World Unfolding

Sequel to Doors Unlocked and Open.

The Nemeton is closed, the Dread Doctors long gone and Stiles and Derek’s relationship is shiny, new and exciting. On the surface everything seems great. Underneath however, something is brewing, and not just deep in the Preserve. Can Stiles get a handle on it while juggling his love life, school work, frustrating magic lessons with Morrell and a best friend who’s downward-spiraling fast?

Chapter 3 /?  is up! 

Fic is complete. Chapters will be posted several times a week.

I Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) - Chapter 1 - yodasyoyo - Teen Wolf (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

“What is with that sweater, dude?”

Derek ducks his head to look at it, abashed. “Uh- Mrs Hernandez knitted it for me. It’s an early Christmas gift.” He smooths it down self-consciously.

Stiles cocks an eyebrow.

“What? She’s my neighbor and sometimes I-” Derek trails off. Stiles’ other eyebrow rises to join the first, and Derek sighs. “Sometimes I help her carry her shopping.”

Of course he does. One day maybe Stiles will stop being in love with Derek Hale, but today is not that day.

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Barista Stiles, Alpha Derek, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Boys in love, Scent-marking (which of course leads to gratuitious snuggling.)

Part 1 of 4. Will be updated every Saturday in the run up to Christmas.


Sterek Romantic Comedy Fic Recs

Disclaimer: My edits only, none of these amazing stories belong to me.

(click for full size)

Easy Alpha by interropunct (4k)

Wherein, Derek Hale is the high school hussy, Jackson and Scott really need to learn to use their inside voices. And, contrary to popular belief, everyone is still a virgin.

He’s Just Knot That Into You by aggybird (3k)

Stiles doesn’t have much luck finding Mr. Right, and Derek the bartender hears all about it.

I See Your Face Before Me by jezziejay (9k)

While Stiles was studying in New York, Scott moved to LA and found a new co-bestie. Stiles can’t wait to meet him. The feeling, however, is far from mutual.

tumescent by kellifer_fic (9k)

“I would have to want to date Derek for your plan to work,” Stiles points out, secure in the knowledge that his logic is infallible and yes, he’s had a pointless and soul-destroying crush on Derek for as long as he can remember but nobody knows that.

Seriously, it’s like you’re photoshopped. by nevermetawolf (8k)

“Oh my god,” Stiles squeaks out again, “You’re unbelievable." 

Hot Bar Guy bobs his head agreeably. "I’ve been told that before, though usually people are more out of breath and less clothed when they say it.”

We Pick Ourselves Undone by themistymountainsong (24k)

Derek Hale has been cursed with a wolf-like face since birth, which he can only be cured of by marrying a fellow high-society blue blood. Derek has little hope of ever finding someone who he can stand, or who can stand his face, until he meets Stiles, and his carefully-maintainted isolation is completely upset.


Hemingway Can Suck It | Teen | 10k

“For those of you who just transferred into this class or simply decided that day one wasn’t important enough to attend, I’m Professor Hale. Welcome to English 346, The American Novel.”

Stiles is pretty sure his mouth is hanging open right now and that his eyes are wide with shock, because holy fuck, he thinks he knows why his students transferred. Hell, if he was still an undergrad, he probably would have transferred, too.

(Or: In which Stiles is a Biology professor and Derek thinks he’s a student.)

It wrenches Derek’s arm back, causing Derek to let out a grunt of pain. The Nogitsune slaps a hand on the wolf’s chest to keep him from budging from its grasp. A thick pulsating heartbeat throbs right beneath its slender fingers. Everything is suddenly still. The room is thick with tension, suffocating silence settling in the air. The fox leans forward, mouth brushing up the side of its captive’s sweat driveled neck. Then it whispers, voice so soft Derek can barely decipher what it’s saying.

