Draco had known it would start then, of course. That part was normal. The clock was supposed to manifest as a tattoo on his skin, and begin its countdown to the moment Draco would meet his Soulmate. He’d been looking forward to the clock’s appearance all year— desperate for anything that might take his mind off his hopeless situation. Draco was exhausted, the damned cabinet was never going to be fixed, and his whole family was probably going to die as punishment.
And Draco had been prepared to die with them, resigned to the fact that his countdown tattoo might not appear at all, or might be stuck at 00:00:00:00:00:00 right from the beginning.
Draco had not, however, been prepared for the clock to appear at midnight and begin counting down from a mere one minute and seventeen seconds. His heart jumped in his chest. Clearly Draco was one of those rare wizards who had already met their Soulmate, but hadn’t known yet because he wasn’t of age at the time. Which didn’t help Draco in the slightest, as he could think of precisely nobody at Hogwarts who he might like to spend the rest of his life with.
He stood up from the stool he’d set in front of the hopeless cabinet, grabbed his wand, and began making his way to the door of the Room of Hidden Things. Between the time he’d spent staring at his countdown in disbelief, the time it took to reach the door, and the few seconds he devoted to not panicking, the clock reached zero at the very moment he pushed open the door.
Hello! I'd love to see you do dialogue #74 with m/m sterek.
This has been sitting in my inbox for an embarrassingly long time so i hope you like it! (also on ao3!)
“Can I touch your boob?”
Working out had always been a foreign, almost fascinating concept to Stiles.
At a measly one hundred and forty seven pounds with the metabolism of a hummingbird, Stiles had never had any real need to work out. At least, not to stay in shape.
Of course, that meant his shape was more of just a straight line, but it was a shape nonetheless.
Apart from lacrosse training — he had made first line at Stanford, something that never failed to make his dad puff out his chest with pride — and running away from various supernatural creatures, he didn’t bother devoting any time to working out.
He had tried subjecting himself to a regular workout regimen once. That had been back in his freshman year of high school.
He had hoped to build up some muscle to make himself more attractive to the ladies, and gentlemen, of Beacon Hills High. But he was no bodybuilder.
He had ended up spending thirty bucks on some exorbitant protein powder that had tasted like sawdust and disappointment and trying to lift weights for three months. Then, he had just resigned himself to the life of a scrawny geek who’d never lose his virginity.
But still, the idea of rippling muscles and sweaty skin captivated him. Which is partly why it was no surprise that he managed to stumble his way into going out with Derek.
He didn’t think he would ever be able to tell anyone how exactly they got together. It just sort of happened.
All those late nights at the loft spent rifling through old bestiaries and ancient tomes from the Hale family’s vaults had somehow progressed to him and Derek eating takeout and bickering over Star Wars and Star Trek and DC versus Marvel.
All the gruff, intimidating gestures, the instances of Derek shoving him against doors and walls, melted away into soft, lingering touches. Stiles’ arm brushing Derek’s as they traipsed through the preserve, Derek’s hand on Stiles’ waist while he passed him on his way to the kitchen.
Their constant bickering shifted into something more affectionate, friendly banter rather than an exchange of scathing insults. Then their banter gave way to something more intimate, long conversations about their families and their futures.
Then one night while they were hanging out at the loft, sprawled out on the couch together while watching Netflix on Derek’s new TV, everything changed.
While they both laughed at a joke in whatever movie they were watching, neither of them bothering to remember the name, Derek tipped his head to the side and caught Stiles’ lips in a tentative kiss.
They had been together ever since to the surprise of exactly one person. And that was mostly because Scott wasn’t the most observant person in the world.