“Alright, here we go,” Derek said softly, maneuvering Stiles’ coltish limbs to get him seated on the bed without toppling both of them over in an inebriated heap. Stiles made an indignant noise at the man-handling, and Derek bit back a smile. Occasionally he regretted not being able to get drunk himself, but it was amusing enough to see his friends in this state. He knelt and started loosening the laces of Stiles’ shoes, murmuring, “let’s take these off.”
Once his charge was in sock feet, Derek got him standing again, manfully ignoring how handsy Stiles he was being. As usual. Was it a lack of inhibitions or lack of balance that made the difference? He could never tell.
“C’mon, let’s get you into some sweats,” he encouraged, hoping Stiles was at least sober enough to change his own pants.
The running commentary was as much for his benefit as Stiles’. It played into that familiar, worn persona: Derek the responsible older friend, bringing Drunky McDrunkface home safe and tucking him in because the kid didn’t know how to hold his liquor. Youths!
That was who he was supposed to be, anyways. God knows they weren’t anything else to each other. The big brother role didn’t quite fit now, if it ever had, but framing things that way still seemed infinitely preferable to coming at this situation – alone with Stiles in his dimly-lit room, helping him out of his stiff jeans and into soft sleep clothes – without any emotional barriers in place.
“Hey, Derek,” Stiles stage whispered, leaning close.
“What?”
Stiles snorted back a giggle, tripping over his own feet a little as he slung an arm around Derek’s shoulder, grabbing at his wrist with the other hand for balance. “Derek.”
“What?” Stiles had moved to clutching his bicep, now, face bobbing close enough that Derek could smell the crisp gin on his breath. It was gross, he reminded himself. He resented Scott for sending him home to deal with Stiles while he and Kira stayed out celebrating their new degrees. He did.
“Derek, I…” Stiles broke off in a laugh again. “I…”
You… what? Derek wondered, but he suppressed his curiosity with gritted teeth. As if Stiles’ teasing wasn’t irritating enough sober. At least then it was usually comprehensible. “If you can’t spit it out now, just tell me tomorrow wen you’re sober.”
Stiles squinted at him, a surprisingly steady and weighing look. “Okay,” he said finally.
“Okay,” Derek echoed, glancing back at the bed. “Well, let’s…”
The kiss took him entirely by surprise, enough that his knees bumped the edge of the bed and buckled.
Tag: fluff
“Yeah?” Stiles smiled.
“Yeah,” Derek nodded, and after a moment, they moved to erase the foot of space that had still been between them.
Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s, and he shivered when Derek rubbed his nose against his in a gesture that felt close to an eskimo kiss, but not quite.
Stiles let out a shaky breath. “My heart is beating out of my chest.”
“I can hear it,” Derek smiled, and Stiles let out a shaky laugh, his hands coming up to rest on Derek’s shoulders as Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. “Mine’s beating crazily too.”
Stiles huffed, a big smile on his face as he whispered, “can I kiss you?”
“Of course,” Derek whispered, and then Stiles bridged the space between them and kissed him softly on the lips, and the kiss was as comfortably familiar as it was shockingly surprising. Stiles knew the touch and taste and texture of Derek’s lips, but the zing in his blood always shocked him and made him inhale sharply, his already rapid heartbeat speeding up as Derek deepened the kiss.
Their bodies plastered together, arms around each other, they got lost in their kisses, in each other.
They had been together almost a year, but they hadn’t said “I love you” to each other until then, and it had been a long time coming, truly. Stiles knew he had been in love with Derek before they had even gotten together, but he had waited to confess because it had felt a little too soon to declare his everlasting love after a week of dating.
He had also been scared of Derek not returning his love, and just the thought alone of Derek saying “thank you” in response or “I don’t love you” to his declaration of love had been enough to make Stiles to hold back the words whenever he had been on the verge of saying them and take things slow with him.
Derek was so incredibly important to him that he didn’t want to mess it up, and so he had held back so they could just enjoy the experience of dating each other.
