Ok… so, this dude and his girlfriend (I assume she’s his girlfriend) just came through on a moped (it wasn’t big enough to call it a bike) and he’s shirtless.

Now, my first thought is that he’s totally going to get booked if the police see him (you’re required to wear a jacket and gloves and closed in shoes where I live)

My second thought is this…

Imagine Derek Hale getting a motorbike, because really how can you not? Imagine him riding around Beacon Hills shirtless. All he’s wearing is tight black jeans, dark sneakers, and black leather fingerless gloves.

Imagine Scott and Stiles in the park or on the lacrosse field when Derek rides past and Stiles is like “Yea, I’d totally ride that.” It just sort of slips out and Scott is horrified. But Stiles just shrugs, “Can you really blame me?”

Of course the Sheriff hears about Derek, because he’s the sheriff and he knows everything. He also hears about Stiles’s little crush, because there is no way Stiles wouldn’t talk about how hot Derek is.

So one day after school, when there’s no lacrosse practise and Stiles and Scott have both avoided detention, they’re heading out to Stiles’s jeep when they see Derek. His bike is parked on the curb and he’s leaning against it causally, all gorgeous, bare chest and leather clad hands. Stiles would be entranced, if it wasn’t for the police cruiser parked right in front of Derek’s bike. And there’s Stiles’s dad and Stiles isn’t sure if he wants to interrupt them or run for cover.

But you know, this is Stiles so he goes with the first option and drags Scott along with him.

“Hey Dad! What seems to be the problem?” Stiles says when he reaches his Dad and Derek. The Sheriff is handing Derek a piece of paper, clearly a ticket and Stiles wants to groan.

“Stiles,” The Sheriff doesn’t even blink at Stiles’s sudden appearance. “I was just informing Mr Hale that his attire is inappropriate for operating a motorbike.” Oh, Stiles is so in trouble, the Sheriff turns back to Derek with a small smirk spreading across his face. It actually adds something to the whole, big bad scary cop thing the Sheriff has going on. The Sheriff turns back to Derek, the smirk becomes a glare in about a second. “It would be a shame if you got injured Mr Hale, I know Stiles worries.” Aaaannnd, there goes Stiles’s dignity, what little he had at least. And Derek’s looking at him with this adorable little frown, like he has no idea what the Sheriff could mean. Because it’s not like Stiles has saved Derek’s life before or seen him shirtless or held him up in a pool full of water (this is totally canon universe, except you know with Derek on a motorbike…)

“Yea, thanks for that Dad.” Stiles takes the ticket from the Sheriff’s hand and folds it neatly, he’s tempted to tuck it into Derek’s pocket, but he’s pretty sure that wouldn’t help his current situation. So Stiles tucks it in his own pocket. “I’m sure Derek has learnt his lesson, I know he’s got some excellent leather jackets in his collection.” Derek is still staring at Stiles like he thinks Stiles is crazy. “Ok, Scott and I are going to go now. See you later Dad, bye Derek.” And then Stiles escapes, dragging Scott along with him.

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Stiles hits his growth spurt a little later than most of his high school friends. He came home from his first year of college three inches taller and 25 pounds heavier, mostly in muscle.

He’s standing at a solid 6′3″ when he runs into Derek at the grocery store in Beacon Hills.

Literally runs into him because Stiles still hasn’t figured out how much bigger he is now and didn’t realize how close he was to the other person in the toilet paper section.

Derek manages to catch himself before he knocks over a canned soup display and when he sees who almost knocked him over his eyes go a little wide because Stiles Stilinski grew up fucking hot.

It wasn’t that Stiles wasn’t always attractive, but now that he’s grow into himself Derek can’t take his eyes off of him.

And even if Stiles hasn’t mastered control of his newly long limbs, he’s certainly learned how his body effects people. The smirk that pulls at his mouth only makes him look better and Derek can feel his ears burning.

“Sorry for almost knocking you over,” Stiles says, leaning closer to Derek as he speaks, “I still haven’t mastered my own strength. Can I – can I make it up to you with a coffee or something?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Derek says, “You can tell me all about the miracle grow they’re feeding you in college.”

