tomoemoonbeam

[tomoemoonbeam]

Just a dude trying to motivate another bro. Nothing to see here.

[tomoemoonbeam]

I saw this TikTok and I saw it as a Sterek prompt.. Derek Hale is a professional boxer, he is currently in his last match to determine the winner. A couple of punches later, Hale wins and cameras are recording live to the world when they see a figure come out from the sidelines onto the arena which shows Stiles a professional (Dancer, Acrobatics, actor, etc. Not sure) jump and hug Derek making no emotion Hale smile with so much love as they hug and possibly kiss which shocks many people, not cause he kissed a man but a well known celebrity.

Here ya go, love! Hope you like it!

••••••

The stadium roared like a living beast, lights blinding and crowd electric as Derek Hale stood in the ring, chest heaving. Sweat poured down his back, blood on his lip, but his fists were steady. Focused. This was it - his final fight. Win or lose, he was walking away from the ring after tonight.

His opponent staggered back from a brutal right hook. Derek’s vision blurred for a second, his ears filled with the sound of the ref shouting something unintelligible, but his instincts kicked in. A clean uppercut, the satisfying crack of glove on jaw, and the other boxer went down like a felled tree.

The referee dropped to his knees. “One! Two!”

Derek didn’t move. He didn’t celebrate. Not yet.

“Seven! Eight! Nine - Ten!”

The bell rang. The ref grabbed Derek’s wrist and hoisted it into the air.

“Winner by knockout: Derek Hale!”

The crowd erupted. Reporters surged toward the ropes. Cameras zoomed in on his bruised face, capturing the tight line of his mouth, the unreadable look in his eyes. The emotionless champion. Hale the Machine. Stoic. Silent. A wall of muscle and menace.

But the moment was broken when someone vaulted over the barrier.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, but the security guards hesitated, because everyone recognized that figure.

Stiles Stilinski. Golden boy of Hollywood. Three time Oscar nominee, last year's People’s Sexiest Man Alive, and notoriously private about his personal life. He was wearing a beanie pulled low, sunglasses he clearly forgot to take off under the arena lights, and a loose leather jacket that fluttered behind him as he ran straight toward the ring.

“Stiles?” one of the announcers gasped on live television. “Is that, Stiles Stilinski?!”

He didn’t wait for the stairs. He just scrambled up the apron and ducked between the ropes, pushing past the camera crew. Then he launched himself at Derek.

“HOLY SHIT!” someone screamed in the crowd, caught by a hot mic.

Derek didn’t have time to react. One second, he was alone, and the next - Stiles’ arms were around his neck, legs around his waist, the actor holding on.

“You did it,” Stiles breathed, voice cracking. “You won, Der. You fucking did it.”

And for the first time that night, for the first time in months, Derek smiled in front of the cameras.

Not the twitch of the lip he gave to reporters. Not the forced smirk he wore at weigh ins. This was the real thing: full, unguarded, overflowing.

He dropped his gloves to the mat and held Stiles like he was something precious, their foreheads touching, tension bleeding out of his body as he leaned into him. They were live on pay-per-view. Millions were watching. Phones were filming. But Derek didn’t care.

He cupped Stiles’ jaw, bloodied knuckles gentle. “You always believe in me,” he murmured.

Stiles’ smile was blinding. “You make it easy.”

And then Derek kissed him.

Soft. Devastating. Full of every emotion he’d ever been told to hide.

The stadium went silent for a beat - not in disapproval, but in shock. Not because it was a man, hell, most of the fanbase had long speculated Derek Hale wasn’t exactly straight, but because that man was Stiles Stilinski. The golden boy. The untouchable. The idol.

Then the crowd exploded. Applause, cheers, even some sobs.

Backstage, Twitter servers began to melt. Commentators scrambled to rewrite scripts. A rainbow flag mysteriously appeared in the audience. Cameras zoomed in. Stiles laughed breathlessly, hiding his face in Derek’s shoulder.

And Derek?

He was still smiling.