“He’s screaming at me to stop. He doesn’t want me to hurt you. Oh his screams were bad when it came to Coach, with Scott, but-” It laughs now, a sadistic, awful sound that would never have passed through Stiles’ lips. “But with you? They’re basically yelps of a madman. And i’m going to have him sit back and enjoy the show. Let our boy who runs with wolves watch me rip your throat out,” then it pauses, a wry grin playing upon its vessel’s lips. “With my teeth.”

(618): We had a One Night Stand 6 months ago but he just invited me to his wedding. Who the fuck does that.

Derek stares intently at the invitation in his hand. 

After a few minutes of contemplation, he pulls out his phone and texts Cora.

“Do you remember that Stiles guy?”

Cora responds immediately. “The one who left you alone in bed and had you crying into a tub of ice cream for the next 3 days? Yes.”

Derek huffs as he types, “It wasn’t 3 days.”

“You’re right. It was four.”

“Nevermind,” Derek sends exasperatedly.

Cora seems undeterred. “What about him?”

Derek glances back at the invitation before responding.

“We had a one night stand six months ago and he just invited me to his wedding. Who the fuck does that?”

Keep reading

Stiles could understand why he wasn’t the most likeable person on the planet, or even in his high school. 

He was abrasive, loud, analytical, and gave about zero fucks on people’s comfort level. Which, honestly, was fine. He only cared about a handful of people in this God-forsaken world, so other people’s opinion of him could really not be bothered. 

Enter Jackson Whittemore. 

Ever since Stiles professed his love to one Lydia Martin in the fourth grade with a ring pop (which she ardently did not accept), Jackson has wanted, and sometimes succeeded, in making Stiles’ life hell. 

In elementary, it used to infuriate Stiles. How Jackson would always steal his dessert at lunch, or push him too hard on the four-square court, and would always never cease to let Stiles know that he would never get to be friends with Lydia Martin.

And, yeah, sure, eleven-year-old Stiles would ball his fists and try to fight back, but that quickly changed in high school. And he started learning some, interesting, things about himself. Soon enough, Lydia Martin was the last thing on his mind, and so was Jackson and his taunting. In fact, with both of their academic success, he and Lydia found themselves in similar upper-class and AP classes throughout high school. Some would even call them, dare he say it, friends. 

But, Jackson, not so much. Even now, at their senior year, Jackson still makes it his mission to give Stiles hell, even though he’s been dating Lydia Martin practically since he tossed the ring pop out of his hand. And it doesn’t help that now, with Stiles and Lydia being friends, and Allison and Lydia being inseparable, and Allison dating Scott, that Jackson has somehow integrated himself into their group of friends. 

Which is exactly how Stiles finds himself rolling his eyes at Jackson as they pack up their equipment on the field after practice, Jackson whapping him with this lacrosse stick. 

“You’re literally an infant, Jackson.”

“At least I don’t throw like one, Stilinski.” Jackson scoffs. 

Scott snickers next to him, and immediately looks regretful when Stiles glares at him. 

“I bet an infant would be better to deal with than you.” he snarls, stripping off his practice jersey to throw in his bag. 

Lydia and Allison walk over from the bleachers, smiling faces, per usual. 

“Good practice,” Allison says to them all, but leans into Scott for a kiss. Lydia’s moved to Jackson’s side, too, and when Stiles glances at them, Jackson has a snarly grin on his face. 

“Jealous, Stilinski?” A common phrase from the asswipe since they were kids.

Stiles barks out a laugh. “Not in the slightest.” He ignores the small grin Lydia gives him.

Shouldering his bag, he lets out a long sigh. “Can we go? I’m starving.”

Everyone nods in agreement, starting to move towards the parking lot.  Jackson throws an arm around Lydia. 

“Yeah, must have worked up an appetite from all that standing around and doing nothing.”

This time, Stiles whacks him with his stick.

“Okay, but to be fair, my jeep has gotten us to Mexico and back.”

“It broke down half way, Stiles.” Lydia deadpans.

“We fixed it! Since when did you guys get all mean about getting into my car.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised it’s been alive this long.” Jackson scoffs.

“Walk your happy ass to the diner, then, Jackson. See if I care!”

