Sterek Ficlets

Sally. 27. Florida. I kept thinking "I wish there was a place that gathered all these cute little ficlets". And then, I decided to be that place.

[captain-snark]

maybe I’ve shared this idea before maybe not

First, there’s accidental baby acquisition when the dust has settled from the most recent supernatural showdown and the only survivor of the intruding pack is a 6 month old.

She’s human but Derek takes her home anyway and Stiles doesn’t point out the obvious protocol for this kind of thing. The Sheriff agrees to keep the search for the child’s family on the down low.

In the mean time, Derek gets attached. He calls her Scout and sings ‘you are my sunshine’ over and over because it makes her smile. And Stiles has seen more genuine smiles from Derek over the last few days than he has the entire time they’ve known each other.

They’ve probably gotten close, too. Close enough where they’re practically dating but neither has made a move. That’s why he’s around enough to see how miserable Derek is when the Sheriff finds Scout’s grandparents.

Derek meets them without Scout and when they’re vetted and cleared he has the Sheriff take her. Stiles watches Derek folding up her clothes and gathering all of the toys and supplies he bought and put them away on an upper shelf of a closet.

Stiles has thought about the idea before, of course. He just thought it might go differently. He gives Derek two weeks to get out of the pit of grief he was in. When he sees a ‘donate’ sticker on Scout’s box he figures it’s a good a time as any.

He’s thought about what he’s going to say to Derek. He’s stumbling over it when Derek says, “I think I know what you’re going to say.”

Stiles laughs nervously and says, “I really doubt that.”

Derek just looks at him in question.

“I think we should have a kid together.” Stiles says. Go big or go home. He can see Derek trying to work out the mechanics. “I want to raise a kid with you, I don’t care where we get it.” 

“What?” Derek manages. 

“You were so happy with Scout. Like genuinely happy and not even just ‘not actively miserable’, like happy. So, mostly I think you should consider having one.”

Stiles presses a finger to Derek’s lips before he has a chance to lose his groove with an interruption. “And the thing is the thought of you raising a kid with anyone else makes me want to punch someone. And I know you have feelings for me too and eventually we’re going to do this, I know that. So, why not for once in our snail paced relationship we skip the build up and go right for the…you know…the uh…climax.”

“That’s a lot of skipping, Stiles,” Derek points out. Stiles just shrugs. Derek thinks about the sixteen year old that nearly drowned beside him rather than leave him to die. Stiles is right obviously, Derek knows where all of this is headed. Because there hasn’t been anyone but Stiles for a while now. 

“Yeah, okay,” Derek says finally. Stiles’ smile is everything. 

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

Charity kissing booth. Cora tricks Derek into getting in line and slaps ten dollars down. Stiles cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders back to prepare to kiss the hell out of him.

As much as Derek loved his little sister, sometimes he really hated her. Like, now for instance, standing in line for a charity kissing booth.

It was a tradition for the Hales to attend the annual charity festival, every year the whole family making the short trip to the public park in the center of town. Booths and tents and other stands would set up on either side of the bike path that bisected the park, volunteers collecting money for charities and local small businesses.

Despite no longer being a kid, Derek encouraged them to continue the tradition. And most of his family members excitedly agreed.

Cora hadn’t wanted to attend, preferring to laze around in her room and text her new boyfriend all day. Their mother had insisted that she tag along with the rest of the family, claiming that Isaac would probably be there anyway since half of the county always showed up.

Now, Cora was exacting her revenge. And Derek could nothing about it without causing a scene.

As they had passed the section of the festival dedicated to games and activities designed to encourage people to donate to the county sheriff’s department, Cora had spotted a kissing booth. But that wasn’t what caught her attention.

It was who was manning the kissing booth: the Sheriff’s son Stiles. Also known as the guy Derek had been harboring a crush on for years.

Cora had downright manhandled Derek into the line, pinching his side and dragging him over to the booth. When Derek realized just why exactly his sister brought him there, he tried to run but she grabbed him and threatened to scream if he didn’t go through with it.

And the only thing worse than paying to kiss his crush would be his crush hearing his sister yell, “I can’t believe you don’t want to give any money to the sheriff’s department!”

So he stayed put and hoped that Stiles wouldn’t think he was too much of a weirdo. He also tried to formulate a revenge plot of his own to get back at his devious sister.

The line was annoyingly long, making a coil of jealousy curl in Derek’s gut. He was the one who used to write poems in the margins of his notebooks about Stiles’ moles, damn it!

Stiles greeted him with a smile when he made it to the front of the line. Before either of them could say anything, Cora slapped down a ten dollar bill and pointed emphatically at Derek before standing off to the side.

Stiles smiled almost shyly before straightening up and cracking his knuckles. Flexing his shoulders, he rolled his neck, looking like a boxer preparing for another round.

He grabbed Derek by the front of his shirt and tugged him into a deep kiss that stole both of their breaths away. Stiles licked into Derek’s mouth, shocking Derek so much so he flailed around wildly.

Pulling back, Stiles admitted, “I’ve wanted to do that for awhile.”

send me a theme/prompt for a 500 word drabble!

[andavs]

If you wanna write a ficlet based on the tags you put about Derek not being good at receiving compliments so stiles compliments him always I can guarantee you that I will 100% read it and reblog it and comment about how much I love it :D

Well how can I resist that??

The first time it happened, Stiles didn’t think anything of it. Standing over the smoldering remains of the creature that just tried to kill them, he said “nice job”, gave Derek a friendly slap on the back, and suggested they go out for celebratory we didn’t die today milkshakes. He was pleasantly surprised when Derek both agreed and paid, and he dipped fries in both to see if they went better with his strawberry or Derek’s chocolate.

