Stiles and Lydia awkwardly sit at a coffee shop in Beacon Hills the day after the pack’s big win. 

“So,” They both start and then Stiles laughs, clearly uncomfortable, “You go first.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Lydia says, slowly and deliberately, “And I think that this, us, just isn’t working.”

Stiles lets out a sigh, “Oh, thank god.”

“You feel it too?” Lydia asks, letting out a breath and relaxing into her chair.

“It’s like kissing my sister,” Stiles says, “No offense.”

“None taken, I completely agree,” Lydia takes a sip of her coffee, “Plus, after seeing you with Derek. Well, it’s just a little obvious that you’re more into him than you were ever into me.”

“I, what? I’m not into Derek! You’re into Parrish!” Stiles word vomits, then lets his head thunk onto the table, “Is it really that obvious?”

“I think the only person who doesn’t see it is Derek,” Lydia smiles, “And I’m not into Parrish, I’m into the idea of getting the hell away from Beacon Hills and finally going to MIT.”

“Good, you deserve better than this shit town,” Stiles says, “We both do.”

“You deserve someone who makes you smile.”

“Look, Lyd, we both know I don’t have a chance in hell with Derek Hale,” Stiles runs his fingers through his hair, “He’s so out of my league I think we’re playing different sports.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lydia tells him, standing up, “And maybe ask him how he feels about all of it.”

“Yeah, right, I’m just going to walk up to Derek and tell him I find his asshole tendencies charming and that I want to kiss his stupid face,” Stiles says and then stops when he sees the look on Lydia’s face, “He’s right behind me isn’t he.”

“I’ll see you around Stiles,” Lydia says, then adds, “Derek.”

“So, you find my asshole tendencies charming huh?” Derek slips into the seat that Lydia vacated. 

“Please leave me here to die in shame,” Stiles says into the table.

“But then how would I kiss your stupid face?” Derek says and Stiles looks up to see Derek grinning at him.

He smiles back. There’s a whole new world of possibilities in their smiles. 

Stiles was fumbling for his phone as soon as he was out of the class and out of earshot of any of the other interns.

“Come on, come on, pick up big guy, I know you still have this number,” Stiles said to no one, bouncing on balls of his feet.

“Hello?” 

“Heyyy Derek! Aren’t you getting a little sick of being on the run for murder?”

“Wha- Stiles? How the hell do you know about that?” 

“I’m in the FBI,” Stiles said matter-of-factly. “We know everything.”

Derek said nothing.

Then, “What.”

Stiles snorted. “I got into the FBI intern program, we’ll be working with the actual feds on real cases, one of which is y-”

“Oh, wow, Stiles, that’s awesome,” Derek said from the other side of the line, cutting Stiles off. “Congrats, you deserve it.” 

“Wh- oh. Thank you, yeah, my dad is really proud.”

“He should be.” 

Stiles smiled. Then a sidelong glance from one of his classmates across the lawn and he remembered why he was calling. 

“But actually tho, can you please stop getting yourself wanted for murder? I’m getting real tired of saving your ass from the cops.” 

“I seem to remember that first time was entirely your fault,” Derek said flatly, but Stiles could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Hey, that was at least 85% Scott’s fault.” There was a pause. “Okay, maybe 50%,” he added, and Derek chuckled. “Unfortunately, buddy, I can’t hide you in my room this time - my roommate will start to get ideas.”

“Wrong ones?” Derek asked neutrally.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, even though Derek couldn’t see him, but chose to ignore the question. “So are you gonna tell me what happened?”

Derek took a deep breath and started. “Believe it or not, this is not my fault.” 

Originally posted by adoring-fictional-characters

Stiles laid back against the sheets, staring up at the uneven surface of the ceiling. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, “Hey, Derek, have you ever kissed a guy?”

Stiles’ heart lurched as he realised what he had said.

Derek thought about it for a moment, lying still next to Stiles. He replied, “No, I haven’t. I have done some things - dancing at clubs, drinking with guys and some… intimacies - but no, I haven’t ever kissed a guy.”

“Have you ever wanted to?” Stiles asked. “Like, to see how it felt? To know whether you get that flutter in your stomach or that warmth?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted. “I guess it depends.”

Stiles rolled onto his side, his whiskey-coloured eyes meeting Derek’s gaze, his rosy pink lips growing closer as he said, “If I, a guy, were to kiss you right now, would you want me to?”

Derek wanted as Stiles’ lips quivered with his warm breath. He swallowed hard, losing himself in the golden depths of Stiles’ eyes.

“I guess it depends,” Derek repeated.

“On what?”

“On whether it means something,” Derek whispered. “On whether you like me or I like you. If not, then it’s just a kiss; it means nothing.”

“And if it means something?”

Derek’s heart beat against his chest, his ribs aching as his mind screamed at him to end the torment, lean forward and seize Stiles before he lost his opportunity.

“Does it mean something?” Stiles asked before Derek could. “If I were to say I liked you, would you-?”

Stiles’ question fell short as Derek cupped the back of his head and pulling him closer. He brought their lips together, shattering the tension as Stiles relaxed into the kiss.

It was a blistering warmth and a flutter in his stomach, but at the same time it felt so right; it felt normal, like this is how it should be.

After a moment, Derek broke away from the kiss.

Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s their shaky breaths mingling and playing across their lips.

“I’d say it back,” Derek confessed.

A sweet smile lifted the corners of Stiles’ lips as he craned his neck and brought their lips together again in a tender, slow kiss.

