http://candypinkcocks.tumblr.com/post/91038852890/phdinlycanthropy-phdinlycanthropy-my-big-fat

phdinlycanthropy:

phdinlycanthropy:

my big fat werewolf wedding

derek is from a huuuuge very loud proud werewolf family and all they want is for him to marry a nice werewolf girl and settle down in the house next door to his parents and across the street from where his sister and…

Dear Neighbor

happysterekthoughts:

Based on this post

Stiles remembers distinctly the day someone finally moved into the condo next door to his.

Mainly because he’d just come out of a weekend long binge following the absolute worst breakup of his life and hadn’t showered for the better part of three days. He smelled like Cheetos, dressed in paint stained sweats and a moth-bitten t-shirt that was thin from overuse. His eyes were all bloodshot and so purple underneath that it probably looked like he’d had his nose broken. It wasn’t even from crying. It was from staring at his computer screen in the dark for twenty-four hours straight.

Also, the dude moving in was hot like burning.

When Stiles peeked out through the dusty, plastic blinds, the new guy was standing cross-armed, biceps rounding and flexing against the seam of his sleeves, as he talked to one of the movers. He scratched at his not-quite-beard in a way that was probably illegal in some states.

In a grand display of his own maturity, Stiles hid behind the couch for the remainder of the afternoon with only a bowl full of Trix cereal in his hands and his dog, Bear, trying to snuffle awkwardly into his lap.

Despite being a year old Great Dane whose size fully lived up to his name.

The next day, Stiles started calling his neighbor “Greenpeace” after seeing him haul groceries, all bagged up in bright blue, reusable totes, into the hidden confines of his new home. Stiles isn’t sure when being environmentally conscientious became so adorably attractive, but…here he is.

It’s been a month and Stiles has yet to introduce himself outside of a polite little wave on the rare occasion that the two of them are outside at the same time. Stiles always initiates. Greenpeace waves back, stiff but polite, and Stiles kind of figures that’s just his way. He seems sort of tight around the shoulders, stretched taut like elastic.

Honestly, he looks like he could use a good massage, and that is a thought Stiles avoids entertaining until he’s  alone in his room with only his own hand and a lovely down-comforter to keep him warm.

The real victim here, though, is Bear. Poor Bear who is immediately love struck. Practically sick with it really.

Over Greenpeace’s cat.

The little Persian sits on the windowsill every morning when Stiles walks his dog. Its squished, angry face stares out impassively at the Dane’s wet eyes and lolling tongue. Whether or not Greenpeace is on the treadmill holds no bearing over how long Stiles lets Bear stare longingly through the pane of glass and green, iron rails.

Except, yeah it does. 

He doesn’t…he doesn’t mean to to spy exactly. It’s just that he’s the son of the Sheriff, and he can’t help but observe a few things. Like that Greenpeace still hasn’t unpacked all his belongings, as though maybe he’s dragging his feet. 

And then there’s what looks like a framed family photo on the side table by the couch. It appears out of the blue one day and is laying picture-side down the next. 

And despite how he looks, Greenpeace isn’t exactly a Casanova, but Stiles does see a one-night-stand leave about a month after the move-in. The person who sneaked into a cab at three in the morning with ruffled hair and shirt buttons askew was definitely not a woman. So that’s on the table. 

And there’s a stack of intellectual books that go from piled on the floor behind the couch to neatly arranged on selves against the wall in a matter of weeks. Not all of them are in English, that much Stiles is certain of. 

Clearly, this is Stiles’ soul mate. He feels Bear’s pain, he really does. 

*

"Dad," Stiles whines pitifully into his phone’s receiver. "You promised no more Chinese. Melissa said she’d make you meals and everything. Do you realize how much I had to bribe her for that?”

"As an officer of the law," his father responds loftily, "I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear the word ‘bribe’ being spoken."

"Don’t play that game with me, Pops. I know your tricks. Don’t think I can be so easily distracted."

At the end of his leash, Bear lets out a long, distraught whimper. It’s unusual given that they’re in their regular spot in front of Greenpeace’s window. At this point, his dog normally proceeds to sit in silent adoration as he stares into the Persian’s half-lidded, amber eyes. 