(The answer was chocolate, and Derek didn’t even get mad when three of Stiles’ fries were lost in his shake.)

The second time, he was marveling at the obscure text Derek managed to track down and said, “dude, you are literally the best, I’m buying you pizza!” And shockingly, Derek let him, and even told him what toppings he wanted. That might not seem like much in the grand scheme of things, but Stiles had spent years watching in silent judgment as Derek picked off half the toppings from the pizzas he ordered for the pack, as if he couldn’t get another for himself that he actually liked.

Stiles told him he liked the way he rearranged the loft, and Derek sat through the entire extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring on his new flat screen.

When he mentioned liking the fancy pasta dish Derek made and asked for a lesson to make it, Derek agreed. He showered compliments on Derek’s meticulous overhaul of the bestiary and Derek let him borrow three books.

Derek never let anyone borrow his books, they never left the loft.

These events were all spread out enough that it took a while to click, but when it did, it was both a revelation and incredibly depressing: Derek had no idea what to do with even the most casual of compliments.

Sarcasm was no issue, Stiles knew that much—he’d personally thrown out enough nice martyr complex, jackass and the like to figure that out—but anything that was even remotely sincere?

He started paying attention after that, to the way Derek would stiffen and his eyes would widen a bit before his face closed off again. He would go quiet, maybe nod, and quickly agree to pretty much anything just to get the focus back off himself.

Because Derek was actually embarrassed by compliments.

Keep reading

[beautiful-noise]

47. “When I picture myself happy… It’s with you."

I'd love your take on this for Sterek pleese.......

Thank you for the prompt. I’m not particularly fond of this one. It didn’t turn out the way I imagined. I hope you like it anyway! 

xxx

There’sa bouquet of flowers outside his door when Derek is on his way to gofor a run in the woods. They’re red roses. He picks them up,gingerly. Sniffs them. There’s the scent of roses and… Stiles? Yes,definitely Stiles. Derek wonders why Stiles has left flowers outsidehis door as he walks in and places the roses in water. Even if it’ssome kind of joke – which would be uncharacteristically mean ofStiles – there’s no use in not taking care of the roses.

Derekgoes on his run and ponders the roses, the more he thinks about themthe more confused he gets. Why would Stiles leave roses outsideDerek’s door? Does he know? He can’t, can he? Derek has hid it sowell.

AsDerek can never let things be – or because he’s a masochist, whoknows? - he goes to Stiles after he’s showered off his sweat from therun. Stiles opens the door when Derek rings the doorbell after a fewseconds. Stiles frowns at him, looks behind him as if he’s expectingsome big bad to jump out from behind Derek (and maybe he does, itwouldn’t be surprising after all).

”Whatdo you want?” Stiles asks. It’s not a rude question though, hesounds like he seriously is wondering.

”I-”Derek’s courage falters.

”I’ma bit surprised it was you, using the door and all that,” Stilessays, waving his hands around. Derek frowns at the floor.

”Dude,what did the floor do to offend you?”

”Whydid you leave roses at my door?” he grits out at last, ignoringStiles’ comment. He’s got a murderous resting face, so sue him.

”You-Roses?” Stiles laughs, way too loud. ”Why would I leave rosesoutside your door? It sounds like you think I have a crush on you orsomething and I most definitely do not have a crush on you-”

Dereksilences him. With his lips. On Stiles’ lips. Stiles falls silenceexcept for a confused sound from his throat. Derek presses a bitharder, angles his head a bit better. Stiles relaxes against him andDerek moves his hands to Stiles’ hips, presses in a bit more beforemoving back slightly. Stiles makes a disappointed sound. Derek wantsto chase the sound with his lips and tongue. He doesn’t though.

”Youknow I can hear you lying, right?” Stiles nods, his eyes closedbefore he slowly opens them, blinking slowly at Derek. They’re stillstanding close, Derek’s hands on Stiles’ hips and Stiles’ hands onDerek’s shoulders.

”Soyou were saying?” Derek asks and Stiles blinks at him.

”Ihave a crush on you,” Stiles says then. Doesn’t lie. Derek blinks.He didn’t think it was true, even if Stiles left the roses, then liedabout it and then accepted Derek’s kiss.

”Youhave?” Derek asks because his brain to mouth filter seems to havevanished in close proximity to Stiles.

”Ido,” Stiles nods enthusiastically. ”Well, crush might be a bit ofwrong word. More like, ten year plan to woo you. It began withflowers. Apparently you don’t need more than flowers.”

”Ionly need you,” Derek says truthfully.

”You’renot lying now, are you?”

Derekshakes his head.

”WhenI picture myself happy… it’s with you. It’s always been you,Stiles. I-” Derek doesn’t know how to say those three words, hethinks it might be too soon. Stiles breaks out into a grin though andDerek smiles back.

”Same,dude, same,” Stiles says and this time it’s Stiles who leans in andkisses Derek. Derek doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

[phaeliana]

sterek + 7

7. “Just… stay.”→ (word count: 555)→ NSFW-ish

“I think what you really need is closure.”

Scott’s words of advice had a tendency to haunt him, because when he was wrong, it was ridiculous, but when he was right, hell, he hit that nail right on the head.

Closure.

Stiles had obviously tried to turn it into a pun, assuring Scott that he was fine, he knew what he was doing, when in reality he didn’t have the slightest idea what it was that pulled him back onto those damned steps. He didn’t know what it was that made him knock on the door and not resist in the slightest when he was pulled inside, pushed up against the door. Didn’t know what urged him to pull at clothes and hair, to bite at lips and suck on skin. To press against and push into. To sigh and moan.

