with a bear charm that had Mama etched into it...Stiles finally got the joke.

“Oh, haha. Very funny guys. Just because I like to make sure you losers eat healthy, and are patched up from your scuffles, doesn't mean I'm your mother.”

“Right. He is not our mother.” Lydia said haughtily

For a split second, Stiles was in love with her all over again. Until...

“He would have to be married to Derek for him to be our mother.”

Aaaaaand instant hatred. For the lot of them.

Except for Derek, who looked equally displeased with all of this.

Gift after gift...they were all themed in some way that he was the Pack Mom. Even Scott, even Allison, gave him mom themed gifts. It was growing pretty disheartening. He was losing his birthday cheer, looking gloomier and gloomier with each gift.

Then came Derek's.

It was a large as hell box. Could fit a litter of puppies plus the mother if needed. Which, with how he was feeling, a litter of puppies would be amazing right about now.

Instead, there was a brand new Mets cap, a new glove, a black duffle bag with sewn on Mets patches, an array of jerseys, and...and...

“Are these tickets to a Mets game?! At the actual stadium?!”

Derek ducked his head, sucking on his cheek and poorly hiding the red tints rising on his ears. “You said that you wanted to go. I could...I could sell them if you don't want them...”

“Are you kidding?! No way! Mine! No take backs! No take backs on anything you gave me!”

Stiles didn't miss the tension leaving the alpha's shoulders. Nor the fond grin that emerged.

Nothing after that could kill his mood. And fortunately, Derek must've set a trend, because there were no more mom themed gifts.

Kira got him a wolf hat that flowed into a scarf, or something of the like, that had wolf paws where he could but his hands in. And a fox beanie that she knitted herself!

His dad got him a whole bundle of yarn for his crime board, and markers to go with them.

Melissa got him a new plaid shirt with a massive black pawprint on the back that had his last name on it. (She insisted it wasn't a fortune to have it custom made, but Stiles didn't buy it for a moment and vowed to buy her a nice dinner when he could.)

Argent got him a Batman shirt. And a lot of cash. Like...a lot.

Then, it was discovered that everyone else had actually got him real gifts. The whole mom theme was just a joke based on how much Stiles really did behaved like a mom friend.

“Excuse you! I am not the mom friend!”

“You kinda are, dude...” Scott said with what could only be described as a cringe face.

“Am not!”

“Stiles...you really are.” Boyd sighed. “You take care of everyone. Not just your dad.”

“You soccer mommed me the other day.” Isaac pointed out. “You do that a lot, actually. More than Allison.”

“And I already do that a lot.” echoed Allison, shrugging.

“What? You don't like being our mom?” pouted Erica.

Stiles flushed, realizing that, yeah, maybe he was the mom friend. But that didn't mean anyone could torture him with that fact!

“Anyone that calls me mom again is...is grounded!” he huffed, nearly slamming down the Catwoman plush Erica got him. “And I hope you guys give all these mom themed gifts to the actual mom in this room! Except for the apron. That I'm keeping. And, just so you know, you have all been demoted, and Derek is officially my favorite person. Kira is still my second fave. No demotion for her.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” his dad huffed in an eerily same way as his son. “I'm the one that suggested to Derek to get you Mets crap! Which, good on those tickets, Derek. That's been something he's wanted to do since he was five.”

Stiles looked over at Derek, who was bright red at this point, and cooed.

“Awwww! You asked my dad what to get me? You really do care!”

“Of course daddy cares...” grumbled Jackson with an eye roll.

Immediately, the entire room filled with disapproving shouts and gagging sounds. Lydia had to explain about the whole daddy kink fad, which was what Jackson deserved. Be scarred forever, Whittemore!

The party started to go by without incident. No more mom jokes, at least...

(Okay, that's a lie. Erica made one when Stiles decided to wear the apron as he made dinner.)

As the night wore on, everyone tried to weasel Stiles into giving them the second Mets ticket. Everyone but his father, Melissa, Argent, Kira, Allison, Lydia, and Derek.

His father declined, saying that he had seen enough Mets games in his lifetime. Melissa, Argent, Lydia, and Allison all informed Stiles that they weren't interested in baseball. Kira, although she liked baseball, wasn't a Mets fan, so she wouldn't be able to share his joy as much as she thought was deserved. Derek just kept to himself like always, only really lingering around Stiles when he was asked to help out with something.

