Okay, but can we all just take a moment to think about Stiles’ unhealthy worshipping of Derek’s ass? Like, it gets to the point he uses it as a pillow. He drools on it. Derek would find the whole thing utterly disgusting but Stiles is kind of adorable when he is all tuckered out and drooling- lord help in, he’s sickeningly in love and he hates it.
Alright, but here’s the thing. Here’s the fucking thing. Derek may or may not have led Stiles to believe he doesn’t like to bottom because he is super nervous, okay? He’s nervous because he watches as Stiles falls apart under him, blissed out and exposed, and he trusts Stiles to take care of him but he’s never given himself over like that to anyone. He’s spent so long making sure he doesn’t appear vulnerable to anyone and while in his darkest moments he always turns to Stiles, he’s still not good at letting himself be vulnerable.
And of course Stiles finds out, like he always does. Derek isn’t as stealthy as he thinks. It starts out with Stiles being a dork and nuzzling Derek’s ass because “it’s an ass for cuddling, Derek. You don’t understand.” And he nuzzles some more and then he play bites and Derek lets out the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard himself make, dick hardening far too quickly for his own liking. He wants to be happy in the knowledge Stiles doesn’t have werewolf senses to smell how turned on he is just from a little “nuzzling” but Stiles has always had more perception than any werewolf anyway and before he knows it, Derek is being turned on his back and Stiles’ eyes are sweeping over his face and…lower.
He’s not smug though, like Derek thinks he will be. And that makes something in Derek break because…well, he doesn’t really know. All he knows is Stiles is looking at him like Derek is Han Solo and Leia all wrapped up in one and he couldn’t want for anything more. He’s looking at Derek like he hung the moon and Derek just….he really isn’t aware of himself as he spreads his legs, asking, nervous, trembling slightly. Stiles asks, “are you sure?” and Derek nods, says, “please” and gives Stiles a look he hopes he’ll understand. The one that says I’m scared. The one that says I trust you. The one that says only you.
And Stiles understands. Of course he does. He always does. And he takes Derek apart. Slowly, surely, making sure to hold Derek when his body starts shaking, kissing him softly and often, praising him and telling Derek it’s okay to be clingy. That he’s here. And Derek wants to say it’s not okay, but then he would be a hypocrite. Because that is exactly what he tells Stiles all the time. That Derek loves how clingy Stiles is. Because Stiles has never been allowed to be clingy. He’s never been given back the love he always gives and Derek wants to spend the rest of his life making Stiles understand he loves him for everything he is, not just parts of him. That he loves his loud mouth and his curiosity and how much he rambles during sex and movies. Things Derek knows Stiles gets anxious about even though he doesn’t let on and Derek wants to murder all the people who ever made Stiles feel unworthy. Like second choice.
Which is why he knows he has to let Stiles do the same. That he has to try his hardest to listen when Stiles says he’ll never leave him. That Derek is kind and beautiful and nothing was his fault. That when he slides inside him it’s okay to let the tears come because Stiles is right there with him and won’t let him fall. And it’s so fucking beautiful that when Derek comes he doesn’t quite see stars, but he sees something. Peace, maybe. Happiness. Love. All the things he thought he’d never feel again, right there in front of him. Tangible. His.
Yes, imagine Stiles and Derek breaking up because of miscommunication.
They were trying to keep their relationship a secret just for a while because they wanted it only for themselves for a few months and to see if they worked out (which if course they did) so then be sure to announce it officially to everyone else.
And like- someone, probably Lydia asks Derek, because Lydia and Derek are totally friends okay, what’s the matter with him and Stiles spending so much time together lately and Derek is sort of freaking out because Stiles insisted to break out the news together yes or yes, so he tries to come up with a lie and totally sucks at it and says something like “I wished he would keep his distance but you know Stiles never respects my privacy” AND- LYDIA. IS. PISSED.
