1 - 20 of 48 Works by blueinkedbones
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“So it’s not even about getting to correct someone,” Stiles says. “You just needed a break from your long-winded family.”
Derek rolls his eyes.
“That’s obviously not what I’m saying. Eli! That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I know,” Eli says, from his room, and Derek nods, and says, “He knows.”
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“And when fourteen freaking years passed, then what?” Stiles says. “‘Hey, Stiles, sorry to reach out after all this time, but uh, I think we should probably have a conversation about our teenaged son who you don’t know about! Alright, well, I better go, our kid’s fourteen and it’s a school night.’”
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“So you don't even talk to them,” Stiles says. “You don't even, like, acknowledge... 'Sorry, that's so sweet, I'm just seeing someone right now...'”
“It's not worth it,” Derek says. “Trust me.”
"Insane," Stiles says. “You live in a complete alternate universe.”
“I'm sure you get compliments.”
“Nope, wrong,” Stiles says. “I'm either weird or invisible. I'm sure standing next to you isn't helping.”
That feeling again, watching himself from a distance. Trying to see what everyone else sees.
“I don't actually feel like standing here being stared at.”
“Yeah,” Stiles says, straightening up a little. “That's fair. Where do you wanna go?”
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- Part 2 of a vital spark
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It's not like it was ever about running. Stiles went to college, it was fine, he graduated, it was fine, and now he's an adult. The funny thing about that is that nobody feels like the adult in the room unless they have to be. That's that whole... bystander effect thing, why you have to assign someone to do one exact task, because if you're just like, "Somebody call 911!" everyone'd just look at everyone else. Like, who's the guy? Who's been nominated? Oh, shit, I guess it's gotta be me.
Except nothing all that exciting's happened to Stiles in years. Or even to Derek, apparently, who was always bizarrely chill any time Stiles tried to check in with him. Take away the constant chaos that kept throwing them together, and apparently, Derek has nothing to say to him at all.
Not that that's even surprising. It's not like he's ever been chatty. Stiles was always the one supplying two-thirds of the conversation. Did he have a theory about how that might change over time? Maybe. But it's been pretty firmly debunked! Over years now.
So... whatever. Whatever, that's cool.
Neat, neat, neat-o.
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Derek’s half-dead by the time Mom’s satisfied with his responses. For this time, at least. Somehow, every full moon is different. But he’s healing, that’s what’s important. That, and that it’ll be almost a month before he has another night like this. But that’s just part of being a born wolf, a Hale descendant. You have to be strong, and ready.
Mom doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway.
The anger and adrenaline gets Derek as far as Stiles’ house before exhaustion and pain take over. He manages a few dragging steps forward, only just grabbing the doorknob in time to keep himself from collapsing right there on the front porch.
But Stiles already knows, somehow, even with human hearing. That, or Derek’s attempt at a subtle escape was a lot louder than he realized.
“Derek? Oh my god.”
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Stiles is the third to find out about it. He texts Derek immediately. BABY IN THE WOODS!!!
I’m not falling for that again, Derek sends back.
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“Stiles?” Derek says, and Superman jumps exactly like Stiles does when someone startles him. “You’re… Wait. You’re supernatural?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says.
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“It was an accident,” Stiles says. “Derek, it's not even bad, I swear.”
But there are—claw marks on Stiles' shoulder. Still bleeding.
And his heartbeat is going a thousand miles an hour.
“It's not Eli's fault,” Stiles says, and Derek goes deaf, for a while. Stiles is still talking, rambling, excusing all of it. Derek just breathes, and pulls pain.
It takes too long to remember that human bleeding doesn't stop on its own. And then—Derek's speeding through the hotel room.
Bandages. And—disinfectant, isn't that—There should be a first aid kit somewhere.
“I should've just found a band-aid or something,” Stiles says. “Or asked one of the million people we know who were around. I just... Eli wouldn't wanna be a funny anecdote.”
That brings Derek's voice back. “How is this funny? He hurt you.”
