Of course it’s okay, Nonny! Your prompt was really cute and I hope you like what I came up with for it! And I hope you’re still around to see the fic^^°
Beta-read by the wonderful @ohfuckthisshit, who also did some much needed cheerleading! Thank you ❤
Five times the pack tried to help Stiles’ love life and one time they did
Subtitled: Alpha knows best
Stackson, 4k, T, no warnings apply
1. Erica
Erica realises it first: Stiles and Derek are totally in luuuurve.
They have been spending a lot of time together lately; most of the time, Stiles is already at Derek’s when the rest of the pack arrives for pack meetings or movie nights and the like. Their scents have even started to mix! At first Erica thought that they were keeping it quiet, being secretive while the relationship is still new, but eventually she comes to the conclusion that nothing is going on, that they are just that oblivious.
Boys!
It’s obvious that they need help. And Erica knows exactly what to do – a healthy dose of jealousy has revealed many a secret affection yet.
So for the next pack meeting she chooses one of her lowest cut shirts, the shortest skirt, and her favourite red lipstick. Dressed to kill, she makes sure to bend over a lot in Stiles’ vicinity, cuddles up close to him on the couch, and sucks seductively on her straw. Stiles reacts appropriately for the most part, blushing at her antics, staring at her breasts for an ego-boosting, but not creepy amount of time, and flirting back slightly awkwardly.
But Derek doesn’t really react satisfyingly – he perhaps rolls his eyes a little more than usual, but even now, with Beacon Hills safe and at peace and no danger looming on the horizon, his basic setting is ‘grump’, so there’s no telling whether Erica’s flirting makes him grumpier than usual. The only suspicious behaviour comes from Jackson, who suddenly develops a hacking cough that night. In fact, Stiles might have spent more time asking Jackson whether he’s alright than flirting with Erica.
To add insult to injury, Stiles takes her aside after the meeting to ask whether everything is alright with her and Boyd. And then he hugs her and reassures her that while he appreciates her body, and fuck anybody who doesn’t, he loves her mind and soul, and that there’s no need to use her body as a weapon among the pack. It’s all terribly sweet, and yes, there might be tears and a few more hugs involved.
All in all, Operation: Red Wolf, Trial 1 is an all around fail.
Thank you so much for the prompt! If anyone would like to donate/reblog my gofundme to help save my house, please go here! I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy 🙂
“These pack dynamics are getting a little too
much for me,” Stiles mentions, the third time a member of another pack flirts
with him. The first is a girl, a werewolf and she was pretty and a good person,
but once “negotiations” started for him, the appeal kind of wore off.
Negotiations were really Derek glaring at her until she eventually left. Stiles
had been worried about the consequences of something like that, but since she
wasn’t an alpha, she was not a threat to them.
The second was a merman, which came as a shock
to everyone. Regretfully, that one didn’t pan out, because Stiles couldn’t grow
gills, no matter how much he tried. Derek and Scott did need to pry him
from the ocean to save him from succumbing to a luring song, though, which
sucked, all things considered. Being tugged, soaking wet from the clutches of
death made Stiles really try to prioritize his dating life. And Derek’s angry,
agonized face really does the same thing to him.
This prompt totally inspired me. I hope you enjoy this, honey!
Sanctuary. Derek/Stiles. Adult.
The drive from Beacon Hills to San Francisco seems to be taking even longer than usual today. Derek is driving, so that means Stiles can’t fiddle with the radio or play anything off his phone to pass the time. There’s some station playing old rock that always seems to accompany movie soundtracks and television commercials. It reminds him of his mom, singing along to the music of her youth as she baked, twirling him around until he was a giggling dizzy mess with the faster tunes. The memories make him smile, and there’s only a little sadness thinking about the past. It does make him quieter, though, so Derek keeps looking at him and frowning.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or just wait until we get there?” he finally asks after the fourteenth frown from Derek.
“I already told you. It’s a place where we should be able to get the information we need,” Derek says, as if that actually answered the question.
“That doesn’t tell me anything, you realize?” Stiles rolls his eyes when he notices Derek’s slight smile. “Of course you realize.”
