Saturday night means three things. Chinese. Film. Sex.
It’s halfway through the chow mein that Draco realises this routine has been his life for at least five months, and never once has he stopped to consider what that might mean.
He looks around the living room of Grimmauld Place, noodles suspended halfway to his mouth.
His jumper hangs over the armchair—the one he left three weeks ago and never bothered to take home.
There’s the half-read book on the coffee table. He’d brought it over one evening when Harry said he might be late back from the Weasleys. Draco had assumed he would need something to pass the time.
He hadn’t.
His slippers sit abandoned by the fireplace. He doesn’t even wear them. Doesn’t need to.
Because he does the same thing every Saturday. He sits at the end of the sofa, presses his cold feet into Harry’s thighs, and eats. And when dinner is finished, Harry pulls his feet into his lap without thinking and rubs them warm.
Without asking.
Draco swallows.
“When did we get so domestic?”
Harry, mid-spring roll and only half paying attention to the film, shrugs. “Dunno. Why?”
Then, because only the line of thought makes sense to him, Draco asks, “Are you my boyfriend?”
Harry nearly chokes.
He sets his plate down. Pauses the film. Turns slowly.
“Really?”
“What?” Draco demands, his voice pitching higher. “I think it’s a fair question.”
They’ve never actually discussed what this is. Not properly.
Neville and Pansy’s wedding. Too much booze. A tumble into a bed that somehow neither of them has metaphorically left.
“It’s a stupid question,” Harry says. “Of course I’m your boyfriend.”
Draco blinks.
Harry scoffs, picking up a spring roll. “You’ve got a drawer in my bedroom. A toothbrush in my bathroom. You reorganised my chocolate frog card collection.”
“They were a mess.”
“Fair question, my arse,” Harry mutters, taking a bite.
Draco tries to suppress his smile. Fails.
Because Harry’s cheeks are pink. Because there’s a shy curl to his mouth, suggesting that this matters more than he’s pretending. Because he grabs Draco’s foot with his free hand and hoists it into his lap, as if it belongs there.
Because Harry Potter is his boyfriend.
Because apparently, that’s been true for quite some time.
tagged by @ahhhnorealnamesallowed!! thank you!! low pressure tagging @seaweed-water, @itsnotillegal (because i know you have several wips hehe), @prettygeekycrafty and @queer-stilinski and also anyone else who wants to play!
this is from my upcoming fic called 'sleepy' (working title was 'eepy') about derek stressing about stiles leaving for college. derek can't sleep without stiles, and it's weighing on him. have some angst!
Sometimes Derek can't take it anymore. Stiles hasn't slept over in too many days, and the weight in Derek's chest is growing heavier and heavier the sooner it gets to the seasons changing, the end of summer lingering just around the corner. When Stiles will be leaving.
It's been four nights now, Derek thinks, of a couple hours of dozing here and there, and there's only so much a werewolf can take. He'd sleep in Stiles' room with him in a heartbeat, but the sheriff would disapprove, and Derek is trying to get on his good side since he'll be spending so much time with him for the next year. So he saves the sneaking-in for special occasions, and a pissed-off, sleep-deprived werewolf days before a full moon is what Derek would consider a special occasion.
He climbs into Stiles' window silently and gracefully, and stands there like a creep watching his mate sleep with his eyes closed, long lashes fanning out over his cheeks, his mouth partway open and his arms clutched around his pillow.
Derek toes off his shoes, slips off his jacket, and climbs onto the bed behind Stiles. He shuffles under the covers, keeping an ear out for the sheriff's even breathing in the next room, and wraps an arm around Stiles' waist. Now he feels alright, feels like everything's okay for the first time in too long, as he presses his face to the crook of Stiles' neck and breathes him in.
"Mm, Der?" Stiles mumbles, still mostly asleep.
"Shh," Derek soothes in a whisper.
"Missed you," Stiles breathes, like they hadn't just seen each other a few hours earlier.
"You too," Derek admits, feeling like the words don't even capture the extent of his feelings. It's like he's missing a future version of Stiles despite the fact that he's still holding him right here in his arms. The version of Stiles that's going to go a long ways away, too many hours south, apart from Derek. It's wrong; Derek knows by the dread in his chest and the ache in his stomach. But Stiles is still here for now, so Derek clings on, and tries to fall asleep, though it takes until the early hours of the morning.
Stiles' breathing in his ears is like white noise, like the ocean waves, and Derek soaks it in like a meditation, committing it to memory as if it's the last time he'll hear it.
i had the thought "what if derek was a swan and stiles was a goose and they fell in love" and i am losing it over this and having a giggle fit just imagine. derek is so graceful and stiles is a mess with sharp teeth and honking noises and they love each other but are mean to everyone else sorry that's just how it is in sterek bird land
“No, I can’t! He’s out there, in love with someone else, not knowing how I feel.”
“He knows—”
“He can’t know! I’ve been in love with him since I was eleven and all he does is hate me!”
“Draco, lo—”
“Todays his birthday. It’s the best time to tell Harry I love him. Maybe it’ll drag him away from that man he’s been obsessed with. Birthdays always make one more open and receptive. What do you think, Blaise, I should tell him I love him, right? And whisk him away forever.”
Draco was drug to a stop and turned to face Blaise — Blaise who had undoubtedly morphed into Harry fucking Potter.
“Oh, um, fancy meeting you here.”
Harry laughed and Draco, emboldened by the besotted look tried his (very inebriated) luck. “Harry, you need to break up with your boyfriend and run away with me.”
There, that would do.
“Draco,” Harry’s tone was soft, loving, “I cannot break up with my boyfriend. I’m madly in love with him, you see, and he’s a rather jealous git. But, I can ask him to marry me.”
