Oh my gosh, you’re so unbelievably sweet! And this is my jam, it was so much fun to write.
Logically, Derek knew that he shouldn’t get so worked up over something as relatively innocent as Stiles wearing his clothes but he just couldn’t help it.
Maybe it was a werewolf thing, his more primal side reveling in the fact that his boyfriend was eagerly wrapping himself up in his scent. Or maybe it was the sense of possessiveness it instilled in him whenever Stiles borrowed his clothes.
It was proof, to a wolf at least, that Stiles was proud to be be with him. Derek equated it to the way that many people proudly strutted around with hickeys on their necks, mostly because he liked to see Stiles wearing his hickeys too.
Maybe it was a comfort thing, clearly showing off how comfortable Stiles was with him, enough to wear his clothes without a second thought. And it definitely appealed to the provider on Derek.
Then again, maybe it was just because it was sexy as hell. Stiles always looked so damn good in Derek’s clothes, whether it was his soft Henleys or threadbare sweatpants.
Stiles could make a potato sack look good if he had a mind to, Derek was sure, so him making one of Derek’s t-shirts the sexiest piece of lingerie in the world wasn’t a surprise. Though, it still struck Derek every time Derek saw him in his clothes.
As it was, he was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching as Stiles danced around while cooking breakfast. He was smiling to himself as he silently watched his boyfriend shimmy around barefoot.
Stiles was wearing a pair of Derek’s flannel sleep pants that hung low on his hips, the fabric bunching around his ankles. He had thrown on one of Derek’s more baggy t-shirts that was so big on him that one of the sleeves had slipped down his shoulder to show off the curve of his collarbone and the hickey Derek had left there.
And while Derek had seen Stiles in various states of undress, had seen him completely naked just a few hours ago, he was more gorgeous, and more arousing, than ever. Especially when he started shaking his ass to whatever tune he was humming.
Pushing off the wall, Derek silently padded across the kitchen to wrap his arms around Stiles’ waist, playfully growling in his ear as he nipped at his neck. Stiles let out a startled laugh as he relaxed into Derek’s arm, sagging against his chest while squeaking, “Derek! You’re supposed to be sleeping! Kinda defeats the purpose of breakfast in bed if you get out of bed, babe.”
“Breakfast isn’t what I want in bed right now,” Derek announced in a mumble, pressing his lips against the hickey on the side of Stiles’ back. Letting a whine bleed into his voice, he almost begged, “C’mon, babe. Let’s go back to bed.”
“You have such a clothes sharing kink, you big weirdo.”
Derek didn’t deny it. Instead, he just scooped Stiles into up his arms and turned off the stove.
send me a prompt and i’ll write a 500 word drabble!
Tag: ficlet
Derek can practically hear Stiles’s voice in his ears.
For her pleasure? Oh, you’re freaking hilarious. My sides are splitting. Really.
It’s enough to make Derek smirk—a little— but he’s not exactly sold on the deal. Ten condoms for twelve dollars is ridiculous; he can offend Stiles some other way. He might have a sweet deal already lined up for him once he graduates from law school, but Derek is still a college student for all intents and purposes, and he has a budget that only has ten dollars set aside for condoms this week.
His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out and squints at the name on the screen (again, he hears Stiles’s voice in his head: put your stupid glasses on, four eyes).
“What,” he says flatly, and he can almost hear Laura roll her eyes on the other end of the phone.
“So charming,” she sighs, then, to someone on her end of the phone, she says, “I see why you’re together.”
Derek’s stomach drops.
“Laura,” he says, his tone warning.
“What, baby brother?” she says sweetly, and, fuck, Derek actually can hear Stiles laughing in the background.
“You’ve met Stiles.” It’s not a question.
“I gotta say, he’s not what I expected. I was kind of expecting a Derek 2.0. He’s skinnier.”
Stiles hisses—“Hey! I’m whipcord lean, okay?” – his familiar protests.
“Anyway, Stiles says you’re shopping,” Laura goes on. “I need you to pick some stuff up for me.”
“Stiles said that?” Derek asks, narrowing his eyes.
A mother with a shopping cart, her two pre-teen children bickering on her heels, gives Derek a dirty look—no doubt because condoms are satanic toys in the eyes of minivan-driving princesses of suburbia. Derek smiles sweetly back at her because he fucking can.