So she totally goes to Stiles and tells him to NEVER hang out with Derek because Derek is telling everyone that Stiles is clingy as fuck and that Derek totally wants to get rid of him and STILES. IS. FUCKING. HURT.
So he goes to the loft, blinded by rage and just yells at Derek, and Derek is confused and tries to ask him what’s wrong, and Stiles is so hurt because he is IN LOVE with Derek and he feels like crying but he holds on just to yell at him “WE’RE DONE!” and that he doesn’t want to see him again and leaves.
And Derek is so confused and sad because HE IS ALSO IN LOVE WITH STILES and he totally thought Stiles cared about him and Stiles just YELLED AT HIM and left, just like everyone else in his life.
So, you might imagine the angst from both sides.
And now, it’s been a month after this happened and they avoided each other at all costs, but because there’s always a villain or a new threat in Beacon Hills, they have to team up. So that gifset shows them both getting out of their cars, Stiles looking at Lydia, while Derek looks at Scott and pointing at each other as they say to their other friends “Are you seriously bringing him?”
And they have to team up, they know they have to put their differences aside and fight to keep everyone and the town alive, it’s their duty.
And picture this, they end up separated in groups and Derek and Stiles thrown together, maybe Lydia is tired of Stiles and Derek mopping around her so she just, forces them to talk and maybe she feels bad for creating a conflict between them.
And the first 5 minutes it’s pure silence, then the next 5 it’s Stiles making weird frustrated noises and then the next it’s Derek putting Stiles to a stop, his hand pressed against Stiles’ chest and, imagine the electricity sparking up between them as they touch for the first time in weeks.
And Derek is about to say something when the big baddie shows up and they have to drop everything they wanted to say to fight for their lives and the rest of the pack shows up too because the big baddie has people working for them so it’s a hell of a battle, but somehow all of them end up alive, a little bit injured, but alive.
And picture Stiles, checking how Lydia, Scott and everyone else is there catching their breath with joy in their faces because they won, thank god. But Derek is nowhere and his eyes start to burn because is Derek safe? Did Derek make it out alive? WHERE IS DEREK?
And then, a hand on his shoulder makes him jump and a few tears escape his eyes and he seriously gets dizzy from turning around so fast, but Derek is there. He has a cut on his shoulder and a bloody lip, but he’s already healing, and DEREK IS OKAY.
And then- “I am not clingy okay, and I do respect your privacy for god’s sake, why would you ever say that?” his mouth betrays him, but it’s been stuck there to come out from the tip of his tongue for over a month, and suddenly his hands end up betraying him too because they’re touching Derek everywhere just to have enough confirmation that he’s really okay.
“When did I ever say that?” Derek asks angrily, and yet still leaning into his touch, and the whole pack is watching, Lydia hovering a little closer to them, ready to interrupt at any chance.
“You told Lydia when she asked you about us!” and Lydia finally speaks up from behind Derek, just as he casts a glance at her direction.
“In my defense, I only asked about it because I thought you two were planning a surprise party for me, because turns out in about 35 minutes I turn 19, if any of you remembered by the way, and I just wanted to get Derek to spill everything about it to me” she admits, and if Derek’s hands weren’t too busy drawing circles into Stiles’ skin above his collarbones, he would totally be kicking himself in the face. “I didn’t know you two were actually spending time together because you two were dating.”
“Oh my god, Lydia. You got it all wrong” Derek exclaims and then turns to look at Stiles, “You got it all wrong, Stiles.”
“So you didn’t mean that I-” he’s cut off by Derek’s fingertips on his lips, shutting him.
“Of course not, I was just trying to throw her off the hook about us because you kept insisting we had tell everyone together and I didn’t want to let you down.”
Stiles pulls away just a little, to look at him with wide eyes, placing his hands over his mouth in disbelief. “I can’t believe it” he voices out, “I can’t believe we’ve been apart for over a month because we suck at communication.”