And yet, all his friends still make their way to his jeep, because they know damn well Roscoe will get them anywhere. 

But, when they get to the car, there’s one Derek Hale leaning against the hood, looking as ominous and broody as always.

“What do I owe this pleasure, Sourwolf?” Stiles preens, walking up to him, but Derek doesn’t move. 

“You left your wallet at my place.” 

Before Stiles could even reach in his back pocket to check, Derek straightens and tosses it to Stiles, causing him to, of course, flounder and very much not catch it at all. 

“Aww, always looking out for me, huh Derek?” Stiles coos, shoving his wallet into his pocket. 

“You’re pathetic, Stiles.” Jackson spits. 

Stiles whisks around, and God does he want to smack that silly little smug look off Jackson’s face as he walks over. 

“I swear to holy Hell, you can walk h-”

“You know he has a crush on you, right?”

Everyone stops cold, and suddenly all eyes are on Jackson, who is looking straight at Derek likes he’s fucking Sherlock who solved the case. 

Derek scoffs.

“He does,” Jackson continues. “He likes you, and it’s embarrassingly obvious to everyone.”

“Oh, my God,” Stiles groans, putting his face in his hands. Scott, on the other hand, is bright-eyed and excited, like a puppy who just saw a bone.

Derek quirks an eyebrow. “Do explain.”

And Jackson, oh Jackson looks like he’s just been given a whole litter of bones. “He talks about you constantly, he invites himself over to your place all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if he jerks off alone in his room to a picture of you.”

Derek’s head whips to look at Stiles, but he already has his hands up in protest. 

“I do not do that, okay?”

Jackson steps up to Stiles, face inches from his. “Just admit it, Stilinski. You have a crush on Derek.”

It’s quiet for a second, and Stiles is really considering what level of Hell would even want to welcome someone like Jackson Whittemore, when Derek speaks up.

“God, I hope so, or this would be really awkward.”

Jackson’s face drops, and he spins to look at Derek. In the background, the snickers of Allison and Lydia or ever so sweet to Stiles’ ears.


“I said,” Derek lifts himself off the car hood, and makes his way to Stiles, who practically beams up at him when Derek takes his hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I hope he has a crush on me, or this would be really awkward.”

Stiles watches as Jackson does a double take from him, to Derek, to their hands, and oh does it feel so, so good.

Scott’s outright barking with laughter now, and Jackson looks as pale as a ghost. 

“Great job, dickweed. You just told my boyfriend that I liked him.”

“You… and Hale? Since when?” he spits out. 

“Almost a year, sweetie.” Lydia pipes up, probably more smug than anyone since she was the first to know about Stiles’ flagrant homosexuality. And his impeding crush on Derek.

“Aww, babe? Almost a year! Did you hear that? We should celebrate.” Stiles preens, and even leans up to nudge his nose at Derek’s cheek, just to rub the salt in the wound a bit more for Jackson. 

“I just found out you have a crush on me. I think we should take things a little slower, don’t you think?” But Stiles catches a hint of a smile on Derek’s face.

Stiles doesn’t stop himself when he feels Derek gravitate towards him, and happily leans into the kiss. It’s sweet and quick, but enough to get Jackson to pretend to vomit. 

“Matter of a fact, I think I’ll walk.”

Later that night, when Derek is driving Stiles back home, Stiles reaches out to hold Derek’s hand over the console. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, and Derek acknowledges him with a slight nod. 

“Do you have a crush on me?”

Derek’s quiet for a moment, and suddenly Stiles feels a squeeze on his hand that makes his smile spread wider than his face. 

“Every day.”


resquested  Pretty Woman AU - Stiles as Julia Roberts and Derek as Richard Gere

After Stiles and Scott run away from home - Stiles can’t handle home after his mother died, and Scott is trying to hide from his abusive dad - they have to start working on the streets. Scott gets a job in a vet, but Stiles goes for the world’s oldest profession: be a prostitute.