Perhaps it was just that - the yearning for closure.

And perhaps it were those minutes after, when Derek kept him locked in between his arms, pressing his forehead against Stiles’s shoulder, panting roughly, kissing his neck tenderly. Rolling off of him, yet keeping him in the welcome cage of his arms, legs tangled, trailing his fingertips from one beauty mark across the skin of his back to the next, touching, feeling, memorising. It were minutes of pure, uncomplicated bliss, untainted by the pensive, conflicted look in Derek’s eyes afterwards, by the way his features shut off and Stiles inescapably fled from his bed, his home, knowing not to overstay his welcome, which was limited to Derek’s own race for closure.

They fell into bed with the ease of a bad habit that day, skin sliding against skin, breath hitting breath, lips pushing against lips, fingers tangled together. The push and pull of Derek’s thrusts in accord with Stiles’s pulse, they moved smoothly, Stiles pulling Derek down when he was close, kissing him deeply, fervently, like it was the last time. And as if he felt the shift in Stiles, Derek pressed closer, thrust deeper, kissed harder, as if he wanted to imprint his touch into Stiles’s skin, as if he wanted Stiles to remember.

As if Stiles could ever forget.

When it was over, Stiles had never felt less close to reaching closure. Derek had been gentle and thorough, careful and reckless, fast and so, so slow. Derek had given him all he could’ve wished for and yet here he laid, wanting more. When Derek traced his fingers down his spine, Stiles wished for something he couldn’t have. When they listened to the sound of rain hitting the window, Stiles admitted to something he shouldn’t have.

Urged by that forbidden feeling, Stiles slid away from Derek’s delicate touch, sitting on the edge of the bed, shivering in the cold without Derek’s heat to warm him. He wanted to bend down, pick up his clothes, but was interrupted by Derek’s fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“It’s raining.” He observed, as if they hadn’t been listening to the falling rain seconds ago. As if Stiles hadn’t just realised he had been falling all the same.

“I’ll survive.” Because he had to. This was his closure. He could go on, he really could.

“Just…” Derek’s fingers pressed into Stiles’s skin, his voice urgent and hesitant, an interaction of contrasts, the definition of the man he loved. “Stay.”

I hope you liked it, love :) thank you for the prompt ♥

sentence starters 

[acountrygirlsfun]

“You look pretty hot in plaid" this could go both ways w sterek i think, like derek complimenting stiles on his daily outfits or stiles seeing derek in plaid for the first time

@dylanlovesthemets i almost listened but it kind of got away from me :D 

“Move, Scott,” Derek grumbles,irritated and tired and protective.

Stiles is limp in Derek’s armsafter being struck by the monster of the week. Scott had once again failed toaccount for Stiles’ fragility and left him without so much as a bat to defendhimself.

Derek had seen it happen, seenthe big scaly tail knock Stiles off his feet and into a tree. And he’s donewhat he could to hear if Stiles was hurt worse than a concussion and so farhasn’t been able to hear anything out of the ordinary. Heartbeat still in anormal rhythm, no bones creaking or scraping against each other as Derek rolledStiles onto his back to check him over.

He’s got Stiles bridal style inhis arms and is walking back to the cars now that the thing has been taken careof. But Scott is hovering.

“We should take him to seeDeaton, or at least have my mom look at him,” Scott is saying, still trailingbehind Derek, gripping at Derek’s shoulder and Derek bites back a growl ofirritation. He just doesn’t want anyone in his space right now.

“I’m taking him to my apartment.His dad is working tomorrow and through the weekend and Stiles is going to needsomeone to wake him up every couple hours if he does have a concussion. A testwhich I am well equipped to do, Scott, since I am an EMT,” Derek impatientlyexplains as they come up to the cars all parked together in a clearing.

“I know, I know,” Scott is quickto answer but he’s still hesitant. Derek knows they trust each other butapparently that trust doesn’t extend to trusting Derek with Stiles.

Once Stiles is laid comfortably,but still unconscious in the back of Derek’s Toyota he turns to face Scott’sworried face.

“He’s going to be fine and ifhe’s not, you’re the first person I call,” Derek says and it’s true. If Stileswakes up in more pain than a concussion warrants or he stops breathing orsomething, Scott would be the first person Derek would contact…along withMelissa and John in the group text.

But the reassurance is enoughfor Scott who nods and steps away. Derek talks quickly to Isaac, Erica andBoyd, making sure they’re all still in one piece after the small tussle in thewoods. But they’re fine and he gets an eye roll from Erica so they’re really okay if they’re able to sasstheir alpha at 3am.

Now he just has to get Stilesback to his apartment and make sure he wakes up in a reasonable amount of time.

Derek is pacing slowly in theapartment. He’s not overly anxious, Stiles has been awake since they got in andconfirmed only a headache before swallowing some advil and going back to sleep.Derek is still concerned there might be other aches and pains that Stiles iswaving off that should be addressed.

For now, he’s on concussionwatch though so he’s trying to keep himself awake for the next hour until it’stime to wake Stiles again. He’d sleep himself but the couch isn’t appealingtonight and he knows when he falls asleep it’s going to be hellish to draghimself out of it. He’d rather get another check in with Stiles before he losesconsciousness for the next few hours.