Stiles laughs because yeah, he really did grow like a weed. He’s probably four inches taller now than the last time Derek saw him, “You free now?”

Derek looks into his cart. There’s a frozen pizza and some toilet paper in it, he can always come back later and get that.

“I am.”

“It’s a date then,” Stiles says with a cheeky smile, looking at Derek’s ears in a way that tells Derek Stiles knows his tells.

Derek nods and Stiles grins wider. Both of their stomachs flip when their hands brush as they walk out of the store. It feels like something new, it feels bigger than either of them. It feels like something good.

Dude. Em. It’s raining outside and you know Derek is trying to cuddle Stiles.

pale-silver-comb:

Headcanon: rain makes Derek really sappy.

If Derek Hale had a dating profile and he had to answer one of those “perfect evening” questions, the answer would be ‘sitting by the fire with a good book during a rainstorm’. Maybe it’s because he feels a literal sense of protection when it’s raining outside because he’s got a roof over his head, shielding him. It’s something tangible, something he can see he’s safe from.

After coming back to Beacon Hills and Stiles, Derek knows he not only has a partner but a pack who has his back now. Still, he can’t help but fear he’s going to lose it. Some days he’ll look at Stiles, look at this family he’s somehow managed to be a part of again, and think, “I’m going to lose this. I don’t get this.”

It’s hard for him to imagine otherwise, but when it’s raining and Stiles is there by his side (usually sleeping in his bed or researching something on the fluffy rug Derek bought) he always realises something: Stiles is another type of home (one protecting his heart). One whose structures are stable and strong and sure. Stiles let Derek in where’s he’s let few people, and Derek’s gotten to see rooms Stiles has shown to no one. He maybe can’t see it, can’t touch it, but Derek has a key and he doesn’t have to give it back. Even if things fell to pieces he knows he’d be allowed to keep it. That he’d always be allowed to stay.

He has a sense of relief with Stiles knowing, like the roof over his head, he’s safe. Not physically, maybe (although Stiles has saved his life more times than he can count) but emotionally. Stiles has his back. He always comes back, even when he leaves. And most importantly, when it’s raining outside? He’s always waiting with a knowing smile and a, “come on then, big guy”, rolling his eyes as Derek buries his face in his neck and listens to the rain as he breathes Stiles in.

26 Sterek

hale-of-stiles-heart:

26. “According to US Weekly, we’re married.” Also on ao3!

“According to US Weekly, we’re married.”

Stiles punctuated his statement by slapping down a copy of the offending tabloid magazine on Derek’s coffee table, none too gently. The table wobbled a bit from the amount of force he used, a steaming cup of coffee nearly spilling all over the table.

Beaming up at him from the glossy front page of the magazine was a blown up picture of him and Derek on the set between shoots. It was slightly blurred around the edges thanks to being zoomed in on so very much, proving just how much of an invasion of privacy it was.

He couldn’t know for sure who had taken the photo, the article not disclosing the photographer, but Stiles had a sneaking suspicion of who it was nonetheless. He would have bet anything it was that creepy little snake Matt Daehler, the disgusting paparazzo who had made a name for himself by stalking celebrities and their families.

For the past few weeks, he had caught glimpses of someone slinking around behind the scenes, the hairs on the back of his neck rising whenever he did. Just a few days ago his suspicions that it was Daehler had been confirmed when he witnessed him lurking around one of the sets.

And now a picture of him and Derek was being circulated nationwide, various tabloids and newspapers hosting articles speculating about it. The picture was even being discussed on talk and morning shows that apparently had nothing else to talk to.

He folded his arms over his chest and raised an unamused, expectant brow at Derek who merely blinked up at him. When Derek failed to say anything, Stiles gestured emphatically down at the magazine.

In the picture, Derek was wearing one of his outfits for the movie: a dark navy blue waxed cotton jacket over a black sweater, dark jeans, black boots, black sunglasses…and a wedding ring. It was crucial to the role he was playing, the movie focusing on a single father raising his daughter while struggling with depression and PTSD.

