Anonymous said: Joseph/Stiles – “I saw that. You just checked
me out.”I hope you enjoy this, Nonnie! This is fic #4 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge.
Non-Traditional Joseph (Papa Hale)/Stiles. Teen. Also on AO3.
Joseph Hale met Stiles Stilinski when he went to college as a forty-six year old freshman. He hadn’t planned on making any friends, but Stiles had been impossible to drive away. Now, Joseph can’t imagine his life without him.
Stiles is working the room like a professional. There’s
nothing smooth or fake about him at all. Instead, he’s charming, energetic, and
passionate in a way that lures people in, possibly against their better
judgment sometimes. Joseph had been in the latter category when he first met the
kid in an anthropology class freshman year of college, which had been over
three years ago.It had been freshman year for both of them, despite the
twenty-eight years separating their ages, and Joseph had felt strangely out of
place surrounded by fresh faced kids the same age as his youngest daughter.
There hadn’t been any concern or anxiety during the entire application and
registration process. He wasn’t really someone who got bothered by much,
rather laid-back and unflappable usually. However, that first day of class, he had
been feeling less confident in a way that honestly surprised him even looking
back at it now.
Tag: fluff
Derek getting hideously drunk and singing along to All By Myself, Bridget Jones style.
That is all.
alright emma, you asked for it.
For once in his life, Uncle Peter was useful. He left Derek a recipe for werewolf friendly alcohol and tonight, Derek was taking full advantage of it.
The rest of the pack had left for another year of college and Derek was feeling lonely. He whipped up a batch of werewolf tequila before heading to the couch to drown his sorrows.
He must have had more than he realized because he didn’t hear the door open or hear Stiles walk in. Derek had finished belting his heart out when he looked up to see Stiles smirking at him.
“Uhhhh-” Derek slurred, utterly lost for words.
“Got quite a pair of lungs on you there Hale,” Stiles joked.
“Why are you here?”
“Well I came home for the weekend and Dad and I were hanging out but he got called into work. Thought I’d come give my favorite alpha a visit.”
“Me?” Derek asked.
“Yes you, dork. Have you been drinking alone tonight?”
Derek mumbled under his breath. This was embarrassing. He didn’t think anyone would show up unannounced. Apparently the alcohol removed his brain to mouth filter because Stiles was responding to his inner thoughts.
“I did text, a couple times actually. But then you didn’t respond and I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I mean, on the way over it did occur to me that you may have had a lady friend over now that you had the place to yourself and you were free of an annoyingly clingy pack and I would be interrupting but I think we’re all clear on that front.”
Derek felt his ears go hot. Of all the pack members to walk in on him, it had to be Stiles.
“Feeling lonely Derek? Or were you just channeling your inner Bridget Jones?”
“Both. It’s quiet without you all here. And I’m lonely.”
Derek slumped back down on the couch, faintly registering Stiles moving across the room to sit next to him.
“How about you sleep it off and in the morning when you’re sober, we can talk about maybe making you a little less lonely?” Stiles asked him softly.
“Yeah, yeah. Good. Stay with me?” Derek asked as he got up slowly, making his way to his bed.
“Always,” Stiles replied.
Let me propose a thing to you because I enjoy your flailing. Soft boy Derek Hale and his soft boy boyfriend Stiles Stilinski cuddling on the sofa with hot chocolates and blankets watching idk some sloppy romantic movie with their pet labrador. Or smth to that effect.
BRO. BRO. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME.
“Is it that time of the month?”
Derek stops what he’s doing, dropping his book onto his lap as he glares at Stiles. Stiles just smirks and leans against the doorpost, sipping his coffee. It’s almost like Derek doesn’t know what he does to Stiles, sometimes, with the beard and the blushing and being all cuddly and adorable.
Derek raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Well, y’know, it’s more like a time of the week thing. You always wear that sweater when you’re feeling sad and want me to cuddle with you.”
It’s a bold statement – one Stiles had been afraid might’ve been too bold – but then Derek blushes, the tips of his ears flushing pink as he holds up his arm to look at the soft, red fabric. “I hadn’t even noticed that.”
Stiles snorts and downs the rest of his coffee. He already mentally dubbed it the cuddle sweater, like, months ago. Even Scott noticed at a certain point in time.
“Okay, you choose a movie and grab the blankets and I’ll make some hot chocolate for you, and then I’ll cuddle the shit out of you.”
Derek nods, tips of his ears still pink, and Stiles takes a moment to appreciate the way Derek scrambles to get the emergency blankets they keep behind the couch. This definitely isn’t the first movie/cuddle night they’ve had, and it probably won’t be the least. Not that Stiles minds.