Derek Hale was hard lines and rough skin.
He knew this.
He knew when people saw him they saw anger and fight and he understood why people feared him, why parents would clutch their children tighter when he was near, why people sped up when they walked by him on the street.

Derek was bad news.

He was used to people looking at him and not wanting to be near him.

So this made it all the more confusing when Stiles Stilinski came along.

Stiles was soft.
He was soft skin and big smiles. Stiles was pretty moles and the embodiment of everything GOOD Derek could think of.

To Derek, Stiles SHOULD have been scared of Derek, to Derek, Stiles was the complete opposite to everything Derek was.

So naturally, Stiles wasn’t scared of Derek.

Stiles looked at Derek as though he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.
Stiles wasn’t afraid to get close to Derek, he wasn’t afraid to touch him, to kiss him, to hold him.

Stiles wasn’t afraid of Derek even when Derek wanted him to be.

When Stiles looked at Derek, he didn’t see hard lines and rough skin.

When Stiles saw Derek he saw a soft beard, he saw soft sweaters. He saw the secret little smiles Derek wore while he was reading.

Stiles SAW Derek.

He saw the way Derek’s eyes would light up when he was happy. Hear his soft, sleepy and content sounds when they cuddled. Felt the way his heart would speed up when Stiles touched him in Just the right way.

Stiles loved Derek, just the way he was.
He loved him when he was angry.
He loved him when he was upset.
He loved him when Derek didn’t want to be loved at all.

So maybe Derek wasn’t hard lines and rough skin after all.

————

written by me @kinghoech

Also on AO3 if u guys wanted to give it some love there.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219156

6

Feral Aesthetic - Sterek


“He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.”

Or the one where Derek is just can’t help it anymore, being human is too much. So he lets go and lets the wolf take over. Stiles of course has to try, like he always does he tries. He begs and pleads to Derek to come back. He walks for hours in the woods trying to find the red eyed wolf he loves, but all he gets are scared whines and growls before the wolf takes off again. Stiles tries to find him one last time but when Derek runs away he just knows…

…it’s the last time he sees Derek. At the very least Stiles hopes Derek is happy like that, because that’s all that has ever mattered. 


dylanlovesthemets  asked:

“You look pretty hot in plaid" this could go both ways w sterek i think, like derek complimenting stiles on his daily outfits or stiles seeing derek in plaid for the first time

@dylanlovesthemets i almost listened but it kind of got away from me :D 

“Move, Scott,” Derek grumbles, irritated and tired and protective.

Stiles is limp in Derek’s arms after being struck by the monster of the week. Scott had once again failed to account for Stiles’ fragility and left him without so much as a bat to defend himself.

Derek had seen it happen, seen the big scaly tail knock Stiles off his feet and into a tree. And he’s done what he could to hear if Stiles was hurt worse than a concussion and so far hasn’t been able to hear anything out of the ordinary. Heartbeat still in a normal rhythm, no bones creaking or scraping against each other as Derek rolled Stiles onto his back to check him over.

He’s got Stiles bridal style in his arms and is walking back to the cars now that the thing has been taken care of. But Scott is hovering.

“We should take him to see Deaton, or at least have my mom look at him,” Scott is saying, still trailing behind Derek, gripping at Derek’s shoulder and Derek bites back a growl of irritation. He just doesn’t want anyone in his space right now.

“I’m taking him to my apartment. His dad is working tomorrow and through the weekend and Stiles is going to need someone to wake him up every couple hours if he does have a concussion. A test which I am well equipped to do, Scott, since I am an EMT,” Derek impatiently explains as they come up to the cars all parked together in a clearing.

“I know, I know,” Scott is quick to answer but he’s still hesitant. Derek knows they trust each other but apparently that trust doesn’t extend to trusting Derek with Stiles.

Once Stiles is laid comfortably, but still unconscious in the back of Derek’s Toyota he turns to face Scott’s worried face.

“He’s going to be fine and if he’s not, you’re the first person I call,” Derek says and it’s true. If Stiles wakes up in more pain than a concussion warrants or he stops breathing or something, Scott would be the first person Derek would contact…along with Melissa and John in the group text.

But the reassurance is enough for Scott who nods and steps away. Derek talks quickly to Isaac, Erica and Boyd, making sure they’re all still in one piece after the small tussle in the woods. But they’re fine and he gets an eye roll from Erica so they’re really okay if they’re able to sass their alpha at 3am.

Now he just has to get Stiles back to his apartment and make sure he wakes up in a reasonable amount of time.


Derek is pacing slowly in the apartment. He’s not overly anxious, Stiles has been awake since they got in and confirmed only a headache before swallowing some advil and going back to sleep. Derek is still concerned there might be other aches and pains that Stiles is waving off that should be addressed.

For now, he’s on concussion watch though so he’s trying to keep himself awake for the next hour until it’s time to wake Stiles again. He’d sleep himself but the couch isn’t appealing tonight and he knows when he falls asleep it’s going to be hellish to drag himself out of it. He’d rather get another check in with Stiles before he loses consciousness for the next few hours.

The pacing is to keep his mind focused on something, one foot in front of the other, eight steps, turn, eight again. He can hear Stiles’ steady, shallow, sleeping breathing as he does and he thinks he’s pretty calm despite the circumstances. He’s more surprised that he’s surprised than actually startled when the door opens and Stiles is standing there, leaning against the door jam. His eyes are droopy but Derek can still hear his heart beating exactly how it’s supposed to.

“You look pretty hot in plaid,” Stiles says, his clear voice showing that despite his sleepy expression, he’s completely alert.