The pacing is to keep his mindfocused on something, one foot in front of the other, eight steps, turn, eight again.He can hear Stiles’ steady, shallow, sleeping breathing as he does and hethinks he’s pretty calm despite the circumstances. He’s more surprised thathe’s surprised than actually startled when the door opens and Stiles isstanding there, leaning against the door jam. His eyes are droopy but Derek canstill hear his heart beating exactly how it’s supposed to.

“You look pretty hot in plaid,”Stiles says, his clear voice showing that despite his sleepy expression, he’scompletely alert.

Derek looks down at his pajamapants before looking up at Stiles with a soft smile.

“You’ve said that before,” Derekreplies, tracing his own steps as he walks over towards where Stiles is waveringon his feet now that he’s no longer leaning against the door frame.

He settles his hands on Stiles’warm waist and relishes the small smile he gets at the welcome touch.

“It’s worth repeating,” Stilessays and tilts his head back, Derek is all too happy to oblige and press aquick dry kiss on his lips.

This thing between them is new,not so new that Derek questions the kiss but it is still something they’ve keptjust between them. And it’s something they haven’t taken much further thankissing. Derek had been set and ready to tell Stiles he needed to wait beforethings got physical in their relationship. But Stiles had been the one who putlimits on things.

The pack doesn’t know. And Scottdoesn’t know. But the Sheriff knows and that’s enough for them right now. It’swhy Derek was so determined to get Stiles to his apartment. The sheriff reallywill be at work for the better part of the next few days and they both would wantsomeone with Stiles while he’s concussed. The fact that Derek has his EMT licensenow only furthered the Sheriff’s approval of him dating his son. He’s beendoing more to get his life together, to be a contributing member of society.

“How are you feeling,” Derekasks quietly and pushes Stiles’ hair off his face gently.

“Like I got my head smashed intothe ground,” he murmurs as his eyes close again and he leans into Derek’schest.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” hesays into Derek’s chest and Derek brings his arms up to rub Stiles’ backcomfortingly.

“Of course,” Derek says gentlyand starts to walk them back into the bedroom.

“Don’t know if I’ve said thisbut, I feel safe here. With you. Your space. You make me feel safe, Der,”Stiles says softly and Derek tries to keep from letting the excitement thosewords incited from leaking out.

“I-“ Derek clears the emotionfrom his throat, “I’m really happy to hear that Stiles. How are you doing forpainkillers? Do you need me to get more advil? More pain drain?” Derek offersbut Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just you. Come lay downwith me?” he requests as he crawls into the bed with Derek holding the coversup for him to settle beneath them.

Those sleepy eyes, the softfluffy hair and the circumstances have Derek capitulating without muchresistance.

“Let me just grab you some waterand I’ll be right back,” Derek explains as he tucks the covers around Stiles.

Stiles nods into his pillow andDerek dashes quickly back to the outer rooms. He checks the door again, fillsup a large glass with water and snags the bottle of Advil – just in case. He makesquick work of putting both down on the nightstand next to Stiles. He crosses tothe other side of the queen size bed and gently lifts the covers, stealingbeneath and wrapping Stiles close in his arms.

After a few minutes of slow steadybreathing Stiles snuffles into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks, Der,” he mumbles andDerek’s arms squeeze gently in a closer embrace.

“Anytime,” he says and iscompletely unsurprised that he means it. That he means something more,something they haven’t said to each other yet. But, Derek thinks, maybe theysay it in other ways.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Derek shows up to his first pack meeting after moving back to Beacon Hills wearing worn out jeans and a faded flannel, chest hair popping out near the top. His beard is full, his hair is longer, almost long enough for a bun, his eyes have smile lines. He’s happy. 

Stiles walks in late, his hair disheveled, his jeans a little tighter than they used to be, his black teeshirt clinging to his arms and chest in a way that made Derek’s mouth go dry. And don’t get him started on the tattoos, the vines and runes that twist up Stiles’ arms.  

“I thought I heard someone brooding,” Stiles says before he really even sees Derek, but when he does his jaw drops, “Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?”

And Derek, he laughs, “Hi Stiles, you look good.”

“Me?” Stiles sputters, his heart racing and his eyes wide, “Have you seen yourself? You look like a sexy lumberjack.”

Derek’s eyes go a little wider, his lips tug up in a private smile. It’s like they’re the only two people in the room. All he can hear is the steady beating of Stiles’ heart, all he can smell is the cinnamon and clove scent that is Stiles, all he can see are those honey brown eyes, at least until Scott clears his throat. 

“Uh guys, can you maybe eye fuck some other time? We’ve got three trolls in the preserve and we need to get them out before they kill someone,” Scott says, eyes darting between his returned pack member and his emissary. 

“Yeah, sure, yeah, we can fuck later,” Stiles says sounding a little dazed. Derek swallows and nods, eyes still on Stiles.

“That’s not what I said,” Scott mutters, turning away from the two of them and back to the rest of the pack, “I think we’re going to have to take care of this without Stiles and Derek’s help.”

“Can you manage that?” Stiles asks, shaking his head a little, “Something just came up and I’m busy now.”

“Just go,” Scott says with a small laugh. 

Stiles and Derek are out the door before Scott’s done talking. They emerge from Stiles’ apartment two days later both smiling and holding hands. 

[andavs]

One more from this long list of prompts, completely unprompted.

Number Eighty-Five: “They got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

“Der, we got another one!”

Derek sighed, put down his fork, and glared up at the doorway where Stiles was about to appear with the mail. It was bad enough the mailman rang the doorbell in the middle of breakfast, but for another damn proposal? They should’ve just pretended they weren’t home.

“It’s from the McMullen pack in…Montana, that’s a new one,” Stiles announced as he shuffled back into the kitchen in his boxers, a large box in his hands. “And look, they got you a present. Isn’t it sweet?”