It was sure to be a classic, full of emotional scenes highlighting the everyday challenges of life with mental illness, centering on the main character, Tyler, learning how to juggle his own issues along with his daughter’s. Rather than glorify or romanticize both Tyler’s mental illnesses and his self-care, the film explored the nitty gritty truth of depression and PTSD and suicidal thoughts.

However, while Derek’s wedding ring was necessary for the movie, the matching ring on Stiles’ hand was not.

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Sterek “Are you trying to turn me on?” for the friends or more prompts, thank youu, love ur fics!! :)

hale-of-stiles-heart:

Aww, thank you, nonnie! I hope you like it! (also on ao3!)

“Dude, are you trying to turn me on?”

Derek paused mid-sit up, his hands poised behind his head, fingers locked together, buried. in his sweat beaded hair. A tiny grunt of exertion died on his lips as he stopped, holding his position as he furrowed his brows and looked around the room.

It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of spring, rain beating a gentle staccato against the wall of windows, providing a soothing soundtrack for his workout regimen. With the full moon only a few days away, he was feeling a bit restless, an itch under his skin that he couldn’t scratch.

Usually, a run through the preserve would be enough to settle his nerves, the sun on his face and the wind in his hair never failing to soothe him, no matter the issue. Recently, the other members of the pack had taken to doing the same around the full moon, feeling the same restiveness and jittery uneasiness.

But with the rain showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, any hopes for a nice run through the woods were completely dashed. He knew firsthand how muddy the trails in the preserve good get and he would rather not get soaking wet.

So, he had decided to just work out at the loft, endeavoring to burn off his extra energy the only way he knew how. For hours he had been doing as many cardio exercises he could think of, from jumping rope to doing burpees, even jogging up and down the spiral staircase.

The result was a sheen of sweat over his body and a slight lessening of the pull of the approaching full moon, still feeling extremely restless no matter what he did, even when he began feeling the effects of exertion. He had switched to less grueling exercises after awhile, finding a spot on the polished concrete floor to do sit ups on, the floor cool against his back.

He was only twenty sit ups in when Stiles asked his disarming question, freezing Derek in his tracks. Taken aback by the unexpected comment, Derek peered over at the human who was sitting cross-legged on the couch.

Stiles had shown up at the loft about an hour earlier with a backpack full of spiral notebooks and heavy textbooks and the beginnings of bags under his eyes. Derek had been in the middle of doing some squats when Stiles had let himself in with the spare key he had taken the liberty of making himself.

Uncharacteristically taciturn, Stiles had explained that for whatever reason he could not focus at home and really needed to study for his upcoming finals. He had dropped his bag on the couch as he made his way to the kitchen, helping himself to the fridge and grabbing a can of soda and some leftover pepperoni pizza.

Derek had just nodded, mostly to himself as Stiles had been busy raiding his kitchen, and told him to take as much time as he needed, launching right back into his workout. Stiles had sent him a grateful salute as he shuffled back over to the couch, plopping down beside his backpack and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

Now, Derek peered over at Stiles who had his nose buried in his psychology textbook, alternating between nibbling his lower lip and gnawing on the end of a hot pink highlighter. He seemed perfectly nonplussed, occasionally scribbling something in the margins of his textbook, squinting down at the various charts and graphs on the page.

If Derek had not heard the unexpected question himself, he wouldn’t have believed that Stiles had actually said anything at all, the human not showing any signs of having said a single word. But he had heard it and he certainly wasn’t going to let it go unnoticed.

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The first time Derek and Stiles hold hands in front of people

finduilasclln:

Stiles sort of assumes that Derek doesn’t do the whole ‘public’ thing. He’s never been much on public displays of affection with anyone, not even in a friends kind of way, so he doesn’t see why this new thing between them should change anything. Furthermore, Stiles doesn’t even know what this ‘thing’ between them is. Because Derek kissed him once when he’d saved Derek’s life and gotten hurt in the process. And ever since, Derek has this habit of sneaking into his room, or cornering him into a hallway (or anywhere really) and sneaking a few kisses here and there.