“Why don’t you put my boyfriend on the phone, then?” Derek says, his eyes still locked with Supermom, who glares and gapes, clearly offended. She leaves quickly, her children completely unaware of the nonverbal conversation their mother just had the stranger buying condoms. She’ll talk about the traumatic experience later, in hushed, condemning whispers at her book club.
“… Derek,” Stiles’s voice comes through the phone, his tone smug.
“I know what you’re doing,” Derek says flatly. “And it’s not going to work. I don’t get embarrassed.”
Stiles laughs; Derek allows himself a small, honest grin at the sound. “Hey, a guy can try.”
“This is a war you’re going to lose, Stiles,” Derek promises. “Put Laura back on the phone—I’ll get whatever she needs.”
“Alright, you funsuck,” Stiles grumbles, and he hands the phone back to Laura.
Derek takes her requests—toilet paper and aloe vera and a box of cereal—and hangs up. He turns a narrowed, contemplative gaze back to the condoms and thinks fuck it.
When he gets back to Laura’s apartment, he dumps his bags out unceremoniously, and Stiles scrambles to get the condoms off of the table before Laura can say anything.
He’s too late, though, and Derek smugs wryly when Laura’s eyebrows rise. She looks at Stiles and says, slowly, “For her pleasure?”
“DOES THE HALE FAMILY OWN A LAUNDROMAT AND THAT’S WHERE THEY HANG LOST SOCKS FOR CUSTOMERS TO COLLECT, BUT LAURA KEEPS HANGING UP DEREK’S PICTURE????” (via drunktuesdaze)
I’m so right though. I’m so right!!!!!!
“Laura,” Derek bellows when he sees it, a forlorn sock clenched in his fist. He’d been going to hang it up when he spots his own picture, dangling next to a grubby gym sock.
He hears her snickering in the back, and with a huff, he snatches the picture off, crumples it and throws it in the garbage.
“I need more quarters,” Mrs. Kiblitsky says.
“You gonna do laundry, or are you taking them for the meter?” Derek snaps her. He instantly regrets it, as she gives him a ten minute tongue lashing he can’t escape from.
All in all, it’s a pretty bad day.
In revenge, he leaves her alone to handle the night shift, and takes himself out to dinner, eats a burger in the back row of the diner.
He doesn’t get back to the laundromat until the next afternoon, and the moment he walks in the door, a machine starts flooding. It’s one of the older, shitty models he told Laura not to buy, but she wanted quanity over quality. Shows her.
“Excuse me,” someone says as Derek finally stands up, wiping grease from his forehead. He turns around to find a snub nosed college kid, pretty and exactly Derek’s type.
“Yeah?” he says, a moment too late.
“The machine ate my quarters,” the kid says, waving vaguely towards the far bank.
Derek doesn’t say anything, just heads to the cashier counter, swipes the key and screwdriver and follows the kid over to his machine.
“I’m Stiles,” the kid says, hopping up on the neighboring machine. There’s a sign, big and blatant, right next to Stiles that says ABSOLUTELY NO SITTING ON WASHERS. Derek is trying not to look at Stiles’s thighs, and the v they make, like he’s making space for someone to stand. He doesn’t say anything to make Stiles get down.
“Derek,” he says belatedly, and jimmies open the tray, and hands Stiles his change. He flips the switch inside, starts the cycle. "Free one for your trouble,“ he says.
“Thanks,” Stiles says, and smiles at him, bright and happy. His eyes lift a little, and focus behind Derek, and his smile grows into a full grin. "Clean and single, huh?“ he says, pointing.
Derek turns, and sure enough, his picture is back on the wall.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, and rips it down with a snarl. He’s going to key her car later.
“Does that mean you’re not so clean, or not so single?” Stiles says, looking at him. "Or is it the looking part?“
“It’s my sister’s idea of a prank,” Derek says, sidestepping all of his questions. "See you around.“
He stomps back to the desk and slumps down with his book. It’s a fruitless attempt, but he tries desperately not to glance over, to watch Stiles’s ass when he crouches down to load his dryer.
