#esss17

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

Very Merry Fluffy Christmas, @theanarik ! :)

[shinigami714]

The Forest Prince

Society6

I was going to wait until the big reveal on @eternalstereksecretsanta but it hasn’t happened yet and I wanted to get this posted before the new year! This was my gift for @kaistrex.  I was so glad to see you liked it! Here it is without the watermark and with a process gif as well :D. 

In this AU Stiles is a forest prince of some kind.  He likes to save the animals in his kingdom, and of course once upon a time he came upon an injured shifter that was no exception to the rule.  Derek was a bit vicious and suspicious in the beginning, but he has grown attached ever since he was painstakingly nursed back to health, and can’t help but tag along at his side to keep Stiles safe. He’s often bemused by Stiles’s carefree (naive) and sometimes reckless (idiotic) personality, but mostly he’s just fallen in love. <3

[sterekationstation]

Melt Together

//ayyyyyyy y’all i forgot to post this fic i wrote for @foolishsel for the @eternalstereksecretsanta!! check it out, it’s mindless smutty fluff and I had a ton of fun writing it.//

The heatwave has hit Beacon Hills like a sledgehammer.

Harsh, unforgiving sunlight beats down onto the yards and thoroughfares, warping the air into a shimmering mirage, melting the tarmac just enough so that it sticks to the soles of people’s shoes. The air feels thick and unyielding, an unexpected stew of humidity that turns the world into a pressure cooker.  

“This,” Stiles says, head-deep in Derek Hale’s freezer, “is hell.”

“Dramatic,” Derek mutters, only just audible from where he reclines on the couch, seemingly untroubled by the oppressive heat.

Stiles removes his head from the freezer for the prerequisite 0.8 seconds it takes to shoot Derek a truly filthy look. The werewolf is going through Stiles’ research with an almost zen-like expression of calm, ignoring the sweat that glistens on his brow. As Stiles watches, a single perfect bead of perspiration slips free of the graceful divot of Derek’s collarbone and slides, unencumbered, down the powerfully muscled plane of his bare chest.

Bastard, Stiles thinks despondently, and sticks his head back into the blissfully cool darkness of the freezer.

“Why doesn’t anyone have a goddamn air conditioner?” he moans. “I know we’re in northern California, but surely someone would have the presence of mind to have central air.”

“Not if you live in a town in the mountains, where it never gets hotter than 70 degrees. And anyway, you know you’re at least partially responsible for this.” Derek’s voice is muffled by the confines of the refrigeration unit, but the judgement there is hard to miss. Stiles glares at an economy-sized box of frozen waffles.

“That’s victim-blaming,” he grumbles. He can practically hear Derek rolling his eyes. “Not cool.”

“How did you manage to mortally offend a tempestarii during the two hours she happened to be passing through town, anyway?”

Stiles snorts derisively, but otherwise remains resolutely silent. There’s no use in denying it, not when Derek could hear him lying from three towns over, but he’ll be damned if he says anything more on the matter. Instead, he rests his overheated face on a bag of frozen peas, and wishes a pox upon all weather-witches.

“Hey.”

His voice is so close that Stiles startles, turning too fast and nearly braining himself on an ice cube tray. Derek steadies him with hand on his shoulder, unable to disguise his amusement even as he sighs long-sufferingly. The blessed chill of the freezer escapes into the kitchen, heat rushing to fill its place, and Stiles levels a glare at the werewolf’s stupid, handsome mug. He’s standing so close that Stiles can smell him, woodsy with a hint of perspiration. He blames the rabbiting of his heart on shock; it has nothing to do with Derek’s sudden proximity, or the way his reluctant smile softens the lines of his face.

“We need to get you a bell,” Stiles mutters, studiously avoiding Derek’s gaze. Derek raises a sardonic eyebrow, but refuses to be otherwise deterred.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, calm as still waters. He squeezes Stiles’ shoulder, and Stiles knows that he means for it to be reassuring, and that makes his own despairing longing that much worse. “If we know what she was thinking at the time, we can figure out what kind of spell she used, and it’ll be a lot easier to break.”

Stiles winces, folding his arms across his chest defensively.

“Can’t we just figure it out the old-fashioned way?” he protests, jerking his head to the pile of papers and arcane tomes that he’d dumped onto Derek’s coffee table. He’s being childish and he knows it, but he can’t shake the memory of the tempestarii’s sneer, the way the hunger in her eyes had turned to mocking rage.