They’ve never actually talked about it. Mainly because Stiles is scared that if he brings it up, it’ll break whatever spell has its hold on Derek and they’ll never get to kiss again. And Stiles doesn’t want to risk that. Because dammit, he wants Derek to keep kissing him. A lot.

So whenever they’re around the others, Stiles tries to act normal. He still teases Derek, still snaps at him sometimes, still acts like he doesn’t want to just cross the room and capture those lips in a searing kiss. Even though he’s sure Derek notices his eyes on him, pretty much all the time. And every once and again, Derek will look back, eyes lingering just a second too long. And Stiles knows that Derek is thinking the same thing he is.

Of course Stiles has to go and fuck it up at some point, when Isaac brings up the prom and Scott suggests that Stiles ask that girl from their economics class that has a thing for him.

“She doesn’t have a thing,” Stiles says, brushing it off, and he refuses to look at Derek. Instead he busies himself in the books that are stacked on the table.

“She totally does, bro,” Scott says, nonchalantly. “You should ask her. I know you don’t want to go alone, and it’s not like you’re seeing anyone, right?”

Stiles sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, looks up to find Derek eyeing him intently. But Derek doesn’t say a word, and Scott is looking at him expectantly, so Stiles shakes his head and forces a smile. “No man, of course I’m not. Single as ever, that’s me.”

“Good,” Scott says, “So ask her, and maybe you won’t be single for long.”

“Right,” Stiles says, humoring his friend.

And then Derek gets up without saying a word and stomps off into the kitchen. And Stiles’ stomach feels like a brick.

Stiles has to give Scott and Isaac a ride home, so it’s not like he can stay behind and try to have a word with Derek, who’s clearly still in a bad mood by the time they leave.

Stiles tries to just ignore it, but it’s a nagging feeling that simply won’t go away, and when he’s still worrying about it in the evening, he finally picks up his phone and calls Derek, who… doesn’t pick up.

“Derek,” Stiles says after the beep, “Okay, I have no idea why you’re being an ass right now and ignoring me, but it really sucks, okay? It was Scott that brought the whole thing up anyway, and I even looked at you, man, and you gave me absolutely nothing. I never asked anything of you! I never wanted to mess up whatever it was that was going on. I never told anyone because I know how you’re all secretive and you’d probably rip my throat out when someone found out about… about… whatever it is we’re doing, alright? And now you’re obviously pissed and I have no idea why, and I didn’t even do anything wrong, okay? What, am I supposed to go to the prom alone? Which I am, by the way! Because I have no intention of actually asking this girl that I’ve never even spoken two words to! Because of course I’d rather go with you, but I know that’s never gonna happen, not even if hell freezes over, and… Fuck. You suck, man.”

Stiles hangs up the phone, throws it on his bed, and buries his head in his hands, because damn… He was not supposed to say all that. He turns off his phone in a panic, and tries not to think of how he’ll ever face Derek again.

He takes a shower before bed, and when he arrives back into his bedroom – hair still wet and sticking out in all directions – he nearly stumbles back into the door when he sees Derek leaning against his windowsill.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?” Stiles asks, perplexed, and somewhat glad he put on his sleeping clothes in the bathroom.

“You turned off your phone,” Derek says, as if that’s any kind of explanation as to why he’s here in Stiles’ bedroom at eleven in the evening.

“Yeah, because I clearly should never be allowed to use a phone ever again,” Stiles sighs, looking at the object in question with a murderous stare.

“You realize you never asked me, right?” Derek says, not moving from his spot by the window.

“What?” Stiles frowns.

“To the prom,” Derek clarifies, “Or anything else, really? You’re mad at me for not accepting to go to the prom with you, but you never actually asked me.”

“Because you- !” Stiles starts, stopping himself in utter confusion.

Derek takes a few steps forward, until he’s right in Stiles’ face, staring him down. And Stiles is actually afraid that his heart might jump out of his chest.