No one had ever knocked him out in the ring. But this - this felt like the best kind of knockout. The one where he finally let himself fall.

~~~~

Post fight headline:

“STILINSKI + HALE CONFIRMED! Actor Stiles Stilinski and Newly Retired Champ Derek Hale Share Kiss After Historic Final Bout.”

- The internet may never recover.

[tomoemoonbeam]

when stiles finds him, derek’s stuck half-shifted, hair matted, eyes dull. 

he doesn't try to talk at all.

stiles drops his flashlight in shock, scrabbles after it. the beam fills derek’s vision, blinds him before he can think to squeeze his eyes shut.

“scott, there's one here,” stiles says. “there's a guy here.”

he steps closer, stops.

derek doesn’t move.

“you're alive, right?” stiles asks. “this isn't some trick of the light, and i'm talking to a hatstand draped in coats, or something? or like, a really misused mannequin, or…” 

he steps forward, again, again. until he's so close derek can’t help but breathe him.

“shit,” he says, low. reaching out, stopping inches from derek's ruined shoulder. “what'd she do to you?”

derek stares at him.

“you,” he tries, but he can't speak. his voice is more air than sound.

he tries again anyway. the words scrape at his throat.

“you know about her?”

“we've been tracking her for years,” stiles says. “me and scott. our pack. well, no,” he says, head tipping as he reconsiders. “we were tracking a torturer, we didn't know… but then we did. and this is hers, it's in her name. one of her oldest aliases. but i don't…” his brow creases, softens with sympathy as he takes in derek's wounds again. “we've never found werewolves alive before. sorry,” he adds, eyes apologetic. “i know that's not... she's insane,” stiles says. “my dad, he...” but his face goes dark, and he stops talking, fury unfolding through him. “we're gonna find her,” he says. “she's over. she's done.”

“anyway,” he says, brightening up again. “you're alive! that's no small feat, man, that's… what's your name? scott and me, we know basically every pack this side of california, and a couple even further. one of them's bound to have contact info for yours.”

“they won't,” derek says. he knows, he knows.

“try me,” stiles says. 

“hale,” derek says. “the hale pack.” it's sharper than he means it to be, angrier, but he knows. there’s no use getting his hopes up. 

“oh my god,” stiles says, eyes widening. “oh my god.”

see? derek knew. he knew, so why did he let himself think, for even a second—

“you’re cora's brother,” stiles says. “derek, right? oh my god. how are you… it's been ten years.”

it's not like derek didn’t know time was passing. he just didn’t know how much.

he doesn't feel ten years older. he feels ancient and small, immortal and powerless, trapped.

a million years from sixteen, none of them real.

“hey,” stiles says. “i didn't mean… i'm sorry. i'm a tool.”

derek says nothing at all. 

“look,” stiles says. “i've never done this before. can we start over? i’m stiles.”

“nice to finally meet, stiles,” kate says, and fires.

stiles whips around. grabs at his side. 

but of course it’s too late. he’s bleeding. and not even healing, so he’s human.

and clearly suicidal enough to get himself involved in this anyway.

“so that's how it is, huh?” stiles says. “you couldn't do it. grandpa creepy gave you a job, but you couldn't kill him.”

he’s already breathing a little bit more raggedly.

“so you lied,” he says. “you set a fire, and you told him it was done. and you trapped this guy here for ten years for what? your ego? trying to kill him, all the while. but you couldn’t.”

he keeps inching closer with every word. reaching for the mountain ash line.

almost checking for it. 

“all those bodies,” he says, and waves his fingers over the ash. and—some of it lifts. it hovers over derek’s sneakers and drops back down. 

stiles is still monologuing, but there’s too much of his blood in the air.

he won’t be able to keep this up for much longer.

“someone else killed them, didn't they,” stiles says. “who’s covering for you, huh? one of your hunter buddies? no way that doesn’t get back to your creepy dad, doesn’t he control your whole life? did you ever even wanna be involved in this? look at this place! you built a whole secret hideout just to spare one guy. so either you never wanted any of this… or you must just really love this one guy in particular.”

“shut up,” kate snaps.

but when derek stares at her, she looks away. 

“you really do, oh my god,” stiles says. “you love him.”

the ash is trembling under his fingertips now. 

“this is romeo and juliet all over again,” he says. “this is so sad! you guys are just star-crossed.” 

