Tag: otp

crossroadswrite:

okay but
you know that soulmate au that goes around where only mates can leave marks on
their werewolf partners?

and i was
sitting here very innocently thinking about that and then thinking about sterek
because that is what my life has become and i found myself thinking back to
season one, that clinic scene where stiles has to punch derek awake

now imagine
that derek, full of sadness and anger and loss derek, who has since given up on
the idea of mates or happiness or anything good, gets a bruise

more specifically
he gets hurt

stiles has
to wake him up and to do that he punches him in the face and he doesn’t do it
kindly, he does it like he means it, he does it like he’s desperate and
desperation sometimes is brute force

so derek
gets sucker punched in the face and it hurts and it aches but he doesn’t pay it
any mind, he thinks maybe it’s the leftover wolfsbane that isn’t letting his
body heal properly and doesn’t heal the ache just yet because there are more
pressing matters inside him that need healing

now imagine
derek hale standing in the bathroom of his falling house, staring at a cracked
mirror that by some miracle is still precariously hanging on the wall and
staring a little open mouthed as his cheek purples and bruises and doesn’t heal

so there he
is with nothing left except a bruise on his cheek like this is some cosmic joke
and here’s the punchline, like some stupid loud mouthed loyal pretty full of
frustation and anger kid being his mate is funny

well it
isn’t. it isn’t fucking funny and he’s not laughing.

because
here is derek hale so used to the thought of having nothing, and here is derek
hale suddenly having something precious, here is derek suddenly having the
promise of a relationship that could mean absolutely everything to him

here is
derek hale. standing in a soot and ash filled bathroom where everything he
touches crumbles, staring at a cracked mirror like it’s some metaphor for his
soul, and watching his reflection, a little foggy, but bruised contrasting
harshly against his sickly pale skin

here is
derek hale slowly touching the bruise high on his cheek and pressing the tips
of his fingers to it and knowing that this can be precious but this can destroy
him if the way it hurts is anything to go by

here is
derek hale trying to keep his balance on a tight rope and not sure if the fall
will kill him or if this means someone will catch him

but he
knows something. the moment he walks out of that door he knows he will do
everything in his power to keep this stupid fucking kid safe, he will lay down
his own life if he needs to because maybe this also means redemption. maybe all
he needs to do is look after this one person that is suddenly his
responsability because mates and his life is the saddest joke there is to tell
but he looks down and walks out that bathroom and he embraces it

he’s not
happy about it, he’s outright furious he wants to punch down the entire forest
for this but- but he doesn’t. he protects stiles and in turn stiles protects
him and it’s the weirdest feeling, being cared for again after everything but
it happens and he thinks it’s not so bad

he thinks
it’s not so bad until years and years later when the only bruises stiles ever
gives him are love bites and every time derek touches his fingers to it he
remembers all he has and all he’s lost and how it’s still not fair but he’s
okay with it

and here’s
derek hale, finally being content, and maybe even happy in his life

halesbane:

“He’s not perfect. You aren’t either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and if he admits to being human and making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. He isn’t going to quote poetry, he’s not thinking about you every moment, but he will give you a part of him that he knows you could break. Don’t hurt him, don’t change him, and don’t expect for more than he can give. Don’t analyze. Smile when he makes you happy, yell when he makes you mad, and miss him when he’s not there. Love hard when there is love to be had. Because perfect guys don’t exist, but there’s always one guy that is perfect for you.” — Bob Marley

crossroadswrite:

[XII] "Take my jacket. It's cold outside." + ballet dancer!stiles + ballet dance teacher for little kids!derek

Stiles
might have a problem.

Well, to be
fair Stiles has many problems: his dad’s cholesterol levels, student loans,
last month’s rent, Jackson Whittemore trying to trip him so he can get the solo
at the next production the tiny tiny
ballet company Stiles is a part of makes.

This
problem, comparatively isn’t a bad
problem, unless you count a bad case of blue balls a bad problem.

“Stilinski
if you’re not going to take that pirouette seriously then just don’t fucking
pirouette!” Coach yells at him. The man is half insane, and not even in the fun
eccentric way most dance instructors in movies are.

First of
all he demands to be called coach even though they don’t play any kind of sport
and then he likes to recite motivational speeches from random movies, his
favorites being the ones from Independence Day and Toy Story.

Stiles
doesn’t ask.

“Sorry
coach,” Stiles shouts and then focus on his pirouette and not on his problem.

Coach claps
loudly and laughs. “Now that’s how
you fucking pirouette.”

There’s a
light knock on the door and Problem pokes his head in.

“Sorry to
interrupt,” Derek Hale says as politely as he can manage, a four year old
peeking at the full room from between his legs. “But it’s my class’ turn to use
the room.”