“No!” How could Harry do this to him? How could he dismiss Draco’s love so easily. “We’re meant to be together!”
Harry knelt to the ground, holding out a ring. “And if you say yes, we’ll be together for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh.” Draco stayed oddly silent as Harry waited for his daft, overly jealous of himself boyfriend, to answer the question. “I always knew you were obsessed with me, Potter. If we must.”
He extended a pale, slender hand and Harry, grinning like a loon, slid the silver ring onto his finger.
Okay so we don’t know much about stiles’ extended family so how about if he has some family that lives across the country or something so he rarely sees them except for like holidays. I would absolutely love to see him have a cousin who doesn’t believe the pack are really his friends because the cousin sees stiles as annoying and awkward or something like that so they are surprised by how often the pack comes to his defense against their snide remarks. Even better if it’s Sterek and that’s what the pack keeps defending.
Ello babe! I'm using And then there was you for family but I loved this idea so I write this anyway! 💜💜💜
••••••
Stiles hadn’t seen his cousin Max in three years. That had been during the worst Christmas on record, the one where he spilled hot cocoa on the rug, knocked over the tree trying to catch a spider, and got accused of "attention seeking antics" by his aunt. Good times.
So when Max texted, “In town next week, can I crash at yours?”, Stiles had hesitated. He even drafted a polite nah bro, staying with a werewolf alpha and things get growly during the full moon response.
But then his dad sent a guilt trip emoji barrage.
So now Max was here. Standing in Stiles’ kitchen. Looking around like the place smelled weird.
“This is where you live?” Max asked, wrinkling his nose.
Stiles nodded, sipping his coffee. “Yep. The one and only. Home of sarcasm, a deep seated sense of responsibility, and several weapons I definitely don’t own legally.”
Max snorted. “Still trying too hard, huh?”
Stiles smiled tightly. “Still pretending to be cool?”
~~~~
It only took two hours for Max to start in with the jabs. First it was about Stiles’ hair (“Still can’t figure out a part, huh?”), then his shirt (“You actually paid for that?”), and finally his social life.
“So,” Max said, leaning on the counter. “You still doing that weird wolf pack LARP thing? You used to text about it all the time. Thought you were kidding.”
Stiles set his coffee down. “They’re my friends, Max.”
“Sure, sure,” Max said. “But like, actual friends? Or just people who tolerate you because you won’t shut up?”
That one hit deep. But Stiles just raised his eyebrows. “You’ll meet them. You’ll see.”
Max tagged along with him to Derek’s loft the next night for movie night.
Peter opened the door. “You brought a guest,” he said, looking Max up and down like he was already unimpressed. “And here I thought we were having a peaceful evening.”
Stiles grinned. “Play nice, Peter.”
Inside, the loft was buzzing. Lydia and Kira were on the couch, passing popcorn. Boyd and Jackson were arguing about whether John Wick was overrated (Boyd is right, it's not overrated). Isaac and Cora were trying to teach each other how to juggle knives. Derek was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, frowning into a saucepan like it had personally offended him.
Max trailed behind Stiles, staring. “Wait, these are your friends?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said, too sweet. “Crazy, right? They’re all fully aware I exist. Wild.”
Max didn’t stop. He made comments under his breath during the movie.
“Do they actually like you or are you just comic relief?”
“I didn’t realize you meant hot people when you said pack. How did you get into this group?”
“Let me guess…you tripped and fell into their lives?”
Each time, Stiles gave a tight lipped smile and said nothing. But the pack noticed.
After the fourth comment, Derek paused the movie and turned around. “You got something to say?”
Max blinked. “Me? No. Just… surprised. Didn’t think this many people would voluntarily hang out with Stiles.”
Silence.
Peter leaned forward with a dangerous smile. “Do you say things like that often, or are we just lucky?"
Cora raised an eyebrow. “Wow. And I thought I was rude.”
Lydia didn’t even look up from her phone. “It’s giving 'jealous cousin energy.' Very 2004 of you.”
Kira shook her head. “We love Stiles. He’s one of us.”
“More than that,” Isaac said. “He’s ours. You don’t get to come here and talk down to him.”
Max laughed, a little forced. “Okay, okay, I didn’t realize you were all so sensitive.”
“Not sensitive,” Boyd said, his voice calm but firm. “Loyal.”
Derek stood up, crossed the room in three long strides, and stopped beside Stiles.
“You think you know him,” Derek said quietly. “But you don’t. Not anymore.”
Max shifted uncomfortably. “He’s still the same loud, twitchy, annoying guy I grew up with.”
“Maybe,” Derek said, glancing at Stiles. “But he’s also the reason half of us are still alive. He’s smart, brave, and he gives a shit about people - even when they don’t deserve it. And most importantly…hes mine.”
Max looked like he wanted to argue. But no one gave him the chance.
Peter hummed. “I was going to let you leave with your ego intact, but I think we’ve all changed our minds.”
Jackson nodded. “Get out.”
~~~~
Later, after Max had awkwardly gathered his things and left to stay in a motel, Stiles sat on the couch, a little stunned.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.
“Yes, we did,” Derek said, sitting next to him. “He needed to hear it.”
Stiles looked at him. “You really meant all that?”
Derek met his eyes. “Every word.”
Stiles swallowed. “You said I’m yours.”
“I meant that, too.”
A long beat passed. And then Stiles leaned in and kissed him, slow and soft.
The loft went quiet.
And then Peter groaned. “Ugh. If I’d known it would lead to public affection, I’d have let the cousin stay.”