“Of course, we can,” Derek says, shrugging. Then he reaches out and shuts the freezer door, eliminating the vestigial traces of cool air that had been soothing Stiles' burning face. “But you can’t live in my fridge while we do it.”

“Cruel!”

“You don’t pay my power bill.”

Sullen silence reigns for the better part of a minute as Stiles glowers and Derek waits him out impassively, still standing distractingly close. It’s a losing battle, and Stiles knows it, but he’s been avoiding this conversation for so many years that the thought of having it all out in the open now makes him queasy. He grits his teeth and steps back until he can lean against the fridge, trying for casual and missing by several miles.

“She was an asshole,” he mutters, trying to focus on anything other than Derek’s questioning frown and his emphatically bare torso.

Derek is unmoved.

“And?”

Stiles makes the mistake of meeting that wonderful green gaze, and folds like a cheap suit.

Read more on AO3!

[anodyneer]

A Long Way From Where We Began

Derek/Stiles | 11,315 words | Teen | On AO3

Summary: Five years into their relationship, Derek takes Stiles to the place where the Hale family often celebrated winter solstice and Derek’s birthday. Stiles knows the trip will bring back a lot of memories for Derek, but both of them end up getting so much more out of it than they ever could have expected.

My Eternalsterek Secret Santa 2017 fic for @kewismash! Lots of Hale family memories/holiday traditions, plus fluff and cuddling and presents...and background Peter/Sheriff.

As he turned off onto a mountain road that was clearly seldom used, Stiles couldn’t help glancing over at Derek, dozing beside him in the passenger seat. It had been a little over five years since they’d officially started dating, but it still sometimes took Stiles by surprise when he got to see Derek completely unguarded, especially when they were far away from home.

Knowing Derek wanted to be awake for the last part of the drive, Stiles reluctantly reached over and gave his knee a gentle squeeze. Derek stirred and murmured something that sounded vaguely like a question.

“We’re almost there,” Stiles said, drumming his fingers up Derek’s thigh. “You said you wanted me to wake you, remember?”

“Mmm.” Derek finally opened his eyes and glanced at their surroundings before giving Stiles a soft smile. “Still looks the same as I remember it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Derek said around an aborted yawn, stretching his arms out until his palms were flat on the dash. “This was always our favorite part. Dad would wake us up when Mom turned back this road, and we’d be so excited by the time we got there. Usually ended up chasing each other around the paths near the lodge while Mom got us checked in.” The memory brought another smile to Derek’s face, and Stiles grinned in return.

It still touched him to hear Derek talking about his family so openly, with happy, unburdened memories instead of guilt-ridden ones. After the deaths of Kate and Gerard (and their subsequent incineration by Peter for good measure), Derek had started to truly heal, but it was still another two years into their relationship before he’d started opening up and revealing more of his past.

The first time he’d shared something big with Stiles, a story about a family trip to the lake, Derek had been in tears by the end, but he’d been smiling – a beautiful, open smile, the likes of which Stiles had never really seen on Derek’s face in the past.

It’d gotten easier for him over time, but opening up like that was still somewhat of a rarity, and Stiles was grateful for every story, every memory.

It had been one of those stories, in fact, that had inspired their holiday getaway. The summer before last, during one of Cora’s visits, she’d been telling Stiles about a place where the Hale family had loved to spend Christmas – and sometimes other holidays as well. Though they didn’t observe the religious aspect of Christmas, they used it as an occasion for spending time together as a family and pack, celebrating the winter solstice and the changes it brought, letting their wolves run free.

They stayed at an isolated getaway deep in the wilds of Washington state, a massive property run by a small pack who made sure to keep prying eyes far enough away that the wolves didn’t have to worry. The Hales had loved it there, according to both Cora and Derek, but none of them had been back since the fire.

Maybe we could go there this Christmas? Stiles had suggested back then, fascinated by the idea of such a place. Derek’s only response, though, had been to get up and walk away without a word, leaving Stiles to wonder if he’d screwed things up. He’d found Derek on the back deck, looking out over their yard and the woods beyond. Derek, I –

It’s okay, Derek had said, turning to wrap Stiles in a warm embrace. I just…maybe next year?

Stiles had readily agreed, though he hadn’t really expected it to happen. He’d been floored, then, when Derek had not only suggested the getaway a year later, but had even followed through with reservations, plane tickets, and a rented Grand Cherokee.