Stiles’ dad continues talking in his ear, voice a low drawl as he retorts with what is, in all likelihood, a mortifying reminder of something his son did in his teenage years. Ironically though, Stiles is completely distracted by the object of Bear’s distress.

A neat little row of various leafy, potted plants is lined up against the base of the sill.

Right where the love of Bear’s life usually bathes in the sun. 

Read More

I NEED THE FANDOMS HELP PLEASE

disseria:

hurricanechad:

I remember reading a fantastic sterek fic last summer after Visionary aired & and I forgot to bookmark it!! It was about Stiles getting a chance to go back in time and save Paige from dying in order to make Derek a happier person. It also included a subplot about Stiles having an older cousin that…

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill - words: 31,957

http://archiveofourown.org/works/900839

Compliant thru s3e10, Stiles is sent back in time, Stiles POV

review https://tinyurl.com/flyfaster

genuinelyinarelationship asked: Hello guys! So I've been looking for kid fics but the tags don't show anything besides other tags. Could you maybe help me out?
Anonymous asked: update on sexy massage time tag!? Love your blog btw, it's a life saver!

werewolfwagon:

Jump Then Fall by linksofmemories (11/? | 83,673 | Rated E)

“Um, my name is Stiles. Are you Derek Hale?”

“Yes,” and now he just sounded ticked off. “Why are you calling?”

“I, uh, saw your website,” Stiles said, gesturing toward the laptop even though he didn’t know why. “You know, about the sex thing. And you’re a Dom and stuff… and I would like you to dominate me, please.”

He Always Comes After His Wolf by itsabluejay (complete | 6,534 | Rated E)

Derek and Stiles are in a Dom/sub relationship and as part of Derek’s recovery they do gentle BDSM on Thursdays so Stiles can show Derek what he means to him.

As You Wish by runswithwolves (complete | 4,708 | Rated E)

Woah. Stiles had a massage next. She’d agreed to it because her mom said it would be nice, but shit, now there’d be someone touching on her. Shit. What if it was a scary Brunhilda type? What if it was a hot lady? Oh god, oh god, oh god—

“Stilinski?” Stiles pulled her robe more snugly around herself and looked over at the doorway to the rest of the spa, in which stood a dude. A dude. Who was like, chiseled as fuck. Oh god, oh god. Even worse.

Stiles swallowed. “Uh, yes—yeah. That’s me.”

Let Me by elisera (parts of series | 5,068 | Rated E)

Derek’s stomach twists, guilt spreading through him like a sickness and he ruthlessly shuts it down and keeps his mouth shut. He wasn’t even talking about sex but the need to apologize anyway makes his chest feel tight. It unmoors something in Derek whenever Stiles tells him outright no even though he knows Stiles isn’t just humoring him when they’re scening. It’s just an emotional reaction he can’t control, can’t unlearn.

Anonymous asked: Is there any new omega stiles fics? Update on the tag? :)

werewolfwagon:

The Hills Call by crimandclove (9/10 | 39,286 | Rated T)

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

Rites of passage series by maliwanhellfire (4 works | 13,073 | Rated E)

Stiles Stilinski is an omega, in his final year of highschool. As part of his coming of age he has to complete a fertility rite. It’s archaic, but what does he care? It’s a harmless cultural institution, everybody does it, and it’ll make his dad happy.

Derek Hale is an alpha, moved back to Beacon Hills after years in New York. With no more omegas in his pack, he has the unenviable task of running the Hale pack until time or marriage dissolves it.

Settle Down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale (5/? | 41,469 | Rated T)

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (7/9 | 64,363 | Rated E)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In it’s place a bone deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

werewolfwagon:

Blame the Cat

deliciouslsweetness asked: I looked on your tag page, but couldn't see anything. Do you have like any delivery boy! fics, or like pizza boy or something?? (PS you guys are awesome)

theofficialstereklibrary:

these are pizza and just delivery things

violets are blue by  (1/1 | 2,759 | PG-13)

PROMPT—”Derek the super cranky florist delivery guy (it’s the family business!) and Stiles the underemployed, overeducated, bored as fuck receptionist. and obviously Stiles works with Allison, whose besotted fiance is always sending her flowers.”

With helpless crushes, stealthy pizza dates, Jenga, and overly-subtle declarations of intent.