STEREKS!!!! Remember how we all found out that the amazing fic Loving Isaac was deleted? (the one where Isaac gets de-aged and sterek raise him and get together in the process and decide to leave Isaac as a baby bc Isaac wanted a happy childhood) WELL, DO NOT FRET, COMRADES! IT'S COMING BACK!
Stiles’ brain when Derek is taking his virginity: oh my god. Oh my god. It’s happening! Ladies and gentlemen—the moment you’ve aaall been waiting for. It’s ya boy Stiles finally gettin’ some luuuhv~ You thought the day would never come but look at him now. Look. At. Him. Now. Oh and look at who I’m doing it with. Oh my god. Derek freaking Hale. Oh my—is this real? Am I dreaming? NnGGGHHH no it’s real all right ahHh
Derek’s brain: I am everything that’s wrong with the world
"Potter," Draco snapped from the bedroom, his voice carrying that particular edge that meant Harry had approximately thirty seconds to comply or face theatrical suffering.
Harry appeared in the doorway, still holding his wand from where he'd been repairing the kitchen cabinet. "Yes, darling?"
Draco was propped against approximately seven pillows, his swollen belly rising like a moon under his silk pajamas, his lower lip already jutting out in preparation. "I need ice cream. But not that awful Muggle kind from the fridge. I want the one from Fortescue's. The lavender-honey with the crystallized violets. And I need it now, Harry, the baby is very specific about wanting it now."
"Yes, love," Harry said immediately, already reaching for his cloak. "Lavender-honey with crystallized violets. Anything else?"
"Pickles," Draco said, counting on his fingers. "The spicy ones from that shop in Diagon. And…" he paused, his silver eyes narrowing as if receiving divine instruction from his own stomach, "A new pillow. This one has gone flat. I can feel it mocking me."
"Yes, sweetheart," Harry said, leaning in to kiss Draco's forehead, then his nose, then the bump of their child beneath Draco's hand. "Fortescue's, spicy pickles, and a pillow that knows its place. Back in twenty minutes."
"Fifteen," Draco corrected, already closing his eyes. "The baby says fifteen."
"Fifteen," Harry agreed, and Apparated.
He returned in twelve minutes, slightly breathless, with the ice cream charmed against melting, the pickles in a jar that clinked against his buttons as he climbed the stairs, and a goose-down pillow that had cost more than his first broomstick but was, according to the saleswitch, "guaranteed to cradle a prince."
Draco sat up when he entered, his face softening at the sight of Harry's windblown hair and the ice cream already being scooped into a crystal bowl. "You ran," he observed.
"For you? Always," Harry said, settling onto the edge of the bed and holding out the first spoonful.
Draco accepted it, humming happily, and Harry felt his heart do that dangerous, foolish thing it had been doing since the war ended and he'd realized that Draco Malfoy's sharp edges were actually just armor, and that underneath, he was soft as treacle and twice as sticky.
"More," Draco commanded, but his hand had found Harry's knee, thumb rubbing in small circles.
"Yes, darling."
"The pickles, now. Together. The baby wants both."
"Yes, love."
They ate in silence, Harry feeding him spoonfuls of ice cream alternating with pickle slices, watching Draco's lashes flutter with each bizarre combination. When the bowl was empty, Draco let Harry arrange the new pillow behind him, then caught Harry's wrist before he could stand.
"Stay," Draco said, quieter now. "You've been fixing things all day. The cabinet, the garden, the nursery shelves. You haven't sat down since breakfast."
Harry smiled, easy and warm. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I like taking care of you."
"I know," Draco said, and his voice had lost its demanding edge, replaced by something tender and fierce. "Which is why I'm ordering you—" he tugged Harry down, "—to lie here. With me. Immediately."
Harry let himself be pulled, let Draco arrange them on their sides facing each other, Draco's belly pressed between them. Draco's fingers found the tension at Harry's neck and shoulders, kneading with surprising skill, and Harry melted into the mattress with a groan he hadn't meant to let out.
"Better?" Draco asked, his thumb tracing Harry's jaw.
"Yeah," Harry breathed, opening his eyes to find Draco watching him with that look, the one that said I love you.
"Good," Draco whispered, and leaned in, closing the distance. His lips were cold from the ice cream, sweet with lavender, and Harry kissed him breathless.
When they pulled apart, Draco's hand rested on Harry's chest, over his heart, “Harry.”
"Yes, love?" Harry asked, smiling.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
Harry kissed him again, soft and sure, and whispered against his mouth: "Anything for you, my love, my darling, my sweetheart."
Currently just this is written, no idea where it's going.
Sterek, Derek is a gym bro
“Excuse me.”
Derek felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a young man, an inch or two shorter than himself, with honey-brown eyes and a buzz cut. Derek noticed a tiny mole sitting near the left side of his mouth; it looked just high enough to be swallowed by a dimple if the young man were to smile.
He started talking before Derek could form a greeting.
“I have a small favor to ask. It'll take ten seconds. I'm going to ask you out, and I need you to reject me in no uncertain terms."
Derek furrowed his brow and drew a blank for a moment. Did he just hear what he think he heard? He opened his mouth to speak, but the young man barrelled on.
“Okay, here it goes. Totally gonna ask you out now.” He took a breath and shook out his hands, then looked up with a saccharine smile. “Hey there handsome, are you from Tennessee? ‘Cause you're the only ten I see."
“Uhhh…"
“How about we get out of here and get to know each other a little better over a few drinks?"
Derek stared for a moment, watching the man's unfaltering plastered smile. This was not what he was expecting during his morning workout. “It's 8am."
He rolled his eyes. “Dude, I know. I'm trying to make this easy for you, so get on with it."
“Get on with what?"