“Stiles?” Derek calls when he’s in the kitchen, grabbing Derek’s favorite mug – the one with the blue flowers – and he hums back a ‘Go on.’ “Can you put marshmallows in mine?”
“Of course,” he says, and tears open a bag of marshmallows – another emergency stack of theirs. When he enters the living room, Derek’s already made a blanket fort, Netflix open on ‘All You Need Is Love’ and the lights turned down. Derek looks so pretty like this, shadows enhancing his cheekbones and making his eyes seem so much brighter. Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s staring until Derek clears his throat and blushes.
“Thanks.” Derek’s voice is soft and hushed. Stiles just wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer, kissing his cheek. Something in his chest bursts when Derek lies his head on Stiles’ shoulder.
He really doesn’t know how he got this lucky.
So, how about Derek – despite being a werewolf – thinks he has caught some kind of flu or infection because he suddenly finds himself in situations where his hands get clammy, his heart won’t stop racing and he gets weak in the knees. Sometimes he feels like he can’t breathe and his pulse, which had always been steady, suddenly trips over itself, heart stumbling in his chest like Stiles and his gangly limbs did back in his earlier teenage years.
These weird kind of symptoms pop up and go away again at seemingly completely random instances. Sometimes it happens when he stops by the grocery store before pack night and remembers to buy enough Reese’s because they’re Stiles’s favorite at the last second.
Then again when he’s researching their latest monster of the week with Isaac and Stiles and suddenly Stiles huffs out this tiny little noise of surprise and bumps his shoulder against Isaac’s and then looks up at Derek with a blinding smile, shouting “I think I got it!”.
One especially memorable time Derek is waiting in the school parking lot to pick up Erica and Boyd and drive them to the movies for their date night. He’s a few minutes early, just staring at the school’s still closed doors when they suddenly open and one of the first students to spill out is Stiles.
Stiles who is animatedly talking to a pretty brunette with curly hair and a bright smile and suddenly Derek can feel his lungs shrinking, his stomach drops and there’s the sour taste of bile threatening to rise up in his throat. He doesn’t even realize he’s clenching his fists around the steering wheel until Erica drops into the passenger seat and asks
“Everything okay, boss? You look like you’re going to vomit.”
Derek decides to just brush it off and pulls out of the parking lot, the Camaro’s tires screeching. He doesn’t dare look into the rearview mirror and therefore doesn’t see the stunned look on Stiles’ face.
It happens a few more times and eventually Derek caves and goes to Deaton. He doesn’t trust the guy in the least, but at least he might tell Derek if he caught some weird kind of virus or got poisoned or whatever. Of course, Deaton finds absolutely nothing.
“And you’re sure it’s all different situations? You might want to consider this some kind of, well, emotional response to certain things. Or a certain person.”
“But there have always been different people around. One time I was alone, then there were Isaac and Stiles and then I was picking up Erica and Boyd.”
Deaton looks doubtful and Derek feels like he is missing something, like he is staring at a pattern and still can’t make it out.
“Is that so?” Deaton asks, vague and un-helpful as always, but his voice is gentle. “No one specific was around all those times?”
Derek thinks again hard and suddenly, there it is. And it certainly isn’t the flu or an infection or a virus. Oh. Oh.
“Oh,” he whispers.
About half an hour later he is standing on the Stilinskis’ porch, hand hovering over the doorbell when the door gets pulled open Stiles is looking at him expectantly.
“I… you…,” Derek stammers, but slowly there’s a beautiful smile spreading over Stiles’s features as he reaches out and pulls Derek in by the lapels of his leather jacket.
“You finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
Derek leans in and kisses the smile right off of Stiles’s lips. He doesn’t mind when his stomach swoops and he goes a little weak in the knees. Turns out he wasn’t sick at all, he just was in love.
Day Nine: Vacation
The ski lift comes to a jolting halt, leaving them suspended above the slope.
“Great,” Stiles mutters, trying to pull his beanie down over his ears.
“We’re fine, this happens. It’ll get started up again soon,” Derek says, his ridiculous skis shifting as he shuffles a bit closer.
“It’s gonna be dark soon, and then they’re gonna close this run, and I really really want to do it,” Stiles says impatiently. “That’s why we’re here in the first place. Pack vacation–” he trails off, even though it’s become more like couples vacation. Everyone is paired off and more interested in snuggling up by the fire and drinking hot chocolate with each other than Stiles’ plan– which was to hit all the slopes, go down that black diamond run and maybe try a few jumps off the ramps built on one of the slopes.
