Stiles and Derek’s first kiss is in the middle of a fight. Stiles has blood on his favorite jeans. Derek is wearing that stupid blue shirt that makes him look halfway normal and not at all like the big bad wolf he is. It’s Stiles who initiates. He uses the word “initiate” loosely, because what he actually does is sort of…punch Derek’s face with his mouth?
Derek is halfway through a snarky retort, and there’s no actual puckering that happens in order to soften the blow . So their teeth make an audible “click” that he’s sure sounds just about as painful as it feels.
Derek doesn’t actually reciprocate, but that might be because reciprocating is very hard to do when someone’s mouth is smashed against yours in what could barely be called a kiss. After a second though, Stiles softens. Derek still isn’t actively kissing back, but he’s not…not kissing back either. It’s a strange middle ground that Stiles didn’t know existed until now.
His hand is still fisted at an awkward angle in that stupid, horrible, perfect shirt that makes him think of pretty things like ice blue eyes and orange striped shirts and the angriest strip tease in existence reflected off the screen of his laptop. Other than that they’re pressed together from chest to thigh, but Stiles feels it all the way to his toes, hot and liquid under the skin.
It only lasts a few seconds and when Stiles pulls back, Derek’s eyes are wide and his hands are poised on either side of Stiles like he’s forgotten what he usually does with them. Stiles knows that right now is when he’s supposed to be letting go the werewolf’s shirt and stuttering out an apology. But he still feels cold from lip to kneecaps and he misses Derek’s warmth there already and he can’t fucking move.
And Derek—Derek looks frozen too for a second, until his eyebrows kind of…soften. His eyes—green, green, green—flit down to Stiles’ mouth and hold. Stiles’ lips are parted and a little red and his tongue flicks out self consciously.
“I—” he starts finally.
But Derek cuts him off with his mouth, and—wow he is much better at that than Stiles. This is not mouth punching. This is kissing. This is—
Stiles groans when Derek catches his bottom lip with his teeth.
Of course they get cut off when Scott clears his throat and says, “As happy as I am that you two are finally getting your shit together, could you wait until I leave before escalating?”
Stiles has never seen Derek blush before, but he’d definitely like it to happen again soon.
It’s @ladydrace‘s birthday today and I managed to write something that was finished on the actual day!!! I know you haven’t had a great day, and I hope this heavy dose of fluff can help, it has dragons and royalty! =D (I very knowingly stole a name for a dragon from your Flight Rising fic, I hope you don’t mind =D ♥) I hope you’re having a good night, Minna, lots of hugs and love ♥♥♥ (3864
Stiles was never opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. He was to be king one day, his responsibilities were to the people of Beacon, so when the Argents started to discreetly sniff their northern borders and the suggestion came of an arranged marriage between Stiles and Derek, prince of Triskele, their neighbor to the east, he immediately accepted. While Beacon and Triskele had always been friendly with each other he knew an alliance like that, between the magic users of Beacon and the shifters of Triskele, would make a force not many went against.
He didn’t know Derek, hadn’t met him since they were young children, but he had met his sister and their parents a few times in recent years, and they were great people. Of course Stiles wanted love and happiness in a marriage, but he thought that if they both wanted that they could be happy. Maybe not in love, but happy, and they could learn to love each other in some capacity. He was positive, it could be good, he would work hard for it, and he hoped Derek would too.
“Mmm.” Stiles stretched languidly, feeling like a cat lying in the sun as he gradually woke to the warm light streaming into the loft through the wall of windows. The sun had already cleared the horizon; later than he usually woke up. He rolled over, pressing himself up against Derek’s back, draping his arm over the were to rest his hand over his heart. It was beating steadily, but too fast for Derek to be sleeping. Stiles doubted he’d gotten more than a few hours at most.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, lips brushing the hairs at the nape of Derek’s neck. Derek’s heartbeat sped up for a moment as he spoke, but Derek didn’t otherwise respond. Stiles was alright with that, though, he was used to it.
“Do you need anything?” Again no response. “Do you want to do anything today?”
