#daddies!sterek

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Imagine Stiles and Derek sitting up at 3am because their baby has a fever, they sit up in the kitchen, Derek cooking eggs and bacon while Stiles anxiously watches the monitor.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Imagine Stiles catching Derek singing their baby a lullaby because they can’t sleep.

[hazelandglasz]

Sterek Week : Day 7, All Hallow’s Eve

#7 ALL HALLOWS’ EVE (Saturday, 31st October)

It’s Halloween! That one night of the year when the supernatural seems only a heartbeat away, when kids roam the streets and go trick-or-treating, and friends gather to tell ghost stories. Show us in any way you like how Stiles and Derek are spending their Halloween this year. We hope you have a magical, spooky Halloween too! Tag #SterekHalloween

Follow-up to Day 4 ;)

They’re dressed up, one happy Crayola family, and they’re ready to go trick-or-treating.

At least that’s what Stiles thought because, well, what more could they possibly need.

Except that Julie stomps her foot, and flashes golden eyes at them.

It would be threatening if, a, Stiles wasn’t used to be glared at by upset werewolves, and b, she was not dressed as a pink crayon.

“What is it, munchkin?” he asks, trying to crouch in his box costume--not an easy feat, but he manages.

More than Derek who crosses his arms over his box-chest.

Ridiculous, but then again, like father like daughter apparently.

“If we all go,” Julie says slowly, like her dads are being particularly dense, “who will give out the Candy?”

“We can leave a basket on the door as we go,” Stiles offers, and Julie shakes her head.

“That’s not fair!”

“Not--not fair?”

“What if someone like Michael comes and steals all the candy?!”

“Michael?”

“Lydia’s kid,” Derek supplies from his spot and Stiles winces.

Michael Martin would definitely steal all the candy.

“What do you wanna do, munchkin?”

“I have an idea.”

Now that makes Derek react.

---

“Trick or treat!”

Their elderly neighbor opens the door, a bowl of Milky Ways in hand and her cat by her side.

“Mrs. Alfandari, what a cute Cindy Loo Who you make,” Derek says, all charm and dapperness.

And it works too.

“Oh Derek,” she says, blushing a little under her neon pink make-up, “you charmer. Is that Julie?”

Julie nods so vigorously that her hat almost flies off of her head. “Trick or treat,” she repeats, holding up her bag.

Mrs. Alfandari gives her three Milky Ways, and then Stiles takes a step forward. “Happy Halloween, my dear,” he says gently, holding up their large bowl of candies.

“For me?”

“We’re taking the treats with us this year,” Derek explains, patting Julie’s shoulder. “Julie’s idea to make sure that the distribution is fair.”

The older woman peers into the bowl and picks up a lollypop. “That’s very kind of you,” she tells Julie, who blushes and looks down, scuffing the tip of her shoe against the floor. “Quite the activist you have, Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Hale.”

“Are you really surprised, though,” Stiles says with a laugh and a wink.

She laughs back, opening the candy. “Not really, no,” she admits in reply. “Have a good evening, kids.”

As they walk away, Julie pulls on Derek’s hand. “Dad, why did she call you kids?”

“Because we’re younger than her,” Derek replies, adjusting the costume to fit his gait.

“But she’s so OLD,” Julie exclaims, “everybody is younger than her!”

“Thank you, kiddo,” Derek deadpans, picking her up. “Way to make me feel ancient.”

Julie takes his face between her hands. “You’re old, Daddy, but that’s okay.” She presses a kiss to his cheek. “I still love you.”

“And I love you,” Derek says, rubbing their noses together. “Come on, lots of houses to visit before bedtime!”

“No bedtime tonight,” Julie says, practically leaping from his arms. “It’s Halloween!”

Derek hums, knowing fully well that as soon as they get home after touring the neighborhood, his cub is going to crash and fall asleep.

“Sure, kiddo, whatever you say.”

[hazelandglasz]

Sterek Week : Day 4, A Box Of Crayons

#4 A BOX OF CRAYONS (Wednesday, 28th October)

You can A) pick five crayon colours or ask your followers to pick them for you and then let your imagination run wild. You can write a story inspired by the colour names, use the colours as a filter in a manip or make a sketch using those colours. Or you can B) write a Sterek fic involving crayons in some way, make a manip with Sterek and crayons, or draw them with/using crayons. The rainbow is yours to play with! Tag #SterekCrayons

Stiles always knew that Derek would be an awesome father.

He knew that the first weeks of welcoming Julie in their home, Derek would want to stay at home with her, to provide a safe environment and to give her a sense of pack--adoption between pack of werewolves is such a complex, delicate process--but he didn’t expect Derek to blossom so well into fatherhood.

