For the 1k one shot giveaway here's a prompt-ish : oblivious!Stiles with Derek trying so hard to ask Stiles out but Stiles just has no idea ❤️❤️❤️❤️congrats on the 1k!!!!!
This was so much fun to write because this was basically how my girlfriend and I got together because I’m a total dork (she and I do have two anniversaries)
the amazing spiderman 2 is on in an hour
The text comes at the best time because Stiles is bored out of his mind and ready to take up knitting at the community center with the elderly if it meant finally getting some social interaction.
Be there in 10
He has no shame in replying instantly to Derek as he scrambles to grab his hightops and his hoodie from the back of the door. Sure, Stiles understood that his friends were busy this summer. They all had jobs and pack training usually wore them out, not to mention just about everyone was paired off and was more likely to hang out with their significant other than Stiles. He wasn’t bitter, it was just how it was. But that’s okay, ‘cause he had Derek.
it takes 15 to get here when you obey the speed limit
Is that the sound of Derek worrying
Impossible to resist
Stiles hops into the Jeep and dutifully follows all the traffic laws and makes it to Derek’s in just under twenty minutes.
“Honey I’m hoooooome,” Stiles calls obnoxiously into the Hale House, chuckling when he hears Derek’s sigh from the kitchen. He drops his stuff by the door and enters the room that smells like freshly popped popcorn and that jalapeño powder that Stiles liked on his.
“You know the movie doesn’t start for another forty minutes, right?” Derek asks as he brings the popcorn bowls into the living room with Stiles tailing behind him with the drinks he snags from the fridge.
“And? Despite your belief, I do not just use you for your amazing flat screen TV.” Derek snorts and sits down and Stiles follows him down at the other end, tossing his feet up and onto Derek’s thigh. Derek has long since given into it and simply lifts the popcorn a safe distance while Stiles gets comfortable and then settles himself.
“Find anything new about the sidhe?” Derek prompts, tossing a kernel in his mouth.
“Yeah, actually. I found a blog that is run by an emissary that Deaton’s heard of and he had a lot to say,” The conversation continues with Derek asking clarifying questions and Stiles regurgitating all the information he’s found on whatever creature caught his fancy this week. The supernatural were much more fun to research while you weren’t in imminent parel. The movie starts and the conversation doesn’t completely die, just have odd little pauses when Stiles gets distracted by whatever is on screen.
“Dude, why is it so cold?” Stiles asks in the middle of defining the differences between faery and fairy (BIG difference, by the way).
“Oh, a bird flew into the house and broke a window and the heater has never really worked,” Derek shrugs, tilting his chin to the end of the hall where there is indeed a window covered in cardboard.
“Well, not all of us are supernatural heaters,” Stiles snipes, rubbing his upper arm and hoping the goosebumps die down soon. Derek lets out an exasperated sigh and holds out an arm. “What am I supposed to do with that? Chop it off and cuddle it?”
“Or you could come here where it is still attached,” Derek’s eyes close and when they reopen they’re fixed on the ceiling. Well, in retrospect, Stiles was being a little dull.
“Oh, yeah, that works too.” Stiles makes quick work of getting right up next to Derek and settling in the groove between his shoulder and chest. It’s a very nice spot to be and he’s in the perfect spot to demand Derek feed him popcorn - win win. It’s maybe half an hour later that Isaac stumbles in.
“Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to crash your date,” just as soon as he had entered, the blond was gone. Stiles stares after him and then turns to look at Derek.
“You might want to use your words, Stiles.” Derek says with a bemused smile. Stiles would laugh but he’s too focused on what Isaac said.
“Isaac called this a date, we aren’t dating.”
“Yes, that’s true. But I’ve been trying to ask you out for so long, Isaac got tired of calling it kinda-not-really-dates and just calls them dates now to save himself the breath.” Derek brings a hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. Stiles makes a strange noise and tries to lift out of his spot and ends up using Derek’s chest for leverage.
“What do you mean?” His voice has upped by at least two octaves and he can see the werewolf wince.
“It’s fine, Isaac, it had to happen at some point,” Derek says in a normal voice, obviously communicating with the beta from where he’s probably in his room. “Stiles, what do we usually do together?” The question seems odd and Stiles nearly demands a straight answer but his brain is still kinda stuck so he goes with the flow.
“Uh, we go try the new food places around town and watch movies and you took me to that really cool old book store and we walk in the park and oh my god you’ve been taking me on dates, you asshole.” Derek winces and that snaps Stiles out of his stupor, “No no no, that’s not a bad thing except that you didn’t say they were dates, you complete dork!”
“I did, Stiles. I phrased it quite explicitly the first few times. After that I kinda gave up and thought you’d figure it out eventually.” He shrugs, dropping his hand from his face with a rueful smile.
“Derek, it’s been months!”
“Happy six months, Stiles.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“No, I think we’ve thoroughly proven who the idiot is here.”
“Oh my god, just kiss me already.” And kiss him he does. Soft and sweet and just a little awkward with the way they’re both smiling. But that didn’t matter, he was dating Derek Hale and that meant he got to kiss him whenever the hecky dizzle he wanted.
“Wait, Der, does this mean we have two anniversaries? ‘Cause it started on a different day for me.”
Prompt: The reader isn’t ready to confront Peter after all that happened the night before. However, the task of avoidance becomes increasingly more difficult as the day progresses. Having a fallout with your best friend is the worst.
Word Count: 3,286
A/N: So I rewrote this part at least six times before begrudgingly deciding to post this version. I kept writing and deleting every version before this one because I didn’t like any of them. I don’t even really like this version, but I figured I made you guys wait long enough for a part two, and this was probably the best I was going to write. I’m sorry for any grammatical errors. I hope you can at least somewhat enjoy this poorly written imagi.
You woke up to the sound of your alarm. As you slowly gained consciousness, the obnoxious noise echoed louder in your ears. You groaned to yourself and fumbled around for the snooze button. Finally getting the blasted thing to shut up, you groggily turned so that you could see the time. It was half past six in the morning. School started in one hour. You begrudgingly rolled (quite literally) out of bed and stumbled as you stood up. You stretched your arms above you head before yawning for what seemed like the longest time. Jeez, you were tired. Why were you so tired? Then it hit you.
Dinner. Relatives. Boyfriend. Peter.
Closing your eyes, your entire body shifted as the memories from last night flooded your mind. You suddenly had the very strong urge to retreat back under your covers and never face the world again. You shook you head. Hiding wouldn’t help anyone. You huffed out a frustrated breath before deciding to head to the kitchen. Maybe a quick breakfast would lighten your spirits. You didn’t get very far though. Not even five steps in, your foot fell on top of a material that most definitely was not hardwood floors. You looked down to find that you had stepped on what looked to be a men’s blazer. You picked the jacket up and stared at it. It was Peter’s jacket. The one he gave you last night before you told him to leave. Before you had your emotional breakdown. Before you had ruined everything. You stared at the piece of clothing in your hands. Tears were already starting to form in your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself look away. It was all so fresh in your mind.