Hey y'all! I decided I needed to get a fresh start to complete my journey to self love & recovery from hard times / sadness.
You can find me on my new tumblr (http://mypersonalhappyplace.tumblr.com) where I will reblog mostly everything that I like and makes me feel good and/or happy. I finally learned how to queue so hopefully you won't get spammed by reblogs from me, there. It will be a multi-fandom / personal tumblr, though, so don't follow me there if that's something you don't like.
I also want you to know that helping people feeling better makes me feel better, so if you ever feel sad and need someone to cheer you up, or someone to listen to you, or advice on anything, or just someone to speak to, or anything, really, you can leave me an ask there, and I'll reply. :)
Of course, you can also ask things about me. I don't have horrible questions coming to my mind, so I'm going to be brave and say I'll answer everything - from personal stuff to fandom stuff.
Anyway, thank you for following me on here. It's been a great experience. See you on my new tumblr! If not, well, I was happy to virtually know you!
which character you’re like: scott | stiles | lydia | allison | derek | isaac | peter | the twins | danny | kira | melissa mccall | chris argent | sheriff stilinski
url: i don’t get it | ew | no | alright | good | fantastic | perfect | stealing it
theme: ew | no | alright | good | fantastic | perfect | stealing it
posts: ew | no | alright | good | fantastic | perfect | stealing your password
It's been a long time, and maybe you wonder about my story (or maybe not). If you don't know what I'm talking about, please check this post and this one.
First of all, I'd like to thank Marion because she's like my tumblr guardian angel, and dreamingsong for their support. Thank you guys, really !
Then, I wrote the second chapter of my story, yeah ! To be honest, I'm not really in the mood to write chapter 3 now, and I have to admit, the more I think about my little story, the more I think it's bad and not interesting at all.
But if some of you are interested in reading it, let me know please, and I'll give it a try !
Guys I really need you, could you check this post and answer please ?
(even though I guess not answering is another to say that you don't care)
If you want to know more about my lil' story :
I'm French, but I write this story in English, wich means that some sentences may sound weird and I'm sure there are mistakes. Forgive me for that.
I've already written the first chapter and the first chapter only. I won't write the other chapters if you're not interested. I don't know how chapters I'd write if you let me give a chance to this story.
I write this story for fun and because I'd like to do something new for my tumblr. My point is, it's not really good. Like I already said, it's cheesy, like, very cheesy.
Also, I'd like to thank Marion because I should have known she'd be interested. Of course. So, thank you so much Marion for everything, I hope you'll see this !
Thank you guys. Please, let me know what you think. Thank you
Dearest darling giftee!
I started a ridiculous number of fics for you, but they all grew way past the 2,5K mark, but thankfully this one managed to stay on target!
You wanted fluff and first-times and were good with AUs, so here you have a fluffy office!AU with firsts. I hope you enjoy the fic and that it makes you happy! <3
—
Sparkle, Glitter & Glitz
Stiles looks down his glitter-drizzled shirt miserably and then shoots Scott a peeved glare. The asshole is still laughing. At least he fell off his chair in the process, so that’s a small comfort.
“You asshole, I’m supposed to be wearing this shirt tonight!” Stiles wails and Scott sounds like he’s maybe dying from lack of oxygen now. Stiles doesn’t care. Serves the douchebag right for not using an adhesive on the ‘Happy Holidays!’ banner. The banner is no longer quite as twinkly and merry, whereas Stiles is. He’s not pleased.
Scott seems to have grasped the basic concept of breathing again as he wheezes out, “Aw but you look dazzling,” and the promptly returns to choking himself half to death over his own lame joke. Stiles gives him the finger and goes off to whine at Erica and maybe trick her into letting him borrow one of her extra dress shirts he <i>knows</i> she stacks in her office drawer.
Stiles may not love his job. Data entry isn’t exactly something he has strong feelings about one way or another. He’s fairly happy about his cubicle though, as sad as that sounds, but that’s mostly because he’s allowed to decorate it as he sees fit, so currently there’s a lot of Star Wars memorabilia stuck to every available surface. But he loves his colleagues. He really does, and this is his first Christmas party with them. Well, his boss Lydia calls it ‘holiday celebration’, because they’re meant to be inclusive, but whatever. There’s holly and glitter and greens and golds and reds everywhere, so Stiles says it’s a Christmas party. He started in January and <i>just</i> missed out on lasts year’s party, so he’s totally going to go all in this year, and apparently that means signing up to be part of the party committee and decorating team.