“No,” came Derek’s soft reply several long seconds later, so quiet Stiles had to strain to hear him. The answer was unsurprising; Derek hadn’t wanted to do much of anything recently, leaving Stiles to take care of him. Make sure he ate a least a little, that he didn’t try to punish himself with his self-destructive ways, keeping the pack away knowing Derek couldn’t deal with all of them right now. Not when he was hurting so much.
“Do you want me to leave?” Derek didn’t always want Stiles around when he was like this, chasing him away in bouts of anger, like the wounded wolf he was. Stiles understood, as much as he hated to leave Derek alone, always glued to his phone in case the other contacted him.
Derek was nonverbal in his response again. He simply lifted one hand and placed it over Stiles’, holding it in place over his heart.
Stiles smiled, soft and a little sad, and held Derek close. “Alright big guy, I’ll be right here. We can spend the whole day in bed if you want, whatever you need,” Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Derek’s nape. He could feel more than hear Derek’s sigh of relief, and knew that today was not the day to mother hen the wolf the way Stiles did with his father. Stiles closed his eyes again and hummed softly, breath ghosting over Derek’s skin as he settled in for a lazy day of cuddling his wolf.
Eventually Derek relaxed, enough to turn and curl up into Stiles, face buried in his chest while Stiles combed soothing fingers through his messy hair, all while softly murmuring “I’ve got you,” and “it’s okay,” until Derek believed it.
(Hey! They mostly haven’t been, but then all my open WIPs were stupid long, and I like having some shorter fics in there to break things up, so I did a prompt meme back in, like, September and have been slowly writing and posting the fics as I get to them. XD)
31. Catching the other before they fall
“I can’t freaking believe we’re stuck in a tree,” Stiles
muttered.
“Shut up,”
Derek hushed him.
“You shut
up,” Stiles snapped back.
Beneath them, he heard a low growl, and the hair on the back
of his neck stood up. Shit.
Derek held a finger to his lips, and his eyes glowed bright
red as he scanned the forest floor. Stiles still had no idea if that actually helped
him see better; he was ninety percent sure Derek just did it because it looked
cool.
Even though Stiles couldn’t see a damn thing, he could hear the rustle of leaves and the
cracking of twigs from the Thing
hunting them. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was; he only knew that it wasn’t
a werewolf.
He tried to silently readjust his position on the branch—it wasn’t
very big, and both he and Derek were
up here.
Stiles slipped.
His stomach swooped at the sensation of falling, and it took
everything in him to keep his mouth shut so as not to attract the Thing’s
attention, even though he had about a second before he would crash to the
ground right on top of it.
A strong arm slid around his waist, stopping his fall.
Stiles froze when he realized he was pressed right up
against Derek.
“Don’t. Move,” Derek whispered right in his ear.
His hot breath sent a shiver down Stiles’s spine that had
nothing to with the fact that they were being hunted. Derek was objectively
attractive, okay, and being held against him like this was not helping Stiles’s
longstanding crush in the least.
If you make a sound,
you’ll probably die, Stiles thought, and hoped the reminder of impending
doom would squash his libido.
Then again, he’d had a habit of getting fear boners since he
was fifteen, so why did he think that would help now?
The Thing circled their tree once more and then trundled off
deeper into the woods, its footsteps slowly fading. Even when he couldn’t hear
it anymore, Stiles still didn’t move.
Finally, Derek’s grip on him relaxed a fraction. “It’s
gone.”
Stiles nearly collapsed in relief. “Thank God.”
“Think you can get down without breaking your
neck?” Derek asked, his voice still
right at Stiles’s ear.
Stiles could ignore it. He would not make this weird. He patted
Derek’s arm. “I’ll be fine, big guy. Thanks for the save.”
He swore he could feel Derek smirking. “Any time.”
Derek let him go, and Stiles scrambled down the tree as fast
as he could without breaking anything. Derek jumped straight from the branch to
the ground like the show-off he was.
“Just couldn’t do it like us lousy humans, could
you?” Stiles said.
Derek frowned. “It was faster.” He looked back off
into the forest. “We should probably go report back to Scott and the others,
let them know what we found.”
Stiles followed his gaze. “Yeah. Another day, another
weird-ass thing hanging out in the preserve.”
