Sterek Romantic Comedy Fic Recs

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

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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?”

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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.

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.

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.


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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.

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(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.


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. 

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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.”


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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.

dudeitsbaconhills  asked:

"you were sat in my reserved train seat and refused to move so i sat on your lap and now we’re both too annoyed and awkwardly turned on to move sterek au"

okay i don’t really know how reserved seating on trains works, so let’s change that to seat-i-always-sit-in

excuse stiles being a jerk; he’s having a bad day

“Excuse me,” a man says, looking down at Derek. “That’s my seat.”

Derek’s been taking a train to work for the past four years, and there are several things he knows about them; you don’t talk to strangers, if there are no seats then you shut up and stand, and only the luxury sections have reserved seating. Now, while Derek normally takes a different train, today he’s visiting Laura and this is his train, and this is his seat, and he is most certainly not getting out of it. Especially because he may not have noticed that there was gum on it till he sat down, and there’s no way he’s standing on a train full of people with pink bubblegum stuck to his ass.

Rather than explaining all that to this random jerk, he says, “I was here first,” and goes back to reading his newspaper.

“Um, no,” the guys says, and his voice conveys that he’s struggling to keep his cool. Which, really, is ridiculous. “I was here first.”

“Really?” Derek asks, setting the paper in his lap and raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Because I could’ve sworn I sat here three stops ago, and haven’t moved since.”

Looking at him now, Derek is annoyed to see how cute the guy is. His hair is dark, his eyes are a bright whiskey color, and parts of his face and neck are covered in little moles. It would be a lot easier to argue with someone who isn’t exactly his type. The universe is really out to get him today.

“Listen,” the man says. “I am having a shitty, shitty day, and you’re sitting in my seat, and I need you to get up.”

Normally Derek might comply just to make the guy go away, but again, he’s sitting in gum, so, no. He’s just going to have to deal with it.

“There are no other seats,” Derek points out, glancing around the train.

“Which is why I want that one.”

“Which is why I want this one.”

“Okay, well, it’s mine. I ride this train at this exact time every single day, and this is my seat.” He grabs the shoulder of a blonde woman wearing a gold necklace that reads Erica, sitting two rows down, who’s watching them not-so-surreptitiously. “You ride this train a lot. Is that not always my seat?”

“It is,” she says, smirking a little. “But he was there first.”

“Ugh,” he groans, turning back to Derek. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s mine.”

“I don’t see your name on it,” Derek says, which might be a bit childish, but so is this guy. Maybe it’s the way to get through to him.

“Fine,” he says, pulling off his backpack and digging through it till he produces a black Sharpie. He leans down, and when Derek moves the tiniest bit to the right to avoid the marker, he scrawls his name onto the back of Derek’s chair. “Now you do.”

“Well, Stiles,” Derek says, craning his neck to read the name. “I believe that’s called vandalism.”

“Call a cop,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Preferably from a payphone, as far away from this seat as possible.”

“Maybe I will,” Derek says, picking his paper up again in a vain attempt to get back into the sports section.

“Good luck,” Stiles says, actually snatching the paper and tossing it over his shoulder. Derek is too surprised to be angry. “My dad’s the sheriff.”

Derek’s about to point out that that really doesn’t legalize his behavior, when the man suddenly turns around and plops himself down on Derek’s lap.

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What about a Sterek office AU where they work on opposite sides of a cubical and don’t see each other’s faces because of the wall between them. 

They joke around and make work more bearable, sometimes throw stuff over the top to annoy the other person, but they always miss actually meeting face to face, it kind of becomes a game, to see how long they can go without seeing what the other looks like, even if it’s slowly killing both of them because Stiles has been half in love with Derek since he made a pun about accounting and Derek has been half in love with Stiles since he came in ranting about baseball one Monday morning.

Derek still has no idea that Stiles laughs with his whole body and talks with his hands, doesn’t know that his face his flecked with moles like the sky is flecked with stars.

Stiles has no idea how Derek’s brow furrows when he’s thinking or how he has an affectionate eye roll that is uses when Stiles speaks, doesn’t know the small, almost unnoticeable smile that tugs at the corners of Derek’s mouth when they speak.

They’ve got terrible, soul consuming, mutual crushes on each other that all of their friends know about, but Stiles also has a thing for this guy he’s started calling grumpy cat that he sees at the coffee shop before work sometimes, and he’d like to fuck a smile onto that guys face. And Derek has a crush on the guy with the moles who chews on his pens during staff meetings, sometimes he has to run to the bathroom midway through to stop thinking about those pens, because he can’t stop picturing those lips around his cock.  But those crushes are just physical, nothing more then pure desire. 

So one night, after Scott has heard about how Derek said the funniest thing for the seventh time, and about how coffee shop guy was extra grumpy this morning and it made him look even cuter, Scott drags Stiles to a bar because he can’t handle anymore of it.

And on that same night Erica also drags Derek to the very same bar because there was a staff meeting that afternoon and she doesn’t need to hear about the things mole guy did with his pen, she really doesn’t. 