It’s only six in the evening on a Thursday, but the bar near Stiles’ work is already half full. Not so packed that he wants to find another place to drink, but busy enough that he has to wait a few minutes for the bartender to get to him.
During that waiting period, a guy sidles in close to Stiles and offers to buy his drink for him. The man is taller than Stiles by a few inches, and he uses his height to his advantage by standing so close that he’s almost hovering over Stiles, clearly posturing. It makes Stiles roll his eyes.
“No thanks, man. I’ve got it.”
Apparently the lack of eye contact, the verbal brush-off, and the general fuck-off vibes Stiles is giving off aren’t doing it for the guy because he says, “Come on. It’s a free drink. You can’t say no to that.”
Stiles stops trying to get the bartender’s attention to look the guy straight in the eyes and say, “No.”
“That’s it, there you go,” Stiles said softly and Derek groaned as he leaned his stiff and newly healed body against Stiles’ bare chest. “Just a little longer before you can go to bed.”
–
After a fight with some unnamed big bad Stiles takes care of Derek.
For the awesome @ladydrace, because it’s her BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday, you wonderful human you!
I took a prompt from this list. Strangely, this ended up being decidedly smut-less, and more hurt/comfort than anything else. PLUS, it’s shockingly not the pairing I’ve been writing the most of lately.
“Hey, Derek?”
Derek looks up from his book, and over to where Stiles is curled up on the opposite end of the couch. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?” Stiles’ voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t really want to speak.
“Sure.” Derek slips a receipt between the pages of his book to mark his place, and sets it aside. He turns towards Stiles, giving him his undivided attention.
Stiles’ fingers are toying with the seam of the closest throw pillow. He’s quiet long enough that Derek wrongly assumes he isn’t going to ask his question after all. “Do you think someone can be unloveable?”
Derek blinks in surprise. Of all the things that Stiles could ask him, this is decidedly not what Derek was expecting. He swallows back his initial response, asking instead, “Why do you ask?”
“No reason, really.” Stiles’ shoulders move in what looks like a shrug. “I just,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “it’s just something someone said.”
Ah.
“About you?”
Stiles lifts a hand to rub at his right eye, “Maybe?”
Derek takes a moment to think of how to answer. If someone has said something to Stiles to make him even consider the question, Derek is sure that it’s been bothering him. He himself has often felt that way, so he knows that simply brushing Stiles’ concern aside with platitudes will do more harm than good. “I think that there is someone for everyone. People love differently, and we just need to find that one person that just…gets us.”
Stiles’ brows lift, “Wow, that was decidedly poetic.”
Derek laughs, “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, ducking his head to hide the blush he can feel flooding his cheeks.
“Never thought I’d ever be talking to you, of all people, about this kind of stuff.”
The words sting a little; more than a little, if Derek is honest with himself. He gives Stiles a tight smile, “I guess I deserve that.”
“What?” Stiles blinks in confusion for a few seconds before he realizes what he just said. “No, that’s not what I meant! I just mean,” he drags a hand over his face, “god, I’m such a dick.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s really not.” Stiles waves his hand in the air, “What I meant was: we’ve never really been friends, and yet I feel completely at ease discussing this with you.”
“I don’t make friends easily.”
Stiles nods, “Yeah, me either. I’m a lot to take. Hell, I made it through four years of college with no real friends. If it wasn’t for your weekly pack Skype sessions, I think I would have spent the majority of the time in a drunken frat boy stupor.”
“You? A frat boy?”
“Hey! I could have been a frat boy, if I wanted to, fuck you very much.”
Derek smirks, “Of course you could have.”
Stiles makes a face at Derek, flipping him off in the process.
“You make it sound as if you never got out of your dorm room. I know for a fact that’s not true.”
“Aforementioned frat parties don’t count.” Stiles yawns, “late night hook-ups in dark hallways aren’t nearly as fulfilling as all that.”
“You had more than that though. What about that blonde from freshman year?”
“Blaise?” At Derek’s nod, Stiles waves a dismissive hand, “she only dated me to make her ex jealous.”
“Really?” Derek shakes his head, “that’s a shitty thing to do.”
Stiles laughs softly.