Which is why he finds himself now covered in glitter and without an extra shirt, because Erica is a cruel, cold-hearted person, who says getting glitterfied is a work hazard when agreeing to decorate the office for the festivities. She’s also laughing just as much as Scott. Stiles may be reconsidering the amount of love he has for his colleagues.
“I look like a walking ornament, Erica! Please!”
“You are the embodiment of festive cheer and I think you look great.” Erica pinches his cheek and sashays past him out of her office, in a sinfully tight red dress and golden curls bouncing cheerfully with every step. Stiles mopes.
“I’m sure Derek will think so too!” she calls over her shoulder and Stiles’ stomach drops.
He runs after her.
“No. No no no no, Erica, you have to lend me a shirt, I mean, is Derek coming? Why is he coming, he works in postal, seriously, please, lend me a shirt, I’m begging you-” Stiles barrels on and Erica sighs and stops.
“Stiles, postal gets invited to all the different parties in the building, I guess it’s to make up for being stuck alone in the basement all the time or something,” she says, giving him a look as if this is general knowledge, “and of course Derek’s coming, his sister works on our floor and I’m pretty sure she made him agree to show up. You know how persuasive Laura can be.”
“Laura is Derek’s sister?” Stiles gapes and Erica just rolls her eyes at him before walking on, shaking her head. “Ericaaaa, please give me a new shirt!” Stiles tries again, falling into step next to her. He narrows his eyes at her in a sidelong glance. “I will hug you,” he threatens and Erica stops again, turning towards him to give him a glare.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Stiles just tilts his chin up.
“Oh I will,” he shoots back and Erica narrows her eyes at him. A silent second passes before she huffs and throws her arms up.
“Ugh, fine! But they’re too small for you, I’m just saying!”
Stiles grins in triumph. Anything is better than being a walking Christmas cracker.
—
Stiles may have been wrong about the small shirt being better than the ornament resembling one. Isaac has been staring at his chest for a solid five minutes and Scott is actually starting to look a little perplexed at his boyfriend’s reaction to Stiles.
Stiles is feeling a lot more self-conscious than he did when he was covered in glitter. He’s contemplating sneaking back into Erica’s office to reclaim his glitter shirt, but then Derek walks in with Laura and Stiles’ brain short-circuits for a moment, as it always does when he’s in anything even resembling near proximity to Derek.
Stiles has had an embarrassingly all-consuming crush on Derek ever since he delivered Stiles’ mail with a “Post for you there is,” on a shitty, cold February day that was as bleak as Stiles’ mood had been. Stiles doesn’t even remember what he’d been feeling crappy over, but he remembers the way he’d felt a little lighter and brighter inside after Derek’s deadpan Yoda impression.
Unfortunately Stiles has no game to speak of whatsoever, and so he’d just stared at Derek, mouth agape, until Derek had started to look a little uncomfortable and shuffled onwards with his mail cart. Stiles thinks his life would be easier if it’d been a cartoon movie, because then Derek would’ve been able to actually see the little hearts in Stiles’ eyes that was sure to have been there at that moment.
As it is, however, Stiles probably just looked like a mentally challenged asshole and he’d made Derek feel embarrassed and now Stiles just gets his mail on his desk with a curt nod and no funny lines. Not even a smile. Stiles has wanted to kick himself in the shin ever since.
Every time Derek shows up with his mail, Stiles decides to say something, anything, to let Derek know, somehow, that Stiles think he’s pretty much the best thing since curly fries, but he always just feels weirdly heavy-limbed and ends up with a tongue that feels twice its normal size whenever he’s actually faced with Derek. Stiles curses his body for its unwillingness to cooperate.