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his eggs. “Just throw it away.”

Stiles made no moves to throw it away. He set it down on the corner of the table between their plates, and Derek had to grab his coffee mug before it spilled.

“You’re not even going to open it?” He drummed his fingers on top of it excitedly. Stiles loved opening packages. “What if it’s something cool?”

“It’s never something cool.”

“That’s a lie. The last one was great.” He still looked thrilled over the badly cross-stitched Den, Sweet Den hanging over the toilet. Derek glared.

“As soon as I get Lydia here to clear out the ash, I’m taking it down and it’s going in the garbage.”

Stiles finally gave up and sat back down to his meal, leaving the box right where it was. “I can’t believe you would insult Marjorie’s hard work like that. You know she’s a powerful alpha from a powerful pack.”

The accompanying proposal letter had stated as much, a number of times.

Derek pointedly moved the box to the floor. “A powerful alpha, but not a skilled cross-stitcher.”

“Big words from the guy who buys new jeans every other week because he can’t fix a tiny tear.”

“I can, I just don’t want to. It looks tacky.” And unlike Stiles, who spent all of his college years learning to sew his clothes back together to save money, Derek could afford to buy new ones.

That, and the entire town was still kind of waiting for him to be hauled off in cuffs for murder, and wearing tattered and worn out clothes tended to make them whisper about that poor sheriff’s boy, he deserves someone nicer. They always learned shortly after that Derek was the nicer of the two when that poor sheriff’s boy turned around and cussed them out until Derek dragged him away.

Stiles scoffed. “Throwing away unopened gifts is tacky!”

“Sending proposals to an engaged man is tacky.”

“Can you really blame them for trying? I’d be all over that if I wasn’t already.” Stiles ran a hand up Derek’s thigh to punctuate his point, while taking a casual sip of his coffee as if he were doing nothing of the sort.

“I can and I will. And at the very least, we’re sending it back.”

Stiles pouted, brushing Derek’s thigh with his thumb like it would change his mind. “But what if it’s a new frying pan? We’ve been needing one of those.”

“I’ll buy you a new frying pan. We’re sending it back.”

“We might as well get something out of all this harassment.”

“How about the satisfaction of saying no to every single one?” That was enough for Derek, but apparently not for Stiles, who blinked at him imploringly. Combined with his rumpled bedhead, it almost worked.

“But I can’t make breakfast in satisfaction.”

Derek leaned over to give him a compensatory kiss. “You can barely make breakfast in a frying pan.”

Stiles’ hand dropped from his thigh and he narrowed his eyes.

“Wow, okay, see if I ever make you breakfast ever again.” Derek grinned, but that just egged him on. “Actually no, I’m going to make you shitty breakfasts all the time! In the proposal frying pan!”

“We don’t know it’s a pan, and we’re not keeping it even if it is.”

“Oh come on! We deserve gifts after all this bullshit.” He gestured with his fork to their life in general, which also included the large hole in the drywall from a cursed statuette an angry pack had sent last month after Derek politely returned their proposal.

Derek refused to give in. He was not going to play nice in response to insult after insult.

“Stiles, why the hell would I want to keep gifts from packs I’ve never met who are trying to bribe me away from my fiance?”

Stiles pressed his lips together to try not to smile, but he failed. The whole being engaged thing was still new, they were both still a little giddy about it.

“We should send wedding invitations to all of them,” he said gleefully, and there was his petty streak. He’d been taking all these formal proposals surprisingly well and in good humor considering they were all trying to lure Derek into bringing Hale prestige to their packs.

“No. Then they’ll just send bigger gifts to try to change my mind.”

Stiles smirked. “And I‘m going to keep all of them.”

Derek rolled his eyes but gave Stiles the kiss he was puckering up for.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

So, I keep seeing trailers for 47 Meters Down and I’m so sick of the media demonizing sharks so I wrote a little thing to vent

“Dude, this is total bullshit!” Stiles spat, waving his hand at the TV screen. There was a trailer playing, advertising a new summer blockbuster. “Sharks aren’t inherently evil! They just have bad eyesight!”

For the past few minutes, Stiles had been ranting and raving about the movie the trailer was advertising for. Derek hadn’t really been paying attention to the TV, halfway through the book in his lap, but he registered that the movie involved people trapped in a shark cage and bloodthirsty great whites.

He had only raised his head and set his book down when Stiles launched into his tirade about the demonization of sharks in the media. He cited Jaws a few times, along with a handful of other unrealistic shark movies including the one featuring an actor who looked almost identical to Boyd.

“Did you know that the author of Jaws said he regretted it when people started killing sharks left and right?” Stiles inquired, turning his head to look at Derek with incredulity written all over his face. “It’s such fucking bullshit!”

He whipped his head around to look back at the TV where another commercial had taken the place of the shark movie trailer. “Don’t even get me started on shark culling.”

Derek didn’t. But Stiles continued his diatribe anyway, “There’s approximately seventeen shark attacks a year. But a hundred million sharks are killed every year. And for what?! Soup! Fucking soup!”

He folded his arms over his chest with a huff, settling back against the couch cushions as he glared at the shampoo commercial on the TV screen. Clearly, he was still upset about the shark movie that would be swimming into a theater near him in just a few days.

“Humans are the fucking worst. I don’t know how you put up with us,” Stiles grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes. “Sharks are fucking awesome. They’re just doing their best.”

Silence fell over them for a moment. Derek broke it by announcing, without preamble, “I love you.”

