kisu-no-hi:

Friendly reminder that these twitters accounts exist

Have a good day!

hoechlined:

“Look, Derek, I’m not going anywhere, okay? …”

Sterek AU: in which Derek feels like he doesn’t belong and Stiles tries to tell him that he does.

ladykaelyn:

Can be viewed as either Hobrien or Sterek.

lonewolfed:

“come closer, sourwolf.”

canistakahari:

swingsetindecember:

lielabell:

fwips:

since i dont watch teen woof i’ve only ever seen derek shirtless in these gifs and the one he’s doing pullups on the doorway like one gif he’s doing exercise in a broke ass house the next second he’s on the floor writhing around like a sexy snake or something so tbh i always figured what happened was that he was mid pull-up and the door frame snapped and he fell off and then had to look around if anyone saw he should really just go to the gym

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA BEST EXPLANATION EVER.

“I think it’s time to use those vouchers Stiles got me,” he groans.

“What are you doing?” says Stiles.

Derek doesn’t flinch or startle or in any way indicate he didn’t actually hear Stiles coming. He just pulls himself up over the doorframe for one last rep and then drops to the floor and turns around. “Nothing,” he says. “What do you want?”

“You were just doing pull-ups on the rotted doorframe of your burned down house,” says Stiles, eyes wide. “And while that’s totally badass and athletic of you, there are, like, bars you can install to give you a richer pull-up experience. Scott has one. Or you could go to the gym. It’s got the added bonus of structural stability in the walls and ceilings, as well as actual equipment. They’ve even got a new registration deal going on right now; it’s only like $25 a month if you sign up for a year.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Derek, shrugging, because that’s always a safe enough excuse to use around Stiles. “I literally don’t understand the words that are coming out of your mouth. Sorry. Did you have something you actually wanted?”

They stare at one another a little longer, Derek waiting for Stiles to respond and Stiles just being deliberately stubborn and making him wait, and then Stiles gets distracted and his gaze drifts down to Derek’s bare chest, eyeing him up shamelessly.

“What?” says Stiles eventually, reluctantly dragging his eyes up to meet Derek’s instead of hungrily drinking in his nipples.

“I don’t know,” says Derek, letting his growing irritation shine through in his voice. “This feels like talking to someone with short term memory loss. What are you doing here?”

“Oh,” says Stiles, pulling open his backpack. “Right. I found a book you might want.”

“Okay,” says Derek. “Thanks.”

They look at it together, sitting at the bottom of the stairs pressed shoulder to shoulder, and then Stiles leaves to go do things normal teenagers do, like homework and masturbation, and Derek stands in the foyer and looks contemplatively at the doorframe.

The next day, he gets back from the grocery store and there is a little slip of paper jammed in the door.

It’s a voucher for the Beacon Hills Fitness Center: 20% off a year’s membership for new applicants.

Derek doesn’t bother to control his smile.

I love this fandom. That is all, carry on.

obliqueoptimism:

waxjism:

wickedklainer:

So I was watching this episode again and I just noticed how freaking amazing Derek’s belt is.

sure, let’s all look at his belt

#that’s a good belt #probably real leather too

obrienbutt:

STEREK AU: Scott McCall, his girlfriend Allison and best friend Stiles are in their own small band called the ‘Beaconators’ (courtesy of Stiles Stilinski) and decide to take part in a Battle of the Bands contest a few towns over. As they get to the final they butt heads badly with their competitors ’The Wolf Pack’, their lead singer/guitarist called Derek Hale takes a deep shine to the competitions drummer. In order for Scott’s band to win, there’s one condition to be met for Derek Hale. He gets Stiles Stilinski.

Derek: “It’s simple enough. I get Stiles and your bad excuse for a band can win the contest.”

Scott: “Dude, over my dead body.”

Stiles: “No, no, no, you know what Scott, it’s cool. I’ll ugh, take one for the team on this one. Seriously, let me take this one. Definitely taking this bullet.”

Scott: “Wow, I can smell your desperation from here.”

Stiles: “Shuttup, it’s a win/win. We in the contest and I get boned by the hot band leader. Don’t take this one away from me Scott or I swear to God.”

ladyw1nter:

tylerfucklin:

“Did you need something?” Derek’s face was a blank slate, unclear of any remorse as Stiles stared at him, caught mid-step. Derek tensed, and Stiles eased back onto his heel, arms limp at his side. Unsure, Stiles gave a heavy swallow, his throat clicking as he struggled to think of the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” nodding, Stiles hoped Derek could understand his implications. They were together, right? He’d thought they were, they way Derek would let Stiles touch him and kiss him—and if Stiles was lucky, sometimes Derek would touch and kiss him right back. That had to mean they were together, at least in some way. It had reached a point where Stiles could come to Derek without being turned away, could seek Derek out when Scott had ignored one too many phone calls.

“Fine.” Derek turned, guiding Stiles towards the house. Stiles didn’t move at first, his mind in turmoil. Did Derek even want him here? Or was he just indifferent? The way he brushed off Stiles’ words with an apathetic comment or action made Stiles start to question whether he really had Derek at all, in an way, or if Stiles was just watching him slip away in a more painful fashion than if he’d never had Derek in the first place.