Everyone else, however, tried to be all sweet to him. Tried to win him over.

For a time.

“C'mon, mom. You love me more than my other siblings.” Erica teased, arm wrapped around him.

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Okay...you know what? Why do I have to be the mom? Why can't you guys have two Pack Dads? What's so wrong with that? And no. You are not coming with me, Erica. Boyd would die of a lonely, broken heart.”

“So...you want to be Pack Dad with Derek?” mused Lydia, this glint of knowing in her stare. “I like the sound of that.”

“I don't like the tone of your voice...”

“Why don't you take Derek to the game? Bond over the love of the game and your children.”

“You're not our children.” finally grunted Derek, ears bright red.

“Some of us kinda are. You did turn us.” Isaac said matter-of-factly.

“Then you're all terrible children.”

“Is this a werewolf thing?” asked the sheriff. “Because this whole Pack Mom, Pack Dad, Pack Dads talk is really, really weird.”

“I think it's just a them thing.” Argent replied with a sigh.

“It's no one's thing!” snapped Stiles. “I get it. I am a mom friend. I fuss over you idiots like I do with my dad. I try to take care of you and patch you up. But why do I have to be called the Pack Mom? Why can't I be Pack Dad? Or just Stiles? Can this not be a joke? Can we just...drop it? Please?”

That was the end of the Pack Mom jokes. The Pack Dad jokes.

At least for a while.

It was pack night a few weeks later when they made a reappearance.

Stiles was in Derek's kitchen, baking treats for the marathon of movies they were going to have. Derek was beside him, helping out and (surprisingly) making small talk. They mostly talked about the upcoming Mets games, since Stiles actually did decide to take Derek. They were cheerful, something rare for the alpha to show freely, and were enjoying each others company.

And then came the pack.

Scott arrived first, brows furrowed in confusion as he saw the interaction between his best friend and alpha. Kira followed closely behind, except she looked more excited than confused. Everyone else that filed in either gave Stiles and Derek weird looks (because apparently Derek smiling and laughing freely was considered unthinkable), or smirked suggestively at Stiles. It was creepy...

“Oh. Are mom and dad making us treats? And flirting? Yuck. Get a room.” Jackson snorted, waltzing in last like always.

Before Stiles could slam down his whisk and tell ex snakeskin to kindly fuck off...

“We are in a room. In my apartment.” spat Derek, eyes flashing red. “If you don't like what goes on in my own apartment, with whoever it is I am speaking or flirting with, then you can leave. And I think Stiles said to drop the Pack Mom jokes.”

Jackson made a disgusted, bratty face, doing some form of sarcastic jazz hands. “Fine. Dad and dad. Whatever. Just don't start pissing on him. Nobody wants him. He's all yours.”

“Hey! Werewolves don't piss on things to mark their territory!” Stiles barked. He then turned to Derek, voice in a low, hushed whisper, asking, “Do they?”

Derek threw him a glare, telling him, with mostly the eyebrows, that no, werewolves don't pee on things to mark them as theirs. Which, yeah. Stiles knew that. Totally knew it.

(Okay, maybe he didn't know. He had a hunch, but Wiki had been wrong before.)

“Wait...were you flirting with Stiles?” Scott inquired, his voice a little high and startled.

“You can't smell it?” scoffed Erica.

“It is so painfully obvious...” sighed Lydia.

“H-hey! We can hear you!” Stiles piped, face breaking out in embarrassed blotches. “We are in the next room!”

“Maybe then you'll finally get it on and save us from smelling or watching the pathetic pining.” retorted Boyd. (Surprisingly, 'cause Boyd never clapped back like that.)

“But then we'd smell the smugness and the s-” Isaac started to whine.

“Shut up!” shouted the men in the kitchen, both sharing the red coloration.

“Yeah. No need for the image of our dads going at it...” mumbled Jackson.

“We are not your dads!” Stiles bellowed, chucking the spoon he was using into the sink. “And I am not your mom! Come make your shit yourselves! I'm out!”