Derek is a billionare tired of the dating drama and people going after his family’s money. He still needs company for business dinners, and when he get lost, he finds the solution to his problems - a hooker in the streets that can give him more than directions.

Stiles gets the money, Derek gets the company. They’re both too stupid to realize they both get some actual love.

Sterek AU: The Hale Farm Pumpkin Patch - Derek’s family runs Fall festivals on their farm, where they sell pumpkins, host pumpkin carving contests, and give hayrides. No one knows that Derek’s been secretly dating one the seasonal employees, Stiles (and stealing kisses (and more) out in the woods).

graphic (and au idea) by foreverblue-navy


Derek loves fall. He loves the colors in the trees, all the bright reds, golds, and oranges surrounding him, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, the crisp chill in the air. Loves Halloween and Thanksgiving, and the anticipation of Christmas. But mostly, he loves working in the pumpkin patch on the Hale Farms’ Fall Fun Days.

After loading a bunch of large pumpkins in the back of an SUV, Derek walks back into the pumpkin patch where two little girls are looking through the mini pumpkins. He crouches behind them, and they turn to glance at him shyly.

“See one you like?” Derek asks, giving the oldest a soft smile. She grins at him as her sister eyes him warily.

“This one,” she says, picking up a tiny orange pumpkin. Her hand is so small it covers her entire palm.

“I think that’s a good choice,” Derek nods, then flicks his gaze to the sister. “What about you?” The little girl stares at Derek for a moment before grabbing a white baby pumpkin. “Do you know what my grandpa calls those?” he asks. The little girls shake their heads. “Baby boos.” The girls giggle, and Derek grins as they run off to their mother.

“If you treated all the customers that way, you’d sell five times as many pumpkins.” Derek stands and glares at Laura. She’s got her arms crossed, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the cold air.

“I don’t like people,” Derek growls.

“Those two girls are people.”

“I don’t like big people.” Laura rolls her eyes before turning to help a customer. A hand lands on Derek’s shoulder, and he looks over to see his grandfather smiling out at the large pumpkin patch. Pumpkins are set out and stacked as far as the eye can see. Large pumpkins, tiny pumpkins, carving pumpkins, smooth and bumpy gourds, butternut and acorn squash. The Hales have been selling pumpkins in this spot since right after the depression, back when his grandfather’s father was a boy.

“You’re just like your grandma,” Grandpa says, turning to give Derek a smile. “She loves hard, but she doesn’t like anyone.”

“I like people,” Derek protests, and his grandfather raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Some people,” he amends.

“Only those worth liking, right?” Grandpa asks. “It’s okay. You choose wisely and guard your heart. That’s a good trait.”

Derek nods, though he’s wondering why his grandpa has turned into some kind of fortune cookie in the middle of a pumpkin patch with people all around. His grandpa has always been weird like that.

They’re interrupted when a loud squeak followed by “OHMIGOD NO!” erupts in the middle of the patch. One of the seasonal hires, Stiles, has tripped and fallen onto his back; his arms, however, are wrapped protectively around the pumpkin he was carrying. “I’m okay!” Stiles calls out like everyone cares. “My behind is broken, but the pumpkin is not.”

Grandpa laughs and gives Derek a look before pushing him towards Stiles. Derek tries to hide his blush as he schools his features into a scowl. “Are you trying to break all the pumpkins?” Derek snaps.

“Dude, it was totally an accident. Moonfang tripped me. On purpose.” Derek gives Stiles a withering look. Stiles looks around, arms still around the huge pumpkin in his lap, and speaks to a nearby small boy. “You saw it, right? Back me up.” The boy just looks at Stiles like he’s crazy.

A moment later, a black cat curls itself around Derek’s feet. He bends down and lifts the cat, who starts purring as soon as Derek cradles it to his chest. “Moonfang, are you tripping Stiles?” Derek nuzzles the cat then glowers at Stiles. “The cat didn’t trip you. You just apparently should be cleaning the bathrooms instead of selling pumpkins.”