“Well, at least we’re used to that by now,” Derek
said.
Stiles cleared his throat and nodded at the tree. His heart
was still pounding way too fast. “One of these days we’ll have a normal
night out. One that doesn’t involve getting trapped in a tree by a supernatural
creature.”
“You mean something like dinner and a movie
instead?” Derek asked.
“That would be nice,” Stiles said. “I would
also accept bowling and milkshakes. Or video games at the arcade.”
“Beacon Hills doesn’t have an arcade anymore.”
Stiles elbowed him in the side. “Don’t ruin my
dreams.”
Derek took his hand. “I can’t do anything about the arcade,”
he said, “but I can probably swing dinner and a movie, if you
wanted?”
Stiles stared at their hands, his heart racing. “Dude,
did you just ask me out on a date?”
“I’m trying to, yes.”
“Really?!”
“I’m starting to reconsider,” Derek said
flatly.
“No! I mean, yes!” Stiles rubbed his free hand
over his face. “I mean, don’t reconsider. I’d love to go on a date with
you. Like, yes please. So much yes. All of the yes.”
Derek smiled. Stiles stared at it; he could count on one
hand the number of times he’d seen Derek Hale actually smile.
“Okay,” Derek said. “Then…Friday night? It’s a date?”
Title: Heat Wave Rating: T Words: 2532 Summary: Four times Derek invaded Stiles’ apartment when his A/C broke in the middle of summer during a heat wave and the one time it ended a bit differently.
Here you go, sweetheart. I am so sorry it’s a day late and I hope you are feeling better. My door is always open to you if you need to talk. Also a big thank you to @crossroadswrite for being the most helpful of betas ever to beta.
Stiles thumps his
head on the desk for the fifth time in twenty minutes.
Go to the library, Scott had
said.
You’ll get so much done, he said. The
liar.
Allison and Kira are coming over and- and Stiles is officially moving Scott from his top bros list.
Being sexiled is one thing, but to be exiled? For platonic reasons? From his own apartment?
Where there is popcorn and a Dexter marathon waiting for him? Nope. Scott
is officially out. Not that Stiles actually has anyone else on his
bro list, but he could. One day. Starting now. Maybe.
Sighing a little more dramatically than is probably necessary – if
the dirty looks he gets in return are anything to go by – he looks around for
something to entertain him.
Vaguely, he is aware his anthropology notes are still sitting
there, vying for his attention in that kind of pick me, pick me! way in what he imagines Hermione Granger would
look like if she were a notebook and not a person. Well, fictional character,
unless you make an argument for Emma Watson, but that’s beside the point.
No, the point is he wants fun,a life, to go crazy,
and as much as he loves – he squints back at his notes – post-structuralism, it’s
just not going to cut it tonight.
Scanning the room, he looks at the different types of people.
It would be nice to make a new friend, he thinks – or so his dad
tells him – and what better way to make a friend than at the library? That’s a
type of friend, right? The “library friend”. They’re easy enough to make. That
person you always meet up with to go for coffee, crashing at their place,
helping each other study, making flash cards.
Stiles could see himself in that kind of friendship. He’d ace the
flash cards. Flash cards are his thing, his buddy, his pal. Maybe he
should put flash cards on his bro list.
“And maybe you should stop drinking so much caffeine,”
someone angrily comments behind him.
Spinning in his chair, Stiles opens his mouth, ready to argue –
because hello, rude – but promptly shuts it again because hello, wet dream.
Wet Dream is currently
scowling at him, making his glasses slip down the bridge of his nose. It’s
adorable and Stiles doesn’t know whether to ask for this guy’s hand in marriage
right here and now or buy him coffee first.
“Do you generally like to annoy people by talking out loud, or is
this just my lucky night?”
Not that Stiles expects a positive answer to either of those
questions, but a guy can dream. If Lydia Martin taught him one thing in high
school, it’s that a guy can certainly, most definitely, dream.
“Are you generally this sexy, or is this just my lucky
night?”