Derek looks down at his pajama pants before looking up at Stiles with a soft smile.

“You’ve said that before,” Derek replies, tracing his own steps as he walks over towards where Stiles is wavering on his feet now that he’s no longer leaning against the door frame.

He settles his hands on Stiles’ warm waist and relishes the small smile he gets at the welcome touch.

“It’s worth repeating,” Stiles says and tilts his head back, Derek is all too happy to oblige and press a quick dry kiss on his lips.

This thing between them is new, not so new that Derek questions the kiss but it is still something they’ve kept just between them. And it’s something they haven’t taken much further than kissing. Derek had been set and ready to tell Stiles he needed to wait before things got physical in their relationship. But Stiles had been the one who put limits on things.

The pack doesn’t know. And Scott doesn’t know. But the Sheriff knows and that’s enough for them right now. It’s why Derek was so determined to get Stiles to his apartment. The sheriff really will be at work for the better part of the next few days and they both would want someone with Stiles while he’s concussed. The fact that Derek has his EMT license now only furthered the Sheriff’s approval of him dating his son. He’s been doing more to get his life together, to be a contributing member of society.

“How are you feeling,” Derek asks quietly and pushes Stiles’ hair off his face gently.

“Like I got my head smashed into the ground,” he murmurs as his eyes close again and he leans into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says into Derek’s chest and Derek brings his arms up to rub Stiles’ back comfortingly.

“Of course,” Derek says gently and starts to walk them back into the bedroom.

“Don’t know if I’ve said this but, I feel safe here. With you. Your space. You make me feel safe, Der,” Stiles says softly and Derek tries to keep from letting the excitement those words incited from leaking out.

“I-“ Derek clears the emotion from his throat, “I’m really happy to hear that Stiles. How are you doing for painkillers? Do you need me to get more advil? More pain drain?” Derek offers but Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just you. Come lay down with me?” he requests as he crawls into the bed with Derek holding the covers up for him to settle beneath them.

Those sleepy eyes, the soft fluffy hair and the circumstances have Derek capitulating without much resistance.

“Let me just grab you some water and I’ll be right back,” Derek explains as he tucks the covers around Stiles.

Stiles nods into his pillow and Derek dashes quickly back to the outer rooms. He checks the door again, fills up a large glass with water and snags the bottle of Advil – just in case. He makes quick work of putting both down on the nightstand next to Stiles. He crosses to the other side of the queen size bed and gently lifts the covers, stealing beneath and wrapping Stiles close in his arms.

After a few minutes of slow steady breathing Stiles snuffles into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks, Der,” he mumbles and Derek’s arms squeeze gently in a closer embrace.

“Anytime,” he says and is completely unsurprised that he means it. That he means something more, something they haven’t said to each other yet. But, Derek thinks, maybe they say it in other ways.

“So we’ll tell them that I rescued you during the FBI raid,” Stiles said, eyeing the ‘Beacon Hills - 3 Miles’ sign ruefully.

Derek snorted, “Or we could tell them the truth, that you called me to warn me that the FBI was on my tail and kept me updated on the progress so I got out before the raid and then you picked me up the next morning in Maryland.”

“What’s the fun of that,” Stiles rolled his eyes, “Let me be the hero.”

“If we tell them that anyone saved anyone I’m telling them that I saved you,” Derek flicked Stiles on the arm, “It’s my turn to save you.”

“Hey!” Stiles didn’t take this hands off the wheel, “Don’t hurt the driver.”

Derek rolled his eyes this time, “We’ll tell them the truth if they ask.”

“You’re boring Hale, when did you get so boring.”

“When did you decide to harbor another fugitive, you’re an intern with the FBI,” Derek shot back, but he was smiling.

“Anoth- It’s you! It’s the same damn fugitive every time you asshole,” Stiles said, “And what the FBI doesn’t know won’t hurt them.”

“Idiot,” Derek said fondly, “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For saving me. Again.”

“Oh well,” Stiles shrugged, his voice a little quieter than usual, “I invested so much time into saving your life in high school I couldn’t just let you waste away in federal prison.”

“You’re too kind,” Derek said with a grin.

The Beacon Hills exit loomed large in front of them and Stiles takes a deep breath before he steers the Jeep off the highway. 

“Ready or not,” Stiles said sardonically, looking at Derek for a moment. 

“We’re ready,” Derek gently squeezes Stiles leg, ignoring the way touching Stiles makes his heart thud, “We’ve got to be.”

“I’m still telling them I saved you,” Stiles said, pulling the Jeep into the parking lot at the animal clinic and grinning at Scott as he put it in park. 

marino-kun  asked:

Do you take prompt? What about Stiles having a secret crush on Derek but when saw him, taking care Scott's son, he fell in love.

I’m not much of a kid fic person, so this took me a while, but I tried. Hopefully it’s kind of what you were angling for!

*

“Do you think I’m ready for fatherhood?” Stiles asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He’s not freaking out about this. He’s not.

Boyd says flatly, “Stilinski, you’re twenty-one years old. You’re supposed to know how to use a condom by now.“

Stiles’ hand spasms and he accidentally squirts a huge glob of ketchup on his mound of curly fries. Fuck. He has the ideal ketchup-to-curly-fry ratio down to a science, and this is not it. “No, absolutely not what I meant. It’s just. Did you know Derek had a kid?”

Boyd meditatively takes a bite of his burger. “No. But the nice thing about Derek is that he doesn’t go in for personal talk.”