Stiles’ double take was downright comical as he jumped in his seat and turned his head like an owl to gawk at Derek. His mouth gaping open, Stiles blinked a few times and demanded, “Wait, what?”

“I love you,” Derek repeated, closing his book and setting it off to the side on the coffee table. He slipped off his reading glasses and placed them atop the book.

“Yeah, but why?” Stiles prompted incredulously, leaning forward expectantly. He chewed his bottom lip as he waited for Derek’s response.

“Because you’re amazing,” Derek explained succinctly. “Because you’re so passionate about everything and anything. Because you jump to the defense of sharks even though you’re terrified of them.”

“Oh,” Stiles answered, mulling over Derek’s words for a moment. Glancing at his boyfriend through his lashes, Stiles leaned closer and murmured, “Any other reasons you love me?”

Barking out a laugh, Derek pulled Stiles into his arms. “Because you’re smart and funny and loyal and give great head.”

[themilkoviches-deactivated20191]

sterek + new parents

“Derek? Derek? DEREK! DEREK!”

Stiles is screeching and stumbling down the stairs, when Derek meets him halfway there, eyes blown wide. He catches him around the waist and starts pressing open palms into his skin, searching for some open wound- that he doesn’t find.

“What? Are the twins okay?”

“The twins are still sleeping, they’re fine. But um. Derek.” Stiles makes an uncomfortable noise in his throat and glances over his shoulder. “Derek, what did you do with their hats?”

Derek makes a face of genuine annoyance, and pulls back. “I took them off to give them their baths. Why?”

“Derek. Derek. How are we supposed to tell them apart? Derek, they are identical.” He’s going to have a panic attack. His children are not three days old yet and he’s already giving them an identity crisis. What kind of parent is he?

But Derek just wraps firm, warm fingers around his wrist and tugs him up the stairs again.

The girls are still fast asleep in their side-by-side cribs, little sleepy noises leaving their mouths.

Derek touches his hand to one, and looks at Stiles. “Claudia.” Slowly, he reaches out and touches the other. “Talia.”

For one moment, Stiles wants to berate at him how he could possibly know that. Except… except okay, werewolf senses. The babies probably smell different.

Oh, and. You know also… he had been the one to dress them in different onesies after their bath.

Feeling completely irrational and embarrassed, Stiles slumps forward and presses his face into Derek’s chest, nodding. “Okay. Okay, you got this.”

“We got this.” Derek corrects with a little chuckle, shaking his head and turning Stiles around, to face the girls. “We did this.”

“Yeah.” Stiles agrees quietly, grinning softly and nodding his head. “Yeah, that’s actually pretty awesome.”

One of the girls- Talia- starts to make an unhappy noise, face screwing up tight and angry, and Stiles moves towards her before she bursts into the glass-shattering wail that he already knows too well. He scoops her into his arms and cradles her to his chest, whispering hushing little things against her hair.

Big blue eyes blink open at him, face still screwed up and unhappy, until the anger bleeds away, and she hums, content once more.

When Stiles finally manages to tear his eyes away from her, he catches Derek taking their picture with his phone.

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

They’ve got this.

[defenselesswriter]

Sterek + Derek having a daily kissing quota

“Twenty-five,” Stiles says as he walks by the table where Derek is sitting and leans down to kiss him.

“Twenty-six,” Derek says leaning in one more time. 

“You two are absolutely disgusting,” Isaac announces loudly. “And it’s only eight in the morning, how are you already almost to thirty?”

“They start ridiculously early,” Scott interjects. “Which I only know from living with them for two years. They have to get to a hundred before they’re satisfied. It’s actually disgusting.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh because Scott has been just as disgustingly romantic with Allison all these years, so he’s allowed to be disgusting with Derek. Which is exactly why he leans down again and kisses his boyfriend. 

“Why a hundred?” Allison asks.

Derek shrugs. “I just never want to regret a day where I didn’t kiss him enough.”

And Stiles just has to kiss him again.

[stileshale]

“How long has it been?” + sterek

The front door opens while Derek’s in the kitchen, hunting out snacks.

“Hey,” he pops his head around the kitchen door frame, smiles at Stiles.

“Hey pop tart,” Stiles greets him with a wan smile, and then looksstrangely depressed.

Derek would say it’s because he’s realized suddenly that his variety ofendearments for Derek are strange and ridiculous, but he’s been doing it foryears, now and Derek, oddly, embarrassingly, likes them.

Keep reading

[mad-madam-m]

Fairs and Fireworks

(Written for the cross country road trip, fireworks, and state fair squares on the @sterekwriters summer bingo card. Thank you to @bleep0bleep for looking it over! Word count: 988)

“Oh! Derek!” Stiles lunged across the center console. “We should stop here!”

Derek lifted his elbow to guard the wheel. “Will you sit back down before we crash?”

Stiles huffed, but he sat back in the passenger’s seat and rebuckled his seatbelt. “Fine, but seriously, pull in here!”

Derek finally looked at what had caught Stiles’s attention. Cars packed the field near on the side of the highway, and he spotted a Ferris wheel and a few other rides poking up from the landscape. “A fair?”

“Yes! Come on, let’s go eat our weight in funnel cakes and turkey legs!”

Derek raised his eyebrows. That sounded like a one-way ticket to Stiles hunched over in the back seat, whining about his stomach for the next four hours.

But Stiles’s eyes practically glowed with hope and anticipation, and it had been a long time since Derek had had a funnel cake.

He took the next exit off the highway.

***

It had started as a way to just get Stiles out of town. They’d been texting off and on for months, and slowly Derek learned how to read between the lines. He picked up on the cues and saw how bad things were getting, how paranoid Stiles was, how little he was actually sleeping.

