Underappreciated Sterek

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Fairy Wings and Beastly Tails by PalenDrome (nerdherderette) // 8k // Teen

—featuring art by Bliz

The prince knows it’s risky. He thinks about how he could manage without his wings; what his life would be like without flying or the ability to do spells. He thinks about his father and Scott, and all the others he’d leave behind if he fails. But then he thinks about the creature and the sadness in those green eyes, and how the image haunts his dreams.

Three Little Words by Chloepioneer // 2k // Explicit

“Oh god,” he whines, slapping a hand over his mouth to quell the vomit that boils the back of his throat. “Derek, is that the mailman?”

or

sterek | nsfw | this was in my drafts as ‘pwp drabble’ lol

Derek’s glower should be enough to melt steel where he presides over the latest pack meeting, wondering if Stiles could just shut the hell up.

Make me, those eyes say, a dare Stiles is sure he’d win, but Derek knows the truth. 

Just one breath in his ear and he knows Stiles’ eyes would glaze. Knows he’d fall limp like a pup lifted by the scruff. He knows how little it would take to have that smart mouth hanging slack.

He’ll still want to hear him though, just none of it words.

He’ll take him apart on the bed right here, have his cries echoing off the walls and up to the high ceiling. A bite for every teasing smirk, a scrape of his teeth for every mouthy comeback, a lick for every time he’s pushed and pulled. Until his eyes are dazed and distant, until his voice is hoarse from screaming, until he has no understanding of where he is or how he got here.

There’ll be no need to think about neighbours. About his dad coming home.

He’ll have those long fingers that don’t stop tapping out irregular rhythms on every available surface twisting in bed sheets and tugging at his own hair, gripping at the edge of the desk he always spreads his research out on as Derek bends him over it. He’ll kick his feet apart, watch his legs tremble like a new-born foal’s as he reaches down to give his heavy cock one long stroke, watch him tilt his hips up, begging. But not yet.

Only when he’s satisfied Stiles is a quivering, drooling mess will he finally give in and take his own pleasure, finally use Stiles as he’s been begging him to do for hours. Flip him onto his stomach with a knee either side of his hips and feed himself inside, where he’s slick and molten and aching ruby red. Sink all the way into that virgin hole opening up for its first cock, ready to wring him dry. Watch the white of his claim trickle out past that clutching pink and plunge his softening cock back inside one last time to push it as deep as it will go, just to hear him fuss about it.

But for now, he’ll allow the shit-eating grin he shoots at Scott. For now, he’ll let him think he’s gotten away with it. That he’s bested their broody, caveman of an Alpha.

For now, he’ll wait.

Stiles' moles are too random to say he sees constellations, but Derek enjoys tracing lines anyway.

‘You're doing it again.’

‘No, I'm not.’

Stiles snorts and turns his head back towards Derek.

‘So, you were just applying the sunblock in the least efficient manner because...?’

Derek feels caught out and flushes.

‘Hey, it's all good, sour wolf. The rest of the beach can wait. Besides, I enjoy hanging out in the shade with your hands all over me.’

The accompanying ridiculous eyebrow waggle gets him to laugh.

Stiles smiles and puts his head back down.

The Misguided Believer

Author: Kaye_Fraser, @kayefraser​ | Artist: @snarkyship​ |

Rating: Teen and Up | Word count: 28k

Victorian AU, Private Investigator Stiles Stilinski, Murder Mystery, werewolves are the dominant species, Species Discrimination, slight angst, Humor, Happy Ending, Reluctant Partners to Friends to Lovers

It isn’t easy for a human to make it in a wolf’s world, especially not for a human trying to earn an unconventional living as a private investigator like Stiles. Sure, the Human Rights Act had been passed twenty years ago, but that didn’t lessen the discrimination that still existed against humans. Stiles is determined though. In an effort to pay rent, he takes on a human murder case that has been buried by the werewolf authorities, only to find himself on the trail of a potential serial killer. Unfortunately, to get anything done around town, he needs the help of one stupidly grumpy wolf by the name of Derek Hale. Granted, meeting the wolf over a dead body hadn’t made the best of first impressions, but Stiles is going to solve his first case and make a name for himself, and if that means winning over Derek to his cause by being his most charming self, then so be it!

I Know by Nival_Vixen

[1050w | Mature]

Stiles has lost himself, he’s drowning, and he doesn’t know if he’ll make it back up to the surface.

Note: This one will break your heart, but don’t worry! Derek is there to put it back together before the end.

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That’s Where It Is by LupusScintilla (inkandlbade) / @inkandblade

[22,815w | Mature]

At twenty-two, the age of a Master-Builder according to the Number Law the Elder Council used, Derek was at the perfect age to break away from his family’s over extended pack and construct his own. As with all Alphas ready to take that step, he needed a Mate: no pack could be led by only one mind.

Rec’d by a kind anon (but it was also on my radar!)