“See, this is why I didn't wanna tell you,” Stiles says, and Derek stares at him. “Until after the wedding, at least. So I could actually explain, without our whole extended werewolf family catching everything.”
Well, they're alone now. “So explain.”
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Derek doesn't collect Stiles' breath in his lungs, doesn't drink it down and run his tongue over his teeth. He pulls back, pulls away, calms down. Tries to calm down. "Big date tonight?" he asks, like his wolf isn't howling and clawing at his insides.
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It occurs to Derek, eventually, that this is nesting. That this would be, if he was—If Stiles were—If this were a very different story.
He’s giving him shelter. Because the alternative is handing him back to a psychopath. He’s bringing him food. Because without it, he’d starve.
He’s not drinking through the night anymore. Because he needs to be alert, and ready.
Until he finds Stiles somewhere safe.
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"This is all your fault," Stiles says, and means it, doesn’t realize how sharp and hot the rage is until he says it, lump lodged high in his throat, eyes stinging, this was the one thing that Stiles swore would never happen, this is his dad. “You invited her into our lives, you—”
"I’m sorry," Derek says, and Stiles can’t breathe, and the first punch comes like a gasp
and the others like hyperventilating, Stiles’ arms moving too quickly, fists landing too hard, and Derek isn’t fighting back. Stiles’ eyes are burning and his heartbeat is thundering in his ears and his whole body is too small and he’s somewhere outside it and he needs—
He’s still hitting Derek when their mouths smash together, his fists still swinging like pendulums, but it sinks in as he drags his head back, breathes cool clear air that’s been missing for too long. Derek’s mouth tastes like metal and mint and salt, the world’s incessant static hum settles under Stiles’ skin, panic and fury cooling into purpose, focus, clarity, and Stiles pulls back, looks at him—
"Oh my god," Jeff says, and the whole scene shatters into Tyler and Dylan, still catching their breath, still just staring.
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And This All Bears Repeating by blueinkedbones for katakaro
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
31 Jan 2025
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“I don't know how—accurate your show is,” Derek says, and Hoechlin practically facepalms. “Stiles, he's, when he saw you—”
“He thought he was losing it,” Dylan realizes. “That's kind of in the next half of the season too.”
“He's not losing it,” Derek says tightly. “He saw you. You're real. He just—”
“Freaked out,” Dylan says, glad to be helpful somehow. “Because of his mom.”
“Yeah,” Derek says.
Or, five times the cast and characters of Teen Wolf invaded each others' lives.
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It’s just easier. When they don’t have to see each other so much, when Stiles can work from the sidelines. Or sleep it off, fight off the flood of bad feelings. Wanting to slam his own head through the wall.
He ruined his own perfect life.
Yeah, but it’s not in a vacuum, and outside of it, people bleed, and die. Derek, he’d be coming home all bloody again. Clothes shredded, dead-eyed.
Half-wishing he hadn’t survived it, sometimes.
So, no. There are charms, and wards, and it’s Stiles’ breaths woven into them, Stiles’ breaths keeping evil out. Just a little bit, and Eli doesn’t have to grow up suffering.
And Derek can’t know how it works. Because he’d make Stiles stop. He’d stare at him, Stiles, are you crazy? Take it back, right now! How long have I been hurting you?
He wouldn’t understand, this is better. This is so much fucking better than how it used to be.
It’s just too hard to breathe around him.
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In any other situation, Stiles vanishing with no warning would be the only thing on Derek’s mind. But in that same fraction of a second, a kid suddenly appears in front of him. And that… That complicates things.
“Did someone—” Derek says, and stops. He tries to look around for a mom, or something. Like this child didn’t just pop into existence in front of him.
And this is probably some kind of trap.
But—he smells familiar. He smells, he smells like…
And then the kid is running at him. Grabbing his legs, and shuddering against him. Derek tenses, for a second. Hesitates, and slowly lowers a hand to the kid’s shaking shoulder.