Stiles
loses his balance and smacks against Allison.

“Give us
another twenty minutes Hale, it’s important work we’re doing here.”

Derek opens
the door all the way and crosses his arms over his chest. Stiles almost
whimpers at the way his shirt is stretching over his chest. Allison pats him
sympathetically on the shoulder.

“Because
inspiring young children into pursuing ballet isn’t important?”

Derek’s
tiny arm of tiny four to six year olds are all looking into the room now,
pressing against each other and chattering excitedly.

Coach eyes
them and looks about three seconds from vaulting out of the window.

“You made
your point. Just don’t let them touch me. I was bit by one once! I have
trauma!”

“I promise
nothing,” Derek deadpans and lets his class of four to six year olds into the
room, a couple of parents following.

Ladies and
gentleman, meet his problem: Derek Hale; wears stupidly snug sweaters; teaches
children ballet in the afternoon and old ladies how to salsa every other night;
doesn’t like coffee unless it doesn’t taste like coffee; has magical eyes that
frustrate Stiles to no end because what
color are they even; looks like he could bench press Stiles; has like
thirty cats because he keeps picking up strays off the street and a family big
enough to fill a small theater.

And worst
of all: blushes whenever he talks to
Stiles.

Allison
elbows him on the side. “Close your mouth and go say hi!”

Stiles
winces and considers picking up his bag and just making a run for it, but Derek
is adjusting one of the girls’ tutus and glancing shyly at him and he just
needs to-

“Hey Derek.”

Derek looks
wide eyed at him for a second, face freezing in something that looks a little
apathy and unfriendliness to anyone else. But Stiles knows him, he knows that’s just Derek’s default
I’m-too-embarrassed-for-words-ohgod-what-do-I-do face.

“Sorry we
took so long with the room, we didn’t mean to keep you from it.”

“That’s
fine. I don’t mind, really it was, um, it was nice to watch you. You might get
that solo.”

Stiles
beams at him. “You think?”

Derek grins
back, this tiny little thing that melts hearts. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Thanks,”
he says and wonders if it really would be that bad to just lean down and kiss
him over that four year olds head. The four year old that is patiently waiting
for Derek to let go of her tutu.

Stiles
suppresses a smile.

“I better
leave you to it. Young minds to mold and all that, right?”

Derek
frowns a little.

“Bye Derek,
see you around.”

“Bye.”

«»

Stiles is
hanging back a little, distracted by Derek correcting a little boy’s pose
gently, and pretending he’s not creeping on the other man through the glass
windows that cover one side of the classroom.

“Stiles
it’s cold and I forgot my sweater, do you still have an extra one?”

“Yeah,”
Stiles says because Derek just bent down to tie someone’s ballet shoes and he’s
distracted, okay.

Allison
kisses him swiftly on the cheek. “Thanks! I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

“Sure,” he
says and watches Derek’s smile light up his whole face as he speaks to the
class at large. He always smiles just before he sends everyone home, telling
them how proud he is and how awesome everyone did.

The class
starts filing out, little kids with puffy jackets and backpacks and it hits
Stiles that no he doesn’t have an
extra sweater because he spilled Monster all over himself the other day and had
to use the extra sweater to go home.

He just had
one sweater. And now he doesn’t- Now all he has is a really thin shirt and a
spandex clad ass.

Fantastic.

Stiles
groans loudly and kicks a little at his bag because it’s the closest thing to
his feet. The second closest would be a tiny child and that just won’t do.

He sighs
and decides to resign himself to his fate. He’ll die of hypothermia.

“Are you
heading out?” Derek asks, coming up to Stiles already bundled up in a tight
tight terribly tacky Christmas sweater and a warm looking jacket.

“Yeah,”
Stiles sighs, pouting at the chilly wind that he can see sweeping leaves across
the street outside.

“Like
that?” Derek says judgmentally and Stiles just turns to him with resigned eyes.

“Yeah,” he mutters again, shouldering his bag.

Derek frowns,
before stripping his jacket and holding it out for him. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Stiles
doesn’t even consider saying no, he doesn’t think he’d ever be polite enough
to. He just makes grabby hands at it which makes Derek huff a little breath of
laughter that does as much to warm him as the jacket carefully being slipped
into his arms.

“Thank you,
you’re my hero,” Stiles mumbles, tightening the fabric around himself and trying
not to completely melt at the strong scent of Derek that surrounds him. “I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

“Yeah,”
Derek says and blushes because he’s trying to kill Stiles. “Or we could stop for coffee and I could, um, walk you
home?”

Stiles tops
and blinks at him. “Like, a date?”