“Oh, that's good, you're a bad listener. That helps, actually. I need you to reject me now. Please."
“Why?"
“Doesn't matter. Come on, let's do this."
“I'm free Saturday."
The young man paused, frozen in confusion. A light blush crept up his neck. It took a few seconds before he responded.
“What?"
“If you want to grab that—"
“No! No no no no no,” He started furiously shaking his head. “I mean obviously yes, but absolutely not. Did you hear a word I said?"
Derek shrugged. “Yes, but maybe I don't want to reject you."
The light blush darkened, and moved to his cheeks..
“You cannot possibly be interested in someone who used that pickup line."
“I thought it was funny." Derek smirked at him.
“I'm clearly a weirdo! Unhinged! Bad news! My dad is a cop, so I'll do a background check on you if you tell me your name!"
“Derek Hale."
“That's not---what is wrong with you? Do you have any self preservation skills at all? And you're supposed to be straight!"
“I'm supposed to be straight?"
“Yes! I mean look at you!"
He gestured to Derek, looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his crotch for a fraction of a second longer than expected.
“Okay, let's try this again,” sighs the young man. “Hello. I'm new to this gym, and I find myself quickly developing an unhealthy obsession with the thickness of your thighs. It would greatly help my sanity if you would firmly reject me, so I don't begin making a ten-year plan for our non-existent relationship. Can you please tell me that you are not interested in dating me?"
“Hmmm. No."
“You're fucking with me,” the man scowls.
Derek lets his smirk grow into a smile, then lifted his forearm to rest on the wall to his right. He leaned forward and drops his voice---a signature move with a very high success rate.
“So, Saturday?"
“Okay, I see what this is. You're a fuckboy, aren't you? I mean, I already assumed so, but you're, like, next level."
Derek straightens slightly. “I'm not—"
“You see me, an easy lay, and think, why not have a little fun?"
“Hold on—"
“Well you know what? Fuck you! You're an asshole, Derek Hale!"
He saw the hand raise, elbow bent back. He didn't brace himself for an impact. Why would he? There was no way this man was going to slap him. That would be ridiculous.
The young man slaps him. Stunned, Derek watches him pick up a bright red duffle from the floor and walk straight out of the gym. The slap wasn't hard, but it was definitely a first time experience.
I had this littlr prompt idea, it could be where the hale family lives and so does Claudia. Stiles being either thr same age as Derek or a year or two younger. The idea of Derek telling others about how Stiles was so clingy when they were kids and stiles doesn't remember correctly and just agrees but mama's Hale And Stilinskis hear them as they talk to thr pack and bring out a photo album about how Derek was the clingy one and very territorial with Stiles.
Heyo! Hope this is okay ❣️❣️❣️
~~~~~~
The story always gets told the same way.
Derek leans back like he’s been waiting for the moment, one arm slung over the back of the couch, voice low and dry as he tells it - like it’s just another piece of history everyone should already know. The pack listens because it’s Derek, because he doesn’t usually offer pieces of himself so easily, and because Stiles is right there beside him, already narrowing his eyes like he knows he’s about to be betrayed.
“He used to follow me everywhere,” Derek says, glancing sideways at him, mouth twitching at the corner. “Wouldn’t leave me alone. Couldn’t go five minutes without asking where I was going or what I was doing.”
There’s a ripple of laughter immediately. Isaac snorts, Boyd grins, even Cora raises an eyebrow like she’s filing that away for future use.
Stiles, traitor that he is to his own memory, just shrugs. “I mean… yeah, that tracks. I was an adorable menace as a child. Very attached. Probably cried if you looked at me wrong.”
Derek hums like that confirms everything.
“He cried if I left the room,” Derek adds.
“Okay, wow, we’re embellishing now,” Stiles shoots back, but there’s no real heat to it, just easy familiarity, the kind that’s been built over years of shared space and quiet understanding.
Across the room, though, something shifts.
It’s subtle at first - the kind of stillness that only people who know each other too well can feel. Claudia Stilinski pauses mid sip of her tea. Talia Hale’s lips press together in a way that looks suspiciously like she’s holding back a smile.
Stiles doesn’t notice.
Derek definitely doesn’t notice.
Which is why neither of them are prepared when Talia stands, smoothing her hands over her skirt with a kind of calm, deliberate grace that always means something is about to happen.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says warmly, voice carrying just enough to pull attention. “Is that how you remember it?”
Derek blinks.
Stiles tilts his head. “I mean… I don’t really remember it that well, honestly. I was like, what, five? Six? I was probably annoying.”
Claudia lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh from her seat. “Annoying, yes. Clingy?” She exchanges a look with Talia that says entire conversations without a word. “That’s not quite the word I’d use.”
Now the pack is interested.
Isaac leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Wait, so he wasn’t?”
“Oh, he was attached,” Talia says, eyes sparkling now, the kind of amusement that only comes from years of knowing exactly how wrong someone is. “Just… not in the way Derek is describing.”
Derek straightens slightly. “Mom-”
But it’s too late.
Because Claudia is already standing, already moving toward the hallway with purpose. “Hold on,” she says over her shoulder. “I think I still have something.”
Stiles groans immediately. “Oh no. No, no, no. what are you getting? Why are you getting something?”
“Evidence,” Cora mutters under her breath, grinning.
Derek’s jaw tightens just a fraction. “We don’t need-”
“Yes, we do,” Boyd says, entirely too pleased.
A minute later, Claudia comes back with it.
It’s exactly what it looks like - an old, slightly worn photo album, the kind with thick pages and plastic sleeves, edges softened from years of being flipped through. She holds it like it’s precious, like it holds something important, which, judging by the way Talia’s smile widens, means it absolutely does.