But really, it’s precious the way he focuses on the little girl and her demands and questions--and don’t get Stiles started on the way Derek always answers with full sentences, never talking down to her, treating her like a miniature adult.

So much, it seems, that Stiles had almost forgotten than she is only three years-old.

When he closes the door and calls for his husband and their daughter, nobody answers, but Stiles can hear voices in the house so he doesn’t panic and follows them to the living room.

“What about a princess?”

“No.”

Derek is sitting cross legged on the floor, facing Julie who is pouting and has her arms crossed over her chubby belly that Stiles wants to kiss 24/7.

But more importantly, she’s glaring at Derek in a way that is eerily familiar.

“A superhero?” Derek offers, showing up a catalogue. “You could be Batman, that would make Daddy happy.”

“Daddy would definitely like that,” Stiles interjects, startling them both and picking up Julie who is still pouting, but there is a smile already digging dimples into her cheeks. “What’s going on here?”

“Halloween costumes”, Derek and Julie reply together, with the same dejected tone.

“Ooooh, right,” Stiles says, as if he had forgotten about the holiday. “What do you want to be, munchkin?” he asks, tickling Julie as he speaks to get that windchime-like laughter out of her.

Much better.

Meanwhile, Derek huffs and closes the costume catalogue with an exasperated eyeroll, picking up his phone.

“I wanna be a c’ayon.”

“Come again?”

“A C’AYON!” Julie shouts, taking a hold of Stiles’ cheeks. “C’ayons a’ the best Daddy!”

“Oh, crayons?”

“Yes, a c’ayon.”

“Derek, our daughter wants to be a crayon,” Stiles says, lifting her high against his chest and rubbing their noses together.

Derek stands up and finally gives Stiles a kiss. “So I heard.”

“And she’s going to be the cutest crayon of them all.”

“Of course.”

“And we--”

“No.”

Stiles looks at Derek with a pleading look, quickly imitated by Julie, and really, two begging puppy looks are too much. “We can be crayons too, Derek, come on!”

Derek’s smile turns slightly cocky, and Stiles has to take a deep breath in Julie’s hair to keep from jumping his husband.

“Or something else,” he replies, holding up his phone for Stiles to see.

Now that’s a costume Stiles can picture for them.

[hazelandglasz]

Treehouse shenanigans

Follow up to this

Derek can tell that Lina is hiding something.

He also knows that this something has something to do with one auburn-haired boy, but as far as he’s (officially) concerned, it’s her problem now.

The playdate has gone pretty well--the first and the second and the third ones, as a matter of fact, and now it’s a weekly occurrence to see the Hales at the Stilinskis’ and vice versa.

It’s comfortable, this routine they have found to teach their respective kids some values.

Lina learns how to share and that she’s not the planet’s overl--overlady.

Joe learns that you cannot get what you want with a pout and a guilt-inducing sentence.

Lina teaches Joe how to play “Für Elise” on his guitar, and in exchange, Joe teaches her how to make jam with fresh fruits.

And Derek is ever so grateful for it--freshly cooked apricot jam on his birthday toast definitely tasted better than the canned one. He’s not so sure that Stiles is grateful for Joe’s new passion for playing classics on the guitar.

The two children seem to have buried the hatchet, and Derek can relax with Stiles.

In the privacy of his office, Derek grants himself the luxury of sighing like a thirteen year-old at the thought.

Stiles.

At first, the man seemed so protective of his son that Derek didn’t think he would let anybody in.

A bear protecting his cub.

But then Stiles must have recognized the same streak in Derek’s behavior, protecting his daughter with everything that he had, a wolf surveying his pack, and another layer had come to light.

A lighter, younger one, flirtatious and playful and so damn attractive that Derek doesn’t know how to resist.

The worst part is that Stiles doesn’t seem to be aware of how truy devastating he is for Derek’s sanity. And Derek isn’t sure he wants him to stop.

Anyway, back to Lina and her mischievous mischiefs: recently, Derek has spotted her in deep conversations with Joseph, but the moment he makes himself known, they couldn’t stand further apart, like they can’t stand to share the same air.

They’re too young for any kind of … under the belt shenanigans--Erica is dealing with that one because there is no way in Hell that Derek will have the Talk with his baby princess--but it makes him extremely suspicious, but he still doesn’t see it coming.

At all.

Completely blind-sided by his longing looks thrown at Stiles behind his back--and what an interesting back it is.

---

“Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Lina’s scream shakes the house and Stiles is at the door before Derek, practically tearing the door from its hinges to get to his backyard.