But there Derek had been, smiling softly as he tried not to dance to the music he had on as he cleaned the living room, but then failed and ended up dancing silly, singing a little off key to the song, and Stiles had just felt so enamored by his boyfriend that when Derek finished and turned off the music, Stiles had pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and walked toward Derek, who had looked surprised when he saw Stiles, and then smiled widely.
And then Stiles had just blurted it out.
And here they were, having to break apart to get some much needed oxygen into their lungs.
“I had a whole scenario in my head where I said it first,” Derek murmured, resting his forehead against Stiles’ once more, and Stiles grinned.
“You did?”
i just want to hold your hand
happy birthday to the beautiful, wonderful @pale-silver-comb. emma, i am so happy to have you in my life, and i love talking with you all the time. you are one of the kindest people i know – to your friends and to your followers. you deserve all the happiness.
i hope you enjoy this fic and that hopefully you recognize it. this is the first fic idea i ever sent to emma (back when we were strangers and i was just in AWE of her writing) and it marks the start of our friendship! i have finally written it for your birthday 😀
(also the first line is totally taylor swift inspired bc it was relevant but also i was listening to the song for ages while writing this)
sterek | high school au | 4k
Derek takes a deep breath and walks through
the doors – it’s the morning of his very first day. He tries to stay out of
everybody’s way, tries not to feel so nervous when he’s been waiting for this
day for longer than he can remember.He can hear too much chatter from the
students, and with his werewolf senses he can smell too many teenage hormones
in the air. He tries to concentrate, aware of his claws near the tips of his
fingers, but it’s okay, he was expecting this.High schools are known for being overwhelming
for werewolves, but it doesn’t exactly help that everyone is staring at him.Cora snorts beside him. “You okay?” she says.
Derek nods minutely. He tries not to look
uncomfortable as a group of girls quickly look away and then giggle.“Why are they laughing?” Derek mutters.
Cora hears him quite easily and the corner of
her lips turn up. “Duh,” she says. “They think you’re cute.”Derek’s eyes widen and he runs a hand through
his hair, wondering what he’s supposed to do. He smiles awkwardly at them and
they blush and giggle again. Derek can hear every one of their heartbeats, can
hear everyone’s heartbeat in this hallway.“Hey Cora!” says a cheerful voice.
They both turn and behind them is a guy with
the warmest brown eyes Derek has ever seen. He feels his mouth go dry for a
moment.“Hi Stiles,” Cora says. “How was your summer?”
He shrugs, kicking at the floor. “It was okay,
I guess. Kind of boring.” He glances at Derek. “Who’s this?”“This is my brother,” Cora says.
Stiles glances between the two of them.
“Really?”“I’m Derek,” he says, and Stiles smiles at
him. Derek isn’t sure why he thinks Stiles’ smile is so pretty.The bell rings and Derek has to close his eyes
for a second, the sound loud in his ears. He opens them again and sees Cora
looking at him, worried. He glares. He’s fine. Derek takes out his timetable
and looks at his first class for the day.“Um,” he says. “Do you know where chemistry
with Harris is?”Stiles’ mouth drops open. “Oh my god, you’re a
senior.”Derek looks up at him. He narrows his eyes.
“Yes.”“But – dude – I’ve never seen you here
before?” Stiles says.Derek shifts on his feet uncomfortably. Cora
stands next to him, amused. It doesn’t help that she’s one year younger than him
and she’s already been at this school for two years.“Derek was home-schooled,” Cora says. “It’s
his first day of high school.”
Can someone please write a sterek ficlet about this
Pretty please?