“Well, you told me to leave you alone” Derek contributes and Stiles goes to hit him on his arm, but Derek catches it in time and pulls him in, closing their distance in a soft kiss.
God knows how long they stay like that, hands interwined, lips almost knitted together as a set of grins matches both of their faces.
“I love you” Stiles confesses, his eyes never leaving Derek. “I will never leave you again, I’m so sorry.”
Derek lets slip a laugh, his eyes bright with adoration. “You better, because I love you too, and I’m sorry too. I should’ve made up a better excuse.”
“Uh”, a voice interrupts the moment and they both break eye contact to see a very confused Scott standing beside them.
And right, they’re not alone, and this is the first time the pack hears about their relationship, but they figure it will be okay.
They did told them, at least, together
Also, later that day, Lydia is totally surprised when she actually gets her surprise party, because they might suck at communication sometimes, but Stiles and Derek do not let down the people they love.
Spoiler: they do, because I can’t handle it otherwise. This is still deliciously painful though. *w*
It’s been two months since Derek last spoke to Stiles, almost three since he last saw him. He has no particular desire to ever see him again, but Derek still lives in Beacon Hills, and so does Stiles when he’s not at school, so he knows it’s only inevitable that they see each other around town. It doesn’t mean he has to like it, and he’s definitely not looking forward to it.
It just…hurts. He’d thought – and now he will never admit this to anyone, ever – Stiles was the one. And worse, he’d thought that Stiles thought that too, to the point where Derek had begun thinking about bringing up marriage. They’d said I love you to each other a thousand times; why would Stiles say that if he didn’t mean it? And why had Derek been stupid enough to believe him? Of all of his spectacularly failed romantic relationships, this one hurts the most because Stiles isn’t evil, he’s not a murderer, he knows right from wrong. He’s just an asshole, and Derek loved him with his entire being. What does that make him?
After Derek heard the voicemail, he reacted how he always did in times of great emotional stress; he completely shut down. He didn’t focus on the great, vast pit of misery in his chest – he just blocked it out completely. He didn’t answer any of Stiles’ texts and then, later, any of his calls, until they became so frequent that Derek blocked his number and then, for good measure, blocked him on the few social media accounts Stiles had goaded him into setting up. He half expected Stiles to show up at his door, but it’d been the middle of midterms and he knew that Stiles wouldn’t abandon his classes, even for him. Especially not for him.
In 1924, Stiles stumbles into one of the many speakeasies in New York, where he meets Cora, a glamorous jazz singer, and her brother Derek, a bootlegger.
5. “I’ll walk you home.” + highschool AU + hurt/comfort
Stiles categorizes the
people in the yard in his head: there are exactly two types; which is good
because two is a balanced number. He can look at a person and slot them into
either A or B without thinking twice about it. It’s like pulling the petals off
a daisy to tell if someone loves you or not – there’s always a definite answer:
yes or no. There is no in between. No anomaly. It’s comfortingly
predictable.
He sits on the sun warmed slab of stone in the corner of the yard and stares at
the people. The first category are the ones who are avoiding him like the
plague, who want to stare openly but are too afraid to do so, as if death is
something contagious. As if just by looking at the kid whose mother died, you
were putting you and your family at risk too. Stiles calls them the ‘Turn
Aways’ because that’s exactly what they do: they look at him with something
akin fear in their eyes until he looks back. Then they avert their gaze because
of course, eye contact can’t be made. It’s too dangerous.
But Stiles can deal
with this category, no problem. It’s the second one that’s more difficult.
They’re the ones who haven’t found out yet. They hover around the periphery of
his day usually and Stiles usually doesn’t even notice them but today, each
innocent smile and casual wave of the hand is like a sword in his gut, deep and
shifting with each breath. It’s not their fault. They don’t know about his mom
and they’re behaving in the manner they usually would but Stiles fingers still
curl around the edge of the stone slab and he still feels short of breath and angry.