“Where is Joe?” he immediately asks, and Lina, face covered in tears, points at the upper branches.

Joe is sitting on a branch, far too high for Stiles’ comfort, an armful of pinecones next to him as he throws them at Lina.

“Joseph Longinus Stilinski!” Stiles shouts and Derek mouths ‘Longinus?’ to himself, completely bewildered. “You get down here immediately and apologize!”

Joe’s only reply is to throw a pinecone right between his father’s feet.

Stiles growls under his breath, and Derek berates his libido for reacting as strongly as he does.

“You are so dead,” Stiles whispers before jumping at the ladder that leads to the tree house perched on Joe’s branch.

Derek looks at his progression, torn between feeling sorry for Joe and feeling horny because what a view, when he remembers that his little girl is still under attack, and he rushes to her side, brushing her tears away and kissing the top of her head and every little scratch he can see.

Now that he thinks about it, there is not that many scratches, even if Joe seems to have the best aim Derek has ever seen.

“You should help Shtiles,” Lina whispers and Derek frowns.

“You’re sure?”

“Joe won’t come down easily,” Lina says with a long-suffering sigh.

Derek tilts his head to the side--that is the understatement of the century, if Joe’s shouts of “you can take my pinecones but not my freedom” and other variations are any indication.

Forgoing the ladder, Derek easily climbs the tree and lands on the floor of the treehouse right behind Stiles who is walking towards the window to go and catch his son, when a clanking sound shakes the little caban.

Derek looks at Stiles, and Stiles looks back at him, and they both rush to the entrance of the treehouse.

Down to the ground, Lina and Joe are rolling the ladder to neatly put it away before clasping their hands and skipping to the house.

“We got fooled by our own kids,” Stiles says, voice heavy with a sense of betrayal.

“The little miscreants,” Derek mumbles and Stiles lets out a surprised sound, between a wordless exclamation and a giggle. “What?”

“Miscreants?” Stiles repeats, fully laughing this time, and Derek feels himself blushing. “There is no swear jar in here, you can say that they are a couple of little shits!”

Derek wants to kiss that giggle off of his lips. “A couple of pieces of shit?” he tries--it’s been six years and three months since he let himself swear for the last time, it feels almost foreign. “Little fuckers!”

“That’s the spirit,” Stiles says, clapping his back. But instead of retracting his hand, Stiles’ touch lingers between Derek’s shoulder blades and Derek chances a look at the other man. Stiles smiles at him, shy and tentative and not entirely convinced of the reality of their situation.

And Derek’s resolve not to do anything about it, not to involve Stiles in his life, not to get involved with Stiles, melts under the warmth of that smile.

He turns slowly towards Stiles, careful not to jostle his hand from his back, and reaches for Stiles’ cheek, pulling him closer to him.

The whole thing feels like it’s in slow motion, but when he starts kissing Stiles, it shifts to fast forward.

One moment they are softly kissing, discovering the way their lips feel against each other, and the next Stiles has his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, Derek’s back is against the treehouse’s wall and his hands are cupping Stiles’ ass while Stiles buries his fingers in his hair.

It’s too fast, too much--it’s perfect.

And if neither of them can look at the treehouse, after that, without getting a blush on their faces and a boner in their pants, well, nobody needs to know.

[hazelandglasz]

Naps - Next Generation

Inspired by this picture I stumbled upon

This is the epilogue of the verse folks ^^

The verse from the top!

As they grow into their relationship, as they slowly become "they" and "we" and as they turn their friendship into something deeper--and to Stiles' delight, something that involves a lot of kissing and fingers touching hidden skin--Derek starts ...

Dreaming.

Dreaming about taking Stiles to a meadow under the red Moon to celebrate their union.

About having his mother, his father, his sisters, every wolf in the Pack, even distant, to howl with him once he marks Stiles as his own and once Stiles returns the favor.

About living with Stiles, kicking him when he hogs the blankets and blowing raspberries at his back when Stiles tells him he eats too much sweets.

About brushing their teeth side by side, bumping their hips and giggling around the toothpaste in their mouth.

About kissing their everlasting marks while they're making love.

And after a while, Derek starts dreaming about little feet hitting the ground and little claws clicking on the floor.

Naturally, the morning after the first dream of being awakened by their own cub pulling the covers from them, Derek talks about it with Stiles.

About turning their love nest into a family den.

The words are barely out of his mouth that Stiles is already leaping on top of him to wrap his long limbs around Derek, lips pressed against his neck.

"Yes?" Derek asks, his arms closing around Stiles' body, needing the confirmation before letting himself hope too much.