Note: I return from my short absence with a lengthier fic than usual! Just like the other rec by the same author, this features deep worldbuilding, and if you’re into mating rituals that come with the werewolf territory, there’s plenty to sink your teeth into!

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Dealing With Werewolves by foolish_mortal

[2565w | General]

In which Stiles runs away to live with the dragons and meets a werewolf.

Note: This is apparently an AU involving a book series I’ve never heard of, and something like that would usually put me off. But since embracing this blog’s mindset of giving every fic a chance no matter what, I gave it a read. And I’m so glad I did. It’s seriously good. I never wanted it to end.

Basically, Stiles has gone to live with a dragon (perfectly cast as Lydia) and an unending string of knights turn up at the door planning to slay the beast and win his hand, no matter that Stiles is happy exactly where he is. And then along comes Derek.

I really cannot stress enough how wonderful this fic is ;v; Give it a go!

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Derek gives each member of the pack a leather jacket on their eighteenth birthday. Stiles can’t wait to see what he might get.

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Inspired by this tumblr post | Also on AO3

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Stiles hardly thinks Derek giving leather jackets as gifts on eighteenth birthdays can be called a ‘tradition’ considering it only started back in September with Boyd, but it’s become a thing that Derek does. An incident, then a coincidence, then a pattern.

Every jacket matches each person’s particular style in a way Stiles is sure means Derek can’t be picking these out himself. Boyd’s had been no-messing-around and straight-zipped, Erica’s a little more risqué with its revealing mesh stripes, the cut of Lydia’s flattering the high waists of her dresses.

They end up looking like some sort of club whenever they’re spotted around town together, like the T-Birds from Grease – or D-Birds as Stiles has taken to calling them, much to Derek’s frustration. Jackson had actually joined him in his mocking, but when his turn had come, he’d yanked his jacket on as soon as he’d torn it out of the wrapping and has barely taken it off since, the traitor. 

The problem is, Stiles is the one turning eighteen last, and he’d actually started feeling a bit left out as the jacket-less amongst their number started to dwindle. It had Derek’s frustration turning to smugness, teasing Stiles over how much he actually wants in.

And the day is finally here.

He’s meeting the pack at Macy’s Diner in thirty minutes for shakes and burgers and curly fries and onion rings – and whatever other greasy morsels of heaven he can get his hands on – before they head to the theatre across the street to see the latest Iron Man movie. That makes it a bit of a surprise when a knock comes at his bedroom door and Derek pokes his head in.

“Your dad let me up,” is all he says in explanation.

Stiles’ eyes zero in on the neatly wrapped gift cradled by Derek’s hand, plain navy blue paper, the contents soft. His fingers twitch.

Derek holds the gift out wordlessly and Stiles makes grabby hands as he steps closer to take it, so eager to see what Derek has bought for him.

The girls’ jackets have all been feminine and sleek, the boys’ jackets edgy and so fucking cool – even Scott’s, who should have just looked like a ridiculous little puppy trying to play tough. What has he picked out for Stiles?

He tears one end of the paper open and tips the contents out into his hand, tossing the wrapping aside to unfold the jacket and hold it up in front of him.

He blinks in confusion. Double takes. Because this isn’t a shiny new jacket. It isn’t even an artfully distressed vintage one.

This is Derek’s.

“Gee, thanks, Derek. A hand-me-down. Just what I’ve always wanted,” he says, turning to his usual sarcasm to hide the tiny sting of hurt in his chest that’s growing swiftly bigger.

“It’s mine,” Derek states and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I know it’s yours. I’ve only seen you wearing it a thousand—” The words die in his throat.

Derek’s stare is intense, great eyebrows furrowed, and his words replay in Stiles’ head, hearing the way he’d said it, like he’s begging Stiles to understand.

And Stiles should have understood this instantly. Derek loves this jacket. He’d never just give it away, and especially not to just anyone, not when his own scent must have soaked so deep into it by this point that it will never wash out. He’s not giving this to Boyd, his Second, or to Scott, bitten the longest, or even Jackson, the first wolf he turned.

He’s giving it to Stiles.

Stiles’ mouth has dropped open but he can’t muster any strength to close it, staring back into Derek’s now hopeful eyes and, oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” Stiles says, and for the first time in his life, someone has managed to render him completely speechless.

Derek starts to smile then, teasing, and he steps closer, makes to reach for the jacket. “Well, if you don’t want it, I’ll just—”

“No! It’s mine! Mine now!” He jams his arms into the sleeves before Derek can take it from him, tugging it tight around himself like a cocoon that he’s just daring Derek to try and wrestle him out of.

Derek is grinning now, bright as sunlight. He steps closer still and grasps the lapels, adjusting them with a tug in a mockery of that time in Stiles’ bedroom when he’d agreed to harbour Derek’s fugitive ass. And then Derek is kissing him, using those same lapels to drag him forward and up to his lips, soft and stubbly and perfect. Stiles’ eyelids flutter when Derek pulls back, staring at him through hazy eyes.

“Happy Birthday,” Derek whispers.