Laura’s in the front when he comes in the next morning, and she’s smirking, the one that makes Derek’s stomach turn. ”What,” he says, and then thinks, turns to look at the sock board.
There’s a picture hanging there all right, but it’s not his. Stiles smiles from his own glossy poloroid, and at the bottom, in a messy scrawl, is his phone number.
Congratulations on your follower milestone! I thought I’d prompt you from your super sappy list of options: “I’ve been waiting all my life for you.” 😊 hopefully it’s inspiring! Have a great weekend!
Thanks friend! Hope you enjoy!
Derek presses his forehead to
his new partner’s. His family is all watching and his heart is full of
happiness at what this day means. He can’t wait for adventures and new memories
to be had from this day forward. He’s overflowing with love and he doesn’t
think anything will top this feeling.“I’ve been waiting all my life
for you,” he whispers and his partner smiles broadly.The door to the pet room swings
open and Stiles is standing there with his hands on his hips. All the dogs turn
to him, tails wagging and tongues lolling from their mouths. Pete the cat jumps
down from his tower and walks over to Stiles who leans down to pick him up.“You know; do you have to quote
your wedding vows every time we adopt a new pet?” Stiles asks. “It’s starting
to lose its meaning a little.”Derek grins, presses a kiss to
the top of their new German Shepherd senior dog and then stands to meet his
husband in the doorway.“You know I love you the best,”
Derek says with a grin and Stiles sighs, long-suffering. Stiles knew when they
got married that Derek is a pushover for rescue animals. The fact that they
built their house with a specific room for the dogs is evidence of that.“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles deflects,
“Wouldn’t hurt to say it a little more,” he grumbles as he turns away, Pete in
his arms and leaving Derek to the room full of wagging tails and adoring brown
eyes.“So,” he addresses the dogs as
he can hear his husband collapse on the couch with Pete, “who wants to go for a
run?”
Stiles never thought he’d be back in Mexico so soon after the episode with the Berzerkers. If, of course, one considers four years to be soon.
It hit him as he washed that day’s sweat and dust off that four years really shouldn’t feel like a fleeting instant, a stolen handful of seconds, at least not with the past he’d had. One year had been enough time for him to discover a whole other world of shadows and death and ghouls, and to nearly get lost in it in the process. In two years, Stiles had managed to go from worshipper of his chosen idol to falling out of love and into something much softer, better, gilded in that warm gold of friendship that promised to hold stronger. In fact, in the span of three years, he’d managed to fall out and back into love, not with that same bronze haired woman that time around- and she was a woman indeed, no longer the child that she (and himself) once were – but with a man as rugged and stunted as the rest of them yet who, rather than wearing a bejeweled cloak to cover a cracked interior, kept what made him worthy closer to his heart.
If anything, four years should have felt like a lifetime. Instead, the last four years were just enough for Stiles to realize that he wanted more, that four years wasn’t actually much, wasn’t enough at all, and hopefully, these years would be but a fraction of the life he could now envision himself living alongside Derek.
It made sense, then, that just like the first time around, it was Derek that was to blame for Stiles being in the now familiar landscape of the Sonoran Desert.
The circumstance had improved over time, thankfully.
Stiles gulped down some of the water as he poured it over his head and wondered for a moment what exactly Derek was doing at that very instant. Then, Stiles realized that though the water was indeed cold, it wasn’t that cold, and that the goosebumps on his arms spelled something else entirely.
“Enjoying the show?” Stiles asked, not turning around. A chuckle sounded from behind him.
“You know I am.” In the last few years, Derek had come to be more generous with his smiles, and Stiles could hear one easing its way around the words.
“You know, this presentation encourages public participation,” Stiles said, biting down on his own grin as he kept his back to Derek.
“Does it now?” Derek asked. Stiles could hear the telltale sound of clothes falling to the ground, could smell the sand in the air as it formed a cloud of dust that rose into the air following the impact.
“Hmm. Not so much an entertainment factor as much as for environmental purposes, I’m afraid. A water conservation effort, you’ll understand.”
“Of course,” Derek answered mock-seriously, and Stiles heard rather than saw him step into the puddle behind Stiles.
“Also, it should be noted that if you look anywhere near as dirty as you did an hour ago, I’m not letting you into the tent.” Stiles tacked on. Derek laughed, and Stiles’ welcomed the sound as it draped around him like a blanket.