But nope, everybody is all cuddles and giggles and no one other than Derek has actually wanted to go into the snow with Stiles. Which is a problem on it’s own, considering how Stiles is desperately, terribly, unfortunately, in love with him. And all this time spent together bonding is bittersweet– yes, Stiles wants to be better friends with Derek, but he also wants more.
“We have all weekend, don’t worry,” Derek says.
A light snowfall starts, dusting them with snow, and the ski lift still is stuck.
There are snowflakes caught on Derek’s eyelashes.
Stiles can’t stop staring– they’re so close, and Derek is right there, looking right back into his eyes.
“Thank you,” Derek says.
“For what?”
“Inviting me. Vacation with everyone.”
“Of course,” Stiles says automatically. “You’re… you’re…” you’re my friend too, is what he should say, and it’s on the tip of his tongue. He wants to say so much, doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know how he can fit all of what Derek means to him in words, and he just looks up at Derek beseechingly, and Derek gazes back at him with a wordless smile.
Stiles doesn’t remember who moves first; but they’re kissing, soft and slow and sweet and he doesn’t quite feel so cold anymore.
Like What You See?
for Charlie @hoechlbutt happy early birthday! here’s some fluff, bed sharing, fake/pretend relationships, friends to lovers, and derek’s thumbhole sweater all in 1.6k words
ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9227795
“Stiles, please c’mon man do this for us,” Scott pleaded.
“No.”
“Why not?” Lydia asked.
“What do you mean why not? Why would I want to fake date
Derek?” Stiles exclaimed, ignoring his heart thudding in his chest at the thought
of dating Derek.“Please Stiles,” Allison said. “We need a spot at that
convention and sending an Alpha without a partner is seriously frowned up.”“Okay then one of you date him!”
“Stiles just do it okay? For the greater good of the pack,”
Isaac added.Stiles knew he wasn’t getting out of this. He was the only
single member left and there was no way Derek could pass off dating someone
outside of the pack.“Fine. But you guys owe me big time,” Stiles eventually
said.
is that my shirt?
Stiles has been stealing Derek’s clothes and Derek finds out.
anxiety warning. also leads to a panic attack that doesn’t happen.
also on ao3Derek is a little bigger than Stiles. And really, Stiles doesn’t mind. In fact, he spends most of his day thinking about how hot and attractive his boyfriend is. He loves Derek’s everything else too, such as his personality, his intelligence, but fuck, his boyfriend is hot.
Derek is a little bigger than Stiles, and Stiles knows that, he really does, but it doesn’t mean that Derek’s clothes can’t be Stiles’ … does it?
And so, Stiles, the little sneak, steals Derek’s clothes whenever he’s over at his place. It starts with a sweatshirt. It was Christmas eve and they were cuddling in front of the TV, and while Derek’s a heater, Stiles’ is not. He maximizes the surface area to volume ratio. And so Derek lent him his navy sweatshirt.
And Stiles never gave it back.
The clothes-stealing continues. Stiles conducts a heist every couple of weeks after Derek gets new clothes, stealing them one by one. He goes from the sweater, to fuzzy socks—Derek will never admit that he has them though Stiles sees no reason to deny it—to one of his million leather jackets and Henleys.
Derek has never noticed and Stiles has never been caught … until today.
“Is that my shirt?”
Stiles freezes, his head ducked into the refrigerator while his fist tightens around the handle. He rigidly begins to straighten up. He looks everywhere other than Derek’s face, finally settling to look at the ground. His fingers remove themselves from the handle after closing the door and grip onto the bottom of his—no, Derek’s—shirt.
2 please?
I loved this! Here’s a link to the song that inspired this ficlet! I hope you enjoy it! Here’s prompt #2: “How long have you been standing there?”
When Derek got to his New York apartment, the last thing he expected was to have several noise complaints on his door. Some were signed by his neighbors and some were anonymous, regardless it was an alarming sight. He barely used his TV, his computer’s volume never went over fifty percent, and he didn’t have guest over often.
So noise complaints wasn’t something he was prepared for.
Quickly he gathered them off the door, using his nails to scrape the residual tape from the wood before entering his apartment. Once inside he was greeted with dead silence…which wasn’t quite the criteria for several noise complaints.
He’s been gone for a few hours at most, so what the hell happened? Instead of dwelling on it Derek flicked on the lights and moved to the kitchen.