Derek frowns, “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss before.” The look Derek levels on Stiles, only serves to make him laugh more, “it’s cute how you think you can intimidate me after all these years.”
They spend one night together – a near decade-long dance of simmering, mildly violent flirtation finally sparking after a late night of research and whiskey, wolfsbane-laced for Derek, of course. The sex is intense and focused and the orgasms are multiple and mind-blowing, and afterwards they fall in a sweaty, come-slick heap onto Derek’s bed, both of them asleep almost instantly, limbs tangled. They wake in tandem a few hours later and, wordlessly, make love again, slow and sleepy, bodies woven effortlessly together, mouths swollen with kisses and unspoken declarations.
Stiles has to work early the next morning and they say goodbye at Derek’s door in the dawning light and kiss each other chastely and then they never speak of it because even though their bodies could tell each other how much they love one another, their words still fail and their fears still shackle.
A month goes by and then another, and there are more research nights where Stiles is always sure to leave at the same time as the others, and there are pack meetings and movie nights and a barbecue at the sheriff’s station, and they go along as if nothing happened.
And then one night Stiles is lying in bed, the insomnia pills he been prescribed no longer working, the weed not helping either, and it dawns on him that the best night’s sleep he’s had in years was in Derek’s bed, in Derek’s arms, and he wants nothing more than to sleep next to his sourwolf again.
And so the next time they all meet at the loft to research, he lingers when everyone else leaves, and awkwardly asks Derek if they can sleep together again.
“Sure,” Derek says, something akin to reluctance in his voice, and then, rushed, “but honestly Stiles if this is just about sex for you I don’t think I can – “
“Sex?” Stiles interrupts, thoughts and heart racing. “I just wanted to sleep in your bed…maybe cuddle…I think sleeping next to you helped me actually sleep, you know…wait, what do you mean, you don’t think you can if it’s just sex?”
And that’s when Stiles learns that Derek is utterly adorable when he blushes, when his eyes go extra-big and round. Stiles can see that he’s struggling to find the words and then he lets his body to the talking once again and he takes three long strides and kisses the frustration from Derek’s mouth, cradles his jaw and buries his fingers in his beard, downright unruly these days, speckled here and there with gray. They kiss until they’re both breathless, and when their mouths separate their foreheads fall together, and Derek’s eyes are the most beautiful they’ve ever been, greens and golds Stiles doesn’t even have words for but he knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to find them.
Derek speaks softly, thumbs stroking Stiles’ cheeks. “I mean that I want you sleeping next to me every night, sex or no sex, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Stiles smiles and kisses him, and they find their way to the bed again, and again the night after that, and the next one, and every night after that, forever and ever.
Sighing, Stiles reaches for Derek’s big hands, cradled in his broad lap, his skin lighting up even more at Derek’s touch. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, preparing himself to look for Derek’s soulmate. Whoever you are, he thinks, you better be worth him.
We heard there are new people still coming! Poor souls, that’s gonna be a
painful journey, but trust me, I would not change it for anything else!
This list is my personal STEREK STARTER KIT/STEREK MUST READ LIST, so I hope you will enjoy it! (most of the links are to our recs, where you can find more details and notes ;))
The first thing I always recommend new people in fandom is Important Things by suzvoy (which was my first Sterek fic and I love it to bits and pieces) and it works like a charm every time!
SO IT’S BEEN MONTHS AND NOW IT’S SUMMER BUT I FINISHED IT (also on ao3!)
Stiles never would have thought apple picking, of all things, was romantic. Then again, he never would have thought Derek ‘Angry Eyebrows’ Hale was romantic, either. And on both counts he was wrong.
Ever since they’d started dating–having gotten together the summer before senior year after Stiles had come dangerously close to dying from the aftereffects of having been possessed by the Nogitsune, Derek not wanting to risk never being able to love Stiles the way he wanted to, open for the world to see–Derek had absolutely blown him away with how affectionate and downright romantic he could be. Not a day went by without Derek performing some sort of grand romantic gesture.
On their first date, Derek had surprised him with a bouquet of deep red roses, despite the fact that they were only going to dinner at the local diner that served Stiles’ favorite curly fries. They held hands throughout their meal, Stiles somehow managing to eat a greasy, bacon loaded double cheeseburger one-handed, playing footsie under the table like the dorks they both unabashedly were.