Stiles shoots him a weird look. Of course Boyd would think that was nice. Stiles, though, has been trying to break down Derek’s walls even just a little bit for months now—sitting with him in class, sharing his notes, studying with him in the library and getting late-night waffles together afterwards, little by little pulling Derek out of his shell. He’d thought he was getting somewhere, but obviously not, not if Derek failed to mention this kid even existed.

Which he does. Stiles knows, because he can see him right now, over by Prof. Martin’s pool. Apparently his name is Jamie.

Keep reading

Originally posted by cute-guysxx

The front door to Stiles’ apartment slammed open. 

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he turned to look at Isaac and Allison as they barged through the door. “To what do I owe this displeasure? Scott got himself in trouble again?”

“Derek is missing,” Isaac said hastily, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

“No I’m not,” came the gruff voice as the man appeared in the bedroom doorway, dressed in nothing more than a tight pair of black jeans. The olive skin of his bare chest was covered in small purple bruises that disappeared beneath the waistline of his pants.

“Oh,” was all Isaac said.

He glanced over at Stiles - who was also in a state of undress; wearing his boxers and an unbuttoned flannel shirt that fell open to reveal matching bruises - then looked back at Derek, the pieces falling into place as realisation washed over his face. “Oh!

Derek glared at him. “Get out.”

Hot Potato

This is for everyone in the awesome Sterek writing group 4. And especially to @seanconneraille  whose initial prompt: Potato, led to this ridiculousness. Seriously. There were tons of awesome prompts, but the heart wants what it wants.  Also a special shout out to @artemis69 who said they should plant the potato. I wrote this in about half an hour and it’s completely unbetaed. So all mistakes are mine. A cleaned up version is now on AO3

They’ve been together about three years now, living together for one, and Stiles thinks they’re  okay. He has a job as a freelance programmer, which involves a little bit of travelling, and a lot of working from home in his underpants, only putting a shirt on for skype calls. Derek is a history teacher at Beacon Hills High School, which should not be as hot as it is. Fortunately it turns out that Stiles finds 28yr old teacher!Derek with sweater vests and  blazers with elbow patches even more attractive than the leather wearing Alpha!werewolf badass that first caught his eye in the preserve all those years ago.

The thing is, Derek doesn’t need to be a badass anymore, at least, not in the way he used to. The Nemeton has been dealt with, and the pack is flourishing, Beacon Hills is no longer a hell hole and so now he’s a badass in other, more subtle ways. He’s a badass gardner, who has lovingly nurtured a little plot of fruits and vegetables in their backyard. Then there are his badass knitting skills, (he made Stiles a kickass pair of mittens last winter) and don’t get Stiles started on the cooking, okay? No. Really. Don’t get him started. The cooking isn’t actually that great, Stiles does all the cooking, but Derek can mix a mean cocktail, which means their powers combined result in some truly awesome, if slightly blurry, mealtime memories.

Anyway, it isn’t often that Stiles is forced to work the weekend, but today the shit has hit the fan, and he doesn’t have any other choice. When Derek gets home on Friday evening, wearing the blue sweater vest that brings out his eyes and the charcoal blazer with the elbow patches, Stiles can only stare up at him from his desk tragically and mourn the loss of what could have been.

Keep reading

inell  asked:

“I need a favor, and not the sexual kind.” Stiles/Derek

Nonsexual Favors

Derek woke to his phone vibrating on his nightstand. He rolled over and unlocked it when he saw he had two texts from Stiles that had both come in within the last two minutes. 

It wasn’t unusual for Stiles to text Derek at all hours of the morning, what was unusual was the lack of sexual content in the text.

Stiles: I need a favor,
Stiles: And not the sexual kind.

Derek was tempted to just roll over and go back to bed, but then he had a vision of Stiles laying in some ally, bleeding out because he was attacked by some monster, and he hit the call button.

“Oh thank god,” Stiles said as soon as he picked up, “My bike got stolen and I’m nowhere near a Metro stop.”

“Where are you?” Derek asked, already getting out of bed and pulling on his pants. It was 1:30 in the morning, there was no way he was letting Stiles wander around D.C. by himself that late. 

He and Stiles had been doing this, thing, whatever it was, since they ran into each other in D.C. almost two years prior. Stiles had grown into himself nicely and though he was still an asshole, Derek knew him well enough now to appreciate it.

“I’m in Alexandria,” Stiles breathed out, his voice sounded a little less strained now, “I’ll send you a pin with my location.”

Derek jogged out of his apartment, well it was actually a brownstone that he had bought when he moved to D.C. He had redone the basement so it was a full, though small, apartment that he could rent out. 

Not that he needed the money, he had plenty from his inheritance, but he kind of liked not having to live off of it. He loved everything about living in D.C., from the diversity to his job at an environmental non profit. 

When Stiles had walked back into his life it had felt like fate, they had run into each other at GW. Derek was working on his masters and Stiles was getting his degree in criminal psychology, on the fast track to the FBI. 

They had picked up right where they left off, snapping at each other and defending each other whenever someone else said a bad word about the other. Things escalated quickly, within a month they were fucking in Derek’s new Camaro. 

Keep reading

phantomavenger  asked:

Prompt #11 :)

I loved doing this one. Here’s #11: “If I die I’m going to haunt your ass.”


“You’re the worst, like the actual worst!”

Derek huffed beside him, “if you don’t shut up I’ll leave without you.”

Stiles paused, eyes wide and mouth dropped in shock at the threat. He didn’t sense any joke behind it. Instead he went back to his silent freak out as he did his best to ignore the undead groans from the other side of the door.