Stiles sinks lower into the couch. “I regret everything already.”
“You probably should,” Cora says brightly.
Claudia settles beside him and flips it open with practiced ease, turning a few pages before stopping. Talia leans in, pointing lightly.
“Ah, there it is.”
And then she turns it so everyone can see.
The reaction is immediate.
There’s a beat of silence and then the room erupts.
Because the picture is… not what Derek described.
At all.
Stiles is there, yes - small, probably five or six, all skinny limbs and wild hair, wearing a t-shirt that’s too big for him. He’s sitting cross legged on the grass, looking perfectly content, attention focused on something just out of frame.
But Derek… seven year old Derek is practically on top of him.
He’s wrapped around Stiles like he’s trying to fuse them into a single being, arms looped tightly around his middle, chin tucked against his shoulder. His face is buried in Stiles’ neck, and even in the still image, there’s something unmistakably possessive in the way he’s holding him, like he belongs there and nowhere else.
Like he’s making sure everyone knows it.
“Oh my god,” Isaac wheezes.
Boyd actually doubles over, laughing.
Cora just loses it completely. “Oh my god, Derek. You look like you’re guarding him.”
“I am not-” Derek starts, but there’s another page being turned.
Another photo.
This one’s worse.
They’re inside now, sitting on the couch. Stiles is holding a book, clearly trying to read, while Derek is half in his lap, one arm hooked around his waist, the other gripping the fabric of his shirt like he’s afraid someone might try to take him away.
His expression is serious. Focused.
“He wouldn’t let anyone else sit next to him,” Talia adds mildly, like she’s just offering context. “Not even Laura. If someone got too close, he’d growl.”
“You growled?” Jackson chokes out.
“He snapped at me once,” Cora adds helpfully. “I still remember it. Mom had to physically pull him off. I couldn't remember the context for a long time, but now I remember why..”
Derek looks like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Stiles, meanwhile, is staring at the pictures like his entire understanding of reality has just been flipped on its head.
“I-” he starts, then stops. “I don’t remember this.”
“Oh, you were oblivious,” Claudia says fondly, flipping another page. “You thought he just liked hanging out.”
The next picture shows Derek trailing behind Stiles in the backyard, fingers curled into the back of his shirt, literally holding onto him as he walks.
“Wouldn’t let him out of his sight,” Talia says. “If Stiles left a room, Derek followed. If someone else tried to take him somewhere, Derek went too.”
“That’s…” Isaac gestures helplessly at the album. “That’s the opposite of what you said.”
Derek drags a hand over his face. “I was a kid.”
“So was I!” Stiles shoots back, finally finding his voice. “And apparently I had a shadow I didn’t even know about.”
“A very aggressive shadow,” Boyd adds.
Cora grins. “A possessive one.”
Stiles leans closer to the album, squinting at another picture where Derek is glaring directly at the camera while clutching onto him like a lifeline.
“…You look like you’d fight someone,” he says slowly.
“He probably would have,” Talia says before Derek can respond.
There’s another round of laughter, softer this time, warmer.
And Derek - who’s been trying very hard not to react - finally exhales, shoulders dropping just a little.
Because yeah.
Maybe he remembers it differently.
Maybe it’s easier to say Stiles was the clingy one, easier to pretend it wasn’t him who needed something so fiercely he didn’t even understand it yet.
But the proof is right there.
In every picture.
In every moment frozen in time where he’s holding on just a little too tight, standing just a little too close, watching Stiles like he’s the center of his entire world.
Stiles nudges him lightly with his shoulder, grin crooked but softer now, something fond threading through it.
“So,” he says, voice quieter. “You were obsessed with me.”
Derek huffs, but there’s no real denial left in it. “You were small. Annoying.”
“Mmhm.”
“Got into trouble.”
“Obviously.”
Derek glances at him then, something old and familiar flickering in his eyes, something that’s never really gone away.
“…Still do.”
Stiles’ grin widens.
And this time, when their shoulders press together, Derek doesn’t move away.
Ron had meant well, taking Harry out to the pub. A pint and some deep-fried food would surely lift his mood after he’d been axed from the Aurors a few days ago.
“I don’t know what to do with my life. I thought that was it.”
“Mate,” Ron began, putting a supportive hand on Harry’s slumped shoulder. “What’s the thing you can’t stop thinking about? ’Cause that’s what you should do with your life. Bit like fate.”
Ron gave his shoulder a squeeze and waited for him to lift his gaze from his beer and say, Quidditch.
Harry did lift his head, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open.
This is it, Ron thought. He’s having an epiphany!
“Malfoy,” Harry said.
“What?”
“You think I’m bound to be Malfoy’s husband?”
Ron gaped, unsure where exactly he’d gone wrong in this conversation.
Harry downed the rest of his drink—and he’d already had a few before Ron arrived—then stood and rolled his shoulders as though preparing for a fistfight.
Sterek is the type of weird creepy couple in which Stiles would say he wants a werewolf fang necklace and Derek would easily answer "choose one" and open his mouth for his human to pick.
Harry looked at his son, who was crafting a little broom with a twig from the apple tree in their garden and colourful pipe cleaners Hermione had gifted to him.
“I can’t do it,” Harry wheezed to Draco. “I can’t—I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
Scorpius pushed his mop of blond curls back for the umpteenth time so he could look for what he needed next, then reached for a length of baby-blue ribbon to wind around the broom’s bristles.
Draco took Harry’s hand in his and gently opened his cold, clammy fingers to take the scissors from him.