It had started raining by the time they finished dessert, sharing a milkshake like it was the nineteen fifties, Stiles teasing Derek about looking the part of the bad boy greaser in his leather jacket. As they fled to the Camaro, hoping for a reprieve from the heavy rain, Derek used his jacket as a makeshift umbrella, holding it above their heads to shield them from getting pelted by the cold rain.
Once they’d climbed into the Camaro, Derek draping his jacket over Stiles as he unlocked the doors and jogged around the front of the car to climb into the driver’s seat, they’d luxuriated in the Camaro’s heated seats as they laughed about their luck and poor timing, going on their first date the only time it rained that month. Stiles had made a comment about rain on a first date being a sign of good luck, Derek arguing that it was only wedding days that were lucky if rained on, sparking an intriguing conversation about various good luck signs as Derek drove Stiles home.
Stiles had kissed him on the front porch after Derek walked him to the door until his dad started flicking the porch light on and off. Stiles had smiled like an idiot when Derek insisted he hold on to his leather jacket for a little while, laying a kiss on Derek’s cheek for the sweet gesture. He’d put the roses in a vase and set them on his nightstand after Derek left, stealing glances at the beautiful bouquet for the next two weeks, breaking into a blinding grin whenever he did.
On their second date, a double feature at the local movie theater across town, Stiles had attempted to return Derek’s jacket, slipping it off his shoulders when Derek pulled up in front of his house, only for Derek to insist that he keep it, at least for just a little bit longer. Stiles had proudly strut over to the Camaro, chin held high as slid into the passenger seat still wearing the leather jacket despite the midday heat, slipping his hand into Derek’s as they pulled onto the road.
They’d sat in the back of the darkened theater, Derek leading Stiles to their seats, his werewolf night vision guiding him through the crowded theater, the location of the seats prompting many innuendos and eyebrow waggles from a jokingly scandalized Stiles. He’d only stopped teasing Derek about his choice of seating when Derek had grabbed the front of his Star Wars t-shirt and pulled him into a deep kiss as the opening credits rolled.
They’d spent the rest of the double feature holding hands as they shared a tub of popcorn and a box of Reeses Pieces, occasionally feeding each other the peanut butter candies before leaning in to kiss the butter from the popcorn off each other’s lips afterwards. They both blissfully ignored the appalled, genuinely scandalized looks they received, mostly from the elderly couples in attendance, due to their blatant public displays of affection, Derek assuring Stiles that he had no reason to be embarrassed or shy, casually throwing his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and kissing his temple.
A few hours later they left the theater with Derek’s arm still around Stiles’ shoulders, smiles proudly plastered on both their faces.
Their third date consisted of a nice dinner in at loft, giving Derek an opportunity to flex his culinary muscles, thoroughly impressing Stiles with a three course meal — an appetizer of potato skins followed by an entree of filet mignon before a dessert of various fruits dipped in chocolate and caramel sauces. They ate on the couch, the informal seating belying the sophistication of the meal, cuddling as they took Boyd’s suggestion to heart and watched Luke Cage on Netflix.
They watched Mike Colter kick ass on screen, Stiles making an offhand comment about how hot he was, Derek huffing and crossing his arms over his chest in faux jealousy until Stiles peppered kisses over his cheeks. Whenever there was a lull in action on the TV screen they took advantage of the opportunity to lick the sticky sweetness of chocolate and caramel off each other’s lips, hands tenderly stroking each other’s faces, fingers brushing through each other’s hair.
On Stiles’ eighteenth birthday they had sex for the first time.
Derek made love to him so gently and so sweetly, holding him and touching him and kissing him like he was something to be cherished, something to be treasured and protected and loved, that Stiles had buried his face in the crook of Derek’s neck and cried. Derek had held him for the rest of the night, rolling over so Stiles lay on his chest, running his hand up and down the smooth, mole dotted planes of his back, whispering hushed words of love into his sweaty hair as Stiles sobbed softly.