“Please,” Stiles says, nearly falling over again as he gets to his feet while trying to balance the oversized pumpkin. “No one else, not even you Derek, could save a pumpkin like me.” Derek rolls his eyes and sets Moonfang on the ground.

“Go give the lady her pumpkin before we have to refund her money and take it out of your paycheck.”

Stiles walks by Derek and says, “You have no appreciation for my awesome pumpkin ninja-ness.” He sticks out his tongue, and Derek tries not to stare. It’s hard when Stiles follows that by swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. There are crumbs at the corner of his mouth, and crumbs and a smear of orange icing on the blue plaid flannel shirt he’s wearing. Derek wants to lean in and kiss the corners of that mouth, chase the taste of cinnamon and spice. Stiles catches him staring and smirks, and Derek glares despite his burning ears.


Keep reading

So my sister and I were talking about this post and how Stiles has been wearing lots of sweaters this season. And somehow our conversation wound around to Derek’s thumb-hole sweater, and my sister said, “Yeah, maybe Stiles is wearing Derek’s sweaters.”

And I just –

Stiles wearing Derek’s sweaters.

Derek’s up and left, but he didn’t completely clear out his loft. He took what he could carry, not his entire wardrobe. So maybe Stiles sneaks in one day, when he’s missing Derek more than usual, and stumbles across the sweaters. He stumbles across the sweaters buried in the bottom of Derek’s dresser and just… just holds onto one.

And he may not have a werewolf’s nose, but Derek’s scent is so ingrained in his clothing and Stiles just kind of buries his face in the soft fabric and breathes it in. It’s… soothing, somehow.

So Stiles figures that Derek’s not using them, and he doesn’t seem like he’s coming back anytime soon (or ever), so Stiles, well. He temporarily misappropriates them. And Scott wrinkles his nose and gives Stiles a funny look the first time he appears at the Stilinski house unannounced and finds Stiles lounging around the house in one, but he doesn’t say anything, lets it slide. So Stiles continues wearing them.

(The red thumb-hole sweater, though – his favorite of the bunch – he doesn’t wear outside of the house. It’s cashmere, soft and warm, and after the second time Stiles accidentally falls asleep while wearing it, he makes it into his permanent pajama top.)

Of course, at some point he stops dwelling on the concrete thought of Derek coming back. The theory of it still lurks in the back of his mind, but it’s not until Derek climbs through his bedroom window to find him curled up in bed with his laptop – wearing the thumb-hole sweater – that it becomes real again.

He flounders for a moment, trying to think of how to explain, while Derek stares at him with wide, surprised eyes.

“I’m back,” Derek finally manages.

“Hi,” is the best – and only – reply Stiles can think of.

“That’s my sweater,” Derek says, voice strangely strangled.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

They’re silent for a moment.

“I can – ” Stiles starts.

“Keep it,” Derek interrupts, giving Stiles an intense look he can’t quite interpret.

Then, Derek grabs Stiles’ favorite red hoodie from where it’s been thrown over the back of his desk chair, pulls it on over his shoulders, and jumps back out the window. Stiles figures it’s a fair enough trade.

I have no excuse for this and have no idea where it came from.

edit: cleaned up and now on AO3!

Dear Asshole

Every week, Laura sends him a small selection of his fanmail she finds either particularly funny or particularly touching. This week, Derek’s under fire from not only Laura - as his publisher and sister, she holds double the sway she normally would - but from his editor, too. So he’s missed a couple of deadlines - what modern fantasy writer doesn’t miss deadlines? Really, he’s just fitting in - Laura should be grateful that he’s finally living up to the genre’s stereotype.

This week, Derek only receives one forwarded letter from Laura and he finds himself eyeing it suspiciously where it sits, ostensibly innocent, on the counter of his tiny breakfast bar.

Keep reading


The result of one of my and sandflyfever’s  typical conversations that somehow always seem to end up as all-caps Sterek AUs. 

Stiles can pinpoint the exact moment that Derek’s hair starting turning purple.  It wasn’t a strange thing in itself; everyone’s hair changes color with their mood. The colors are different for every person: for some people red means happy, for others red might mean terribly sad. 