//for thesterek, because i’ve had this in my likes forever and finally got around to it and OH MY GOD THAT PHOTO. I hope its worth it!! featuring handyman!derek and a metric ton of fluff.//
Stiles graduates from Stanford with honors, and after a few months of scrounging together every penny he’s ever made, he moves into his first grownup apartment back in Beacon Hills. And it’s…fine, it’s perfectly nice, Lydia, not everybody can afford a chic little studio in the Beacon Hills equivalent of soho. So what if his landlady is kinda shifty about the previous tenants, and the floor is always vaguely sticky, and the fridge makes worrying clanking noises in the middle of the night. It may be old and the worse for wear and technically an attic, but it’s affordable and it’s his.
In the spirit of his first foray into independence, Stiles throws a housewarming party.
“It’s nice,” Scott lies enthusiastically when he arrives, handing Stiles his housewarming gifts– an economy sized bag of Pirate’s Booty and a rubber spatula with a bow on it, thank you, Scotty. At his side, Kira nods uncertainly, smiling in earnest.
“It’s a dump,” Malia says matter-of-factly, pushing past them to go snooping through the kitchen.
“It has potential,” Kira corrects, leveling an admonishing frown in her direction. “The windows are really nice and big, and you have way more space than Scott and I do.”
“Thanks for trying, guys,” Stiles says cheerfully, clapping Scott companionably on the shoulder. “I mean, Malia’s totally right, but I appreciate your support.”
Sterek fic loosely inspired by TFLN #530, “Showed up to the airport to find my fuck buddy is on the same flight. Do you think he’d be interested in the mile high club?” I changed the prompt a little. Sterek, rated T, word count: under 2k
It’s kind of improbable that Stiles even met Derek, if he thinks about it.
It wouldn’t have happened if Stiles’ dad hadn’t been a cop. If Stiles hadn’t made a habit of snooping through his dad’s files and listening to police scanners. If he hadn’t fallen in love with the idea of a life in law enforcement. If he hadn’t decided to go to college in New York, across the country from his dad and Scott. If his college hadn’t required Elementary Statistics for the Criminal Justice major. If he hadn’t waited until fall semester of his junior year to take it because he’d hated stats class in high school. If, on the first day, he hadn’t spotted a blonde girl in the front row. If he hadn’t noticed she was wearing a Wonder Woman T-shirt, and if he hadn’t been drawn to it like a moth to flame. If he hadn’t been wearing his Batman T-shirt that day, and if he hadn’t had the guts to sit beside her, and if they hadn’t talked and realized they were both from Beacon Hills. If they hadn’t hit it off.
And, most of all, if Erica hadn’t leaned over one day a little before Thanksgiving and invited him to her party on Friday. If Stiles hadn’t said yes.
*
Stiles hadn’t been to many college parties (or, who was he kidding, many parties period, he’d never been Mr. Popular in high school). Based on all the college movies he’d ever seen, not to mention Erica’s love of bright lipsticks and fast cars and loud music, he kind of expected this to be a rager. Based on that assumption, he’d carefully styled his hair and worn his clubbing clothes, a tight black tee and burgundy skinny jeans.
Instead, when he knocked on the door of Erica’s apartment, he could hear faint pop music filtering out into the hall. She answered the door dressed as Luna Lovegood, complete with radish earrings and a Ravenclaw tie. Over Erica’s shoulder, he could see a handsome, very well muscled guy dressed as Captain America go wandering down the hall and disappear into one of the rooms.
“Crap, is this a costume party?” Stiles said.
Erica eyed him appreciatively. “No, but you could probably pass for a rocker.” She fiddled with a time-turner on a string around her neck. “Boyd and I just felt like dressing up. We were digging around in the closet for balloons and found our Halloween costumes from last year instead.“
So instead of the kind of mass dance party in a dark, sweaty basement he’d been expecting, he was faced with a handful of people sitting around on the floor of Erica’s living room in T-shirts and jeans (and the one guy in the Captain America suit), eating pizza off paper plates and playing Cards Against Humanity. An iPod dock by the door was belting out “Hooked on a Feeling.” There were a few red and black balloons floating in a corner, and a snack table against the wall laden with pizza boxes and chips and dip. It felt pretty much exactly like all the parties Stiles had ever been to in high school.