“Ask me…” Derek whispers, his eyes fixed on Stiles.

“I…” Stiles starts, swallowing hard. And he tries to get the words out, he really does, but then he’s pressing his lips against Derek’s and he doesn’t even know how it happened.

But Derek kisses him back, slides his hands down Stiles’ back, until they’re gripping him tight around the waist and pulling him in. Stiles’ tongue pushes past the brim of Derek’s lips hungrily, searching out for Derek’s. They kiss until they stumble onto the bed together, Derek slotting his body perfectly over Stiles’, until they’re both breathless and satisfied.

When Scott brings up the girl from class the next day, Stiles simply smirks and says he’s not going to ask her out.

“Why not?” Scott frowns.

“He already has a date for prom,” Derek says as he comes to stand next to Stiles, slipping his fingers down to tangle with Stiles’. Stiles holds his breath as he looks at Scott expectantly, squeezing his hand tightly around Derek’s.

Isaac quirks an eyebrow at them, but he’s smiling. Allison and Lydia seem to be having an entire conversation simply by looking at each other. And Scott smirks as he looks down at their joined hands, and sighs, “Finally.”

All the broken hearts in the world still beat

dragon-temeraire:

Summary: Stiles totally needs to make Lydia Martin jealous.
Yeah. And his best chance is to convince star lacrosse player Derek Hale to
(fake) date him.

Notes: Just a silly high school AU! (On AO3)

Even though he was expecting the answer, it still hurts. He
guesses that somewhere, deep down, he was still holding on to hope. But it
hadn’t even been Lydia’s zero-hesitation no
that had really been painful. It was what she’d said next.

“You’re just not desirable at all. If you can’t get anybody
else in this school, what makes you think you can get me?” she’d said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And I have a
boyfriend, anyway.”

Then she’d walked away, leaving Stiles staring after her,
feeling like he’d been stepped on. But little did she know: adversity just made
him more determined. He was going to prove her wrong.

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No, Wait, You Got it All Wrong

troubleiwant:

You know what there’s not enough of? Canon compliant future fic where Stiles is a cop and he runs into Derek again. What’s that you say? There’s a ton of that?? Yes, true, but NOT ENOUGH.

“…. so then he says, ‘No, Officer, I swear to God this is the first time I’ve ever smoked up! I’ve never been in trouble with the law in my life! And I say, Billy, my man, you’ve been in trouble with me personally twice this month.” Stiles snorts at the memory. “Kid was so fucking high.”

Amanda must be halfway past tipsy, because she laughs uproariously into her beer at the mediocre punchline.

Stiles smiles. He’s satisfied with her reaction, with the warm murmur of the bar, with the buzz he’s got going… with just about everything, actually. After tonight, he’s looking at two full days off before he’s back on the beat, and the night’s still young. He leans back in his chair and takes a pull of his beer, savoring it.

Amanda glances towards the bar, probably considering a fourth round, and then visibly perks up as something near the front catches her eye.

“Oooh, Stiles,” she croons. “Look over at the door, like, just glance over.” She’s adjusted her gaze down at the table now, faking casual disinterest. Badly.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at her.

“This dude just walked in, he’s so your type,” she hisses. “C’mon, look! I’m telling you, six feet two inches of ‘yes, please, give it to me’ muscles, with some salt-and-pepper scruff icing. Unff.”

“Eh,” Stiles says, tipping his weight forward to hunch over the table. It’s not that he isn’t interested, exactly, but this is a cop bar and he doesn’t want to shit where he eats. Metaphorically.

“No, really,” Amanda insists. “He’s… oh my God, he’s looking over here. He’s looking at you. Oh my God, Stiles, he’s coming over here!”

“No, he isn’t,” Stiles scoffs. He’s filled out a bit from high school and he’s finally competent at styling his hair, but he’s not that hot. Only Amanda’s sitting straight like a rod, eyes fixed on a point behind him that’s about where a six foot two man’s eyes would be.

“Stiles?”