"Yes, yes, yes," Stiles replies, alternating his words and his kisses, "a thousand times yes. We'll have lots of kids, alright? Yours, mine, adopted--"

"Ours."

Stiles stops and looks up from Derek's collarbone where he was busy making and remaking a love bite, a living Penelope working as his masterpiece again and again.

"What did you say?" Stiles asks and Derek's hand comes to rest on the small of his back while the other cups the back of his head, fingers playing with his soft hair.

"Ours--it will be our children."

"They will," Stiles replies softly, bending his head to rest on Derek's collarbone.

---

First, they have Theodore--Theo, for short.

Biologically Stiles', but he has Derek's personality to a T.

Even if the little boy is 100% human, he sticks his nose in the neck of all of his family members who cannot hold him enough--particularly his Pappy and his Pop-pop--and paws at his dads' pants to get on their laps.

Then they adopt Stella, Michael and Toni, triplets born in the fold of the Hagopian's pack and whose parents had been killed by rogue hunters.

Chris Argent had taken care of the culprits, punishing them and delivering them to justice for a "normal" trial, and the pack's Alpha had asked for a favor from Talia, who had only been too happy to welcome the cubs in her family.

Their odd coats of fur--light brown on the little boy's back, lighter even, close to camel on the two girls'--make them look like puppies even more than Derek or his sisters ever did.

Stiles loves having a house filled with children, and the four of them adore him, but Derek--Derek thrives in fatherhood.

In shifting to play with the triplets--who keep to their wolves selves most of the time--, in helping Theo learning how to read and write--he's only three, but he's so bright, God Derek feels his chest puffed in pride at how smart his eldest is.

In staying as a wolf to nap with all of them, Theo lying between his front paws, clutching the longer hair of his chest, while the triplets snuffle around them both.

When Stiles comes home from his job or from college, and Derek looks up, cocking one ear at him and flicking his tail in sleepy, lazy happiness, Stiles doesn't speak a word and just lies on the carpet with them, one arm thrown over Derek's side and brushing against their children's cheeks.

It's not as much a nap as they used to share, but it helps settle Stiles after a day away from his little sub-pack.

And Derek doesn't think he could be happier than this--until a Saturday night that starts with both Stiles and himself looking for the four children to put them to bed.

They have a whole evening planned--nothing too fancy, pasta and movie--but this is delaying it.

Derek tries to sniff the kids, but something is blocking him, and as time passes by, he starts worrying.

"Theooo," he calls, looking under the couch while Stiles goes looking in their laundry room.

"Derek."

Stiles barely whispers his name, but Derek hears him--he'll always hear him--and he runs to join him.

And once he's there, he has to bury his face in Stiles' shoulder to muffle his giggles.

Right there, in the basket of fresh sheets and laundry that Stiles was going to fold in the morning, lie their "litter", the three cubs with their little muzzles buried in Theo's belly.

Stiles lets out a wet sort of giggle, his hand finding Derek's on his hip and clutching it.

More than Derek, who could smell the love the three young children have for their older brother, Stiles was worried that the wolves couldn't really relate to Theo, blaming himself in the process for some reasons Derek didn't even understand.

But to see them like this, all wrapped up in each other in a literal napping puppy pile--

It's a comfort for both of them.

"Come on," Derek whispers in Stiles' ear, "it's not that often that they are all asleep together."

Stiles nods, turning his head to kiss Derek's jaw. "Time for a nap of our own then," he whispers and Derek doesn't waste any second before throwing Stiles over his shoulder to run to their bedroom for their very special kind of nap.

[raisesomehale]

But imagine Derek & Stiles getting together. They get a cute little house with a white picket fence that Stiles kind of stares at in awe at least once a week. They're being domestic, thinking about kids. Stiles outright says Derek should be the biological dad, and Derek doesn't think much of it at first. But then they get to the clinic & the nurse gives them the option of doing one of those things where they mix the sperm & let fate decide. Derek thinks it's kind of a good idea. Stiles is (1/3)

shaking his head though, like he really, REALLY doesn’t want to. And now Derek IS paying attention bc why the hell is Stiles so against being the biological father of their kids? Is he trying to leave his options open? Is he worried he’ll want to leave one day? Stiles tells him no, and he’s very insistent but he won’t tell Derek WHY. So Derek keeps pushing & pushing until finally Stiles just blurts, “I don’t want them to die like my mom okay?!” & buries his head in his hands & lets Derek hug him tight against his chest in the middle of the doctor’s office & if he cries a little, well neither of them are telling. When the nurse comes back, Derek tells her no and when their little girl is three and they start talking about having another, Derek doesn’t need to even ask.