“you really do not stop talking, do you,” kate says, and stiles grins. 

“that’s right! you’re very observant.” and then he grins wider. “perspicacious, even.”

derek rolls his eyes. 

stiles leans back a little, and breathes, “dude! look down.” 

the ash circle is still there. it looks that way. 

but… it’s not blunting derek’s senses anymore. 

in an instant, stiles’ scent fills his throat. 

“it’s too bad you shot me here,” stiles is saying. “so much for a nice star-crossed-lovers stash house. now my blood’s everywhere, and i don’t know if you know this, or anything, but my buddy scott has a crazy accurate sense of smell. and oh yeah, an army of backup, so how about you clear out now before the cavalry comes storming in and your cover’s really blown, huh?”

“or i could just shoot you again,” kate says, and derek snarls. “aww, see? it’s gonna be so sad. and even sadder, when your friend scott shows up to find your body… and is immediately surrounded by every hunter in this town. you think you’re in control of this? honey. you’re just the bait.”

but he’s not. because if anyone comes at stiles again? derek’s gonna be a wall in front of him. 

if every one of his muscles hasn’t atrophied. 

he tests it, carefully. grows his claws, and retracts them, one hand at a time. 

shakes out his shoulders as subtly as he can, and bites back a smile. 

because for ten years, he had nothing. nothing left to fight for, and no way to even try.  

but things are very different now.

[tomoemoonbeam]

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.

[tomoemoonbeam]

Scott: Is this your plan B?

Derek, sighing: Technically, this is plan P.

Scott: Plan P? Is there a plan M?

Derek: Yes, but I marry Stiles in plan M.

Stiles: I like plan M.

[tomoemoonbeam]

I think, despite Derek’s age never being confirmed due to all of the terrible plot holes in Jeff Davis’s writing, a lot of people still view him as so much older because he’s the only young character that doesn’t have parents. If Derek’s mom and dad were living, if we got to see him interact with them, I really doubt people would assume he was way older. Especially not with Stiles saying he was just a few years older than him and Scott. Let’s be real, season 1 Derek Hale didn’t look much older than Scott McCall. Derek Hale was originally meant to be 19, and if his family didn’t die he would probably still be living with his parents, or maybe at college. But Derek was all on his own, and despite being a teenager, he was an adult so people view him as more mature and older. But that man wasn’t mature at all!!!!! He was VERY immature and very clearly a teenager left to his own devices. Anyways, just back to say, ship sterek if you want. If anybody tells you it’s weird just know their perception of Derek Hale is wildly inaccurate and holds no merit at all! Bye!!!

[tomoemoonbeam]

Derek went ring shopping before he and Stiles started dating.

[tomoemoonbeam]

i think laura and derek abandoning peter is understandable at least initially 'cause they were both young (like, derek was still a minor at the time) and traumatized and it probably wasn't safe for them to stay. and on peter's side of things, it probably would've taken awhile for him to be in a stable enough condition to be moved. (also idk if canon states this, but it probably took laura and derek awhile to establish themselves in new york and find some stability, too.) but that accounts for, like, what? the first year? two? out of six years? so yeah, after that point, they rly should've transferred peter closer to them or done something tbh. (tbf, though, the show can't exist if they did that. so. that's why they didn't do that lol.)

[tomoemoonbeam]

Sterek Prompt: The pack and Derek find out that Stiles is incredibly flexible during a fight/mission. Now they began to notice how often he uses his flexibility, especially Derek which Stiles may or may not be doing on purpose.

Hope this is okay!

••••••

It happens during a chaotic mission - a recon job that spirals out of control when the supposed “empty” warehouse turns out to be full of feral omegas under some kind of spell. They scatter. Boyd and Erica flank left. Scott howls, trying to corral the pack. Derek shouts instructions while his eyes flash red.

Stiles, unarmed except for his bat and ridiculous confidence, ends up separated, cornered between two snarling werewolves and a collapsing catwalk.

"Stiles!" Derek roars, charging across the room.