“There it is,” Derek said, pulling Stiles from his thoughts. He followed Derek’s finger to what looked to be a tribal design of a howling wolf, carved into a well-weathered post at the side of the dirt road. As they passed the carving and continued toward what looked to be a large log cabin in the distance, Stiles noticed Derek growing anxious, and by the time they pulled up in front of the building, Stiles was more than a little concerned.

“Derek?” Stiles shut off the Jeep and reached over to cover one of Derek’s hands with his own.

“I’m good,” Derek said, his voice steady. He looked over at Stiles, and though his eyes were shining, he didn’t look as emotional as Stiles had expected. “I’m – it’s a lot, you know?” He turned his hand, threading his fingers through Stiles’ own. “But I’m glad we’re here. It feels right.”

“Good.” Stiles hesitated, not wanting to press the issue, not wanting to make Derek think that maybe he should be more freaked out about being there. Still, he needed to make sure Derek knew they weren’t obligated to stay. “If that changes, though –”

“I’ll tell you. I will.” That soft smile returned to Derek’s face, and he tugged on Stiles’ hand, pulling him over for a quick kiss.

“We should probably go check in, then.” Stiles nodded toward the lodge’s front porch, where an elderly couple stood watching them. “Looks like the welcoming committee is here.”

Derek’s eyes widened, and after giving Stiles another quick peck, he climbed out of the Jeep. Stiles followed, getting out just in time to hear the woman gasp Derek’s name as she hurried down the steps to wrap him in a fierce hug. The man took his time, easing his way down the steps before giving Stiles a small, but warm smile.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” the woman said to Derek, her voice wavering. She backed away just far enough to run her hands up and down his arms. “I still can’t believe it.”

To Stiles’ surprise, not only did Derek seem comfortable with the contact and the attention, but he was still smiling, warm and beautiful. He shared a shorter, but still amiable, hug with the man as well before turning his attention back to Stiles.

“Stiles, this is Trudy and Walt Lowell. They and their pack run this place. Trudy and Walt, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Walt said, extending a hand for Stiles to shake. Trudy, who’d already shown herself to be more of the hugging type, embraced Stiles just long enough to be comfortable, and just firmly enough for him to realize that, while her husband looked to be human, she was definitely a werewolf.

“Well, come on inside,” Trudy said as she stepped back to look them over from head to toe. “Let’s get you checked in.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[sunshinexlollipops]

“The Performance of Miracles”

This is my ESSS17 gift for @madzielightbanes --- for some reason nothing was posted come Christmas day, so I do apologize that this a wee bit late.

Also, another problem was that, with my work schedule, it was hard for me to write this fic in general. Meaning, I wasn’t able to finish it by the time the 25th rolled around, so I do apologize. Currently, it’s a WIP, but I intend to finish it as quickly as possible. <3

Here’s the tags, notes, and summary of the story!

- - - 

Tags: Alternate Universe, Time Travel, Magic/Spells, Tattoed Stiles, Older Stiles and Derek, Kid Fic, Adopted Chlid - No Mpreg, Reasonable Angst, Family Feels, Future Fic, Rating for future scenes, WIP. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence Notes: Currently a WIP. Certain tags to be added as story progresses. Summary:  Stiles can feel it, his panic attack. 

He’s stiff now, breathing cut short and sharp as his knees suddenly give out from under him. But, before he can fall fully, Derek catches him, not looking that much better himself as they both process what Lydia just told them.

2021.

Fucking ten years into the future.

- - -

You can read it on AO3 HERE!

[yoshiscribbles]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: Misunderstandings, comedic misunderstandings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, throwaway mention of burning children, mentioned/implied dismemberment, no actual dismemberment, Alternate Universe - Human, Human!Derek Summary:

Stiles's new roommate is... weird. And as time goes on, Stiles becomes more and more convinced that he's an actual murderer. It would be much more simpler if Derek could stop being so nice about it though. He's giving Stiles all sorts of conflicted feelings. (Or 3 times Stiles thought Derek was a murderer, and 1 time he didn't)

So this was my fic to @scales-not-skin for this year’s eternalstereksecretsanta! It was really fun and I’ll probably end up playing in that verse again, so I hope they liked it!

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas @stilinstuck !! i hope ull like these adorable bbies having some fun *wiggling eyebrows*

[eternalstereksecretsanta]

love letters straight from your heart

For the lovely @poetry-protest-pornography, who listed one of their favorite tropes as “doing something nice for the other and getting caught.” although this didn’t quite turn out to be that, I hope you enjoy anyway ♥

It seemed like a good idea at the time. How much of Stiles’ life was shaped by those words? But this? This was probably one of the worst decisions he had ever made.