Quite clearly tonight is not the night when that changes, because Stiles does open his mouth to say something when Laura and Derek passes by, but nothing comes out, and while Laura squeezes his arm in greeting before walking on, Derek doesn’t even look at him. At least that means Derek hasn’t noticed the excessive tightness of Stiles’ shirt, but it’s not really any comfort. Stiles sighs and steals Scott’s cup of mulled wine as he passes by, ignoring the protests he gets in return. Tonight is obviously going to need a lot of alcohol.
—
Stiles may be reconsidering the amount of alcohol tonight is going to need. Or maybe the quantity is right, but Stiles probably shouldn’t have ingested it all in the timespan of one hour. Especially not at the start of the party. And most definitely not before he’d had anything to eat.
He’s trying to make up for that last bit by demolishing an entire plate of miniature cherry tarts, which probably doesn’t really count as food if you ask some people, but Stiles disagrees with that.
“Did you just eat all the desserts on your own?” Erica says, suddenly next to him and Stiles chokes on the last tart. She gives him an unimpressed eyebrow-quirk and slaps him on the back a few times.
“You’re ninja,” Stiles proclaims and now Erica is raising both eyebrows at him. At least she also looks like she’s about to laugh.
“Damn Stilinski, are you wasted already? That’s got to be a record. No, wait, I think Scott maybe holds that, it only took him twenty minutes at the first summer BBQ party he participated in, but still.” She’s definitely smirking at him now but she’s also looping her arm through Stiles, guiding him in direction of the drinks table and Stiles starts to protest.
“Oh hush, I’m getting you some water, party animal,” Erica says and pats the arm of his that she’s holding on to. “You’re no fun if you’re under the table in thirty minutes, and I’ve got fun things planned for you tonight, sweetheart.” She throws him a smile that’s all teeth and Stiles is not sure if those things are fun for Erica or fun for Stiles. He’s maybe thinking the first more than the latter.
Erica leaves him after making sure he’s downed two cups of water, assuring him that she’ll be back in a moment, but it’s not Erica who stands next to him when he looks back up, it’s Derek and suddenly Stiles’ throat feels drier than the fucking Sahara.
Derek gives him the usual curt nod before pouring himself a glass of mulled wine and Stiles’ brain screams at him to say something, that this is clearly his moment to fix things and get his happy ever after or whatever, but his tongue is swelling again and this time his knees feels kinda jelloid and his heart seems insistent on testing the speed at which it can go before it punches it way through Stiles’ ribcage.
“You’re under the mistletoe!” someone sounding distinctly like Erica calls and Stiles looks up, confused, because he does not remember putting up mistletoe at any point during the decorating process, but there is indeed a little sprig of green and white hanging above their heads, but before Stiles can even get excited about the possibility, he catches sight of Derek’s expression and his heart sinks.
Derek looks like someone kicked a puppy and forced him to watch, visibly uncomfortable and not looking at Stiles at all. He looks like this is the worst thing to have ever happened to him.
“Uhm,” he tries, but Erica is whistling at them and everyone is staring and Stiles doesn’t actually want his first kiss with Derek to be forced in any way. Stiles’ head is swimming and it’s just too hot in here, and Derek still won’t look at him.
“Never mind,” Stiles says and brushes past Derek, needing to get out and away, right now. He can hear disapproving shouts from Erica and what sounds like Laura, of all people, but they are brought to an abrupt end when slides the glass-door to the tiny balcony shut behind him. His head clears up almost instantly with the first deep breath of fresh air. Stiles grips on to the railing tightly, his knuckles whitening as he takes another breath, and another one. The city below him is a spider-web of glittering lights and it looks beautiful and overwhelming all at once. Like Derek. Stupid Derek. Stupid Stiles. Stupid Erica. Stupid stupid stupid. Stiles sighs.
He hears the door slide open but doesn’t bother to turn around.
“Go away, Erica. That was mean and horrible and I can’t believe you would do that to me,” he says sourly.
“I’ll let her know?” A deep voice says, uncertainly and Stile spins around immediately. Derek looks at him curiously.
“Sorry, I thought… yeah,” he says, flapping his hands around uselessly.
“I just wanted to see if you were alright. I’m sorry you got stuck with me under there,” Derek says, voice tight and Stiles can’t help it. He gapes. Derek huffs air out of his nose, looking annoyed. “But you didn’t have to run off, I looked like an idiot standing there alone.”