“Then maybe you should help me with that.” Warm hands pressed into the water-cooled skin of Stiles’ waist. A puff of air, warmer than the air around them, caressed his ear. “Though while I can get clean, I know for a fact that you like me better when I’m filthy.”
Stiles snorts.
“That one wasn’t even good.” Stiles leaned back onto Derek nonetheless, and he swore he heard the other man say something about ‘good enough’ under his breath.
“How long do we have left here?” Stiles asked as he held the hose higher so the water could cascade behind him. He felt Derek shiver.
“Cora expects us in Guatemala in two weeks. I gather we should probably start heading south sooner rather than later, though we won’t be out of the Sonoran for a while. We should maybe start packing tomorrow.” Derek mumbled, leaning forward onto Stiles himself.
“Right. So not much time at all.” Stiles pouted. Derek huffed at him.
“It’s a decade in Beacon Hills time.” Derek corrected.
“Still too short.” Stiles mumbled back.
Derek curled his arms tightly around Stiles in silent reassurance, and Stiles was struck by how strong Derek was. Not just physically, though that he was, but with everything that happened in the lifetime that was those past few years, the fact that he could still hold Stiles so close, so gently, was breathtaking.
Stiles remembered the days he used to think of Scott as iron-strong, pure and unbendable in his morals, of Allison as silver-coated, beautiful and victorious and infinitely deadly in their world, and of Lydia as the incarnation of all the brightest jewels in existence combined. He still didn’t think he was entirely wrong about any of them, but he was confident that if the people close to him were his greatest riches and strengths, then Derek was his diamond: rough, born from pain and pressure indeed, but molded into something utterly unbreakable.
“Then I guess we have to make the most of it,” Derek stated as he pressed his grin into the skin of Stiles’ neck. Stiles nodded.
The sun was setting in the distance, and the land was turning into shades of ruby and topaz, but nothing could convince Stiles that the view had anything on the man with him.
Derek was unbreakable like a diamond, and just as beautiful.
A soulmate fic where you’ve got “Help! Save me!” on your wrist. So you do the martial arts classes, and ROTC, and get a concealed carry permit, you are READY, you are SO up for this… and then one day you’re at a friend’s house, and someone comes pounding down the stairs laughing and ducks behind you and goes “Help! Save me!” and that’s how you find out your soulmate was escaping a tickle fight.
…that would be really adorable X3
STEREK
(-drops fic, flees into night-)
Stiles is just starting to
realize that the broad, leather-clad back he’s hiding behind is a lot
more muscular than he thought it was before the man in front of him
whirls around with eyes that are flashing gold – oh fuck,
werewolf – and an absolutely outraged expression on his
face. Someone is cackling
madly behind him, but he’s too busy being distracted by the most
gorgeous, deliciously stubbly jawline he’s ever seen. And …
eyebrows?“*This*
is what I’m saving you from?”
It’s three weeks before they talk about it. Three weeks of Stiles silent and sad. Three weeks of Derek unsure of what to do, trying his hardest to not run out and do to Matt what he’d done to Stiles. Eventually the bruises clear, and things seem to get easier. Matt apparently left town. Apparently he was smart enough to get out before Stiles said the word and unleashed the fury of a pack of werewolves and the entire sheriff’s department on him. As it is, Derek is the only one who even knows the full extent of what happened. Scott was the one who found out that Matt left town, he knows that they ‘broke up’, but he doesn’t know what Matt did. Derek supposes it’s best that way. That knowledge would all but kill Scott. And John.. Derek doesn’t even want to think about what Stiles’ dad will do when he finds out. Derek though, Derek can handle it. He can bear this weight with Stiles.
But it’s been three weeks now, and Stiles is just now finding the courage to actually talk about it with Derek. He hadn’t really admitted what happened before. Not explicitly anyway, not that he even needed to. Derek knew without a doubt what happened.
Well, not everything apparently.
“You know why he said he did this?” Stiles asked. His voice was stronger than it’d sounded in weeks. Like he’s finally not afraid that speaking up will cost him another black eye. Derek takes a few steps closer to him.
“He said it was because you’re in love with me.”