12 Days of Hale Publishing by  (2/2 | 7,533 | G)

Something must have poked his Christmas Spirit. It might be the way Hale was watching the proceedings with a scowl on his face, unable to hide what was clear derision. Earlier, his eyes had lifted when Stiles entered the work pen with the presents, and Stiles had been under the impression he had been vaguely pleased. The only thing Stiles could think of that would make someone such a gloomy grump was not getting a gift.

“What?” Hale asked, staring at him through the glass wall that made up the part of his office facing the work area.

“I’ve got something for you!” Stiles said, waving the small rectangular present as he walked in.

“That’s not mine,” Mr. Hale said, staring at the box like it offended him. Then he stared at Stiles like he was offending him more. “You’ve made a mistake.”

“No mistake, sir. It’s a special delivery from magical Hale Holiday Elves.” Stiles gestured to his head. “See the hat. A man wearing this hat makes no mistakes.”

The Pizza is Less Cheesy Than This by  (1/1 | 1,737 | G)

After Hale’s Pizza sends Derek Hale to deliver Stiles’ pizza, Stiles converts to a pizza-only diet in an attempt to see more of the broody-but-gorgeous pizza delivery boy.

Discrete Packaging by keriarentikai (1/1 | ~800 | G)

Drunk and almost asleep, Stiles confirmed his order and shut his laptop. 

"There are worse things I could have done whilst drunk," he told himself.  Because when he was drunk he liked talking to himself and using the word ‘whilst’.

He fell asleep with no regrets.

Occam’s Razor by  (5/? | 4,248 | R)

Stiles and his little sister are home alone, unaware of the sinister forces descending on them.

I’ve got the hots, for what’s under the hat with the dots! by  (1/1 | 3,021 | PG-13)

"You’re a delivery boy for a pizza joint, what part of this job was supposed to be exciting?"

and this tumblr fic & this ficclet by amy rose

shipsanddip:

“You… you…” Stiles can’t believe his eyes. There must have been something seriously fucked up with his cheerios. That’s the only possible explanation. Maybe he blacked out and poured Clorox on them instead of milk. Even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t mind having a swig of that particular bottle right now.

Derek doesn’t even look at him, just slams the door to the driver’s seat shut and locks the vehicle with his remote. Blip blip.

“I what? I came as fast as I could.”

Stiles turns his head to stare at Derek, mouth open, then to the monstrosity in his drive. Then back to Derek again.

“You traded in the Camaro… for this?”

Derek bristles visibly but then seems to force himself into a state of calm indifference.

“It’s fuel efficient. And takes more than two people.”

Somebody’s gonna have to do reconstructive surgery on Stiles’ face, because he’s never going to get his jaw off the ground. He takes two steps forward, stopping just shy of the shining black surface. He reaches out, pressing the pad of his index finger against the window. It’s real. It’s actually real.

“Did you hit your head?”

Derek’s face breaks into a frown. “What?”

“Did you fall and hit your head? Are you feeling well?”

“Stiles.” It’s a clear warning but Stiles is so beyond caring.

“There are other cars, Derek. Millions of cars that have those things, and when did that even become a priority for you? No nevermind, the point is, there are millions of cars that aren’t this complete boner killer. What even possessed you, is there a poltergeist outbreak I should know about?”

Derek folds his arms over his chest and the glare he levels at Stiles would put the fear of God in most. Unfortunately for Derek, when coupled with the beet red tips of his ears, the effect is lost completely.

“It’s practical.”

“Oh my god, I’m judging you. I’m judging you so hard.”

Stiles turns around and stalks up the driveway.

“I’m not getting in that. We’re taking the jeep. Also, I’m not blowing you until that’s been returned.”

“Well, everyone’s talking about you and Sebastian,” Jeff says with a grin, and Kurt huffs.
“Believe me,” he says, “there’s nothing to talk about.”
“But he claimed you, Kurt,” Jeff says, sitting down at his own desk. “And everyone wants to know why he changed his mind about having a canary. Some of the freshmen want to think it’s a case of love at first sight, but that’s sort of hard to believe, because, well, this is Sebastian. I’ve heard a lot about him and he doesn’t really do love.”

It’s a Dalton Tradition by melblue

HW