doesitlooklikeiwantedtoknowthat:

raisesomehale:

ok but singer!derek and deaf!stiles where Derek sings to Stiles at night when they’re curled together in bed and Stiles lays his fingers against Derek’s throat to feel the vibrations from his voice

Derek gets back late. Stiles is still awake and sitting up in bed. When Derek spots him there, he hovers in the doorway and watches— the way Stiles is squinting down at the book resting on his thighs as his glasses slowly, slowly slip down his up-turned nose, and the way Stiles is biting the thick knuckle of his index finger in concentration. It’s something Derek doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to, coming home to share a bed with someone who he adores.

Light eyes glint like warm whiskey as Stiles glances over at the clock on the wall, and the younger man falters slightly as he spots Derek leaning against the jam of the door. Smiling coyly, Stiles pulls off his glasses and folds his book shut. Derek is at the side of the bed the second Stiles has set his things on the bedside table.

“Hi, baby.” Derek says— Stiles can’t hear him, but that keen gaze of his catches the words on his lips, and Stiles’ smile only grows.

Stiles signs rapidly at him, fingers moving faster than Derek can read the words in them, and he laughs and shakes his head as he signs back. ‘Slow down.’

Stiles blushes for a moment, and his voice is thick and not quite right when he speaks, but Derek thinks he sounds like perfection. ”Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” Derek tells him and Stiles is smiling again.

Long, deft fingers reach for him, and Stiles pushes Derek’s coat off of his shoulders and then ushers him into bed at his side. Derek leans in and presses the sweetest kiss to Stiles’ cheek. Stiles lets out a hum, those fingers curling into Derek’s shirt and pulling him close and under the sheets until their legs are perfectly tangled. Stiles doesn’t care that Derek still smells like sweat and beer from the bar he’d been performing at. Wrapping his arms around Stiles’ lithe form, he lets their foreheads rest together until Stiles jabs him in the shoulder.

Pulling back, Derek just raises a brow. Stiles signs something, and Derek smiles dopily. ”What do you want to ‘hear’?”

Stiles seems to consider that for a moment. Then, he signs again, and Derek’s expression softens. Nodding, he shifts until he can catch one of Stiles’ hands. Derek brings it up to his mouth, kissing the tip of each of Stiles’ fingers, and then he lays it against his throat.

He sings softly for Stiles, and admires the way the younger man’s lashes contrast so prettily with his skin as Stiles closes his eyes.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life,

you were only waiting for this moment to arise…”

It’s so beautiful

Sterek AU: Derek is a musician sharing the same space as Stiles’ art exhibition.

(Jamie’s damn fault)

“There’s something about you,” Stiles had said, the second time he’d heard Derek sing, once the applause had died down and he headed to the bar where the boy was already sat. There was paint under his fingernails, on the very tip of his ear. He was beautiful. Even as a complete stranger, he was captivating.

As a friend – Derek had no chance.

He fell in love with Stiles like a star collapsing in on itself. Inevitable. He could feel it when he stared in awe at his art, passionate and relentless. When they got drinks until four in the morning. When they spoke about the world, the human mind, body, soul, love.

He should’ve backed away. He should’ve stopped before he got too deep.

But Derek fell in love with Stiles the moment he saw him in the crowd, his bright eyes twinkling with understanding everyone else seemed to lack.

“I knew there was something about you,” Stiles whispered, the eight time they fall into Stiles’ bed, the room smelling slightly off and completely like Stiles.

Derek didn’t answer, pressing his face into Stiles’ neck as they moved together and treasured every exhale like it was precious. Stiles was precious to him.

♥ wonderwall

paintedrecs:

For the Sterek Valentines meme

“Stop him!” Stiles hissed, grabbing at the empty air his best friend had just vacated. He was half standing, half sprawling over Derek’s stupid, firm, immovable bulk. Ordinarily, he would’ve lingered to fully appreciate the experience of having so much of that warm body pressed against his, but his attention was – to the dismay of some far off corner of his brain that was always dedicated to Derek – too focused on the fact that his way out of the booth was obstructed. Sadly, friendship sometimes took precedence over the pangs of his loveless life, and this was – “an emergency,” he panted, elbowing Derek in the ribs as he tried to scramble over him.

Derek’s only response was to carefully shift his beer away from Stiles’s flailing limbs. He didn’t even grunt in discomfort, the bastard, and Stiles made sure to elbow him once more for good measure. At least that finally made him grasp Stiles by the arm, effectively freezing him in place, and raise an eyebrow in question.

From his other side, Boyd contributed in a slow, sedate, unhurried, goddamn infuriating tone, “Define emergency.”

“When someone yells fire in a crowded room, you don’t stop to ask them what kind,” he retorted, then shot a quick glance at Derek’s face. “Sorry,” he added, and Derek shrugged but let go of his arm, his fingers clenching in a quick spasm that he tried to hide by wrapping both hands back around the sweating beer bottle.

He would deal with that later, Stiles decided. Or – more likely, considering their track record – they’d both pretend it had never happened and that Derek didn’t still get weirdly sensitive about things Stiles sometimes said in the heat of the moment. Shit. He needed to focus.

“This is not a drill!” he said, barely keeping his voice at an acceptable volume for the crowded bar. “It’s Code Alpha…Tango…Delta…fuck, forget codes, he’s going to ruin everything, why aren’t you listening to me?”

“He’s just going to sing karaoke,” Erica said. “His voice can’t possibly be that bad. Or if it is, that’s part of the fun.”

Stiles exhaled sharply through his nose. “He’s really fucking drunk, which means he’s going to sing Wonderwall.” He looked pointedly around the table, but other than a slight furrow on Isaac’s forehead, everyone’s faces remained blank. “To Allison?“

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