“Darling, sit and watch how a parent is meant to handle this,” Draco told him, giving his shoulder a gentle push. “His teacher said his hair is in the way, not that it needs to be gone.”
He placed a kiss on Harry’s forehead, then went to sit on the ground beside their three-year-old boy.
“My star, may I try something?”
Scorpius merely nodded, fiddling with the angles of the pipe cleaners, his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth.
Draco carded his fingers through the blond curls, bunched them together with one hand, and bound the wild hair with the blue ribbon, adding a little magic to keep it secure.
Scorpius looked up and up, as though trying to find where his fringe had gone.
“There. Now we can see your pretty green eyes again.”
this is a very rough idea — thank you to @sparassiss for letting me ramble to her like a madman for what had to be an hour straight maybe, I dunno..
kindergarten:
Derek hid curled behind Ms Martin's bookshelf, stifling back tears as he stared down at the tooth that had just fallen out of his mouth unexpectedly. his mouth tasted of blood and there was a weird ache where his tooth was only moments ago. he could hear his classmates screaming and laughing as they played during recess, which only made him sadder because he too wanted to be on the playground running around with his friends. but more than anything, he wished his mom was with him, holding him closely in the way she does, rocking him as she hummed songs that eased his mind.
he shrunk further into himself as he heard the door to the classroom swing open. Derek had expected Ms Martin to peer over and maybe give him a scolding for not staying with the class and hiding away. instead, it was Stiles, the goofy boy in his class who's always so loud, always first to raise his hand enthusiastically, who gets sent to the nurse's office almost everyday for tripping over his own feet. Derek had only ever played with Stiles a few times since joining this class. he likes Stiles, but Stiles also sometimes scared him.
"why are you hiding behind the books," Stiles had asked with a confused look on his face and an upturned lip.
Derek’s tears began to flow again as he held out his hand, opening it up to reveal his bloody baby tooth. he'd been clutching it so tightly, he hadn't realized it left an imprint in the center of his palm.
Stiles stared down at it in wonder, nudging it lightly in the palm of Derek’s hand, before looking back at Derek’s sad face.
"its okay," Stiles said softly, "you can give it to the tooth-fairy and she'll give you a dollar for it! then you can buy a superman sticker; I know you like superman." Stiles nodded matter of factly.
despite Stiles’ excitement and attempts at making Derek feel better, Derek still sniffled as tears fell from his cheeks.
Stiles hummed, his face twisting in thought before he told Derek to look at him. he opened his mouth close enough to Derek’s face, presenting his own wiggling bottom tooth.
"see? mine's going to come out soon too and then i'll leave it under my pillow for the tooth-fairy. my dad says whatever money she gives me I can use to buy what I want!" Stiles tried
"I don't want money," Derek cried, "I wanna keep my teeth!"
the familiar 5-minute warning whistle blew loud and clear from Ms Martin, even from where they sat hidden in the classroom. Stiles sat quietly with Derek for a few seconds more, watching Derek wipe away his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. Derek didn't know why Stiles was choosing to stay beside him instead of outside to play with all his friends, but it did bring Derek some kind of comfort, even if it wasn't much.
soon enough, however, Derek’s eyes followed Stiles’ movement. he watched as Stiles stuck his fingers into his own mouth, gently pushing at his loose tooth. "what are you doing," Derek thought to himself as he watched Stiles wince and his eyes water the more he wiggled at his own tooth. Derek’s eyes widened as he continued to witness Stiles’ fingers find grip and yank out the tooth completely.
his own mouth is left agape as Stiles holds out his tooth to Derek, grinning as a trickle of blood dribbles past Stiles’ lips. Derek is stunned for a moment, his eyes jumping between Stiles and Stiles’ tooth. for whatever reason, they both begin to giggle with mouths full of blood and baby teeth in hand.
the next day, Stiles walks up to Derek, handing him a holographic superman sticker.
"I just don't see why I need braces. like, yeah, my bottom teeth are a little crooked but they're not that bad, right?" Stiles asks, baring his teeth repeatedly to himself in the bathroom mirror.
Stiles and Derek had skipped out on their 4th period class, hiding out in the bathroom on the floor hall monitors rarely check through. it was a regular occurrence for them, to skip a period and meet somewhere just to hang out for the heck of it.. or more because they had become inseparable since they were six years old.. since that day behind Ms Martin's bookshelf.
Derek shrugged, eyes glued to the music magazine he had snatched from the record store they'd visited the day before. it wasn't that Derek wasn't listening, more than anything, he loved when Stiles got to rambling about damn near everything. he had learned to multitask by now and knew Stiles didn't mind his one-worded answers or hums of acknowledgment.
"I'm not ready for braces, bro. if I get braces, I can't have red vines anymore — you know those are my favorite! or, oh, those yogurt covered pretzels your mom buys when I come over for movie nights?" Stiles continues to rant.
Derek doesn't keep count, but it must be a solid ten minutes of Stiles going on about why he doesn't need braces and how he can potentially convince his dad to cancel the appointment altogether.
"what if everyone laughs?" Stiles asks, turning from the sink to face Derek.
"they're not," Derek swears, "and if they do, i'll just punch them in the mouth."
Stiles grins, walking towards Derek and leaning against his shoulder, "you'd punch someone in the mouth for me?"
Derek snorts, shoving Stiles’ head from his shoulder jokingly, rolling his eyes as he tells Stiles, "don't ask stupid questions."