Just as he was about to set down his bag of groceries a loud stream of music echoed outside of his window. It was loud and the sound quality was grainy at best; but the old doo-wop jazz was crystal clear. Without hesitation he flew over to the window, unlocking it before lifting it up, promptly sticking his head out.
Snowflakes and cold wind bit his cheeks and the darkening sky made looking down below a bit of a challenge. However the giant boom box wasn’t hard to spot; it was held up high by familiar looking hands.
Stiles.
Stiles was standing out in the snow, probably freezing, with an old boom box blasting the Four Tops’ “Baby I Need Your Loving”. Their eyes met and Stiles’ looked a mix of relieved and hopeful. Derek noted how brilliant Stiles’ smile was.
“How long have you been standing there?” Derek called.
Stiles turned down the music, “um…long enough that I can’t feel my fingers and face?”
Derek laughed into his hands, from the cheesy bomb box or Stiles’ mild stupidity he didn’t know. He looked back down to Stiles with a sheepish smile on his face.
“Sorry to break it to you, but I haven’t been home all day,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“And your music put about ten noise complaint notices on my door,” he continued.
“Oh.”
“Yeah oh,” Derek said before adding, “but I do love the Four Tops.”
Stiles snickered, “dude they’re iconic, I mean the 60s knew how to woo people.”
“So this is you wooing me? I didn’t realize we were we in Say Anything,” Derek teased.
“Well–uh, I was hoping maybe this would–um–”
“Hey Stiles?”
“Yes?” Stiles said.
“You wooed me, stop sputtering like an idiot,” Derek said.
“I’m not a sputtering idiot! You ass!” Stiles gasped but he was clearly amused.
Before Derek could respond the window just beside his smacked open, his neighbor sticking her head out of the window, blonde hair whipping around in the wind.
“Awesome! You got yourself a loud sputtering idiot! Quiet down, yeah?” She said more than asked before slipping back inside. A few moments of silence passed before they both laughed. A few minutes passed before Stiles was in his apartment. A few more minutes passed before they found a pretty fun way to warm up together.
They ended up keeping the boom box.
Derek glowered at Stiles, wondering for a brief moment when he’d lost the ability to intimidate the other man, forgetting entirely that he never really had.
“You’re not going,” he growled, lowering his head until he was right up in Stiles’ face. Which really just meant that he was perfectly placed to get a little bit spittle-sprayed when Stiles let out a sudden burst of laughter.
“Sure, big guy. You keep telling yourself that.”
“Stiles–”
“Derek,” Stiles mocked, making his eyes go all huge and innocent-looking.
Yeah, right. Derek hadn’t believed that… ever.
“Stay here. Stay safe.”
Stiles leaned forward a fraction until the upturned tip of his nose was barely pressed to Derek’s, his eyes nearly crossing as he maintained eye contact. “No.”
Derek’s next, frustrated growl was cut off by the shock of Stiles darting forward to smack a quick kiss to his snarling mouth.
Taking advantage of the moment, Stiles darted around Derek and… ran right toward the idling Camaro, slipping into the passenger seat and clicking his seatbelt.
Derek sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and stomped toward the car, throwing himself into it with far too much petulance for a man his age.
“Cheer up, buttercup,” Stiles said, grinning cheerily. “If we get out of this in one piece – which means no flinging yourself idiotically into danger – there’ll be more kisses for you.”
Derek slanted a look at him, trying to decide how to take that. It was the hint of anxiety that showed through in Stiles’ fingers drumming on his thighs that made him realize it wasn’t a joke, that offer. Putting the car in gear, he peeled out with a muttered, “I’m holding you to that.”
whenamarshmallowmeetsahothead:
“Three – two – one!
Happy New Year!”It was still seven pm, but
they were watching the Times Square Ball Drop on TV. Danny had
Grace, but they weren’t spending the night together, because Grace
had ‘a super cool party with my friends, dad, don’t be so lame!’“Happy New Year, Danno,”
Grace said while kissing her dad on the cheek.“Happy New Year,
Monkey.” Danny hugged her tightly, not believing how big she’d
gotten.“Happy New Year,”
Grace said again, kissing Danny on his other cheek.“What’s this one for?”
“That’s from uncle
Steve.”“Monkey, uncle Steve is
right over there.” Danny pointed to the kitchen, where Steve had
gone to grab more beers and a soda for Grace.“I know, but he thinks he can’t give you one, so I’m doing it for him.”
Danny stared at his
daughter perplexed, wondering when she’d gotten so perceptive. Then
he started thinking how he could let Steve know that he could give
Danny all the kisses he wanted.
Prompt #1 for the 365 Day Prompt Challenge.
shealwaysreads 