Angry because they don’t know and they don’t care and when they do find out
they’ll probably be the ones who’ll come and sob and tell him how sorry they
are. He doesn’t want their pity.
He closes his eyes
briefly, bends his head so that all he can see are his red shoes and tries to
breathe. It’s funny how he has to put in an effort to do something that should
come naturally, that needs to come naturally. He exhales slowly and sits up
again.
There are no
sandwiches in his bag because there’s no one to put them there anymore. He’s
hungry but it’s just a dull feeling – something he can easily ignore if he
wants to. He stares at the popular bunch of girls with their pink nails and
perfect blonde hair and feels nothing. He takes in their high pitched laughter
and their whispers and catalogs it someplace he doesn’t know how to access at
the moment.
He thinks maybe he
should get up and go inside and sit in the classroom. It’ll be quieter there.
The only thing stopping him though, is that he knows that when he moves to get
up, he’ll instantly become the center of hundred and twenty seven people’s
attention, a single ripple in a big pond. It’s safer to keep sitting there,
motionless, inviting as little attention as possible and wait for the bell to
ring so that he can join the crowd of people going to their classes and blend
in.
Blending in. He’s
going to become a pro at it, he thinks as he shifts imperceptibly. The sun
feels warm on his head because of his new buzz cut. He categorizes six more
people: they fall three each into both categories. He’s tired because he
hasn’t slept in three days but it’s not really his fault because every time he
lies down on his bed, he’s wide awake, as if he’d had a million cups of coffee
all at once. His dad hasn’t noticed yet. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s a good
thing or a bad thing.
“Hey,” a
voice calls out from behind him. It’s a somewhat familiar, kind of nice voice.
It sounds friendly and only very mildly curious. Stiles turns, partly because
he can’t figure out which of the two categories the owner of the voice belongs
to.
“I’m in your
Spanish class.” It’s a boy. Stiles has seen him before. He thinks he sits
two desks down the row to his left. He’s never talked to him before though.
“I’m
Derek,” the boy introduces himself. He’s looking over the yard wall so
Stiles can only see his shoulders, arms and head. Stiles nods but doesn’t say
anything.
Derek looks at him
for a second before placing his palm flat on the yard wall and hoisting himself
up and over it. He lands on his feet next to the bench Stiles is sitting on
with a little ‘oof’ but straightens up almost immediately. Without another word
he drops down next to Stiles on the bench, hooking his thumbs into the straps
of his backpack and staring out at the people in the yard like Stiles is.
They sit in silence
for a long time. Stiles is a little irritated because he can’t slot Derek into
Type A or B but the bell rings before he can solve the puzzle. Derek gets up
with him and wordlessly they walk to Spanish class.
*
The next day he’s
back. He hoists himself over the wall again, showing a little skin where his
shirt rides up as he’s jumping. Stiles nods as he sits and they stare out at
the yard in a strangely comfortable silence.
*
On the fourth day
he takes off his backpack and sets it by his feet. Stiles stares straight
ahead. The people in the yard have all become Type As and he’s trying to catch
them looking curiously at him.
“I’ll trade
you a sandwich for your Spanish notes,” Derek suddenly says, holding out a
plastic wrapped sandwich. Stiles stares at the thin slice of pink meat and the
lettuce peeking out from between the bread. He can’t remember the last time he
had taken notes in Spanish.
“Go on, I’m
kinda desperate here,” Derek says. Slowly Stiles moves his hand and takes the
offered food. He unwraps it and holds it in his hand for a few seconds before
looking up at Derek.
“I don’t have
Spanish notes,” his voice is raspy and feels foreign in his throat. Derek
just shrugs. Stiles doesn’t know what that means exactly so he looks back at
the sandwich. The crusts have been cut off and the plastic wrap has been
carefully folded into neat little triangles in the corners. He imagines Derek’s
mom making it for him, slicing off the edges because that’s what her son likes,
wrapping it efficiently so that it doesn’t get squished in his bag. He swallows
and brings it up to his mouth to take a bite.