Except that those parties had never featured a (hot) guy who looked up when Stiles came in and raked curious, appreciative eyes down Stiles’ body before meeting his eyes, smirking, and going back to studying his cards. Holy shit.
Stiles and Derek both getting stuck in Chicago waiting for their connecting flight to San Fransisco.
They were on the same flight from JFK to O’Hare, Stiles noticed the hot bearded guy two rows up and Derek noticed the guy who looked familiar for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on.
They end up sitting next to each other because there’s an outlet and Derek’s phone died somewhere around hour 3 of waiting for the flight and Stiles’ figured he’d get some work done while he was stuck in hell.
Eventually they start talking, mostly because Stiles’ went to the bathroom and when he came back hot bearded guy who kindly offered to watch his bag was cornered by a woman in yoga pants and Uggs who looked like she wanted to eat him and the guy looked terrified.
Stiles, being the hero that he is, slides next to hot bearded guy and wraps the arm not holding a cup of coffee around his waist, “Hey babe, sorry I took so long, the line at the coffee shop was crazy.”
“It’s okay, I was just telling this nice woman that our flight got delayed but we’re still hoping to make it home for Christmas,” the guy says and Stiles nods, giving the woman a cool smile.
She takes the hint and walks away dejectedly.
“I’m Stiles,” Stiles says, removing his arm for the guys waist.
“Derek.”
They end up talking for hours. It turns out the reason Derek thought Stiles’ was familiar was because he was. Stiles had hung out with his younger sister when he was in high school. Stiles quietly admits that he had a crush on Derek his freshman year and Derek just smiled at him because he might have a crush on Stiles now.
By the time they get on their flight three hours later they had exchanged phone numbers and managed to get the man who was suppose to sit next to Stiles to swap so that they could keep talking. They don’t run out of things to talk about, in fact they’re both sad to part when they get off the flight.
So they get coffee while in Beacon Hills. And then again when they’re both back in New York, though they don’t see each other as often as they’d like because Stiles lives in Queens and Derek lives in Chelsea. When they move in together 18 months later they get a little place in Brooklyn because it’s a compromise.
And when their flight home for their wedding gets delayed at O’Hare, well it just seems fitting.
the right gif is when your friend won’t stop subtly hinting about your crush when they’re standing near you
OKAY BUT THERE ARE A MILLION FICS WHERE SCOTT IS SHOCKED WHEN STILES AND DEREK GET TOGETHER AND A MILLION MORE WHERE SCOTT TELLS STILES HOW OBVIOUS DEREK’S CRUSH ON HIM WAS THE WHOLE TIME BUT ARE THERE ANY WHERE SCOTT EXPLICITLY DROPS GIGANTIC HINTS AND TEASES DEREK ABOUT IT AND DEREK KIND OF *NOSTRIL FLARES AT HIM* SCOTT HE IS RIGHT THERE I WILL END YOU AND STILES IS JUST KIND OF SITTING IN THE CORNER EATING CHEETOS YELLING AT THEM FOR WHISPERING IN WEREWOLF DECIBELS BECAUSE IT’S SUPER RUDE TO THE TOKEN HUMAN IN THE ROOM OKAY
‘Hey, Stiles,’ Scott says.
‘Hm?’
‘Do you ever wonder why Derek broke up with that guy he was seeing?’
‘Not really,’ Stiles lies. His heart skips a beat and Scott smirks, catches the Cheeto that Stiles throws at him in his mouth. Stiles flips a page pointedly.
‘Dude, what did that guy even look like? I forget. I feel like he was tall though, and he had those freakishly long fingers, you know what I mean? Like daddy long legs. Wasn’t he learning drums too?’