.⟡.
the day of Stiles’ appointment, Derek had spent all of his time at school thinking of Stiles and anticipating seeing him immediately after. he hated the days where he had to be on campus without Stiles at least somewhere nearby in his own classes or trying to sneak Derek out of a boring period.
as soon as the last bell rang for dismissal, Derek bolted for his bike waiting for him, peddling like hell to the Stilinski house. he doesn't bother propping his bike up once he reaches the Stilinski lawn, letting it crash into the grass as he speeds up the porch, foregoing the doorbell entirely and just running inside. Derek chuckles up the stairs as he hears Mr Stilinski sarcastically greet him, "oh, hi, Derek! how was school today, great? that's good, I had a pretty good day at the station myself, thanks for asking — yes, Stiles is upstairs."
"hi, Mr Stilinski," Derek shouts back just as he gets to the top step.
Stiles has an agonizing look on his face when Derek bursts through the door, finding his friend hunched over his desk, reading some webcomic off his MacBook. Derek throws his own backpack against Stiles’ bed, perching himself near Stiles’ desk as he asks, "did it hurt?"
Stiles gives a lazy shrug, answering, "kinda.. I got to pick what colors I wanted for them, though."
"cool, lemme see," Derek says and Stiles grins wide enough to flash his new braces, showing off the red and blue colors he chose. "for superman?" Derek smirks.
"maybe," Stiles tries to smile back, "maybe I just think the colors are pretty."
Derek nods, even though he knows Stiles is teasing. his smile ends up dropping when he notices the discomfort in Stiles’ face. he tells Derek how his mouth still kind of hurts and he overall just doesn't feel good. Derek tries comforting words, something he's hardly ever been good at, by telling Stiles that it's only the first day and he'll get used to it.
"the colors are really cool too," Derek says honestly, "wish I needed braces; i'd match with you."
that at least gets a smile out of Stiles as he jokingly calls Derek, "gay" before throwing a paper ball at his head.
Derek lightly teases him back before suggesting they go downstairs and convince the sheriff to let them eat ice cream before dinner. "when Erica got braces, she ate a whole tub of ice cream. she got a really bad brain freeze but at least her mouth stopped hurting," he tells Stiles.
"you don't have to pitch to me," Stiles says, already leading the way back down to the kitchen.
they'd end up sitting side by side, giggling and staring at each other as they shared a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Stiles hated that he had to eat around the sprinkles, but didn't mind watching Derek eat them up for him.
.⟡.
when Stiles returns to school the following day, as expected, he's teased lightly about his braces.
and as promised, Derek punches Greenberg straight in the mouth, delighted that he made the dweeb's gums bleed with a single hit. he's of course suspended for the offense, additionally grounded by his mom, but Derek deems it worth it when Stiles sneaks over to the Hale house with ice cream.
Derek knew by this point that him and Stiles were practically soulmates. so it only made sense for him to sit Stiles down and tell him that not only did werewolves exist but that Derek and his family were ones.
Stiles had taken it (unsurprisingly) well, promising to keep it secret. of course, he had a million and one questions, a fascination that no one truly expected. Mrs Hale and Derek’s uncle, Peter, answered Stiles’ plethora of questions with just as much enthusiasm. Derek was just as excited to finally share this world with Stiles.
there was one problem, however… Derek had yet to gain any of the werewolf traits he thought would've passed down by now. sure, he had the glowing eyes down but even with strenuous effort, he couldn't sprout claws nor extend his teeth into fangs. Derek didn't have the speed, strength, stamina that his sisters and cousins had already gained well before him. not only was he growing jealous but frustrated.
"I don't know why my teeth are still.. normal, even when I try, I should have fangs by now," Derek had complained as he paced Stiles’ bedroom.
"I mean, I wouldn't call your teeth normal.. you have those cute little bunny teeth. Maybe you're meant to be a werebunny — a harewolf!" Stiles quipped.
Derek could only glare back, but since they'd known each other for so long, it fell flat against Stiles’ teasing smile, causing Derek to break and snicker with him. all of Derek’s intimidating tactics or attempts didn't work on Stiles the same way it worked on others at school or anywhere else.. but Derek kind of liked it that way, anyways.
"I wouldn't worry about it," Stiles reassures, "it'll come soon. remember, I didn't reach 5'10 until, like, last summer and then, poof, I grew overnight! you're just a late bloomer."
Derek’s heard that term countless times from his own family members and it's never as comforting as the last time he's heard it.
"what if i'm human like my dad?" Derek wonders out loud.
"hey! its not such a bad thing being human, y'know" Stiles declared.
"there's pros and cons, I guess," Derek says jokingly, chuckling at Stiles flipping him the middle finger.
Derek feels better by the end of the conversation, sharing a laugh and a few more jokes with Stiles until he's interrupted by a text from his mom telling him to be home for dinner.
.⟡.
Stiles wakes some nights later, hearing taps at his window. he's startled to find Derek somehow perched against the window sill, waving excitedly at him behind the glass.
"how the hell did you get up here?" Stiles barely whispers once he gets the window open.
"I jumped! I fucking jumped," Derek damn near shouts, causing Stiles to frantically shush him.
"you're going to wake my dad!" Stiles says, pulling Derek into the room, his eyebrows furrowing in shock as he actually has to look up at Derek. only a few nights ago, they were practically the same height but now, all of the sudden, yes, Stiles is having to look up at Derek. it seems Derek had finally hit his second, werewolfy, puberty as he almost hovers over Stiles, looking bigger in places he used to be scrawny. Stiles also can't help but notice how different Derek’s jaw looks.
"dude.." Stiles stammers out, staring Derek up and down, noticing the pure joy on the other teen's face.
"check this out," Derek says, flicking his wrist to expose claws instantly grown from his nail beds. Stiles flinches back, his eyes zeroing in on the long, sharp tips in his face. his shock soon turns to excitement, bouncing on his toes, preening along with Derek. but that's not what ends up getting Derek most excited.
he steps closer into Stiles’ space, his voice low as he instructs Stiles to look, slowly opening his mouth as his teeth begin to extend.