Zombies. Freaking zombies. As if Beacon Hills couldn’t get any worse. This time if people were bitten they wouldn’t turn into were-somethings. They’d be zombies; rotten, gnarly, undead flesh craving things. Of course Stiles had played his fair share of online games with his friends to fight off creatures, like zombies, but the real thing was much more terrifying. They smelled terrible, their skin looked horrendous especially when it fell off in chunks, and for the love of God the noises were things of nightmares.

Sick pained groans that were hollow and void of any sort of intelligence.

Just hungry.

Very hungry actually since they tried to make him Stilinski a-la-mode about five minutes ago and Derek a Hale sunday.

“This is your plan? Hide in a storage closet?” Stiles asked and flailed just crazily enough to knock over a paint can.

It clattered to the floor with a harsh sound followed by a long silence. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, and gave Stiles level ten of the Hale-Glare-of-Gloom™. From outside the storage room of the old factory the silence gave way to loud hungry moans of the undead, bodies banging against the door. The rusted hinges weren’t going to last if the pileup on the other side grew until the pressure was too much.

“If I die I’m going to haunt your ass,” Stiles muttered as he shuffled backwards until he was flush with the wall, his heart about to beat out of his chest.

“You’re not going to die Stiles,” Derek said.

“I’m so going to die, you’ll probably heal,” he said, his hand ran through his hair but didn’t seem to have its usual calming effect, “oh, God. I’m gonna be a zombie—holy, Derek…you gotta keep my dad away from fast food, alright? His cholesterol is through the roof. Give Scott my comic collection; he’ll keep them safe–”

His panicked ramble was cut off when Derek was suddenly in his space, his hands tight around Stiles’ shoulders. There was this look of…uncertainty in his pale green eyes, and before Stiles knew what happened he was wearing the leather jacket.

“What–?”

“Keep your head down, hang on tight, and whatever happens…run,” Derek said seriously before he hoisted Stiles up onto his back.

Stiles gasped in surprise, his legs automatically locked around Derek’s waist as his arms wrapped around Derek’s shoulders. His mind raced with questions, for example; why the fuck Derek was about to risk his life for him of all people? Seriously there was no rhyme or reason for it, the guy made his dislike for Stiles crystal clear.

The door was kicked open, the hinges flying off and the metal crushed the few zombies right in front of it. There was a split second path and Derek was already running; Stiles let out a small shriek and curled himself tighter against Derek, his head hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck. Hands tried to swipe at him, but the leather and denim he wore made it hard for hands to actually grab and tear into his flesh.

Stiles had no idea how Derek was doing, he had no idea if he was hurt, he had no idea where they were going. At one point Derek jumped, and they free fell for a while before landing. Eventually though they made it to a place where fresh air was all around them and the noises of zombies were gone.

He found it in himself to look up when Derek slowed, they made it out of the old factory, into the back end of the woods.

Victory.

Well almost, because suddenly Derek collapsed to the ground with Stiles still on him. His knees smacked onto the hard ground violently but he had enough sense to roll off Derek, finally taking a second to see if he was okay.

“Oh my God, dude, Derek!” Stiles gasped and scrambled to his knees to shove Derek on his back and off his wounds.

There were angry tears of skin and muscle, blood oozed out in thick globs, and Stiles was so sure he was about to puke. Derek let out a pained sound and tried to curl in on himself only to fail and fall back.

“You so cannot die! We save each other! We don’t freaking die!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to see if the wounds were healing themselves or not.

Hands cupped his face and pulled him away from Derek’s torso. His eyes met pale ones which were riddled with pain. Stiles hated that; he couldn’t even do the cool werewolf pain drain thing, he could only sit there helplessly. He wasn’t just sitting there though, because now he was bent down with lips on his which were surprisingly soft.

So maybe he totally flailed and maybe he accidently bit Derek’s lip, but he was well within his freak out rights. Derek Hale was kissing him and he hasn’t kissed many people, let alone super attractive people that were so out of his league.

Stiles pulled back, lips still semi-puckered with his brows drawn in, “why did that feel like a goodbye kiss?”

Derek had the audacity to roll his eyes, “not…a goodbye kiss, it was a ‘calm down I’m healing slowly’ kiss.”

“So you’re not dying?!”

“No, I can feel myself healing.”

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Stiles wheezed, leaning back down for another kiss which was probably only a little less clumsy than the first one.

“What kind of kiss was that?” Derek asked softly.

“I think it was a ‘thank god you’re not dead don’t do that to me again you dick’ kiss,” Stiles answered.

“I saved your life. I’d do it again if I had to.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Derek did in fact shut him up.


ASK ME A PROMPT FOR THE DRABBLE CHALLENGE!

anonymous asked:

If you wanna write a ficlet based on the tags you put about Derek not being good at receiving compliments so stiles compliments him always I can guarantee you that I will 100% read it and reblog it and comment about how much I love it :D

Well how can I resist that??


The first time it happened, Stiles didn’t think anything of it. Standing over the smoldering remains of the creature that just tried to kill them, he said “nice job”, gave Derek a friendly slap on the back, and suggested they go out for celebratory we didn’t die today milkshakes. He was pleasantly surprised when Derek both agreed and paid, and he dipped fries in both to see if they went better with his strawberry or Derek’s chocolate.

(The answer was chocolate, and Derek didn’t even get mad when three of Stiles’ fries were lost in his shake.)