‘Yeah,’ Stiles murmurs absentmindedly, scribbling notes in the margin. There’s a wendigo on the loose a few towns over from Beacon Hills, and the Turner pack called to ask for their help taking it down – Scott and Stiles are at the new house Derek bought, researching. (‘Housewarming, man, we’re sexiled.’ ‘Isn’t housewarming where you get me a gift?’ ‘No, we’re warming your house. And the gift is us!’) ‘I helped him,’ Stiles adds.
‘You crushed him at Guitar Hero, is what you mean.’
Stiles smirks, preens visibly.
’D’you feel like he had a lot of freckles too? Like, everywhere? Even when we were in the sun for a second he’d suddenly have a million new freckles. And he had those hipster cool glasses, too.’
‘Yeah,’ Stiles agrees easily, slapping his laptop and muttering under his breath.
Scott rolls his eyes. ‘Does that remind you of anyone? Anyone at all? Don’t we know someone else with freckles, who’s tall with long fingers? And has glasses like that?’
‘Dude,’ Stiles says. He raises his head, finally, and looks at Scott, eyebrows furrowed. Somewhere an orchestra swells – this is it, Scott thinks. This is the moment.
The door bursts open and Derek stomps through, rustling his plastic grocery bags as he, like, flares his nostrils at Scott. ‘Wow,’ he says loudly, glaring at Scott through his blush, ‘you would not believe the traffic out there, it was so bad it made me want to kill someone. Maybe even a werewolf.’
based on this frickin
hilarious video go watch it now (also on a03)Derek gets a call from an unknown number at 10:27am. It happens sometimes,
telemarketers, and quite often for the nannying agency that’s one digit off his
mobile. Today is a new one.“Hello, this is Derek.”
“Oh, hi. Okay. Hi, I’m Stiles,” comes a surprised voice from the other end.
“Hi Stiles.”
“So, Derek, this is going to sound strange, but I’m just about to go in for
a job interview in three minutes, and I had to fill out this list of references
and I was short a number so I wrote down a random one, then thought I should
call it to see if it was real. And it is, it’s yours.”“So you just wrote down a random number as a reference?” Derek asks,
confused and also a little amused.“Yes, that’s right. And look, I’m going in soon, and getting this job would
be really great, and so would you mind if I keep your number on the list? They
probably won’t call but I–”“Go for it,” Derek interrupts. What’s the harm in it? He can cross off that
he’s done his one nice thing for the day, and this Stiles is right, he probably
won’t even get a call.“Seriously? Ah, okay that’s amazing. Thank you.”
“What’s the job?” Derek asks, grabbing a pen and paper to write it down.
He’s warming up to the idea of doing this fake reference thing. It’ll be a
laugh if nothing else.“So it’s an IT position with Saris and Fehr Legal. System maintenance,
software security, a bunch of stuff really, but don’t worry about it too much,
I just had you down as a personal reference?”Stiles asks it like a question, showing some nerves, and Derek realises he’s
essentially admitting he doesn’t know enough people who’d give him a positive
reference.“Oh well that’s easy enough then, I’ll just say that I’ve known you for
years, talk about how you’re organized, trustworthy, etcetera,” Derek’s been a
reference for some of his friends before, he knows the drill.“Ah, yeah, sounds great. Wow. You sure about this?”
“It’s fine, Stiles. It’ll make my day more interesting at any rate.”
“Wow,” Stiles repeats, clearly surprised by Derek’s immediate cooperation. “So
it’s Stiles Stilinski, not sure I gave you my last name.”“No, you didn’t,” he says, writing down Stiles’ surname phonetically. “Mine’s
Hale. Derek Hale.”“Hale,” Stiles repeats, while Derek can hear the sound of a pen moving
across paper through the phone. “Alright, I’ve got to go now but thanks so
much, Derek. It means a lot.”“You’re welcome,” Derek says, smiling at how relieved Stiles sounds. “Good
luck for the interview.”
“Yeah?” Stiles smiled.
“Yeah,” Derek nodded, and after a moment, they moved to erase the foot of space that had still been between them.
Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s, and he shivered when Derek rubbed his nose against his in a gesture that felt close to an eskimo kiss, but not quite.
Stiles let out a shaky breath. “My heart is beating out of my chest.”
“I can hear it,” Derek smiled, and Stiles let out a shaky laugh, his hands coming up to rest on Derek’s shoulders as Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist. “Mine’s beating crazily too.”
Stiles huffed, a big smile on his face as he whispered, “can I kiss you?”
“Of course,” Derek whispered, and then Stiles bridged the space between them and kissed him softly on the lips, and the kiss was as comfortably familiar as it was shockingly surprising. Stiles knew the touch and taste and texture of Derek’s lips, but the zing in his blood always shocked him and made him inhale sharply, his already rapid heartbeat speeding up as Derek deepened the kiss.
Their bodies plastered together, arms around each other, they got lost in their kisses, in each other.
They had been together almost a year, but they hadn’t said “I love you” to each other until then, and it had been a long time coming, truly. Stiles knew he had been in love with Derek before they had even gotten together, but he had waited to confess because it had felt a little too soon to declare his everlasting love after a week of dating.
He had also been scared of Derek not returning his love, and just the thought alone of Derek saying “thank you” in response or “I don’t love you” to his declaration of love had been enough to make Stiles to hold back the words whenever he had been on the verge of saying them and take things slow with him.
Derek was so incredibly important to him that he didn’t want to mess it up, and so he had held back so they could just enjoy the experience of dating each other.
But there Derek had been, smiling softly as he tried not to dance to the music he had on as he cleaned the living room, but then failed and ended up dancing silly, singing a little off key to the song, and Stiles had just felt so enamored by his boyfriend that when Derek finished and turned off the music, Stiles had pushed off the wall he had been leaning on and walked toward Derek, who had looked surprised when he saw Stiles, and then smiled widely.
And then Stiles had just blurted it out.
And here they were, having to break apart to get some much needed oxygen into their lungs.
“I had a whole scenario in my head where I said it first,” Derek murmured, resting his forehead against Stiles’ once more, and Stiles grinned.
“You did?”
Mistletoe’s Overrated Anyway
I started writing this last Christmas. And then suddenly it was January so I decided to wait to do anything with it until this Christmas. I found it on Saturday night and forgot I hadn’t finished it. So here, have a Christmas fic! On… Boxing Day.
At least it’s not January?
Happy (belated) Christmas/Season’s Greetings, all!
*
Derek glances up
when he hears the front door open and close, and frowns when Laura doesn’t
immediately announce herself. He wipes his hands on the dish towel hanging from
his belt loop and goes to investigate, finding his sister in the entryway with
a stranger.Laura’s face
lights up and she drops all of her bags, launching at him. “Derek!”Despite the
surprise of an unannounced guest, Derek smiles and squeezes her, pressing his
nose into her hair. “I didn’t think you were bringing anyone,” Derek
says when they finally part.“I
wasn’t,” Laura says. “I was lucky to even get here. All of the
flights out are cancelled for the foreseeable future because of the weather,
and I ran into Stiles, of all people. You remember Stiles Stilinski, right?
From Cora’s class?”Derek
remembers a hyperactive eleven year old with a buzzcut and an irritating habit
of getting underfoot – his memory doesn’t lend to the lean, doe eyed brunet in
his hallway; he’s talking on his phone and scowling something fierce but
Derek’s mouth goes dry at the way Stiles runs long fingers through his hair.
“Coffee?” Derek asks abruptly, turning to look at Laura.
“There’s a fresh pot. Cora’s gone out on a last minute supply run – is,
uh, Stiles staying?”“I
offered your wonderful hospitality until he can find a flight to take him
home,” Laura says, following him back into the kitchen and leaving Stiles
in the hall. “I know you have the space, and it seemed a shame to leave
him stranded. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”“It’s
not Christmas yet,” Derek points out. “How did you even recognise
him? We haven’t seen him in ten years.”
shealwaysreads 