After two years of living in the dorms, Stiles was faced with a choice. Either find some people to get a shitty apartment with, or move back home. Between nightmares and training with Deaton, moving back to Beacon Hills made the most sense. The commute was only an hour and he had managed to schedule his on-campus classes to meet only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Everything else he could take online.

But he just had to go complaining about moving back in with his dad to Derek over the summer. In his defense, he never expected Derek to offer his spare room. Because Derek had a house now. A very nice house. And a job.

Honestly, the idea of living somewhere he could be independent, yet still see his dad whenever he wanted was too good to pass up. But now, standing in the fancy kitchen and staring at the yellow sticky note on the coffee maker, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a mistake.

DO YOUR OWN DISHES, spelled out in Derek’s blocky hand writing stared back at him. Stiles sighed, scrunching up the yellow square and setting it beside his mug. It was the fifth note he’d found in as many days. One in the bathroom (PICK UP YOUR TOWELS), one on the refrigerator (DON’T DRINK MY BEER), and several others scattered across the house.

It was infuriating. This was the reason Stiles had wanted to sit down and draw up a roommate contract, but Derek’s only stipulation was ‘pay the rent on time.’ Stiles rinsed his mug and dropped it into the dishwasher. It hadn’t even been a week and he was already worrying about making this work.

—

Stiles was stubborn. He told his dad this was for the best, so he was going to stick it out. And Derek wasn’t a bad roommate, really. He worked odd hours because he was the newest deputy on the force, but he was always quiet and neat. Sometimes Stiles didn’t even know he was home.

After the first month, Derek convinced him to take the Toyota to class. It had much better gas mileage, plus meant less wear and tear on the Jeep. So Stiles parked Roscoe in the garage with the Camaro and hung the new set of keys off of his keyring.

All in all, Stiles though they were doing well. Even if they rarely saw each other. (Which, considering the massive crush he had on Derek, was probably for the best. No need to make it weird.)

It had been two weeks without a damn sticky note, so Stiles figured he’d cleaned up his act enough to make Derek happy. Until one morning he came down to a note reading PICK UP YOUR SHIT. It was stuck to the wall above the pile of shoes and sweatshirts and textbooks that had accumulated in the living room.

Stiles sighed heavily before gathering up the mess to take to his room. “This is why we need the expectations outlined,” he grumbled, not even caring if he woke Derek up.

He dumped everything on the floor, grabbed his backpack, and shut the door a tad bit harder than necessary. KEEP YOUR DOOR CLOSED OR CLEAN YOUR ROOM had been the last message and Stiles tried hard to comply. But hell, it was exhausting trying to remember all of the rules. Maybe he should have kept the notes instead of crumpling each one and throwing it away.

—

For the first two months living together, Stiles could count on one hand the number of times he’d actually spoken to Derek. Part of it was his crazy schedule, with classes and training with Deaton and hanging out with his dad. And the rest was Derek’s apparent preference for night shifts. In fact, it wasn’t until mid-October that Derek finally confronted Stiles about his sleeping habits.

Stiles was neck deep in practice tests when the door to the garage swung open. Derek dropped his work bag on the kitchen floor and slipped into the chair across from him. There were notecards, loose leaf papers, and multiple notebooks spread across the table between them.

Derek took in the chaos and sighed. “Why are you still up?”

“Stupid exam tomorrow.” Stiles didn’t even look away from his screen. The words stopped making sense an hour ago, but there was no way he could remember this many conjugations.

“Go to bed.” Derek gently slid the laptop out of range. “You can’t learn anything when you’re this tired.”

“But…” Stiles’ protest died as Derek fixed him with a look. It clearly conveyed that he wasn’t listening to arguments. Defeated, Stiles leaned back in his chair and yawned widely. Ugh. It was almost four in the morning.

The next day was brutal. Stiles rolled out of bed at eight o’clock to an alarm that he didn’t remember setting. He stumbled down the stairs, trying not to wake Derek with his heavy footfalls. But when he went to pull the milk out of the refrigerator, the sight of a yellow sticky note on the door made him freeze.

In neat capital letters, it said: GOOD LUCK TODAY. There was even a smiley face. Was this the Twilight Zone?