Derek does
something complicated with his eyebrows before saying a little shakily, “Yeah?”

Stiles
beams. “I’d love to.”

Derek
should not look as he surprised as he does. It’s not like Stiles hasn’t been
pining after him since the day he watched him let a young girl place a tiara on
his head and thank her profusely. And then spending
the rest of the class with the tiara on.

“Oh. Okay,
so- shall we go?”

Stiles
smiles and reaches out to tuck his cold, cold fingers in the crook of Derek’s
elbow.

“We shall.”

Ooh! If you’re still taking Teen Wolf prompts how about either Stiles/Derek or Stiles/Derek/Scott – must share a motel room with only one bed. The floor is disgusting and there’s no cots or couches.

inell:

This prompt totally inspired me. I hope you enjoy this, honey!

Sanctuary. Derek/Stiles. Adult.

The drive from Beacon Hills to San Francisco seems to be taking even longer than usual today. Derek is driving, so that means Stiles can’t fiddle with the radio or play anything off his phone to pass the time. There’s some station playing old rock that always seems to accompany movie soundtracks and television commercials. It reminds him of his mom, singing along to the music of her youth as she baked, twirling him around until he was a giggling dizzy mess with the faster tunes. The memories make him smile, and there’s only a little sadness thinking about the past. It does make him quieter, though, so Derek keeps looking at him and frowning.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going or just wait until we get there?” he finally asks after the fourteenth frown from Derek.

“I already told you. It’s a place where we should be able to get the information we need,” Derek says, as if that actually answered the question.

“That doesn’t tell me anything, you realize?” Stiles rolls his eyes when he notices Derek’s slight smile. “Of course you realize.”

Keep reading

I’m so about Derek being all mushy and emotional around Stiles and it’s literally so cute but when Stiles tries to tell everyone how much of a lovey dovey dork Derek is they don’t believe him and Derek thinks it’s hilarious because he is evil okay

pale-silver-comb:

Okay, but this is pretty much how I see canon canon Sterek, alright? Derek is an asshole. He’s snarky and grouchy and yeah, he can be super sweet. He cares about people. He listens to them and buys them ice cream when they are sad because that’s what Laura used to do for him. But ultimately he’s Derek-frowny-eyebrows-Hale. 

It’s just…he has a really mushy centre, okay? He’s like one of those sweets you bite into and suddenly there is just goo everywhere and it’s delightful. Derek never shows this side of himself to anyone, didn’t even know he still had that side to himself really. When he was younger he was romantic and Laura always teased him for being a secret dork who thought mixed tapes and flowers were everything. But then Kate happened and he grew up.

Then along came Stiles and Derek suddenly found himself wanting to do those things again. He wanted to hold Stiles’ hand and take him on picnics and talk to him about the stars and old folklore stories about star crossed lovers from different wolf packs. And when they get together, sure, Stiles teases him, but it’s always with a massive grin or followed by kissing and Stiles’ racing heart and spiked scent of happiness so, you know, Derek doesn’t let himself feel embarrassed about any of it. 

The thing is, no-one ever believes Stiles when he says Derek made him a mixed tape. Or when he “complains” about Derek when he wraps his arms around him in public and nuzzles his neck. Or even about the time Derek bought him flowers even though Stiles had only invited him over to watch Star Wars.

Derek finds it absolutely hilarious. That is until the day Scott asks Stiles how he manages to change his heart beat to stop it from stuttering every time he lies. Because Stiles’ face just…well, it doesn’t fall exactly. He laughs, makes a joke as always, but Derek can see the hurt behind his eyes. He can see the way Stiles closes in on himself just that little bit at Scott’s totally genuine expression. 

And then Derek remembers. Remembers that night Stiles called him years ago, sobbing, sounding beyond broken, just asking Derek over and over to believe him. “Please, just say you trust me. Say you trust me. Say you trust me. Please, Derek. I can’t- Scott- I can’t- Scott- he-” Derek would have come home that night, if Stiles hadn’t asked him to stay away. Although, if he had known just what had been going on he would have come back no matter how many times Stiles said no.

And so he just starts…showing it. During pack movie nights he kisses Stiles on the cheek and wraps him up in a big old fluffy blanket and scents him with a big stupid grin on his face. He feeds Stiles food from his plate and tells him how there’s a song he heard the other day that reminded him of them and says I love you every chance he gets. He calls Stiles mate and not as a friendly, British endearment, alright? It’s freeing really, and even though Derek saves most of that side of himself for when they are in private, showing a little of it is totally worth it for the look on Stiles’ face when the pack turn to him, one by one, and say “wow, sorry for doubting you”.