Stiles doesn’t answer, too focused. He ducks a swipe, twists away, and when the second omega lunges, he… bends. Full on backwards bend, hands hitting the floor first, legs arching over into a perfect back walkover that dodges the claws by a fraction of an inch. He lands on his feet, spins, kicks one of them square in the chest, and shouts, “You thought, bitch!”

Everyone freezes.

"Did he just…" Erica blinks. "Was that a gymnastics move?"

"Pretty sure that was Cirque du Soleil," Isaac mutters, gaping.

Even the omegas look confused.

Derek is thunderstruck - frozen mid snarl, staring like he’s trying to reconcile nerdy, clumsy, flaily Stiles with the fluid, whip fast, absurdly bendy person who just bent out of danger and cracked his back like it was nothing.

Later, once the mission is over and everyone’s adrenaline fades, the teasing starts immediately.

"Since when can you do backflips?" Scott demands.

"I can’t do backflips," Stiles says, waving him off. "But flexibility is all about leverage and survival instinct. You’d be amazed what you can do when something wants to eat your face."

Derek says nothing at first, but he catches himself watching more closely after that.

During training, when Stiles stretches lazily, legs in a deep V, reaching forward with ridiculous ease, Derek stares. When Stiles ducks under a low hanging branch mid chase without losing speed, back arched like a cat, Derek's jaw tightens. When Stiles casually lifts one leg onto the wall to stretch while talking to Peter, foot level with his own shoulder, Derek walks into a doorframe.

It gets worse when Stiles notices.

He starts doing it more. Maybe. Possibly. There’s no proof.

He stretches like a smug jungle cat during strategy meetings. Drops into a perfect split to reach a folder under the couch. Hikes one leg up on Derek’s desk while chewing on a Twizzler, absolutely pretending to be clueless about the fact Derek has stopped typing mid email.

Erica catches on first. “You’re doing it on purpose,” she hisses, grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says innocently, legs in full lotus pose while sipping coffee. On Derek’s couch.

Peter mutters, “At this point, it’s foreplay,” and Derek throws a folder at him.

Eventually, Derek corners him - literally, because Stiles tries to slink away from a debriefing and ends up with his back to a wall and Derek much, much too close.

“You bend like that on instinct?” Derek asks, low voice, eyes flickering red.

Stiles swallows. “Y-yeah. Instinct. Survival. Totally unintentional.”

Derek leans in. “Then I think we need more training. To… hone your instincts.”

Stiles blinks.

Then grins.

“Oh. Yeah. I’m very trainable.”

[tomoemoonbeam]

Derek: You aren't.

[tomoemoonbeam]

“Could you at least pretend enjoy yourself, there are a lot of big packs here that we should try to impress,” Derek muttered to Stiles as they sat through the third, no fourth, speaker of the morning at the U.S. Supernatural Convention. 

“You said I had to show up, I even put on a button down for you, but you never said anything about enjoying myself,” Stiles show back, “We’re in New York, there are so many cool bookshops I could be checking out.”

“I’ll buy you any books you want after the event today,” Derek whispered, eyes on Stiles. 

“Fine,” Stiles said, sitting up a little straighter, “But I still don’t see why Boyd couldn’t have come with you.”

“You’re my emissary and mate,” Derek said, “I need you here help with treaties and to keep the single wolves away from me.”

“You just want me here for my body,” Stiles said with a smirk, ignoring the looks from people around them, “I get it.”

“Shut up Stiles,” Derek whispered, his ears burning red. He saw Satomi give him an amused look and he started to wonder if he was crazy for thinking Stiles could behave through the three day convention. It was only the first day after all. 

“Promise me some mind blowing hotel sex tonight and I’ll be the model emissary,” Stiles whispered right into Derek’s ear, sending chills down his spine. He was in for an interesting week. 

[tomoemoonbeam]

the hale pack should have had more time together, derek as an alpha could’ve done soo much more - him learning along side them on the meaning of being a pack and how to trust one another would’ve been banger but noooo they had to take it from us

[tomoemoonbeam]

I think you need a little break from the angst my friend. Let's fluff it up with maybe some fullshift Derek and non-shift Derek both loving belly rubs from Stiles. (Maybe some scratches as well)

We love a good belly rub! Lol. Here ya go babes!

••••••

At first, Stiles thought it was just a wolf thing.