That wasn't a threat. Stiles literally stormed through the living room and out the door. He was done with this. Sick of being teased over something so stupid and pointless. Honestly...who even came up with it in the first place? When did it even get thought up?! Whoever thought of it, shared it with the pack, and decided to make sure it would haunt Stiles whenever it would be deemed fun should be locked in a room with wolfsbane petals!

(Not really. He would never condone something like that. Even though he was pissed off at them.)

As he was about to climb into his Jeep, a hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him mid sitting down. Which was not comfortable at all. He twisted around to the best of his abilities to see who it was. And, no surprise, it was Derek. Dejected as al -

Wait.

No.

He looked...

Kind of sad?

Stiles tried to not read too much into it. Or tried to pretend he wasn't, at least. “What? Gonna drag me back in there to hear them say sorry for the Pack Mom-Pack Dad crap, then do it all over again when they think I forgot it?”

Derek shook his head, biting at the inside of his lip. He was...incredibly vulnerable looking right now. It was weird. Maybe a bit concerning.

“Uhhhh...you okay there, Der? You have this look that kinda makes it seem like you may start crying? Are you gonna start crying? I'm not good with crying, man. I am worse with crying than I am with blood. I'm better with crying than needles...but that's not the point. The point is this: I can't do crying. I'm a sympathetic crier, too. So...please don't cry...”

“I'm not gonna cry, Stiles.” the wolf huffed, rolling his eyes. “I'm here to tell you that I knew someone who got teased just like this.”

“You...did? Who?”

There was a hesitant pause. Much swallowing, too. Like this was going to be difficult to say.

Stiles was about to tell him to not worry about. That he was going to suck it up and resign to his fate. But he was beaten to the chase by a semi choked up Derek Hale.

“My dad.”

Those words made Stiles' eyes round in horror and awe. Horror because, oh hell, Derek may actually cry since, well, the guy never talked about his family for probably the same reason Stiles didn't talk about his mother. Awe because, holy shit, Derek was talking about a member of his family with him. Him! Of all people! If Derek had talked about his family with almost anyone else, mostly someone like Kira or Melissa or even his own dad, that would've made much more sense!

But...him?

“When he was dating my mother, he was dubbed the Pack Mom for the same reasons you are. He cooked and baked, worried about everyone, fussed about health. Which, someone had to. My mother was being groomed to be the next alpha. And she couldn't cook worth a damn.”

The small chuckle that escaped the wolf made Stiles' heart and stomach do somersaults. The shy head dip to hide the equally shy smile and eye crinkle nearly made him fall right out of the Jeep. (And he was barely in it in the first place!)

“It drove him nuts. Not because it was killing his masculinity or anything. But because it almost sounded like a negative to him. Like he was being called a mother because he was doing stereotypical things for a woman. And to him...that wasn't right. Especially when Peter always made it sound like it was a negative.”

“Your dad was ahead of his time...”

“Well, he was dating a strong woman. Eventually married that strong woman. He didn't like the title being said negatively.”

“I don't blame him...”

Derek nodded, a sad smile crossing his lips. “My mother wasn't too keen with it, either. Mostly because it bothered my father. So she took him to my grandfather to discuss a new title. One that didn't feel like it was being said in a teasing, negative manner. They discussed Alpha's Mate. But...Alpha's Mate was...”

“Piling his worth into just being the alpha's pet, or something like that?”

Another nod. “That was vetoed real quick. Vice Alpha was a bit more formal, which was my grandfather's issue with the Pack Mom title, it wasn't formal, but my mother hated it. Dad didn't mind it, but he understood why his wife hated it. How it sounded like a pressured title.”

“Are you saying that he didn't find something else for him to be called and he was doomed to forever be called Pack Mom?”

He shook his head, a strange seriousness enveloping him. “No. He was given the highest title an outsider of the Pack could be given.”

“Which is...?”

“The Luna.”

Stiles blinked, understandably confused. The Luna? What in the hell was The Luna?