Stiles stared, then blinked several times. But the words didn’t disappear.

He smiled the entire duration of his morning routine, stopping to stick the note to the inside cover of his Latin textbook before he left. Then he hopped into Derek’s Toyota and drove to school.

He aced the exam.

—

Several weeks passed and Derek was already out on his night shift when Stiles shuffled in from school. He’d had an incredibly long day, filled with lectures and labs and finishing a stupid group project. Finding a familiar yellow note hanging from the microwave didn’t fill him with dread anymore. Especially not when it said: DINNER’S IN THE FRIDGE.

Stiles heated up the leftovers, feeling exhausted and content. Derek had even made his absolute favorite because he knew today was going to suck.

It was difficult not to read into Derek’s little acts of kindness, and Stiles was crushing harder with every note. The newest one was going to hang alongside DON’T FORGET YOUR LUNCH, and SCOTT SAYS HELLO, and DON’T WORRY I’LL BUY MORE COFFEE TONIGHT, and HAVE A GOOD DAY. That last note had Stiles grinning like a lunatic, to the point where Deaton asked if everything was alright.

So all in all, life with Derek was good. Stiles just had to keep reminding himself that Derek was a friend and not his co-lead in some rom-com about a werewolf and a spark who live together and fight crime. Although that would probably be an awesome idea for a TV show.

Shaking his head at the thought, Stiles loaded his dishes into the dishwasher and headed up to bed.

—

Halfway through the semester, Stiles’ three accelerated online classes had finals. He was super excited because that meant he’d be down to only two classes. His work load was about to be so much easier, and he might even have time to catch up on Netflix

The only problem was that the exams had to be scheduled at the proctoring center on campus. And because he was an idiot, he scheduled them all back to back. How he was going to survive six hours of testing was a mystery.

But Derek stayed up with him every night for a week, flipping through notecards and quizzing him on what he knew. Plus, he promised to take the night off and have a movie marathon once Stiles got home. Because Derek’s house was ‘home’ now and Derek was one of his best friends.

Sure enough, a yellow square saying: YOU’VE GOT THIS was already in his spot on the kitchen table. Stiles grinned at the note, peeling it away so he could add it to his collection.

—

On a typical Thursday night, Derek tapped at the door and stepped into Stiles’ room. Which he had never actually been in before. It seemed kind of weird, now that Stiles thought about it. He glanced over at the mountain of three week old laundry in the corner that was offensive to even his human nose and, well maybe not.

Marking his page, he set the textbook on his desk. “Hey, what’s up?”

Derek didn’t respond. He was staring at the bed with a slightly dazed expression. Then Stiles remembered the little yellow squares affixed to the headboard in neat rows.

He flushed, not really sure what to say. “Was there something that you wanted?”

Derek tore his eyes away. “I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

Right. This morning’s note read WE’RE HAVING DINNER WITH YOUR DAD. It was a nice reminder of the fact that Derek was taking fewer night shifts. Sometimes he was even around to hang out with.

“Give me a second.” Stiles glanced down at his ratty sweatpants and stained t-shirt. Man did he need to do laundry.

He emerged from his room in more appropriate clothes and followed Derek out to the Camaro.

They were halfway to his house when Derek broke the silence. “You kept the notes.”

“Yup.” Because, obviously.

—

Stiles rushed home from school. It was the last day of the semester and normally he’d be ecstatic to have his freedom back. But this time, he was too nervous. Honestly he had no idea what he was thinking that morning. Maybe he could still get back in time to take that idiotic note off of the counter.

He parked in the driveway and sprinted to the door, hands shaking as he unlocked it. When the door finally clicked open, he crashed into the kitchen. The shower upstairs was running. Fuck. Maybe he could call it a friend dinner? People probably made reservations at the fanciest restaurant in town for friend dinners all the time. Right?

Stiles’ panicked eyes landed on the note. His hurried scrawl: Dinner at Luka’s? 6pm was followed by Derek’s blocky print spelling out: IT’S A DATE and underlined three times.

Sagging against the counter, Stiles took a deep breath. He knew he hadn’t imagined the last few weeks. Derek was home all the time now, only taking shifts while Stiles was training or at school. Which meant they spent most of their day bickering over recipes and watching crappy television.

It was awesome and domestic and Stiles couldn’t wait to date the hell out of Derek Hale.

—

(And five years later, they visited Luca’s again. But this time, Stiles’ drink came with a sticky note asking WILL YOU MARRY ME?)