The first time Derek shifted fully and flopped over onto his side with a heavy whuff, Stiles had cautiously approached - hands out, knees bent, voice high and gentle like he was coaxing a stray dog. He didn’t expect Derek, majestic and slightly terrifying in his full wolf form, to roll onto his back, paws loose in the air, throat exposed, tail thumping once against the floor like a silent dare.

“…Do you want-” Stiles blinked. “Are you serious?”

Derek didn’t respond, obviously, but he let out a huff and tilted his head upside down, tongue lolling slightly. The picture of dignity.

So Stiles reached down. Rubbed the thick fur on his belly.

And Derek groaned. Loudly. Tail swished again.

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispered, wide eyed. “You’re just a giant dog. A giant belly-rub-loving dog. You have no shame.”

The groan turned into a pleased little growl. When Stiles scratched lower near his ribs, one of Derek’s legs gave an involuntary kick.

Stiles burst out laughing.

From then on, it became a thing. After missions. After stress. After pack meetings. Fullshift Derek would sprawl next to Stiles on the couch, nosing at his thigh until Stiles gave in, fingers sinking into the dense fur of his belly, scratching gently until Derek melted into a puddle of lupine goo.

The real surprise came one lazy Sunday when Derek wasn’t in wolf form at all.

They were lying on the couch - Derek half on top of Stiles, watching TV, his weight warm and solid, back pressed to Stiles’ side. Stiles absentmindedly slid a hand under Derek’s hoodie and just…rested it on his stomach. Rubbed slow circles.

Derek made a quiet noise. Not quite a purr, not quite a moan. His eyes fluttered shut.

Stiles looked over, amused. “You good?"

Derek hummed. “Don’t stop.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You really like belly rubs. Even in human form. That wasn’t just a wolf thing.”

Derek cracked one eye open. “I didn’t say it was just a wolf thing.”

Stiles’s mouth opened and closed. “I’m not kink-shaming you, I swear, I’m just, this is adorable.”

Derek growled softly. “Don’t ruin it.”

Stiles didn’t. In fact, he doubled down, dragging his nails lightly in a circle around Derek’s navel and then lower, scratching lightly where his waistband dipped. Derek twitched. Actually squirmed like a cat in sunlight.

“Scratch higher,” Derek mumbled, breath hitching. “Ribs.”

Stiles did. Derek sighed.

“Derek Hale,” Stiles said in awe, “you are a menace, and also a belly rub slut.”

Derek didn’t argue. He just draped a heavy arm across Stiles’ waist, pulled him closer, and demanded, “Don’t stop.”

So he didn’t. Not that day, not the next.

And sometimes, when Derek was in fullshift, curled up in bed with his head on Stiles’ chest and his belly just there, Stiles would scratch at it and laugh when Derek's paw kicked again.

No one believed him when he told them. Not until the pack came over once and fullshift Derek rolled onto his back in the middle of the living room, belly exposed, tongue out, and Stiles, completely unfazed, just said, “Don’t worry, I got him,” and proceeded to rub his Alpha’s stomach.

Boyd nearly choked on his soda.

Jackson refused to make eye contact for a week.

Peter just muttered, “I can’t believe you spoil him,” and walked away.

And Derek? He just wagged his tail.

[tomoemoonbeam]

Never going to be over the fact that instead of giving him therapy, the Teen Wolf writers just kept giving Derek love interests.

[tomoemoonbeam]

We try to focus on Stiles and Derek as partners in crime.  - Tyler Hoechlin

[tomoemoonbeam]

i have discovered that my absolute favorite thing about the teen wolf fandom is the way that they have all collectively gone "we recognize that the canon has made a decision, but given that it's a stupid-ass decision, we've elected to ignore it." it's incredible. it's a beautiful way to deal with a lot of the sheer laziness that went into whatever the actual "canon" timeline of the show is supposed to be.

like, "you can't give us a logical date of birth for stiles that would make sense with him being a sophomore and still able to drive at the start of season one? fantastic. we have now decided that he's either been held back a year or he's a late summer/early fall baby, and you, jeff davis, are just going to have to deal with it," is perfection.

[tomoemoonbeam]

the best analogy for bisexuals i've ever heard

werewolf: i’m a werewolf person: ok so when you’re in human form you’re a human, and when you’re in wolf form you’re a wolf though. werewolf: no. i’m a werewolf. human form = werewolf. wolf form = werewolf. always a werewolf. no matter the circumstance or appearance, I AM ALWAYS A WEREWOLF