And those words were way more than Derek was ready for. He can’t keep eye contact with Stiles, panic gripping his heart. This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. Hell this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. Stiles was never supposed to know, and now… now he not only knows how Derek feels (Derek hasn’t confirmed yet, but he can’t lie to Stiles, never could, he knows his face is speaking for him), but he’s suffered as a result of Derek’s feelings. Of course. Because when Derek loves, people get hurt.
“Crazy… right?” Stiles voice is hesitant. Hopeful almost? No Derek can’t let himself hear things that aren’t there. Can’t afford to hope. But he still can’t manage to look Stiles in the eye, just stares at the table between them, jaw clenching. He feels the moment Stiles realizes it. When he confirms his suspicions. He hears Stiles heart begin to race, smells the sweat gathering at his nape.
“Oh…” that’s all he says. He licks his lips and takes a step back. “Oh” He says again.
Derek can’t stick around to hear Stiles reject him, can’t bear his inevitable anger. This is all Derek’s fault…
He leaves before Stiles can say another word.
Detective Stiles Stilinski gets called to the National Zoo in D.C. because a couple drunk tourists have broken into the giraffe enclosure. It isn’t something he’d usually have to deal with, but they’re short staffed this week and he’d never pass up a trip to the zoo.
By the time he gets there zoo security has it taken care of and Officer Miller has them cuffed. Stiles has Miller take them in and he sticks around to get witness statements.
That’s how Stiles meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.
Derek Hale is a doctor of animal behavior and pretty high up in the zoo hierarchy, he’s also perfect. From his bread to his smile to his excitement when he talks about his job, Stiles is hooked.
He might end up talking with Derek for thirty minutes longer than necessary, but who could blame him? Derek gave him a great statement for the case, even though they don’t really need many statements since there were cameras and they have the trespassers in custody already.
But Stiles can’t ask Derek out while he’s on duty, that isn’t professional and Stiles is actually incredibly professional. He figures he’ll just forever be in love with the idea of Derek.
So he finished taking statements and he gives a few people is card so they can call him if they remember anything else. When he gets back to the precinct he types up the witness statements and then gets ready to head out for the day.
Before he leaves his phone rings. Stiles almost doesn’t answer because he just wants to be home on his couch with his cat pining over a guy he barely knows and will likely never see again.
“It might have been in my head, but I feel like we had a connection and I haven’t laughed that much since I moved to D.C. last year,” Derek said after Stiles answered, “I’m guessing you can’t ask someone out while you’re on the clock.”
“That’s correct,” Stiles said, biting back a smile while Officer Miller gave him a knowing look. Stiles made sure the captain wasn’t around before flipping her off.
“Well when are you off duty?”
Stiles looked down at his watch, “Thirty seconds ago.”
“Want to grab dinner?” Derek asked, sounding nervous.
“Do you like barbecue?” Stiles asked, putting his jacket on while he spoke.
“Sure do.”
“Meet me at at Pete’s Barbecue in an hour?” Stiles said.
They ended up talking for hours. It turned out that Stiles was into more than just the idea of Derek. They had a ton in common, from a love of Star Wars to being west coast guys trying to make it on the east coast.
By the time Stiles kissed Derek goodnight outside of Derek’s apartment that night he had decided he was going to marry him.
Spoiler alert: He does.
I brought you an umbrella and/or the key is under the mat, ship of your choice. (Look, I’m enabling in a totally low-key and pre-approved way!)
Some future Sterek for you, with “the key is under the mat”! (I’m trying to make up for yesterday’s angst fest.)
It comes out of the blue, a text
from a number Stiles had never been able to make himself delete from his phone,
even though that means it’s probably been transferred through four phones now.
He stares at the notification, then blinks and looks again. Derek Hale it still says.“What?” he says to his otherwise
empty living room. “Just… what?”He swipes to open the text itself.