They get to the bar and Derek isn’t paying attention until Erica says, “Hey Stiles, hey Scott!” and Derek’s head snaps up and he grabs Erica’s arm because that’s not Stiles, that’s pen guy from work.

And Stiles is bright red because Erica is clearly here on a date with grumpy guy from the coffee shop and wow that’s just awkward, and he whispers that to Scott and Erica pulls at Derek’s arm to get him to move. 

Eventually Erica manages to drag Derek to the tabled where she introduces Derek to her friends from high school, Stiles and Scott.  And Scott is putting the pieces together because he knows that Derek is the name of Stiles’ office crush and he also knows that his is grumpy coffee shop guy, and oh my god they’re the same person.

Scott and Erica share a laugh while Stiles and Derek try to figure out how they’ve been working in the same space for almost two months and they’ve seen each other in different situations, but they never figured out they were the same person. 

Finally Derek admits he has a crush on Stiles, and Stiles clearly returns the feelings, which leads to a weekend together locked in Stiles’ apartment, only leaving the bedroom for food and bathroom breaks.  At work on Monday Derek is late because he had to go from Stiles’ apartment to his to get ready, so he skips the coffee shop, but he finds a cup of coffee from his favorite shop on his desk, along with his missing underwear from Friday night, or was it Saturday night? They all sort of ran together in the end.

When Scott is giving his best man’s speech at the wedding years later he has tears rolling down his face as he tells everyone about how Stiles and Derek had crushes on each other in not one, but two separate situations and it took their closest friends getting tired of hearing about it for them to figure out that their mysterious crushes and their office crushes were the same person. 

If anyone wants to actually write something like this… @runedsterek @hoechlbutt @sterektrashbag @crossroadswrite @inell

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.)


“Derek? Derek! Hey! Where have you been?” Stiles puts the handbrake on and jumps out of his jeep, leaving it idling. “We’ve been looking for you for days! Scott’s been going crazy and I’ve been-” Stiles stops himself before he admits how he’s been taking Derek’s absence, aware it will be telling of how much he cares for the other man.

Derek looks like he could use someone’s care though. He’s dead on his feet - his bare feet - and only wearing a threadbare pair of jeans. The dark smudges under his eyes worry at Stiles’ mind, as does the mud on Derek’s hands and up his forearms.

“Who’s Derek?”

Stiles blinks. Derek is known for his dry humour but by his standards that’s just distasteful.

“Uh, you’re Derek, Derek. Come on.” Stiles says with some impatience. He’s tired as well, hasn’t slept more than 3 hours the last few nights.

Derek just shakes his head at Stiles before turning and continuing to walk along the road.

“Wait, hold up!” The jeep is still running and if Stiles’ leaves it like that for more than three minutes it’s going to kill his engine. He can’t let Derek out of his sight though. Not now that he’s right there in front of Stiles, within touching distance, for the first time in almost a week. “Derek, please, just let me get you to the loft at least.”

Derek stops and turns to face Stiles.


“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I’ll walk myself into town.”

“Sure. But you’re going the wrong way.” Stiles is starting to worry now. New worry on top of his old ‘Derek is missing’ worry.

Derek furrows his brow and looks along the road. “I suppose… I don’t know which way to go.” His voice is small. “I can’t remember.”

“Please.” Stiles near pleads. “I can take you home.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek starts, and he does look it, with an intensity to his apology Stiles has only ever seen once before, with Boyd. Seeing it directed toward him at this moment is jarring. “I don’t know who you are.”

Stiles wants to double over. He doesn’t.

“I don’t… I think I don’t know who I am.”

Stiles has to fight not to cry. He hates seeing Derek so vulnerable, especially when it’s not of his own volition.

“You’re Derek. And I’m Stiles.” Stiles steps toward Derek the way one approaches a stray on a sidewalk. Slow. Non-threatening. Aware they might run away with the smallest provocation. “We’re friends.”

Stiles doesn’t imagine the look of hope on Derek’s face, but it’s still hidden behind apprehension. And fear.

“Here.” He pulls out his phone and brings up a photo. The two of them on Derek’s couch in his loft, playing a card game on the sofa cushion between them. Derek is smiling at Stiles and Stiles is smiling and Derek. It’s the photo Stiles has been looking at each night instead of sleeping.

Derek reaches for the phone but drops his hand at the last minute. Stiles notices then that they’re purple and shaking. Cold.

“Derek, please. You’re freezing.” Derek crosses his arms, shoving hands beneath his armpits almost defensively. “I have a spare jacket in my car. I’ll turn the heating up all the way. Just please, please, let me take you home.”

Stiles takes one last step forward, worried another will push Derek that bit too far. He tries to reassure with his body language, but how can you seem trustworthy and honest when all you’re feeling is anxious tension and worry? How can you smile when all you want to do is cry? How can you give space when all you want to do is eliminate it?

The moment stretches. Derek stares at Stiles.

