tw au: cora is tired of her brother and his human tip toeing around eachother
Tag: marriage proposal
Hot Potato
This is for everyone in the awesome Sterek writing group 4. And especially to @seanconneraille whose initial prompt: Potato, led to this ridiculousness. Seriously. There were tons of awesome prompts, but the heart wants what it wants. Also a special shout out to @artemis69 who said they should plant the potato.
I wrote this in about half an hour and it’s completely unbetaed. So all mistakes are mine. A cleaned up version is now on AO3They’ve been together about three years now, living together for one, and Stiles thinks they’re okay. He has a job as a freelance programmer, which involves a little bit of travelling, and a lot of working from home in his underpants, only putting a shirt on for skype calls. Derek is a history teacher at Beacon Hills High School, which should not be as hot as it is. Fortunately it turns out that Stiles finds 28yr old teacher!Derek with sweater vests and blazers with elbow patches even more attractive than the leather wearing Alpha!werewolf badass that first caught his eye in the preserve all those years ago.
The thing is, Derek doesn’t need to be a badass anymore, at least, not in the way he used to. The Nemeton has been dealt with, and the pack is flourishing, Beacon Hills is no longer a hell hole and so now he’s a badass in other, more subtle ways. He’s a badass gardner, who has lovingly nurtured a little plot of fruits and vegetables in their backyard. Then there are his badass knitting skills, (he made Stiles a kickass pair of mittens last winter) and don’t get Stiles started on the cooking, okay? No. Really. Don’t get him started. The cooking isn’t actually that great, Stiles does all the cooking, but Derek can mix a mean cocktail, which means their powers combined result in some truly awesome, if slightly blurry, mealtime memories.
Anyway, it isn’t often that Stiles is forced to work the weekend, but today the shit has hit the fan, and he doesn’t have any other choice. When Derek gets home on Friday evening, wearing the blue sweater vest that brings out his eyes and the charcoal blazer with the elbow patches, Stiles can only stare up at him from his desk tragically and mourn the loss of what could have been.
(This is a birthday present for the always-wonderful geeky-sova. Hope you had a wonderful one, bb! ❤ <3)
“Why is it raining?” Stiles whined, draping
himself over the back of the couch in their rented cabin. “This was
supposed to be a secluded romantic getaway with lots of outdoor sex, and
instead we’ve been trapped inside for three whole days.”On the couch, Derek just flipped to the next page of his
book and gave no indication that he’d even heard Stiles.Well, he couldn’t have that. Stiles flopped himself a little
closer to Derek and repeated, “Three days,
Derek. Daaaaays.”Derek snorted. “I heard you the first time.”
“Are you ignoring me?” Stiles pouted, hoping it
would make Derek look at him. “Has the magic already gone out of our
relationship? You’re more interested in books than in me, now?”Without raising his eyes from his book, Derek reached back
with one hand and ruffled Stiles’s hair. “I blew you in the shower this
morning. I think the magic is safe.”“Mmmm.” Stiles turned his face to nose at Derek’s
ear. “But what have you done for me lately?”In a flash, Stiles found himself yanked over the back of the
couch and pressed back-first into the cushions. Derek loomed over him, eyes
flashing blue and fangs poking out of his smirk, his hands pinning Stiles’s
wrists to the couch.Of course, Stiles’s dick took note of the flashing eyes and
the fangs and immediately went Playtime!“You,” Derek lowered his head to run his nose
along Stiles’s cheek, “are infuriating.”Stiles rocked his hips up into Derek’s and grinned.
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”Derek growled and nipped at his neck. “Fine, if you’re
going to be so annoying, I won’t show you your present.”Stiles perked up instantly. “Present? You got me a
present? What did you get me?”“Ah, ah, ah. You didn’t say the magic word.”
Stiles wiggled in an effort to get out of Derek’s grip; of
course, it was useless. “Derek. Come on.” He batted his eyelashes and
then tried to make the biggest puppy dog eyes he could. “Please?”“One day those aren’t going to work on me,” Derek
muttered.Stiles widened his eyes some more. “But they do now.”
Derek sat up and patted Stiles’s side. “Come on, get
up.”“Up?” Stiles scrambled to his feet. “Where are
we going? The bedroom?”Derek grinned and started walking out of the living room.