At this point, Stiles has known Derek for long enough that he can decipher most of his hair moods-red when Derek is content (Stiles has rarely seen that one, but he’s caught Derek quietly reading in his loft a few times with red hair so bright it looked like a traffic light), blue when he’s mad (Stiles has seen that color a lot), and yellow when he’s annoyed (that color seems to occur a lot in Stiles’ presence).  The purple hair, however,showed up with no warning or explanation.

Stiles had been making a pot of coffee in the loft kitchen while Derek and the rest of the pack were in the living room discussing an upcoming training session.  He’d poured himself a cup, and seeing that there was enough liquid in the pot for another, poured a second and carried it into the living room with him.

Noticing how tired Derek looked that day, Stiles casually handed Derek the mug as he passed by.  A few moments later, Derek’s hair turned purple. 

Keep reading

Sterek au: Stiles’ college internship has him working with Deputy!Hale. And they get a little help from Derek’s nephew. 

Happy birthday, obriensnipples! <3<3


Stiles gets to the station late as usual. Deputy Hale is waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest , looking stern and irritated. Stiles groans. Of course it had to be Deputy Stickler-For-The-Rules waiting for him instead of his dad. He could probably convince his dad to pretend he was here on time. Maybe bribe him with some hamburger. Yeah, yeah, he’s a terrible person, he knows this.

“Where’s Dad?” Stiles asks, looking around.

“Busy,” Derek replies. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, traffic and not speeding and being a lawful citizen kind of thing,” Stiles says with a wave of his hand. “Does he want me to wait for him or something?”

“You’re not working with him,” Derek says. He drops his arms and walks over to wall to grab the keys to one of the department SUVS.

“You? I’m doing my internship with you?” Stiles starts to panic. This is bad for so many reasons. Sure, Derek Hale is smoking hot, especially in his too tight uniform pants, but Stiles barely notices that anymore. Mainly because he’s pretty sure Derek is an alien who is going to eat his brain for fun. Derek has that look about him. Plus, the dude is like a robot who hates fun. He’s a robot alien who wants to kill Stiles in his sleep.

Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh as he slips the aviators on his face. “Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Stiles exclaims, bristling.

“I have better things to do other than babysit the sheriff’s son,” Derek says as Stiles follows him out.

“You’re not babysitting me!” Stiles exclaims. “This is my senior internship. It’s a big deal. I’m serious about this.” It’s the last major thing Stiles has between him and his degree.

“So serious,” Derek mocks. “Serious people are often late.”

“You couldn’t, I don’t know, forget about that on my week one report?”

“Not a chance,” Derek says as he walks around to the driver’s side.

“I’d have been on time if I’d known I’d be working for Deputy Asshole,” Stiles mutters.

“What was that?” Derek asks.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Stiles grumbles as he pulls the seatbelt around him.

“Sixty hours,” Derek says. “Can’t wait.”


Keep reading


(gif credit to @sterek​ because I’m a luddite who can’t figure out tumblr’s new “insert gif” thingy)

And now I really want a fic where Stiles and Derek have a class together in college and the first day Stiles turns to Scott and signs something along the lines of “Shit, I hope he’s gay.”

Then, of course, it progresses as normal language-barrier misunderstanding fics go, where everyday Stiles signs extensively about how attractive Derek is while Derek tries not to blush because he can understand every single sign. (Maybe Derek has selective mutism, and although he uses it less now, he used to sign almost exclusively as a kid.)

Of course, Derek’s far too nervous to tell Stiles he knows ASL, and anyway, Stiles will probably ask him out eventually, right? But then one day after class Derek sees Stiles bemoaning the fact that Derek’s so far out of his league, and before he can think about it, Derek points at Stiles and then brings two fingers up to stroke down his chin.

Stiles stares at him for a moment, mouth falling open, and then signs in a flurry of motions, “You know ASL?” and then a moment later, “YOU THINK I’M CUTE?”

They end up getting coffee afterwards.