He turns then, shooting to his feet before his brain’s quite caught up, because that voice is familiar like the back of his own hand.

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bibliosexxual:

So I just reblogged this post:

I JUST SERVED A CUSTOMER AND THEY WERE PURCHASING A CUCUMBER AND THEY WENT

“It’s for Valentine’s Day”

I REPLIED

“You must be lonely?”

THEY REALISED WHAT I MEANT AND NOW I’M SAT WITH A COMPLAINANT FORM IN FRONT OF ME.

And now I’m just imagining Derek Hale at the supermarket at like nine at night on Feb. 13, innocently going through the checkout with his cucumber…..

*

It’s nine at night on February 13 when this hot-like-burning guy in a leather jacket comes up to Stiles’ lane at the supermarket and plops down a single cucumber and a crumpled dollar bill on the belt.

Stiles hefts it. “Uh, just this?”

The guy nods and offers, “It’s, um, for Valentine’s Day.”

Stiles blurts, “You must be lonely,” because this is his brain on less than three hours of sleep, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. College sucks.

Cucumber Guy’s eyes widen behind his thick-framed glasses (glasses that do nothing to diminish his attractiveness, unfortunately) and he just stands there staring at Stiles, color flooding to his cheeks.

Stiles replays what he just said in his head and mentally slaps himself. “No, wait, that’s not—”

Cucumber Guy just shakes his head, takes his cucumber and his receipt, and walks away.

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Hi Carrie. I don’t know if you’re doing prompts or anything but I needed to ask anyway. You’re always able to help me when I need it (when my mum was diagnosed with cancer and when I broke my elbow). I had to have my 12 year old German Shepherd put to sleep last night (April 28th) and I feel so empty and lost now. I don’t know what to do and I was hoping you could write something to cheer me up/help/distract me?

bleep0bleep:

i’m so sorry to hear about your dog. this is a little late, but i’ve been travelling and stuff and i’ve only seen this message just now. sending you lots of love, and i hope this ficlet cheers you up a bit

Derek loves his family, he really does. But sometimes he wishes they weren’t so… weird. And it’s not that he doesn’t have fun at the annual Hale-Extravaganza, the ridiculous family reunion that they hold every summer at Lake Bellasue. When he was a kid, he looked forward to it every year, how all the Hales from all over the country would gather and he’d get to see his favorite cousin from Texas and see Aunt Jo and Uncle Monty argue over jam and his grandma would make all the best food. It’s two weeks of potato-sack races, scavenger hunts, s’mores, swimming, and more, and the only time Derek sees his cousins and stuff.

Even if they weren’t werewolves, they’d still be weird. For instance: Derek is wearing a bright pink t-shirt (Cora’s design, this year) that proudly declares HALE PACK WEST COAST BEST COAST because in about an hour he and the other kids (Derek is twenty-two years old, and he can’t believe he still has to play all these games) on his team are gonna face off against the cousins from New York.

The matching t-shirts, Derek could probably explain. There are a lot of families who do that. There’s at least two other reunions (none quite as large as the Hales) at this lake, which is a popular vacation destination. Derek’s never took much notice of the other people there; just usually kids on spring break from the local college partying and swimming and racing around on jetskis and stuff.

But this year is different.

“Hey, Derek!”

Oh, fuck, he’s shirtless again. Derek can see every one of his moles playfully scattered across his chest. There’s a mole right on his hip, and Derek freezes.

“Hi,” he manages, his throat closing up. Derek is painfully aware that there is glitter on his cheeks, and probably mashed potatoes still in his hair, and he’s wearing mismatched flipflops.

Theoretically, Derek should be annoyed by Stiles– everything from the backwards hat, the board shorts, the litany of “dudes” that flow from his mouth, the fact that he is one of the obnoxious spring breakers. But the first time they ran into each other, Stiles immediately got into an argument about him about Star Wars (Derek absolutely does not count the extended universe as canon, and Stiles does), and then proceeded to help Derek’s two year old niece tie her shoe and well… Derek is, for the lack of better word, very, very distracted this family reunion.

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