Stiles pushed those thoughts away, because that’s just how Derek was, right? He couldn’t let his insecurity take over. He had to believe that Derek cared, and that there was more to this than some twisted form of pity and a fear of losing Stiles completely if he were to turn him down.

Instead, he followed Derek into the house and through the halls to the one bedroom that had avoided most of the fire. There was the basic furniture and a bookshelf filled with things that had survived the fire, as well small generator that was set up in the corner, though Derek rarely used it to power his single lamp. Derek turned in the middle of the room, looking expectantly at Stiles until his eyebrow was quirking up high.

Stiles took that as his cue, stepping forward and then, tentatively, bringing his hands up to Derek’s shoulders. Derek stood there, watching Stiles lean in to press their lips together. He reciprocated minimally, light presses and the occasional burst of passion where he would grab onto Stiles and bite down on his lip, but it was mostly agonizingly tame. Stiles’ heart gave an aching thump, and his mind told him all of the reasons why Derek didn’t seem to be enjoying this.

He dashed those thoughts away, pushing Derek towards the bed and climbing into his lap, stroking his hands down Derek’s chest to try and get him at least the tiniest bit turned on. Derek kept up the same halfway-reluctant responses, until Stiles finally pulled away, a frown on his lips and an ache in his chest.

“Are you even enjoying this?” He asked, and Derek stared blankly back at him.

“I never said I didn’t.” Derek said, and Stiles had to bite down a yell of frustration. Trying to wring a straight answer out of Derek was more difficult than climbing out of a bottomless pit with his bare hands.

“That doesn’t mean you like it.”

Derek’s scowl made it’s appearance, his brows pinching together as he watched Stiles slide off of his lap to sit down on the bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

There weeks ago, Stiles would have been happy to tell him. Except…now Stiles was tired of trying. He was tired of throwing his questions and insecurities at Derek like eggs against a brick wall, getting nothing back but a bunch of broken, messy emotions and absolutely no answers. He was tired, and he was frustrated, and he really didn’t want to argue anymore.

“Nevermind.”

Derek stared at him for a moment longer, before his eyebrows bobbed and he pushed himself to his feet. “Okay,” he said dully. Stiles knew that tone of voice, it was the one where Derek didn’t want to deal with anything, the one where he usually shut down and would retreat inside of his head. Stiles sighed, turning and flopping against the bed.

He heard the shifting of fabric as Derek turned, and the creak of his feet against the wood floor when he started to walk away. Stiles’ chest hurt, it hurt so bad and he didn’t know how to breathe anymore. It was like someone had taken a burning metal clamp, wrapped it around his ribs, and had started to crush everything inside of him slowly and painfully.

Lying on the bed didn’t make it any easier, not when he felt like there was a giant weight on his body and invisible acid on his skin that ate away at his nerves. Pushing himself up, Stiles headed out of the bedroom. If he apologized, Derek was usually more receptive. All he had to do was dole out extra affection and effort and Derek was often amiable to forgetting anything had ever happened.

Derek wasn’t on the base floor, though. Stiles looked through every room that could be entered without breaking the floorboards. He tried the two rooms upstairs, and even the basement, but Derek was gone. Of course he was gone.

Stiles pressed his back against the door to Derek’s bedroom, slipping down and pressing his head into his hands. He hadn’t even tried and he’d still pushed Derek away. Again. For the hundredth time.  No matter how much Stiles had tried to stop it, no matter what he did to try and appease Derek, it was useless. Stiles—Stiles had probably pushed too much. He’d wanted too much, asked for twice that, and Derek was running away because Stiles was smothering him.

Stiles bit down on his bottom lip, just because it wouldn’t stop trembling and he was not a child. He wasn’t going to cry because the guy he was completely gone over didn’t want to be with him. He wasn’t—he wasn’t going to mourn Derek because Stiles wasn’t even sure he’d ever really had him in the first place. Derek had never outright said what he’d felt towards Stiles, only half-answers that had let Stiles jump to his own conclusions. Now, Stiles could see he hadn’t been meant to take what he could get. He should have known it was Derek being unable to actually turn Stiles away. The guy was a walking airport of baggage, there was no way he’d be able to turn his back on anyone that he cared about. Stiles knew that he meant something to Derek, but what he should have known that what he was to Derek, was not was Derek was to him.

Stiles exhaled roughly, the sob being punched out of his chest before he could stop it. He tried to suck it back in just as fast, biting down on his lip as hard as he could and holding his breath until nothing left him but a tiny, soft whine of pain. It hurt so much. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t watch Derek grow more and more distant when Stiles was completely and utterly helpless to stop it from happening. It was as bad as watching his mother die, only so much worse because Derek wasn’t dying, and Stiles would be forced to watch him, knowing that they would never be able to go back to what they were.

Stiles dragged a hand down from his head, his fingers curling into the fabric covering his heart and pulling, like he could rip it from his chest and be rid of the pain that didn’t seem to stop. His other hand dragged itself over his eyes, pressing down until it hurt and wishing he could force the tears back inside. He wanted to erase everything, to turn back time and take back all of it.

“…Stiles?”

JFC I love how tumblr’s letting fandom do all these awesome things with mixed media now, where the lines between fanart and fanfic and meta been all smudged and blurred into this awesome new creature. 

This fandom is a gift and I love you all.