*
On the fifth day
Derek has two sandwiches.
On the eight day he
has a little pudding cup and two spoons. It’s chocolate pudding which is Stiles’
favourite.
On the tenth day he
finds Stiles’ locker and is leaning against it when Stiles arrives, surprised
to see Derek outside of the yard and Spanish class.
“Do you have
Math now?” Derek asks, tucking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack
again. He does that a lot. Stiles nods.
“Cool. I have
English and it’s right next to the Math class so I’ll come with you,” he
says. Stiles hands still for a moment as he’s taking out his math text book. He
nods again, puts the book in his bag and shuts his locker. They walk to class
together.
*
For some strange
reason, Derek sticks by his side for two weeks. Stiles wants to ask why, is
curious and confused because pretty much everyone else has left him alone.
(Except for Kira; she came and gave him a hug and then left without a word). He’s
almost on the verge of asking Derek one day (they still don’t talk a lot and
this would be the first time Stiles would initiate conversation) when he
overhears the principal’s secretary talk about a shooting at the station.
It feels like his
stomach drops.
His breathing
speeds up and his vision grows blurry and without thinking, he reaches out and
grasps Derek’s arm, trying to steady himself. Everything is slowly fading into
white noise and his hands feel shaky and he is so cold, so fucking cold but he
manages to walk over to the secretary and ask her for details.
At his side, Derek
has a palm flat over Stiles’ hand on his arm and is looking at him with wide
eyes. He doesn’t look like he wants to escape though.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,
Stiles. It’s a shooting in the station in the next town, not in Beacon Hills,”
she bites her lip and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, tapping her pencil
against the desk with her other hand.
Stiles stills and
feels like something huge has been lifted off his shoulders. He closes his eyes
briefly and swallows and tries to immediately tamp down the ‘what if’s because
he knows that they won’t help.
“Are you okay?” the
secretary asks. Stiles can’t speak or nod so she reaches out to pat his shoulder.
It doesn’t give him any comfort. “Your dad said to tell you he’s driving over
to investigate and help and that he’ll be back late,” she tells him gently. He finally finds it in him
to acknowledge her words and nods, taking a step back. Derek’s hand is still on
his and it feels strangely comforting.
“Hey,” Derek says
very quietly, almost in his ear as he pulls him into the little janitor’s
closet a little way down the hall. Stiles lets him.
“Was that a panic
attack?” The closet is small and they’re almost chest to chest, Derek’s hands
now anxiously fluttering over his forearms. Stiles leans into the touch and
closes his eyes, nodding. It’s dark in the closet and he can’t remember the
last time he hugged his dad. Or his mom. He wishes he could lean in and hug
Derek.
“Are you feeling
better now? Is there anything I can do?” Derek asks, voice concerned and
hesitant. Stiles shakes his head and lets his head fall a little so that it
almost touches Derek’s shoulder. He craves the touch so bad it’s an itch under
his skin but he also doesn’t want to be the one to ask.
Derek, though,
magically, somehow, understands. His hands shift from Stiles’ forearms to his
back, tucking themselves around his waist and drawing him in so that Stiles’
head is buried in the crook of his shoulder. Stiles almost wants to cry. His
breath hitches as he brings his hands up around Derek’s shoulders and turns his
face into the slant of Derek’s neck and tries not to cry as Derek’s hands rub
circles at the small of his back.
“I’ll walk you
home,” Derek whispers as the bell rings. Stiles nods into his shirt and feels
his heart return to it’s normal pace.
this is the hoodie that Stiles is wearing (x)! 😀 IF YOU LIKE MY ART, and would like me to draw more and more often ❤ PLEASE check it! you just lose a few seconds to see great clothes (and maybe find something you like) and surprisingly I will be financed by my art! which is amazing! THANKS! 😀 love you all!
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