Derek came back to town for the high school graduation and asked Sheriff Stilinski if he thought Stiles would benefit from getting out of Beacon Hills for the summer. The sheriff had stared at him, speechless, for a full ten seconds before wrapping Derek in a hug and saying, “Please.”

Stiles had balked, at first, refusing to leave his dad, before the sheriff reminded him that it was just for a few weeks and he promised to keep up his diet and stay safe. Once that had been settled, Stiles agreed, and Derek had seen the tension bleed from his shoulders.

For two weeks now, they’d been heading east, ambling over the Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains with no particular destination in mind beyond “Maybe Florida. Or Maine.” They’d gone to the Grand Canyon and Carlsbad Caverns and Pike’s Peak and dozens of other, less-famous places, with boatloads of kitschy tourist stuff that Stiles adored. The back of Derek’s SUV was slowly filling with tacky souvenir T-shirts and wolf knick-knacks and gifts for people back home.

Stiles was surprisingly easy to travel with. He filled the car with conversation, but never minded if Derek’s only contribution was a nod or a snort of disbelief. He played Pandora almost constantly, poking Derek for a thumbs up or thumbs down for each song. He talked to people when Derek didn’t want to, and provided a great barrier between Derek and the people who occasionally tried to hit on him when they stopped for food.

Derek was in a better place now, but he was also self-aware enough to admit the only person he was interested in was the one who was currently skipping toward the fair, singing an off-key, made-up song about turkey legs.

“Seriously, Derek, I’m getting one as big as my head.” Stiles held out his hands for a visual. “And then a funnel cake for dessert.”

“Please don’t get sick in my car,” Derek said.

Stiles flipped him off. “I’ll have you know I have a stomach of steel.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but he still bought them both a turkey leg and a lemonade.

They wandered the fairgrounds, Stiles gesturing wildly at everything and Derek just trying to keep lemonade from spilling all over him. Stiles stopped at the petting zoo and insisted on petting every animal there at least once. Derek won a small stuffed panda at the ring toss, which he immediately gave to Stiles, and Stiles ran to a dart game and spent $15 before he won a stuffed tiger with heavy eyebrows.

“He looks just like you,” Stiles cooed, and Derek pushed him away with a laugh.

They split a funnel cake and another lemonade, and then Stiles dragged them over to the Ferris wheel for a ride. Derek wasn’t entirely sure the thing was up to code, but hell, he could protect Stiles if anything happened. Besides, he really did love Ferris wheels.

Derek leaned against the metal backrest and sighed, watching the fair. It stretched out beneath them, dotted with lights and people, music and laughter dancing through the evening air. The Ferris wheel gave them a cool breeze, and Derek closed his eyes briefly.

Something popped, and his eyes snapped open and he threw his arm across Stiles’s chest.

Before he could assess the situation, Stiles grabbed him and pointed. “Fireworks, dude!”

Derek followed Stiles’s finger, and sure enough, a fireworks show had started against the darkening sky. He relaxed minutely.

Stiles turned to him with a grin. “Did you think the Ferris wheel was falling apart?”

Derek slowly lowered his arm. “Maybe.”

“And your first thought was to protect me.” Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder. “I feel loved.”

You should, Derek thought, but he couldn’t make himself say it. “I’ll always protect you,” he said instead.

“I know,” Stiles said, his heartbeat steady.

Derek closed his eyes and cautiously laid his cheek on Stiles’s head. Most days he still didn’t feel worthy of trust like that. It still boggled his mind that Stiles gave it so easily.

Stiles linked his warm fingers through Derek’s, and Derek’s heart thudded at the touch.

“Thank you for this,” Stiles whispered.

Derek turned his hand so their palms pressed together, so he could hold Stiles’s hand properly. It felt like everything he hadn’t been able to say for weeks now. Maybe months. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Stiles just squeezed his hand in response.

They rode the Ferris wheel and watched the fireworks burst over the fair. Stiles didn’t let go of his hand the entire time.

To be fair, Derek didn’t let go, either.

[crossroadswrite]

I WANT DEREK TO PROPOSE TO STILES EVERY TIME HE GETS DRUNK LIKE EVERY SINGLE TIME LIKE THEY ARE MARRIED WITH THREE KIDS AND FOUR DOGS

okay so forgive me its literally 2am and this is gonna be shit but this image is so fucking cute i gotta just drabble a lil bit kay? kayp.s. lmao its literally like three am, im so tired im sleeping idk what even happened but have some fic i guess???

PART 2

It’s way past midnight when someone starts pounding on the first door so hard, Stiles wakes up and flails his way off the couch.

“Ohmygod,” Stiles whispers, picking himself up and rushing to open the door, sending a worried glance upstairs. “Coming! Coming, cool your jets,” he huffs just as he rips his door open and finds Derek smiling goofily at him, propped up on Boyd’s shoulder and listing dangerously forwards.

“Stiles,” he croons, and basically leans forwards enough he falls face first on Stiles’ shoulder, grasping his shirt with clumsy greedy fingers. 

Boyd holds the back of Derek’s shirt, holding some of his weight for Stiles. “You got him?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Stiles mutters, gripping Derek’s hips and making sure he’ll stay upright when Boyd lets go. “Thanks for getting my husband smashed on a school night.”

Boyd shrugs and smirks a little. “Erica says she’ll make it up by taking you out and letting you get smashed.”

Stiles squints dangerously at him, which is probably dampened by the fact that he appears to have an oversize cat nuzzling him and pressing sloppy open mouth kisses on his shoulders.