The second time, he was marveling at the obscure text Derek managed to track down and said, “dude, you are literally the best, I’m buying you pizza!” And shockingly, Derek let him, and even told him what toppings he wanted. That might not seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but Stiles had spent years watching in silent judgment as Derek picked off half the toppings from the pizzas he ordered for the pack, as if he couldn’t get another for himself that he actually liked.

Stiles told him he liked the way he rearranged the loft, and Derek sat through the entire extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring on his new flat screen.

When he mentioned liking the fancy pasta dish Derek made and asked for a lesson to make it, Derek agreed. He showered compliments on Derek’s meticulous overhaul of the bestiary and Derek let him borrow three books.

Derek never let anyone borrow his books, they never left the loft.

These events were all spread out enough that it took a while to click, but when it did, it was both a revelation and incredibly depressing: Derek had no idea what to do with even the most casual of compliments.

Sarcasm was no issue, Stiles knew that much—he’d personally thrown out enough nice martyr complex, jackass and the like to figure that out—but anything that was even remotely sincere?

He started paying attention after that, to the way Derek would stiffen and his eyes would widen a bit before his face closed off again. He would go quiet, maybe nod, and quickly agree to pretty much anything just to get the focus back off himself.

Because Derek was actually embarrassed by compliments.

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Stiles always thought that Derek was attractive; even when Stiles 16 and still trying to figure his sexuality out, even when he had been running from things that went bump in the night. 

He thought Derek was attractive when he was clean shaven, when he had stubble, when he laughed, when he glared. Derek was just really good looking.

For a long time Stiles thought that maybe he had built Derek up in his head, that he hadn’t been that ascetically pleasing and his memories were making him better than he had been. They weren’t.

It had been eight years since Stiles had last seen Derek Hale, he had graduated from college, he owned a supernatural bookstore out in Boston and had been a sought after specialist for a couple years by the time he saw Derek again, but when he did it was like a punch in the gut.

The years had been kind to Derek, his eyes were brighter than ever, his hair long and tied back into a bun, his beard full and flecked with gray. He looked like a mountain man with his worn Woolrich jacket and faded jeans.

Stiles knew that he had aged well too, that his shoulders were broad and strong, that he was a few inches taller than he had been at 17, that his smile could charm even the crankiest of supernatural creature, but most of all he knew that he was worthy of love and attention. 

Derek noticed the changes, but more than that, he really saw Stiles. He looked at Stiles like he hung the damn moon. 

From that day on they were inseparable, a team. They worked on supernatural cases, from hauntings to helping the police, from saving children from hunters to hunting creatures that killed children. It worked well for them, it was a good life. 

And at night, after they had staved off the end of the world for another day, they’d lay in bed together, Derek’s head in Stiles lap while Stiles read. Stiles would card his fingers through Derek’s long hair and both of them would wonder how they got so lucky. 

But luck had nothing to do with it. Some people, well they’re just mean to find each other. 

Kat’s Fic Recs: Sterek (under 5k)


The One With The Napping
by Captain_Loki (M 4,768)

It is a unique and somewhat unhelpful talent, but Stiles can fall asleep anywhere.

Five Times the Sheriff Found Derek Hale in His Son’s Bedroom by suzvoy (T 3,525)

There’s a pattern Sheriff Stilinski just can’t ignore.

All You’re Giving Me Is Friction by drunktuesdays (M 4,707)

Stiles is Alpha bait.

Pucker Up by the_deep_magic (T 3,520)

Stiles would have asked who in their right mind thought a kissing booth was a good idea for a fundraiser, except – oh, right – he’s on a lacrosse team populated entirely by male models.

Gave Your Smile To Me by Sarageek16 (T 4,784)

In which Stiles is a hooker (but not really), Derek wants to feed his skinny little body, and there is soup. Not necessarily in that order.

And Why Mess Up A Good Thing, Baby? by eversall (M 2,868)

“To clarify,” Isaac asks, “dating as in a romantic relationship?” There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.
“To clarify further,” Stiles says with a decidedly delighted uptick in his voice that has Derek groaning, “dating as in love and sex. Multiple times. As in I am getting laid regularly. By Derek.”
.
The pack doesn’t realize Stiles and Derek have been dating for a long time now. Stiles is excited because this is an excuse for him to talk about sex. Specifically, how much sex he gets to have. With Derek.

From Ashes by Jerakeen (T 2,553)

Magic hates Stiles. He doesn’t know why Deaton insists he can use it.

Kind of a Thing by hannah_baker (G 3,464)

“You’re ‘kind of a thing,’” his dad repeated, the quotations clear in his voice. “Well, I’m not sure what kind of a thing means,” he said, getting up, disappearing to the kitchen briefly and returning with a beer, “but it’s 9:45, which means that kind of a thing needs to leave in fifteen minutes.”

How to Pretend You’re Not a Virgin and Other Sordid Tales by KuriKuri (T 5,347)

Stiles likes the anonymity, the security his pseudonym provides. Likes that there are entire forums dedicated to speculating about his identity: his gender, his sexuality, his age.

Of course, there’s one thing they all seem to agree on: he’s some sort of sex god.

Which is really, really awkward, because he’s a twenty-three year old virgin.

(Or: in which Stiles is a bestselling erotica novelist and Lydia makes him attend a convention to promote his upcoming book.)

My Heart Continues To Beat by scepticallyopenminded (G 4,847)

The male Hale twin is a lot less social than his sister, but no less good looking; fairly muscular, he’d shown up to school the summer after his sophomore year having switched from relatively-muscular-due-to-basketball to pretty damn ripped, and Stiles (as well as most of the school) has seen those heavenly abs, thanks to basketball - no, seriously, Stiles thinks he died and went to heaven the first time Derek had pulled his shirt up last year to wipe some sweat off his face. 