“Nope.”Stiles bounded after him. “Kitchen?”
“Nope.”
“Then where, Derek?”
i trust you
happy birthday to my beautiful and wonderful friend, savannah (@halesstiles)!! i’m sorry i’m a little late babe. hope you like this
synopsis; 5 times Stiles tells Derek he trusts him + 1 time Derek tells Stiles.
ONE
Derek grunted, pulling the succubus off of Stiles in a quick, precise motion, his claws sinking into the flesh. He flung his arm to the side, panting slightly at the surprising amount of effort that he required before swiftly pulling Stiles to his feet.
“Alright?” His breath came out unevenly. He tried not to stare as he took in Stiles’ form. His shirt was tattered, showing bruises where the succubus had gripped him harder than he thought. The bruises followed the curve up Stiles’ neck, new ones beginning to show up slowly but surely. Derek sucked in a sharp breath when he saw a bite at the edge of Stiles’ jaw.
Stiles furrowed his brow, glancing over Derek’s shoulder towards the rest of his packmates, taking care of the succubus. His body stiffened as Stiles moved to wrap his hands around himself, pushing his shoulder back, and breathing in deeply. His eyes flitted over to meet Derek’s as he muttered, “Barely.”
Derek nodded, “That was a close one.” He moved to put his hand behind Stiles, ready to lead him towards the Camaro, before stopping. Noticing Stiles’ shivering form, he removed his own shirt. He offered it to Stiles. His eyes flushed as their fingers brushed, Stiles’ face already forming a smirk at his response. He glared without any heat.
Once again, his hand found itself lingering behind Stiles’ back, ready to lead him to the Camaro, but faltering when he realized that Stiles might not want to be touched after something so violating like that. He swallowed a lump in his throat; he wanted to comfort Stiles—if only he knew how.
There was a small pressure against his hand until all that he could feel was the soft cotton of his own shirt. His fingers sunk into the material, only the soft cloth forming the barrier between them. Derek’s eyes snapped to meet Stiles’ brown ones, a confused whine sneaking out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
Stiles shook his head. He moved his hands up, one resting on Derek’s shoulder as the other caressed his cheek. “It’s alright.”
“I don’t—I mean—I don’t understand …” Derek stumbled over his words, distracted as Stiles rubbed his thumb on his shoulder.
Stiles smiled. “I trust you.”
And suddenly there were 400
Seriously though, it was like three days ago tops when I announced 300. I swear you’re just trying to squeeze celebratory fics out of me …
“You’re so fucking stubborn!” Stiles shouts in exasperation, running his hands through already messy hair. They had been at it for at least twenty minutes now, arguing because Derek didn’t want to go to Lydia’s engagement party. He didn’t want to, knowing Lydia would be inviting everyone and their mother who had anything to do with her and Parrish. It would be too many people, too much noise and he simply didn’t want to if she was going to hold a pack-only version the week after. Stiles said he should go out of duty as her Alpha.
“No, you just won’t let it go,” Derek growls, fists clenched in his lap so his claws don’t rip up the couch again. Although, last time, it was under much more fun circumstances.
It wasn’t uncommon for them to argue. It ranged from small skirmishes that end in mumbled apologies to bigger blow outs that ended in mutually satisfying hate sex that Stiles seemed to enjoy enough to start shit for (and Derek plays along because he loves his boyfriend and absolutely not because he likes it, too). The fights could rarely be called fights because it just was never really that heated.
Derek’s nose wanted to shrivel up and die with the anger Stiles’ scent was boiling in and his wolf howled with such an unhappy mate. Even as his human mind wanted to throw something at a wall with how angry he was, his wolf prowled in distress and he wasn’t sure if that was annoying or reassuring.
“News flash, buddy, you can’t be a hermit,” Stiles spits and Derek growl increases in volume in response. He may grumble about ‘big guy’ and snap his teeth as Stiles giggles about ‘sourwolf’, but he absolutely despised ‘buddy’. It only ever came out when Stiles was pissed and his sarcasm grew teeth that he intended to shred whoever his opponent was.
“I’m not a hermit, I go out. We go out,” Derek snaps back, eyes tracking as Stiles paces in front of where he sits on the couch. The line of his shoulders is stiff and the soft skin of his cheeks is blotched red.