“The Luna is the highest honor in the pack. The right hand, the partner, the equal to the alpha. Not just a second-in-command. Something greater. Higher than a mate, even. And that already is high in the werewolf world, even though it does sound a little downgrading to some. If you insult The Luna, harm The Luna, anger The Luna, do anything that would be disrespectful to The Luna...there are consequences. Depending on what is done to The Luna, the consequences can be benign or severe. Mom thought that was perfect for my father, who was as much of a provider as she was going to be. Maybe even more so. My grandfather wasn't too keen on it, especially because my father was not only an outsider to the pack...but a human. Thought it was too high of an honor. My mother fought tooth and nail till it was announced that dad was going to be The Luna.”

That was...wow. That was a lot to take in. And it was mind blowing to find out that tad bit about Derek's family. He had assumed that the Hales were all werewolves, with the exception of the few he had heard about from Argent.

“I didn't know that your dad was human...” he finally said in a small voice, sitting fully in the driver's seat now.

“I tell you all of that...and that's what you got out of it?”

“N-no! Not at all! Just...I...I just...I heard that there were some humans that were in the fire...I just...”

“Didn't think any of them were part of my immediate family?”

“Kinda?”

Derek shrugged, a melancholy glimmer in his kaleidoscope stare. “An aunt, three cousins, an uncle, my dad, and my youngest brother were all human.”

“You had a brother?”

“Yeah...his name was Leoric. Leo for short. He idolized me. Tried to be just like me. Our bonding time was us in the kitchen, baking cookies with dad. Or playing baseball. He was the youngest one to die...only six...”

“Oh fuck...Derek...I'm...you know...”

“Sorry? Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

There was solemn silence between them. Hung sourly, chillingly in the air.

Until Stiles timidly broke it.

“So...why did you tell me all that? Besides saying that you knew somebody that knows my sudden pain?”

Derek's ears went bright red, which started to bleed down to his cheeks. Didn't take long before it clicked, and Stiles was eternally grateful he decided to actually sit down in his Jeep. Because if he was still half up and half not...he would've face planted it onto the gravel beneath him.

“Wait...are you...are you telling me that you want to make me The Luna?” he gawked in disbelief. “Holy shit! You were flirting with me! That wasn't just those assholes teasing us! Oh my god! You like me!”

“I know. I'm surprised by it, too.”

“But...that title? The Luna? Are you kidding me? That's way too high of an honor!”

“And you deserve it.”

Stiles leaned into his seat, gaping and unable to understand the magnitude. It was a bit overwhelming. And it was...surreal...to hear that Derek wanted to give him the same title that his dad had. He wanted to decline it, because he didn't feel worthy in the slightest. It would be a dishonor to Derek's late father.

The amount of faith and trust Derek had to give Stiles this title was...astronomical.

“We'll talk about it with the pack tomorrow. Hopefully it will make this whole parent thing go away.”

“Huh? Tomorrow? Aren't you taking me back up there?”

“No. I'm taking you on a date. The 'kids' have the phone number for the pizza place.”

“What about the stuff we were baking?”

“Isaac knows how to use the food sealer. He promised to seal them and put them in the freezer. Allison and Kira are helping him.”

Stiles nodded, face scrunched up in skepticism. “You said you're taking me on a date?”

“Yes?”

“O-o-okay. Cool. Yeah. Awesome. A date. Um...wow...you were really flirting with me...”

“Proper response to you flirting with me.”

“Oh...oh, I was told you didn't notice that. That's what I get for trusting Scott. Then again...he does miss a lot of things.”

Derek chuckled, a true blue smile following suit. Then, he grabbed Stiles' knees, carefully pulling him out of the Jeep. There was a playful fire in his eyes. Something Stiles hadn't really seen to this caliber before. Made his heart race and his skin buzz.

“Come on. Let's go celebrate your new title in the pack.” cooed Derek, obviously knowing what he was doing to Stiles.

Asshole. Big, huge, pain in the ass asshole.

But a cute asshole.

Who promoted him to the highest honor in a werewolf pack because...he saw his father in him? Or maybe it was because the broody wolf really enjoyed Stiles' company? Who knows? No matter the reason, it was humbling to know that he was trusted and valued enough in Derek's eyes to have the same title as his father. To be The Luna.

And humbled that he was told some things about the late Hales. Maybe in the future he would learn more. He sure hoped so. Because Derek taking Stiles on a date? Smiling like that? Opening up? There was no way in hell that Stiles was going to let go any time soon.

Or ever.

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