May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin?

Sadly, I don’t remember who reblogged this prompt and brought it to my attention. The original source is here, though.

Sterek, T, 1.5K words

‘i didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? okay’ au

“Tell me, tell me, tell me,” Scott chanted, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No,” he hissed, scooting his chair closer. “And be quiet, people are looking at us.”

“Fine,” Scott sighed. “Then if you won’t tell me who it was, why was the date so bad?”

“He was rude,” Stiles said, which was not a lie. “He was late and just kind of a dick.”

Scott frowned at him. “Sorry, man, that sucks.”

“Yeah, story of my life, right?”

Scott nodded solemnly, full of the appropriate bro-sympathy. “So who was it?” he blurted out.

Stiles groaned and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Honestly? He’d gone out with this guy that Scott knew, some super-hot water polo player from his econ class that Scott had done a project with. Scott had warned Stiles off of him, repeatedly, because he was apparently a big jerk who couldn’t even make his share of the PowerPoint slides. But Stiles didn’t listen, and he said yes when the guy had asked him out. Annnd he was just as terrible as Scott said. Stiles just wasn’t in the mood for Scott’s I-told-you-sos.

“No,” he emphasized. “I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?” he said, with a little pout.

Stiles screamed a little inside his head and took a glance around the coffee shop, trying to think of a diversion. “Because he’s here,” he hissed, and Scott’s eyes widened as he craned his neck.

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

“Hey!” Scott said, tapping the guy’s shoulder and jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Stiles. “Why were you such a jerk to my friend on your date last night?”

Keep reading

Stiles watches a proposal happening outside the restaurant he works at. Down on the pier below him, a man is down on one knee, asking the question to a another man with his back turned. Stiles holds his breath. He doesn’t know these people, but he’s invested in romance and grand gestures. He’s going to watch this play out.

Stiles can tell three seconds later that something is wrong.

For one, the man with his back to Stiles has tensed up, un-moving. And secondly, the man on his knees is frowning.

Stiles should walk away. This is the worst kind of voyeur-cy. The absolute worst. He can’t though, so he watches the failed proposal in all its horrible glory.

The man stands up and then the other one talks for a while, during which Stiles can see the proposer fighting off tears. He eventually walks away, leaving the propose-ee standing alone on the pier.

Stiles doesn’t know why he does it.

He lets Lydia know he’s taking his break, speedily sweet-talks Isaac into giving him a slice of the three-tier chocolate cake, then makes his way down to the pier, where the man who turned down the proposal is still standing.

“Uh, hey. Hi.”

The guy turns around and he looks… confused, more than anything. Not heartbroken. No tears. Not like he just lost the love of this life. Just confused.

“I’m sorry to intrude but I, uh, saw what just happened and I thought maybe you’d like some cake.”

He practically forces it into the guy’s hands.

“Thank you,” the man says, in a surprisingly soft voice. “You saw that?”

Stiles nods, sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I know it’s kind of a private thing.”

The other guy merely shrugs, then looks down at the cake, making no move to eat it.

“I can vouch for that. It’s from the restaurant there. Where I work.”

The guy looks up to where Stiles pointed. He’s not really engaged, and Stiles feels horrible for coming down here.

“I’m just going to go, then. I’m sorry. Hope you’re okay.”

“I just don’t understand,” the guy says glumly.


“I don’t– We’ve been, were, together for 5 months. I’ve never met his brothers.”

Stiles nods, unsure what this guy wants from him. Maybe it’s nothing more than to be a pair of ears.

“I’ve had relationships that lasted longer, yes, but they’ve never… five months. That’s… it’s too soon. That’s what I told him.” Here, the guy looks up at Stiles, heartbreak still absent from his face. “That’s was the right answer, right? I mean, five months.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know either of you.” Stiles doesn’t want the responsibility this guy is giving him right now.

“No, no, you’re right, of course.” The guy sighs and turns away from Stiles, looking to the spot where his ex (?) was just kneeling earlier.