“Yes, thank you, you’re dating me, but that doesn’t count as social interaction.”
“Why not?”
“Because! You need more people in your life besides me and the pack! You can’t have just me forever!” Stiles shouts, throwing his arms up obviously trying to dispel the anger that seems to build in his joints when he gets worked up. Derek just scoffs as he gets up and retreats to their kitchen.
He stops right there, even as Stiles continues his angry rant in the other room behind him. He pauses in the middle of their kitchen with the backsplash Stiles chose after weeks of debating it over and the cabinets Derek bled over while he installed them (staple guns were dangerous, damnit). Down the hall was a movie room that Stiles insisted on because pack movie nights were always going to be a thing. Upstairs and to the left was the master bedroom where their scents were so soaked into the very frame work, there was no way to tear apart Derek’s from Stiles’. This was their home, their pack, their life.
Derek turned around, eyes wide but unflinching as he walked back to where Stiles was still ranting and pacing. He’s still seething, and Derek can relate. He still wants to throw Stiles onto the couch and pin him there in full shift for a week until Lydia’s party has past. Instead he stops a few feet away and opens his mouth.
“Marry me.” Stiles stumbles where he’s wearing a divot into the carpet, dropping off mid-sentence to turn his head and stare open mouthed.
Stiles and Derek date for a few years before Derek turns 27. Derek starts getting baby crazy and thinking about starting a family, settling down, having kids.
He knows Stiles is a 21 year old man, but he still feels like a 21 year old kid sometimes and Derek thinks Stiles probably doesn’t even want that. Isn’t thinking about it yet. They don’t talk about it at all because Derek is too afraid of losing Stiles.
And then one night Stiles shows him a house he saw in the real estate listings. “I can see you in a house like this,” Stiles says, “it has a sun room, too. I’ve always wanted a sun room.”
It’s a large house, on a bigger plot of land set back into the preserve. Stiles isn’t wrong. It’s a nice house. “So, you could see me in a house like this or…you could see us in a house like this?” Derek asks.
“You–do you want us to have a house together?” Stiles asks. Derek shrugs. “We don’t live together now,” Stiles points out. Case in point them currently sitting on the Sheriff’s couch, a sitcom on in the background they aren’t watching.
“Maybe because we don’t have a house,” Derek suggests. Stiles smirks.
“Do you want me to move in with you?” Stiles asks, he slides his hand under Derek’s.
“What if I wanted more than that?” Derek asks. Derek can feel Stiles’ pulse quicken beneath his wrist, hear his heart pound.
“Like…my soul?” Stiles asks. Derek huffs a laugh, Stiles looks pleased. He always looks pleased when he makes Derek smile.
“Yeah,” Derek says, sincerely. “Sort of.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” Stiles asks.
“I wasn’t planning to, or anything, but, yeah I guess that I am.” Derek looks down at their hands, instead of at Stiles, uncertain. Stiles squeezes his hand.
“If…I say yes will you buy me that house?” Stiles asks, laughing as Derek pulls him against his chest, kisses him.
“Before you say anything,” Derek says, pulling back. He lets go of Stiles’ hand, and Stiles’ pulse spikes again. “Do you want kids?”
Stiles smiles, “I want, like, twelve. A whole pack of them!”
Derek feels his eyes sting, pulls Stiles against him again. He feels Stiles’ nose nuzzling at his shoulder and neck. “I want to be your baby daddy.”
Stiles says yes, obviously. Derek buys the house.
Sterek derek or stiles proposing marriage
“Fuck, marry me,” Stiles groans, breathless and coiled so tight he’s sure he’d snap in half if it wasn’t for the heat and friction of Derek underneath him keeping him in one piece.
And normally Stiles would think that it’d be the other way around – that it would be the weight of Derek on top of him grounding him to earth, to their bed – the one they’d picked out together at Ikea after Derek had ruined the headboard for their first one.
But instead it’s Stiles pressing Derek down, and it’s Derek who pulls his head away from where he’d pressed it against his arm, biting the skin there to keep from moaning openly, to stare at Stiles with wide, surprised eyes.
“What?” He asks, breathless just like Stiles feels. And Stiles comes to a stop, lifting himself up to look down at Derek.
“Huh?” He says, mind still lost somewhere back between getting Derek’s clothes off and tangling their hands together against the mattress as he pushed inside.