Boyd raises his eyebrows; Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs. “Fine, just make sure you don’t do it on a school night. The kids are asleep. Was the pounding really necessary?”

“He was excited to see you again,” Boyd says and then turns, throwing a wave over his shoulder.

Stiles sighs and adjusts his grip on Derek, trying to gauge if he can take him to the bedroom or if he’ll have to settle in for tucking him on the couch.

“Come on, big guy,” he mutters. “It’s time to get some water in you, get you into your jammies and then bed.”

“Noooooo,” Derek whines. “Don wanna sleep. Wanna stay up ‘n look at you.”

Keep reading

[crossroadswrite]

Sterek Highschool AU where Stiles and Derek are in different social circles and one of them asks out the other, and they're really shocked and reflexively say no because they think it's a joke and then the one that asked the other out is embarrassed and stammering like "oh, oh yeah of course" and backs off almost in tears at the embarrassment

hey-ho here’s what you ordered with a side of quasi-nerd!derek and quasi-jock!stiles[read on ao3]

don’t go breakin’ my heart [i couldn’t if i tried]

Contrary topopular belief, Derek Hale – co-captain of the basketball team, AP student whovolunteers in the library – isn’t actually as smooth as people might think.

During hisentire high school career, he’s only had one girlfriend, Paige, who heawkwardly flirted with and mooned over until she decided to give him the timeof day and ask him out because you’rekind of cute and actually know your classical composers.

He has noidea how the rumors about him dating around started, but they’re definitely nottrue. He dated Paige for the first two years of high school, they broke upafter Paige moved away with her family, neither of them really thinking that along distance relationship would work.

He hasn’treally been interested in anyone else since Paige to warrant any kind of rumorsabout how he charms girls and strings them along. In fact, Derek Hale makes ita point to be nice to everyone and respect women like his mother taught him to.Never in his life has he overstepped with a girl, which is makes these rumorsthat he strings girls along all the more mind-boggling.

All in all,he doesn’t understand his womanizerfame but he also doesn’t care a lot that he has it.

He doesn’tknow what he’s doing wrong, so he can’t stop doing it and he knows that rumorslike that are hard to shake off. When you get a reputation in high school it’shard for people to see you as more than that.

That’s whyDerek doesn’t pay much attention to the rumors about the latest girl heapparently strung along. That is, he doesn’t care until he sees Stiles Stilinskirunning laps on the lacrosse field, laughing along with his friend, broadshoulders working as he grips his cross and throws the ball into the goal, eyeslighting up when he grins, throwing his head back when he laughs, and almostimmediately making Derek fall not only in love but also face first on thefloor.

Keep reading

[stilesbansheequeen]

‘Stiles dislocates his shoulder in battle and Derek has to reset it’ au, written for @stiles-and-the-sourwolf based on her list of hurt!stiles prompts!

i did my research, but you should not fix a dislocated shoulder yourself except in an emergency, nor should you use this fic as any kind of medical guide

feat. scarred!Stiles, injured!Stiles, & full-shift!Derek

For a frightening moment, Stiles has no idea what happened.

All he knows is that the last hellhound the pack is fighting just tackled him, that his bat flew out of his hands, and that his shoulder just made a terrifying sound as he hit the ground.

It’s not more than a few seconds before the weight of the hound is tackled off of him, but otherwise, no one comes to his rescue. The battle continues to rage around him, the cacophony of gunfire and howling and yelling all echoing through the preserve. The pack is spread everywhere, from behind the trees to in them, and all he can do is hope that someone notices him before he gets trampled.

He’s not sure how long the whole thing goes on. His head has been getting increasingly fuzzy, and he idly wonders how hard he banged it. The fuzziness quickly turns into a rush of panic when the face of a huge black canine suddenly appears right over his own, its muzzle covered in blood. It looks furious, and Stiles isn’t proud of the distressed sound he makes. The reading he’d done on hellhounds talked about how the beasts were known to tear out the throats of their victims before dragging them down to hell. Stiles isn’t sure if he believes in the whole eternal torture thing—and hey, that’s what living in Beacon Hills feels like half the time anyway—but he’s still not particularly keen on having his jugular ripped out.  The hound is off to his left and staring straight down at him, and hysterically, Stiles thinks of all the jokes he’s made about big bad wolves out in the preserve. Hounds are close enough.

In a fit of desperation, though it’s more likely to result in his hand being bitten off than anything else, he flings out an arm to try and shove the hulking hound away. Well, at least he tries to. What actually happens is that his hand and forearm barely make it six inches off the ground before weakly flopping back down, sending pain shooting up his arm.

Fuck, what did this thing do to his shoulder?

Stiles cries out incoherently, trying to get someone’s attention. No one else shows up, though, and a moment later the creature looms even closer, and looks Stiles right in the eyes. Oh, good. At least this whole thing is satisfying for someone.

Right as Stiles is about to tear his gaze away and try to come to terms with his own mortality in a matter of seconds, the monster’s eyes flash blue.

Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved in his life.

“Not a monster,” he slurs, mostly to himself. “J’st Derek. Thank fuck.”

He lets his eyes close, and promptly passes out.

Keep reading

[strictly-chaotic]

Sterek AU: Drive-Thru I Do’s

Stiles finally cracks. He’s had enough of this town and not enough of Derek. They’ve secretly, well as secretly as you can be with a bunch of weres around, carried on their long distance relationship for over a year now while Derek took his pack to mingle with others across the world. Now Stiles wants nothing more than to finally be with his Alpha-hubby-to-be and his pack, their pack, for as long as they both shall live.