It is, of course, both anti-climactic and short: Stiles?“I don’t know what else I
expected,” he mutters, exasperated, but even he can hear it comes out fond.It’s been five years, for fuck’s
sake. Derek should not get fond, dammit. But he does anyway.Yeah,
it’s me. Same bat channel, he texts back. And then he gets tired of the
thought of dealing with what little affect Derek ever had being further
flattened by the glorious medium that is texting and just fucking calls him. He’s not having his first
conversation with Derek Hale in five years punctuated with emoji.“Hello?” Derek answers, wary as
always.“The phone won’t actually bite you,
Derek, I’m sure we’ve been over this before,” Stiles says, letting his grin
bleed into his tone of voice.“Stiles.” And Stiles could swear he
hears Derek relax.“That’s my name, glad we’ve got
that reestablished, buddy. Also, you know, glad to know you’re alive.” Oh. That might have had a little… bite at the end. Whoops.“I’m sorry…” Derek trails off. “I
needed… some time. Away.”Stiles sighs. “I get that. I really
do.” Lower, though there’s really no point, Derek will hear him no matter what,
“You honestly have no idea how much.”Derek makes a noise at that, but
Stiles doesn’t want to try to parse it right now. He runs a hand over his face,
scrubs it back through his hair, and feels a rush of excitement in the center
of his chest again as his mood shifts back and he remembers he’s talking to Derek again. For real this time. Not a
dream. (He pinches himself just to be sure.) “Just… you know I was worried
about you, right? That people cared after you left?”“People?” Stiles can practically
see the raised eyebrow.“I feel fairly confident in that
use of the plural, but yes, I am the
important person in that statement, clearly. I cared. And I’m kinda pissed, not gonna lie, that you didn’t say
something earlier, but honestly, I’m over it.” He pauses, miraculously stopping the flood of words, but
fuck it, who knows when he’ll hear from Derek next, if ever? “It’s just so good
to hear your voice again, I’m pretty sure I’d forgive you anything right now,
so if you’ve got any big confessions you’ve been holding back, now’s the time.
Be honest. Did you ding the Jeep that one time? I know someone did.”“Stiles. Shut up.” And okay, that’s
definitely fond.Just to be obnoxious, and reveling
in how normal it feels, Stiles stays resolutely silent.Derek huffs in exasperation when he
realizes what Stiles is doing. Stiles grins as he imagines the rolling eyes
that must go with it. “So I hear you’re up in Washington now,” he says, finally
contributing to the conversation.“I am,” Stiles confirms. “Tiny
town. My own tiny house. I work remote. Danny vouched for me.”“Could… could I come see you?”
Derek asks, weirdly hesitant. Stiles is fairly sure he’s never heard
Derek sound that way before. Not to him. He doesn’t like it.“Yeah, dude, of course! Lemme give
you some directions…”“I kind of already have your
address. From Cora.”Stiles stops fiddling with the pen
he’d picked up from the desk and narrows his eyes at the perfectly innocent
bird on his deck railing out the window. “Of course you do. Still the same old
creeper wolf.”“I’m also actually already most of the way to
Mt. Rainier.”“That certain of your welcome, were
you?”“I…”
“Derek.”
“Yeah?”
“I gotta run out for supplies, but the
key is under the mat.” He hesitates for maybe half a second before adding, “I can’t wait
to see you.”“Me either, Stiles,” Derek says
softly, and then hangs up.Stiles grins down at his phone, grabs his
hoodie, and carefully puts his spare key under the mat before he clatters down
the stairs.This is so lovely and I am still smiling!
It’s the weight of him – the security of knowing it’s Derek on top of him, body blanketing him, hands resting by Stiles’ head – Stiles loves it. Adores how goddamn safe it makes him feel after everything they’ve been through. Derek pressed against him, inside him, making Stiles feel like absolutely nothing else matters; not the world outside; not the press of his own dick against the mattress; just this moment, the two of them together, barely moving.
Nights like this, Derek doesn’t go fast, takes his time with Stiles until he’s buried deep inside, his hips nestled against Stiles’ ass, and Stiles reaches back to grab, wanting, wishing for Derek to be even deeper.
When Derek comes, he stays inside Stiles, his breath hot against Stiles’ neck, and Stiles doesn’t want him to go anywhere. It grounds him, having Derek so close, and he knows he does the same for Derek. Any touch, even when they’re just walking around town with their hands clasped, lets Stiles know they he has this – that what they have is real, that it exists and is important.
“Want me to jerk you off?” Derek asks, his lips dragging across Stiles’ skin.
“Just stay like this,” Stiles says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”
shealwaysreads 