Author: @notthatiwilleverwriteit Art by: @benaya-trash Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Tags: Cute, fluffy, puppies Rating: G Words: 1,100+ Status: Complete AN: This is an older Sterek fic of mine that I’m now publishing again after some editing. Also, I commissioned @benaya-trash to do some cute art to go with the story, and it turned out awesome. Thank you!
No dogs or werewolves were harmed in the making of this fic.
”Stiles, for the last time,“ Derek growled, “we are not getting a dog.”
Where Stiles had gotten such an idiotic idea Derek didn’t know but he had been pestering Derek the whole week and it was starting to get on his nerves. Fortunately, Stiles still needed to go to school and Derek could have had at least a few hours of peace without persistent Stiles following him around. Unfortunately, they were now facing a weekend, and he had nowhere to escape.
Of course, Derek could always bite Stiles’ head off, but that would raise awkward questions like ‘why is your boyfriend running around with no head?’
“You have a pack of wolves around you, what do you need a dog for?” Derek tried to reason.
“I have a pack of werewolves around me. They aren’t exactly the same,” Stiles pouted. “They’re mean and ugly and frankly I think they wish to get rid of me half the time.”
“Nah, come on.”
Derek captured Stiles between his arms and tried to kiss him but Stiles turned his head away and he got a mouthful of his ear instead.
“Oh, you’re not going to kiss your way out of this, mister. Give me one good reason why we can’t get a dog. What’s one more canine?”
Derek groaned, and his mental-shoulders slumped. He had never been a charmer, but it had been worth the shot.
“Because I say so?”
“I believe I said a good reason.”
“Well, since you’re so hellbent on this, why don’t you give me a good reason? If you can come up with at least one that we both agree on, I promise, we will get a dog.”
Stiles pondered this for a moment, and then his mouth twisted into a knowing smirk revealing his dimples that like a siren lulled Derek into a false sense of ‘he’s so cute and harmless’. Derek gulped mentally; he really should have known better.
While not taking his eyes off Derek, Stiles climbed on his lap and straddled his hips. Thin arms sneaked behind Derek’s neck, and foreheads bumped gently together. His weight was heavy and warm on Derek’s lap, and his breath smelled sweet as it puffed against his skin.
“Because you love me and you’d give me the moon from the sky if it made me happy. But I’m only asking for a dog so consider yourself let off easy.”
***
The Golden Retriever they brought home couple weeks later was probably the fluffiest thing Derek had ever seen. Dangerously cute and innocent looking. On their first night after the happy family occasion, Derek was exhausted. His wolf-side had been on edge the whole day while the dog had rummaged through their apartment getting acquainted with his new surroundings.
Stiles sat on the living room floor and tried to hold a little wriggling ball of fur and extra skin in his hands. Eagerly the puppy was trying to sniff and lick every inch of him at once and wagged his stub of a tail so fast he could barely keep his balance. Stiles’ face beamed with absolute adoration.
What if it never sleeps, Derek’s tired brain asked horrified.
“What should we call him?”
“Dog,” Derek grunted from the couch.
“Ha. Funny. I was thinking – “
“His name will be Dog, or so help me. I’m still the damn alpha in this pack.”
“Oh, he’s such a big bad alpha,” Stiles baby-talked to the dog. The puppy had caught one of Stiles’ finger and was now gnawing on it happily with his baby teeth.
“Remind me why I agreed to this again?”
“Because you love me,” Stiles smiled sweetly. “And I’m pretty much the only person here who has no hidden agendas against you.”
“You extorted me to get a dog by telling me I didn’t love you if I refused. How’s that not a hidden agenda?”
“This, what we are doing here, is called compromising and it’s important in a relationship.”
“How are you compromising in here?”
Stiles turned to grin at him.
“Well duh, I let you name the dog.”
***
The persistent whining from the kitchen woke Stiles up. Well, it didn’t really wake him up as much as it was keeping him awake. For about a week now. All night, every night.
It was all Derek’s fault, really. Soon after Dog had settled in, Derek had become his new mom. The puppy followed him everywhere, even to the bathroom. The attraction was entirely one-sided though. Derek kept trying to push the noisy and enthusiastic puppy away and scowled at Stiles every time he failed miserably.