"oh.. my god.." Stiles says, only slightly terrified yet still thinking it's the coolest thing ever. "you're a werewolf!" Stiles quietly cheers, giving a proud smack against Derek’s chest.
for the entire night, Derek lets Stiles poke and prod at his claws and teeth, test his reflexes and strength, look up more lycanthropy lore which somehow leads them to watching Michael J Fox's teen wolf in bed until they both fall asleep.
.⟡.
John's not at all surprised to find Derek sitting at his kitchen table early morning, eating a bowl of Raisin Bran.
Stiles had grown used to running with the Hale pack, always staying close to Derek whenever they patrolled the preserve or if danger was in town. even if Talia and John were apprehensive about Stiles tagging along, they both knew nothing would stop him from joining anyways. with that, Talia had always made sure the younger betas hung back, only helping on "missions" that she deemed not too dangerous to handle.
although Stiles often wished he and Derek could ride along for the more exciting fights Talia and the older betas engaged in, he knew it was better to stay behind and deal with the easy stuff when it occurred. even if Stiles wasn't a werewolf himself, he listened to Talia, not just as his alpha but sort of as a second mother.. and he preferred to stay in her good graces and maintain her trust.
.⟡.
despite Stiles following Talia’s strict instructions of only staying with the younger betas and not following head first into danger, he'd somehow end up as the bait for a gang of rogue hunters targeting the Hale pack. Stiles thrashed about and used whatever skills he learned to at least fight back but he was unfortunately unarmed and outnumbered. he was, however, smart enough to leave clues as a trail for him to be found.
it was smart thinking as it was so incredibly easy for the pack to end up finding the hunters that had been terrorizing the pack. these hunters were messy, moronic, and uncoordinated. Stiles really struggled to keep these thoughts to himself, as every time he did make a snarky comment towards them, it left him with another bruise or bloodied lip.
any other person in Stiles’ position would be scared but Stiles knew the wolves were just outside, knocking hunters out or possibly worse just to get to him. there's a breath of relief when the basement door is kicked down by Derek. the hunters jump back, one of them staying close to Stiles, holding him in a tight grip in one hand and a stun baton pointed at his neck.
the eldest looking hunter teases and hurls slurs at Derek, threatening harm towards Stiles before promising to kill Derek. his words all seem to go through one ear and out the other as Derek snarls, lunging at them with quickness none of the hunters expected. while still a teen, Derek’s not yet the best fighter amongst the pack, but he manages to hold his own. with very little effort, Derek flings one hunter against a cement pillar hard enough to break every rib in the man's body. the other hunter receives a quick slash against his abdomen, deep enough to puncture whatever vital organs.
the last standing hunter laughs nervously, still trying to act macho as he continues to spew bullshit and fling insults. the grip he has on Stiles’ shoulder transfers to covering Stiles’ mouth, threatening to snap Stiles’ neck if Derek stepped closer. neither of them believed the hunter's word but Derek stayed still where he was, eyes flashing gold as he waited for his moment to strike. it wouldn't be long as Stiles bit down hard on the hunter's fingers, not letting go until he felt blood entering his mouth.
the hunter pulled back with a loud scream, dropping the baton as he fell to the floor which gave an easy open for Derek to pounce. Stiles dropped to the floor himself, covering his head as he suddenly heard gunshots echoing over Derek’s growls. Stiles only looks over briefly, watching as the hunter scream and shoot wildly while Derek slashed and clawed wherever he could. although there were clearly shots being fired, Stiles could not tell if Derek was getting hit by the bullets or if the hunter had bad aim as Derek did not seem to let up in the moment.
soon enough, the sound of gunfire ends and Derek gives a final blow before sinking his teeth into the hunters neck, pulling the flesh from the man's throat. Stiles almost wants to throw up from the sight but his own adrenaline overhauls everything.
it takes a few minutes for Stiles to calm Derek down, using his best soothing voice to anchor Derek, telling him that they're okay, that Derek saved him. Derek eventually comes to, crawling closer to Stiles and anxiously going over his body for deeper, more serious injuries. Stiles assures him that he's fine aside from a few bruises and a missing tooth.
"see? i'm okay," Stiles says again, giving Derek that same toothy grin Derek remembers from kindergarten.
with Stiles’ face gently in his hands, Derek pulls him into a kiss, both ignoring that they're covered in blood. when they pull away from the kiss, their lips stained red, they both softly laugh, pressing their foreheads together feeling an immense sense of relief.
It’s a lot funnier if Eli figures out how to fully shift when he’s very young, and he runs around the house like a tiny puppy. And Derek has to very sternly tell him not to shift in the middle of the playground where all the other kids can see, and maybe Eli uses it to get whatever he wants. He wants ice cream and if dad doesn’t let him have ice cream, Eli is gonna be a wolf today. Which is very annoying when Derek has stuff to do, like go to the store or meet clients at the auto shop. Sometimes when Eli refuses to shift back, Derek has to drop his wolf son off at the sheriff’s station or Stiles comes home early. But there are times when he has to take Eli with him places, and his kid decides to tantrum-shift right in the middle of the street, and Derek has to live with the reputation of being the kind of person who pushes their dog around in a baby stroller
Absurdly possessive derek who gets jealous for literally nothing but stiles doesn’t realize how bad it is until he tries to sit down in his own chair and derek growls and pulls him away to sit on his lap instead. Stiles is like “oh okay, what’s your problem” and derek is like “YOU DON’T NEED CHAIRS YOU HAVE ME”