He loves to wear this old leather jacket and so much dark clothing that he looks like such a badass though he’s actually one of the sweetest people Stiles has ever met, maybe only beat out by Scott because Scott’s actually an angel, sometimes to a fault.

Brick by Brick by bleep0bleep (T 3,041)

Stiles eats his hot dog slowly, mesmerized by the incredible detail, and also in particular, there’s a hot bearded guy adding more Legos to the scene, including a crowd of Lego people at a train stop. Now Lego Hottie is adding what looks to be a custom built space ship to the train scene, and is affixing it to the ceiling with wire so it is flying above the train– oh my God, Lego Hottie is building a scene from Firefly.

A Wrinkle in Time by LoveActually_rps (G 2,894)

“But Deaton, how do we change him back?”
“I don’t know, Scott.”
“Does this potion contain wolfs bane?”
“A little.”
“What?! But he's… he is… ” Stiles watched as Scott struggled for the correct word, totally freaking out, and gestured at the twitching blanket in Cora’s hold. “… so small,” Scott murmured after a beat.
Stiles let out a heavy sigh. He strained his neck to get a better look at him, his lips curving a little when the two tiny hands peeked out from the edge of the blanket and tried to grab a gleaming stud on Cora’s dress.
“Aha, d’you like it, baby bro?” Cora cooed at the baby, rounding her painted lips for unnecessary cuteness, as if that would work. He might be a baby, but in there, somewhere, he was still Derek Hale for god’s sake.

sterek au: landlord!derek and tenant!stiles

based loosely on this gif set and tags, prompt by fin. written for sterekfest! wish i could have written something longer, but i hope you enjoy anyway <3

*

Stiles has a mission. He has a mission and a list – a long list that details with bulleted subpoints all the things wrong with his apartment. Sure, he’s thankful for having a roof over his head (if said roof didn’t leak) and at a fair price (which was really the selling point, let’s be honest). But still, Stiles drops most of his measly paycheck on rent every month, and he’d like a place that wasn’t falling apart. That was only fair.

The building meeting is on the fifth floor. When he arrives, there’s only one other guy there, sitting on a blue couch. Stiles immediately heads over to the large window and starts pacing. “I feel kinda bad for the landlord,” Stiles begins, nervous energy buzzing through his limbs.

“Oh?” the man replies.

“Yeah, I’d hate to be in his shoes, being bombarded with complaints all night. But dude, my water pressure’s terrible, three panes in the window are broken and one has a hole in it, my garbage disposal smells like something died inside of it, and that’s just the top of the list.” Stiles spins around and finally looks at the guy on the couch. He’s never seen him around before, and Stiles guesses he could be considered attractive if you find bearded gym rats hot. Stiles refrains from rolling his eyes because the guy is obviously a douche. Just look at those eyebrows.

“What about you? Please don’t tell me your apartment is perfect, but knowing my luck and probably yours, everything works perfectly for you like it always has and I got the shit apartment.” The guy just stares at him and says nothing. Stiles rolls his eyes as he turns back towards the window, mumbling under his breath, “Typical.”

“What’s typical?”

Stiles spins around again, mouth open in exaggerated shock. “Oh, you mean you’re actually going to talk to me? Words finally making sense to you now?”

The man’s mouth pulls down into a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Look, I know it pains guys like you to talk to guys like me because it lowers your cool quotient or you only waste your breath on people as hot as you or something, but we do live in the same building. We’re neighbors. I was trying to be neighborly.”

Keep reading

During his move to Washington, DC, Stiles made a number of realizations about life, the most prominent of which was that it was amazing what kind of hobbies a guy could pick up when his days weren’t packed full of running for his life from various supernatural horrors. Like trivia nights, for example. Stiles had a regular team and the entire bar groaned when they walked in because they knew they were about to get creamed.

Or the tabletop gaming club he joined, where everyone was just as competitive as he was, and punches had been thrown on more than one occasion.

Or like, Stiles jogged now.

Through the National Mall.

Like Captain America or some shit.

And with these hobbies came a sort of routine, and though most were on hold during the summer when his trivia team and gaming rivals were back home, the running stuck. It was calming and got his mind off things, gave him a chance to think about any papers he had to write, or de-stress about his FBI internship when it got a little hectic.

It was a good routine.

So every Saturday morning, Stiles got up a little earlier so he could get in his longer route, and left his dorm for his jog through the National Mall. On Saturdays, he took the path that went through the war memorials, down into West Potomac Park, and over to the Jefferson Memorial. It was his favorite place to take a breather because that early in the morning, there were rarely any tourists, and other joggers left him alone. It was nice and private, with a great view of the city across the water.

Stiles leaned back against the front steps and glanced around him casually, making sure there was no one too close before pulling out his little burner flip phone.

He had an old school drug dealer flip phone. His dad would be so proud.

There was only one number the phone ever called, so there was no need to save it under a name.

He waited for a few minutes, biding his time until the clock hit 7:15am, and then he called that number.

On the third ring, Derek picked up.

“Morning, sunshine!” Stiles greeted, already wide awake from his jog. Derek grunted back. He must’ve had a late night at the bar. “Any leads?”

Derek yawned loudly. “Still no werewolves with triskele tattoos, still wanted for murder.”

Keep reading

patroclusau  asked:

“There is nothing wrong with planning a wedding with a video game character.” STEREK

“Uncle Derek!” the high pitched voice of his nephew Cory said as Derek walked into Laura’s house, Stiles trailing behind him with a plate of cookies, “UNCLE STILES!”