“He’s not going to sleep with us,” Derek had put his foot down the first night. “It’s our bedroom, it’s my bedroom.”
“But he’ll be lonely,” Stiles had tried to plead. “You’re a pack animal too, you should know!”
“The dog. Will sleep. In the kitchen.”
And that had been it. Even Stiles knew when not to push it.
It was nearly 3 am now and Dog had been crying pitifully non-stop; his high-pitched barks tore Stiles’ ears and heart, but he tried to stay strong. He wanted to show Derek he could be a pack leader, too. In Stiles’ mind, one didn’t necessarily need fangs and claws to get shit done. All you needed were a little patience and earplugs. He will not get up and –
The mattress shook when Derek shoved the blanket aside all of a sudden and crawled out of the bed while muttering a silent curse under his breath. He stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs. A moment later the whining in the kitchen stopped. Stiles enjoyed the quiet but was slightly worried had Derek finally gotten enough and silenced the puppy for good.
When he came back Stiles pretended to be asleep. The bed dipped when Derek laid back next to him.
“You can sleep here tonight,” Stiles heard him talking, “but – no, stop licking me, damn it.”
Derek’s sigh was long and suffering but was effectively muffled by happy puppy noises.
“Dog,” Derek said with a stern warning in his voice. “Settle down.”
After that it finally got quiet.
Stiles waited for Derek’s breathing to even out which didn’t take long. He must have been exhausted, too, and was fast asleep in minutes, snoring a little. Stiles peeked over his shoulder and couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
Derek was lying on his back, the blanket carelessly tossed over revealing his naked torso. His chest and belly rose rhythmically with his breathing. The tiny golden dog was sprawled possessively over the man’s sternum, his short paws sticking out in every direction and nose buried in the crook of Derek’s neck. Derek’s right hand shielded the puppy’s back protectively.
“My big bad wolves,” he mumbled before sleep long overdue took over.
Jim knows it’s not rational, but once he really cares about someone, his family, a girlfriend, a best friend, he can’t let them leave without them knowing he cares. A simple goodbye of “be safe” or, in the most serious cases, “I love you” is the last thing he says to them.
It’s only the extremely important people that he needs to hear it back from. Bones knows from experience that not hearing it back makes Jim almost crawl out of his skin. The night Winona lost cell reception before she could answer Bones spent nearly three hours trying to reassure Jim he would hear her say it again once the shuttle landed and nothing bad would happen.
Really it’s how Bones knew Jim was serious about him. One night Bones simply hummed softly into the back of Jim neck in reply to the quiet “I love you” as they drifted off to sleep together. Jim pressed back a little and repeated himself. “I love you, Bones. I love you.”
Bones smiled into Jim’s neck and whispered into his skin. “I love you, Jim. I love you. I love you.”
Derek fiddled with the fragile pair of glasses Stiles had unofficially borrowed from Deaton after Allison had borrowed them without permission from her father. They were, according to Allison, a magical artifact that was somehow supposed to help the wearer to see the truth. As this would more than likely reveal werewolves without any guesswork, it was understandable that none of them wanted such an artifact in the hands of hunters, even one that had agreed to a tentative truce.
So now they were here, hiding at a diner Derek normally wouldn’t be caught dead at, looking for answers. Stiles was flipping through pages of a book he had also questionably borrowed, reading about curses and enchantments, so that they could tell if the glasses were even safe to put on at all.
“Wow, it’s like really unhelpful,” Stiles said around his mouthful of curly fries. He laid the book down and spun it so Derek could read, even though he said it aloud anyway. “Enchantments aid the intended user, curses aid the original caster. For example, a truth enchantment would reveal the truth to the user, where as a truth curse would force the user to reveal the truth to the caster.”
“How do you tell the difference, if you didn’t cast the spell?” Derek asked, glancing down at the flowing script.
“Exactly,” Stiles said, like he won an argument, even though for once they were not arguing. “It doesn’t say. I guess someone’s just going to have to, like, put them on.”
“Are you volunteering?” Derek asked, raising a brow.