“You said -” Derek swallows, wide-eyed, and in a rush it comes back to Stiles, how he hadn’t been bothered to bite down on his tongue as he blurted the first thing that came to mind in the moment.
“Right,” Stiles says, and swallows himself. “Yeah,” but he doesn’t regret saying it. In fact, it feels almost like relief to have it out there in the open after all this time. After getting used to waking up pressed against Derek on rainy Sundays where they don’t have to get up all day. After finding it to be second nature to joke and laugh and press up against Derek’s back as he cooks one of his families old recipes.
“Yeah,” Stiles repeats, and tries to put as much purchase and sincerity behind the one word.
“Are you serious?” Derek asks, now getting up to lean on his elbows.
It’s ridiculous, because Stiles never feels vulnerable with Derek in bed – not since the first time Derek pressed him down onto the comforter in his old room – but here they are, putting on serious business faces and discussing something monumental while Stiles is still inside Derek.
He’d probably laugh if he wasn’t worried he’d cry instead, because he wants this. He wants lazy morning blow jobs and sloppy kisses as they exchange hand jobs after a long day. He wants stupid fights over leaving laundry hanging over the door and Derek barking at Stiles to put the cap back on the toothpaste, dammit.
He wants morning coffee and toast with avocado because Derek is a weirdo and combines food Stiles would never have thought of but ends up loving.
He loves avocado on toast and he loves Derek.
“As serious as I can be while mid-fuck,” Stiles manages, and they both glance down at where they’re connected.
Derek hums at the sight, then looks back up at Stiles, “We’ve never… talked about this.”
“We don’t have to,” Stiles is quick to say, “Not right now, at least.”
Derek nods solemnly, “Yeah,” he agrees. But suddenly all Stiles wants to do is talk about this, make plans for their future together, if Derek wants one with him, that is.
“Yes,” Derek says after a beat of silence, voice filled with more finality than it had before.
Stiles’ gaze snaps up to Derek’s, and he feels just as exhilarated and scared as Derek looks.
“Yeah?” Stiles asks, smile spreading his lips wide. “You mean it?”
Derek rolls his eyes, cheeks flushed red, and nods.
Stiles laughs and presses Derek back down into the mattress, “You can’t change your mind,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips, “No take backsies, you know the rules.”
And Derek snorts, brushing his thumb over the apple of Stiles’ cheek, “You’re ridiculous.”
“Hey,” Stiles says, smiling purely for the fact that he doesn’t feel like he could stop even if he tried, “You’re the one who just agreed to marry me.”
“Yeah,” Derek says, thumbing Stiles’ bottom lip, “I did.“
Stiles is still smiling when he presses his lips against Derek’s mouth.
I Found A Love
Fic based on the last quote from this article. I thought it was super adorable and was inspired to Sterek it. It has dangerous levels of fluff, you have been warned.
Before Derek can even reach the door to their apartment, he can smell Stiles cooking. In fact, the elevator is only halfway to their floor but he begins to strip off his heavy outer layers anyway, knowing that Stiles would prefer if he left most, if not all of the dust and wood shavings on his clothes outside their actual home.
The lift buzzes to let him know they’ve finally reached the correct floor and he tiredly begins to drag himself and all of his stuff out into the hallway, a small trail of detritus falling from him with each step. He can’t help but smile as the smell gets stronger the closer he gets, all herbs, garlic, and tomato sauce which can mean any number of things but he hopes is pizza.
“Stiles?” he calls out, unlocking the door and setting his keys down on the entry table and slipping his boots off one foot at a time. It’s probably futile, he can hear the soft notes of Etta James floating out of the kitchen and Stiles quietly singing along under his breath, but he’s always promised to try anyway. It was Claudia who taught him you can never cook unless you have the proper music and it’s secretly one of Derek’s favorite sights to come home to, Stiles in his element as he candidly dances from one appliance to the next, comfortable enough to not need to hear if anyone’s actually coming in the door.
So, quietly as he can, he sneaks his way into the room, spotting a bowl of what must be the leftover sauce hanging out on the counter and forming a plan. He’s got a finger halfway dipped into the dish before he’s leaping back, as fast as he arrived, the wooden spoon that smacked his hand now being threateningly waved in his face.
shealwaysreads 