Stiles’ next breath comes in shaky and he knows he has to get out of there now, before he starts sobbing in front of a Derek who no longer knows who he is, before his jeep dies and he can’t, before he has to admit to himself that losing Derek again and in this fucking horrid way is going to break something. But then Derek takes his own step. Towards Stiles.

“Okay.” Derek says. “Okay, Stiles.”


PT1   PT2    PT3

The thing is, soulmates don’t always know they’re soulmates. Sometimes the pair will know each other for years and nothing, and then suddenly one day they feel that frission of something when they touch and they just know.

Stiles knows this. He knows there’s this vague, apparently undefinable phenomenon occurring out there in the world because he’s seen it first hand with his dad, his best friend, and about a third of his graduating class. He therefore resents having to pay about six hundred dollars for this information.

“I hate this class,” Stiles announces before Scott has even stepped foot into their apartment.

“Intro to Soulmates again?” Scott asks. He sounds amused, which riles Stiles up even more.

“Yes! Always. I mean, listen to this.” Stiles flips a few pages back in his textbook and reads, “We are as of yet unable to define the feeling that passes between soulmates when they are revealed to one another. Some report feeling something akin to a spark, others a caress, and still others report anything in between and beyond. Though it is hard to define in words, the pair will instinctually know when it happens.”

Scott shrugs. “It’s true.”

“I know it’s true,” Stiles says with a huff. “Everyone knows it’s true. This is all common sense. Why is this a required class?”

“Because you’re in the Humanities,” Scott says, smiling like he thinks he’s hilarious. Dammit, it’s endearing. Stiles just wants to be pissed off.

Stiles waves him off, turning back to his ridiculous textbook. “Yeah, yeah. Go do your science or whatever.”

“I actually only have math classes tomorrow.”

“I am so sorry.”

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anonymous asked:

You know what I just realized? Teen wolf has wolves (obviously) that the show needs at various points, and of course these are probably trained for the specific purpose of being in the media industry and now all I can think about is Derek Hale, wolf trainer extraordinaire, working on a movie with some punk actor Stiles Stilinski who is just /ecstatic/ over the wolves and "oh my god, these are majestic creatures, not puppies, stop trying to pet them! They can literally eat you!"

Well, here’s my attempt at wolf trainer!Derek and actor!Stiles. Hope it’s okay!

Also I know very little about wolves, so even though they’re captive and semi-domesticated, their behavior is probably completely inaccurate in this fic. Unfortunately I couldn’t find a whole lot of info about wolf training… other than that it’s hard…

My few sources: interview, interview, video

Derek loves his job. 

Well, mostly.

He loves his wolves. He loves spending every waking moment with them, working with them as they put on a show for the camera, calming them when they get too excited by the energy of the new people and surroundings. They’re not gentle by any means – not even truly domesticated – but Derek’s grown up with the wolves as much as they’ve grown up with him. He understands them.

Humans, on the other hand, he has no clue about.

“Oh my god, can I – ?” a voice exclaims, and Derek’s eyes widen and focus in on the hand rapidly approaching Kita, the youngest of Derek’s wolves. He reacts on instinct, slapping away the hand before it can connect with Kita’s soft fur. Kita thumps her tail against the floor, oblivious.

“Don’t. Touch,” Derek growls, finally tearing his eyes away from Kita when he’s satisfied that she hasn’t been disturbed. “They’re not – ”

The words get caught in Derek’s throat as he looks up to meet pretty, whiskey-brown eyes laid in an equally pretty face, skin dotted with beauty spots. He finds his eyes straying down to peek at the man’s soft, pink lips, before quickly tearing his eyes away to focus on the ground.

It’s not like he didn’t know that award winning actor Stiles Stilinski is the star of the film he’s working on, but somehow he didn’t quite prepare himself for the reality of it.

“Shit, sorry,” Stiles says, and Derek tries not to think about how even his voice is flawless, a little deeper than Derek expected with just a hint of roughness to it.

“They’re not pets,” Derek blurts out, which, fuck, definitely isn’t the sort of first impression he wants to make.

“Yeah, no, sorry, you’re totally right,” Stiles replies, his cheeks pinking up. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Just,” Derek stutters awkwardly. “Don’t do it again.”

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anonymous asked:

Can you do sterek where your soulmates thoughts show up on your skin?? Thank you, you beautiful human being you.

Here you go my friend! I hope you like it ^^

The first time it happens, he’s standing in the bathroom, toweling himself off. He turned sixteen a few days ago and his stomach still spikes with anxiety every time he thinks about it; maybe it’ll happen today.

He’s just rubbing the towel over his legs - too skinny, too long, his brain supplies - when he feels it, a rush of something down his spine, a tingling feeling at the underside of his arm, the towel dropping to the floor.

He gasps as the tingling feeling intensifies, like he hit his funny bone against the sink, and when it’s over there are big, loopy letters on his arm, like a tattoo. He bends his arm at an impossible angle to read it.

Brown eyes are beautiful

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