“To test unknown magic on myself?” Stiles returned, then scoffed. Derek could see him shifting to get ready to make a grab for the glasses, so he moved them enough Stiles had to reconsider. “Oh, come on.”
“And what if they’re cursed?” Derek said, reasonably.
“Then you ask me embarrassing questions until I take them off,” Stiles answered immediately. He had thought about this, clearly. “They can’t be that dangerous if Chris didn’t lock them up.”
Derek relented with a sigh, because he really did not think that the glasses were actually harmful. And they did need to know what exactly they did. Stiles snatched them up greedily, unfolding the delicate arms with a grace he seemed to reserve only for magic, and slipped them onto his face. Derek couldn’t help the stray though zipping through his mind, that Stiles really did look cute in glasses.
“Oh,” Stiles said, small and big, when he looked at Derek. He swallowed, looking like he could see ghosts currently, and Derek figured that meant they’d been right. It would reveal werewolves.
“You’ve seen me wolf out,” Derek told him, holding out a hand to take the glasses.
“You love me,” Stiles said, hushed, and Derek’s blood ran cold as he looked up to meet Stiles’ eyes.
Oh, no. No no no.
“What?” Derek said, mouth dry, mind tailspinning.
“You love me,” Stiles repeated, reverently, not looking away.
“Stiles, I…” Derek shook his head, not sure what he could even say. Of course he did. He had for a while, but he’d never intended to say a word. He’d never intended to ruin what they had going, like he had ruined so many other things.
Stiles snatched the glasses off his nose like they’d burned him, and if they hadn’t been sitting in a booth, he’d have knocked the chair and table over in his scramble to get to his feet. Derek pulled back a little when Stiles came at him with the glasses, but he froze when Stiles did, and then allowed Stiles to place the glasses on him, instead.
With a heavy whump, Stiles sat back down across from him, staring at him with wide, urgent eyes. Derek blinked once, twice, and then he suddenly understood how Stiles knew. He could see it there, plain as day, in the way Stiles looked at him. In the beat of his heart, in the catch of his breath, in the quirk of his smile. Nothing had really changed, Derek couldn’t see anything actually different about Stiles while looking through the glasses, but he knew.
Derek Hale runs a tattoo shop in the small town of Beacon Hills. He likes to keep to himself, but he’s good at what he does, which is how he finds himself befriending Stiles Stilinski. Stiles comes to Derek for his first tattoo when he turns 21, a floral pattern on his arm dedicated to his late mother. After that first one, Stiles keeps coming back for more.
Stiles finds he enjoys the artwork Derek adorns his body with, even letting Derek talk him into getting a triskelion on his chest, and if Derek has a matching one on his back, he keeps that information to himself.
The two become good friends over the next few years. Derek opens up about his family and the unfortunate fire that killed most of them. Stiles talks about his mother and how difficult it was to watch her waste away in front of him.
One afternoon, Stiles finds his grandmother’s old Polish books in the attic, books about ancient ruins and rituals. He doesn’t pay much mind to the words, but he finds a symbol he likes and thinking about getting a new tattoo in honor of his grandmother, Stiles stuffs the book in his messenger bag and heads out to see Derek.
Derek studies the symbol for a long time before he begins working on Stiles left bicep. When the tattoo is almost complete, Stiles’ vision begins to blur and he feels like he might faint, which is strange considering he’s never had a problem before. When his vision finally clears, he finds Derek’s worried face hovering over him, and when Derek reaches out to touch Stiles’ forehead, something like fire shoots through Stiles’ veins. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he felt it too.
When realization hits Stiles, he grabs the book from his bag and flips to the page with the symbol with trembling fingers, Derek hovers over his shoulder as they both read the words next to the symbol. “The symbol shows the wearer their soulmate”, the faded print reads.
Stiles turns to Derek with some trepidation, not knowing how the man will react. What he’s not expecting is for the tattoo artist to be smiling at him. “Well, shit,” Derek says, leaning closer to Stiles. “I didn’t need a symbol from a magic book to tell me that.”
Stiles grins with relief before Derek is kissing him. And later, in Derek’s bed, sated and happy, they aren’t at all surprised to find a matching tattoo on Derek’s hip.
shealwaysreads 