“You’re okay,” he says. “You’re gonna be…”
But it’s impossible. Everything he knows is screaming that this is impossible.
Because this child is a Hale. And that’s impossible enough, but that’s still only half of it.
Because he’s also a Stilinski.
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anything that's dead shall be regrown by blueinkedbones for auburn
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
27 Oct 2023
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“Derek,” the guy with the hands says. He's still got his hands out, kind of reaching, kind of catching, kind of dropping to his sides. His voice is calm, but his eyes are too bright to sell it, and his heartbeat is out of control. “Are you—Do you know who we are?”
Derek swallows, thinks. If this is a treaty thing, another pack thing, why would they care about him? He's not even the alpha-in-training, he's nothing. Mom doesn't even bother explaining most werewolf politics to him. He knows most of it from Laura, Peter, from passing packs who used to think it was cute to tell the youngest beta their complicated histories and have it repeated back to them around still-awkward fangs. Now that's Cora, and not recently, either—She says she's too big to play kid games.
“No,” Derek decides. “Should I?”
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luna is on twitter when she sees it.
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“Oh,” Dylan says. “Okay, cool. As long as you’re... Yeah. Okay, I’ll see you.”
“See you soon,” Tyler says, and Dylan takes a weird sharp breath.
“Dylan?” Tyler says. Trying not to... It’s nothing, he’s just breathing. He’s fine, Tyler’s just too aware of it.
“Sorry,” Dylan says, and Tyler tenses, forces himself to relax again. He’s not even thirty. He’s healthy, he’s in good shape. “Um, yeah. See you.”
I love you. I love you. Dylan, I...
“See you then,” Tyler says, and Dylan says, “Yeah.” Hangs up, and Tyler’s gripping his phone, not thinking.
If Dylan coughs or something, Tyler is going to lose his mind.
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tell me what you want (what you really, really want) by blueinkedbones
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)
01 Nov 2022
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“I can’t believe this,” Stiles says. “You have a boyfriend before me.”
Derek tilts his head. “Excuse me?”
“You do,” Stiles says. “Derek Hale. Avoider of love.”
Derek raises his eyebrows.
“And like, so am I,” Stiles says, maybe realizing how insensitive that sounds. “Hugely. But like, I thought we were in this together.”
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And courting in general, it doesn't seem fair. Like, he'll do it, begrudgingly. He knows his role or whatever. He's showing he can provide, he's a provider. He just wouldn't mind a few provisions himself, once in a while. Stiles likes gifts! Stiles likes flattery. Why's it always assumed alphas don't want that shit? Like they're just naturally born with their confidence fully formed, and no interest in chocolate or flowers or someone being nice, for a second. Derek just randomly brings Stiles food sometimes, and Stiles has never had as much love in his heart as in those moments. Someone just thinking of you, and doing something. Imagine.
Of course, Derek isn't an option. Alphas go with omegas, betas... Stiles doesn't know. Each other, probably. It's all science, and hormones, and how the world's worked since the beginning of time. Alpha meets omega, alpha woos omega, there's a lot of ferocity and possessiveness and heat. And then marriage, maybe. Or really brutal rejection, which alphas are supposed to be used to. Except real alphas don't get rejected. Stiles isn't blind. He has the ultimate example right in front of him.
Derek's literally never not gotten what he wants.
Series
- Part 1 of a vital spark
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Turns out Derek is a prepper.
Stiles finds the bunker one day, just takes it in for a while. The stocked shelves, dusty cans and boxes, stacks of water, generators, a first aid kit.
“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” Derek says. He squares his shoulders. “I wanted to be ready.”
“Nothing bad’s gonna happen,” Stiles says. He takes another look around, marveling. Shakes his head. “Nothing this bad.”
“Something’s coming,” Derek mutters. Flinching when Stiles squints at him, ducking his head. “I don’t... It’s just a feeling.”
“PTSD,” Stiles says. “Things are too good right now. Too easy.”
“Maybe,” Derek says.
He doesn’t sound convinced.