Stiles is still just standing there with his mouth open like an idiot. There’s a muscle twitching in Derek’s jaw.
“You’re sorry?” Stiles finally manages, “I wouldn’t want to stand there with anyone else,” he blurts out and immediately feels like the balcony just disappeared under him. Derek just looks confused.
“I… what? Stiles, you never even talk to me,” he says, bemused “why would you want to…” Derek trails off.
“You know my name,” is what Stiles decides is a great reply to that and Derek looks at him like he’s a bit dense.
“Yeah, your name is on your mail,” he says slowly. Oh. Right.
“You don’t like me though,” Stiles tries.
“That’s not true,” Derek says quietly, still looking like he’s not sure what’s going on, “and I could say the same about you.”
“Not true,” Stiles echoes. “How could you even think that? I mean, I’ve got hearteyes visible from space when you roll by.”
Derek snorts and Stiles feels warm inside. “I’ll make sure to check next time I take a trip on my Millennium Falcon,” Derek says dryly, “’cause I can’t see them from here.”
“You’re a nerd,” Stiles says happily but Derek looks embarrassed.
“Look, I know it can be a bit much-” he starts but Stiles claps his hand over Derek’s mouth, ignoring the tingles it sends through his body to feel Derek’s lips again his palm. Derek looks down at Stiles’ hand and back at Stiles, raising his eyebrows. Stiles removes his hand and tries flexing it, but the tingles remain.
“A bit much? Dude, you’ve seen the amount of nerdery in my cubicle, right?”
“Well, yeah, I mean that’s why I did the Yoda thing-” Derek starts but Stiles cuts in.
“I loved that,” he says earnestly. He might as well just go for broke now that his tongue is cooperating and not tripping him up any more than usual.
“You- but you looked at me like I was an idiot,” Derek insists and Stiles just shakes his head.
“I was mindblown by the combination of hot and nerdy, okay?” he explains and Derek looks embarrassed again, but he’s also smiling.
“That sounds like a bad dating show,” he mutters and scratches the back of his neck. “Also, you’re weird,” he adds.
“But good weird?” Stiles asks hopefully, and Derek gives him a playful, calculating look.
“Not sure yet,” he says.
“Totally good weird,” Stiles decides and Derek huffs a quiet laugh.
“I’m sorry I left you under the mistletoe,” Stiles says, a little more seriously. He shuffles towards Derek. “Can I have a do-over?” he asks. Derek inhales, short and sharp.
“Uhm, well,” he looks over his shoulder, back at the on-going party, and frowns, “I think maybe Scott and Isaac are making good use of it already,” he says, wrinkling his nose a little and Stiles giggles. Derek’s eyes reflects the soft lights from the chains decorating the balcony.
“I never really needed any extra motivation to kiss you, to be honest,” he murmurs and fists one hand lightly in the fabric of Derek’s blazer. Stiles spares a second to think about how he should’ve brought his own with him out here, because it’s actually really fucking cold and the tip of his nose is numb, but Derek is radiating warmth and Stiles is drawn closer and closer until Derek finally leans in and closes the last inch of space between them, pressing his lips softly to Stiles’.
Stiles doesn’t feel cold anymore. He feels as bright and light as on that day in February and Derek really is just as overwhelming as the city lights. Derek taste of sweet wine and spice from the drinks at the party, and something else that’s uniquely him and it leaves Stiles feeling even drunker, but in a far more pleasant way.
He lets his arms encircle Derek’s waist as the kiss turns to shorter, lighter ones wandering from Stiles’ lips to the edge of his jaw and back, slowly and sweetly and he sighs happily. Then Derek breaks away, frowning slightly.
“What?” Stiles asks, not letting go. Derek strokes a thumb across Stiles’ cheekbone.
“You’ve got glitter on your face,” he says and Stiles can’t help but laugh.
“I’m the embodiment of festive cheer,” he grins and Derek shakes his head softly.
“Weirdo,” he whispers and Stiles manages a “Yep,” before Derek seals his lips to Stiles’ again.