Derek shook his head with a fond smile on his face, he loved how easily his family had accepted Stiles into the fold. 

Stiles handed Derek the cookies and allowed himself to be lead into the living room, Cory chatting away about the old video game consul that Aunt Cora had given him. 

“Hey,” Derek said as he stepped into the kitchen where Laura was chopping tomatoes for the salad.

“Thank god you’re here, Cory has been talking about showing Stiles the Nintendo all day,” Laura said with a sigh, “I swear he’s been planning his wedding to Zelda.”

“There is nothing wrong with planning a wedding with a video game character,” Stiles said from the doorway, “I did the same thing when I was his age.”

Laura rolled her eyes, “There’s still a chance for you to get out of marrying him.”

“Be nice I’m your future brother-in-law AND the only one who will willingly talk to your son about his video games,” Stiles said, taking a tomato slice and popping it into his mouth with a smirk.

“Fine, marry him, but only because Cory likes him,” Laura said with a huff, but Derek could see her fighting back a smile. Laura loved Stiles. He was the only person Derek has ever dated that could keep up with her. 

“And because I do that thing you like with the -,” Stiles started to say but Laura threw a tomato at him which he caught in his mouth. 

“Stiles,” Derek said with a laugh, wrapping an arm around Stiles middle and pulling him to his chest, “Behave.”

“Or what?” Stiles asked, turning his head to look at Derek, “Will you punish me.”

“Oh my god get out of my house,” Laura said, pretending to throw up.

“Don’t leave yet!” Cory said, running into the kitchen, “I have to show you my favorite game.”

“What is it?” Stiles asked with a laugh, looking down at Cory.

“Zelda,” He said with a shy smile.

“Dude that game was my favorite when I was a kid,” Stiles said, slapping Derek on the ass as he followed Cory out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

“You found a good one,” Laura told Derek with a soft smile.

“Yeah, I really did.”

RANDOM SENTENCE STARTERS

anonymous asked:

Sterek Prompt Number 47 Please!

AHHH I LOVE THIS!!!! Here is #47: “I thought it was a one-night stand…but now we’re married…”


Stiles woke up with a headache and a small groan, eyes adjusting to the sunlight coming from the wall of windows he was facing. It was weird…his and Scotty’s motel room didn’t have a wall of windows let alone a killer view of the Vegas strip.

Oh God this wasn’t the motel.

Stiles suddenly was hyper aware of the body pressed against his back and the arm hooked around his bare chest. He swallowed so hard it hurt as he glanced down to see the sheet barely covering their undoubtedly bare lower halves. Then his eyes caught sight of the body behind him and holy shit he was ninety nine point two percent sure he was sleeping with a GQ model.

He turned his head back to the windows trying to think of a way out of this, except then there was movement and stubble ran across the nape of his neck and there was a hard cock pressed against his ass–

With that he slithered ungracefully out of the man’s grip until he rolled off the bed and took half the sheets with him. There was a groan from the bed when he fell to the floor with a thud, and somehow he managed to hit his funny bone.

“Ow, fuck,” Stiles whined, sitting up to see the GQ model awake and naked in all his very sexy glory. Man for a one night stand he really got lucky, but terribly so he can’t remember a fucking thing.

No more alcohol. Ever.

“Um, hi,” the guy said, face pinched up.

Stiles felt like drooling because man those eyebrows could murder someone, but those green-blue eyes were to die for. Jesus those cheekbones couldn’t be real either, they looked so sharp and angular. This guy is photoshopped for sure.

“Well I’m pretty sad I can’t remember what I would assume to be awesome sex, but this was nice, gotta go,” Stiles blurted out and stood up, wrapping the sheet around his lower half just now noticing the marks all across his torso.

Oh the sex must’ve been amazing.

“Hey–”

“No seriously man I gotta go, my best friend is probably worried sick,” Stiles pressed, grabbing his boxers.

“Wait–”

“Look dude I don’t know–”

“We have rings on our fingers!” The model blurted out and Stiles paused looking at his hands only to see his ring finger with a gold band on it. His vision spiraled a bit as he stood up on shaky legs. He twisted the band on his finger, slipping it off to look at the rather expensive piece of jewelry. On the inside of the band he read a tiny engraving “drunk married is the best married”.

Holy hell.

“I thought it was a one-night stand…but now we’re married…,” he trailed off looking to the other man, stark naked and honestly still looking hotter than the sun. From his toned body to his bunny like teeth that poked from his slightly parted lips.

“I’m Derek,” the guy -Derek- said suddenly.

“Stiles–and yes, it’s a nickname,” he answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in the sheet. The silence lingered, sitting between them and festering until Derek pulled off his own ring and looked inside it.

“It’s says “his name his Mieczyslaw”…I think I remember you told me last night when we bought the rings,” Derek said and Stiles paled with a low groan, shoving his face in his hands. He doesn’t know where Scott is, he’s slept with the world’s hottest man alive, and he’s married to said man who knows his atrocity of a first name.

Great. Fucking great.

“I don’t think this is how a honeymoon is supposed to go.”

“Seriously, Stiles?”

“What? I heard they were much better than this– I mean most people know their husbands.”

Derek was quiet for a long time after that before finally saying, “…my favorite color is green.”

Stiles couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

So two years later at their real wedding the color theme was white and green, both of them wearing the same rings that started this beautiful perfect mess.


ASK ME A PROMPT FOR THE DRABBLE CHALLENGE!