“Have you ever been proposed to?”

“Aside from numerous times in kindergarten, you mean?” Stiles says with his usual lack of concern for the tone of the current conversation.

The other guy surprises him by laughing.

“Aside from that,” he says with a smile.

“Uh, no. Can’t say I have. Five months is more like the average length of my relationships, so…”

“Not mine,” the guy says.

“Yeah. I’d picked up on that.”

Stiles struggles over what to do now. In terms of normal social cues, he should probably leave. But he’s hooked on this whole situation, and also feels, perhaps presumptively, that this guy… wants him to stay?

“Do you want to share this with me?” The guy holds the cake up.

“Sure,” Stiles says, for the excuse to do something, and the excuse to stay with this guy, who’s as interesting as he is attractive.

“I’m Derek, by the way.”



Five months into dating Derek and Stiles can understand why that other guy proposed so quickly.

He doesn’t.

He waits another three years and seven months.

It involves chocolate cake which he sweet-talks Isaac into making (“that hasn’t been on the menu in years, Stiles”), a ring that his dad passed on to him (“your mother would have wanted you to have it”), a bottle of French champagne, a picnic blanket, a spectacularly pleasant Spring afternoon, and a very surprised Derek Hale.

He says yes.

Derek says yes and then kisses Stiles so abruptly that Stiles is glad he was already on one knee so his fall to the ground isn’t as hurtful as it could have been. Not that he really pays the collision any mind, seeing as how thoroughly Derek is kissing him, while chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ between every press of lips before Stiles even has a chance to fit the engagement ring around his finger.

we should just kiss (like real people do), a sterek high school au

by @moonwasours | i_am_girlfriday

an auction fic for @unightfog

with commissioned art by @geeky-sova​!!! give her some love for this beautiful piece!

complete, 9+k, rated t

read at ao3

Stiles is the social zero of the sophomore class. Derek is the much cooler junior who befriends Stiles anyway.

Happy birthday Mandi (dude-its-bcn-hlls)! Here’s a fake relationship fic loosely inspired by this post. Hope you like it! :)

“Hey, you’re late. It’s almost ten.”

“Slept in,” Derek replies, smiling slightly at Stiles-the-super-cute-barista. 

“And here I thought you were one of those ‘Sleep makes me weak. I exist off of caffeine’ sort of guys,” Stiles says, already ringing up Derek’s order, even though he hasn’t specified it. Truthfully, though, the day Derek orders anything other than his usual large, black coffee will be the day Laura stops being bossy. So basically never.

“I thought that was more your philosophy,” Derek snorts, handing over a five. 

“True,” Stiles laughs, but the smile slips off his face as he focuses his gaze somewhere over Derek’s shoulder. “Hey, do you know those girls?”

Derek glances behind him and has to contain a groan as he sees who Stiles is referring to. Two teenage girls have their smartphones pointed towards him, presumably taking pictures or videos, while whispering to each other and giggling intermittently. Really, he should be used to this by now, but it never gets any less annoying.

“Do you want me to get them to leave?” Stiles asks, breaking Derek from his thoughts.

“No, it’s fine,” Derek sighs, his Stiles-induced good mood dampened. “I’m used to it.”

“They’re heading this way,” Stiles replies, and Derek has to once again resist the urge to let out a noise of frustration. He looks back at the two rapidly approaching girls before turning back to Stiles, indecisive.

“Just go with me for a moment,” he murmurs, Stiles blinking at him in confusion.

“Oka - ” Stiles starts, only to be cut off by Derek leaning forward and brushing their lips together in the barest impression of a kiss.

Keep reading


Midnight Wolf vs Abominable Snowman! | KuriKuri | 20k | Teen

Derek almost makes the mistake of saying, It’s not fanart, but he manages to catch himself. This stranger, who’s already identified himself as at least a casual fan of Midnight Wolf, doesn’t need to know that he actually is the artist and author, not just another fan.

(Also, friendly reminder to those who read it when I first posed it, there’s a second chapter now, which is a sequel.)