In the morning, Derek made him breakfast in bed and scattered kisses over the marks he’d left on his neck the night before, combing his fingers through Stiles’ disheveled bed head as Stiles munched on the perfectly crispy bacon and wonderfully fluffy pancakes Derek had made, trying not to be too embarrassed by the previous night’s waterworks.
After breakfast, Derek had literally carried him to the bathroom where they’d taken a hot shower together, Derek, unable to help himself, nipping and sucking at Stiles’ neck as he massaged body wash into Stiles’ smooth, pale skin. Soon enough, Derek’s amorous kisses and less than innocent touches led to what was both Stiles’ first time having shower sex and his first time having sex standing up–all in only his second time having sex at all.
Between moans he thanked the heavens above for Derek’s foresight to have a bottle of oil based lube on hand in the bathroom, smirking to himself as he idly wondered about how long Derek had wanted to fuck him in the shower.
After their steamy shared shower, Derek had carried Stiles back to bed after drying him off, Stiles too boneless with pleasure to even lift his head off Derek’s shoulder. They spent the rest of the day lounging in bed, not bothering to put a shred of clothing on, Stiles lazily pressing kisses over Derek’s neck and shoulders and collarbone as Derek gently stroked his hand up and down Stiles’ naked back, tracing the play of moles across the breadth of his shoulders.
And the romance hadn’t stopped there. If anything, it had intensified.
Derek made a point of continuing to be as romantic as humanly–werewolfily?–possible, constantly one upping himself with every gesture.
A few days after he gave Stiles another bouquet of red roses for their three month anniversary, he one upped himself by scattering rose petals and candles around the entire loft leading to the bed upstairs where he made love to Stiles for hours. Only a few hours after he’d absentmindedly began singing to Stiles on the couch, Stiles’ head in his lap as he re-read one of his favorite books, he pressed kisses to Stiles’ shoulders and back as he mumbled poetry into his skin in fluent Spanish as they laid in bed together.
So, naturally, he was intrigued when, while he and Derek were driving along a country road on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, Derek had pointed out a sign in front of a local farm, advertising for people to pick their own apples, and insisted he pull over. He’d cocked an eyebrow at his boyfriend but parked and climbed out of the Jeep nonetheless, eager to see what Derek had in mind.
Derek slipped his hand into Stiles’ and led him over to a display of produce for sale where an elderly man was restocking a wooden shelf of cartons of cranberries. The man turned to greet them with a warm, toothy smile, wiping his hands with a handkerchief. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“Hi,” Derek greeted, holding his hand out to shake the man’s hand. “How much to pick our own apples?”
“Five dollars a head,” the man replied, returning Derek’s firm handshake. He visibly blanched when Derek handed him a twenty dollar bill, shaking his head as he stammered, “Oh, no. This-This is too much.”
Derek simply shrugged and slipped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, hugging him tightly against his side. Looking back at the man who was still gawking at the twenty dollar bill, he explained, “It’s a special occasion.”
After blurting out a few thank you’s, the man directed them over to the apple orchard, handing them each a hand woven basket to collect their apples in. They had eagerly hurried to the orchard where Derek set to work explaining which apples were the best to pick.
Stiles waited until they were both immersed in picking apples, steadily filling their baskets, to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since they parked. Glancing over his shoulder at Derek who was reaching up to pluck a juicy red apple, he inquired, “So… Apple picking?”
“Yeah,” Derek answered simply, a smile audible in his voice. “My mom used to bring us every year. All of us — me and my sisters — would spend the whole day picking apples with her.”
Stiles smiled himself, biting his bottom lip. He loved hearing about Derek’s family though he always ached at the fact that he would never meet any of them.
“My mom would always bake an apple pie that same night. With streusel on top, not pie crust,” Derek continued on, luring Stiles away from his downright depressing thoughts. A soft, nostalgic smile accompanied his words as he recalled, “She’d use the rest of the apples to make her own apple sauce. And apple cake and cider and muffins, even cheesecake.”
Derek raised his head to smile over at Stiles who beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. He set his basket down and meandered over to Stiles with a sly grin, backing him against a nearby tree. “Yeah?”
“I love you,” Stiles announced, raising his hands to fist them in the front of Derek’s shirt to reel him in for a sweet kiss. The funny thing was it almost tasted like apples.
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