#juily writes stuff

[officerstilinskihale]

"you're safe as long as you don’t imagine your otp slow dancing to ‘the way you look tonight’ in their pjs in the kitchen of their new house at 3am with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders if you do imagine that then you're ruined im sorry" gimme a sterek fic, go.

(i'll have you know i was listening to the twenty one pilots cover of 'can't help falling in love' on repeat while writing this and i am now in tears bc my feels are strong tonight. there are no regrets)

"I think that's the last one," Stiles sighs, rubbing a hand over his head and flopping down onto the Futurama-themed beanbag he'd had since freshman year that was lying limp and nearly lifeless in the doorway to the kitchen. The couch was simply too far away. Thank god he'd had the foresight to pull on sweatpants and an old t-shirt of Derek's before they decided to unload the car, because the formal pants and dress shirt combination would've been supremely uncomfortable right now. "Derek?" he calls, lifting his head up weakly. When he hears an affirmative hum, he takes it as permission to let his head fall back down and he closes his eyes, content to let Derek do whatever it is that he's doing.

It's nearly half past two am, now, and they just unpacked every single box they owned. Their living room looked like a bomb had gone off in Target, and there were all kinds of shit everywhere. If Stiles looked slightly to his left, he could see a few Christmas ornaments hanging from their fridge handle. He doesn't even want to know.

He can hear the faint sounds of Derek fiddling with something, and after a moment, the scratchy sound of the recorder comes to life, and the sweet notes of saxophones filters through to where Stiles is laying on his back.

Already he can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, even before he opens his eyes to see Derek walking over to him, his hand out. "You're a dork," he grumbles, though it's obvious to anyone with eyes that he's more than pleased. His hand is warm in Derek's and it takes barely any effort for him to pull Stiles up.

"You're the one that married me," Derek murmurs quietly, sliding his hands easily along Stiles' waist and settling low on his back and Stiles mimics the action so he can tug Derek closer, press their bodies flush against each other.

"Damn right I did," Stiles says on a yawn, before he drops his head down on Derek's shoulder. "You're probably glad all your old man records survived the trip," he mumbles, his voice kind of muffled from where his face is smushed into the curve of Derek's neck.

"You love all my old man records," Derek reminds him. Stiles knows that Derek's literally holding them both up right now, and he tries to coordinate his feet into following Derek's gentle path, though he knows Derek wouldn't blame him if he ends up stepping on Derek's toes. Stiles has never been graceful on a good day, much less so early in the morning after a whole day of moving, no sleep, and four cups of coffee.

"I do like this song," Stiles admits, planting a kiss onto the bit of Derek's skin that he can reach. "Lovely, don't you ever change," Stiles sings quietly, his voice slightly shaky with his embarrassment, and he pulls back enough to look at Derek's face, and is completely unsurprised to how he's rolling his eyes.

His own are sparkling with mirth. "Don't you ever change, Derek!" he protests with a laugh, and doesn't resist when Derek pulls him forward so he can rest his head on Stiles' shoulder again.

The music is fading softly, and Derek's hands slide up, up, up to cup Stiles' face gently in his large hands. He stares for a long time, and Stiles would be incredibly self-conscious if he hadn't already learnt to read Derek's expressions as easily as Scott's, or his dad's. Despite it, he's still blushing, because even after nearly a decade, he can never quite believe the intensity of Derek's feelings for him.

Still, Stiles can only take so much of Derek's soft, sleepy face watching him with unabashed adoration before he leans forwards to press a chaste kiss onto Derek's mouth. "I love you," he whispers. He's so happy it almost hurts, it feels like his chest is shrinking in itself, and it leaves him breathless.

Derek's expression goes even softer, and he doesn't say anything, but he does lean forward to kiss Stiles again, using his actions to make sure Stiles knows what Derek can't tell him with words. Stiles feels boneless when Derek pulls away, and it's hard to not just melt into a puddle of liquid at Derek's feet. Derek's still watching him, willing Stiles to understand, his hands clutching at Stiles' body like he never wants to let go.

Stiles nods once, almost imperceptibly, and Derek's face gets this look of joy and relief almost immediately. He pulls Stiles close once more, and he nuzzles his way across Stiles' neck, until they're both comfortably resting against one another. They stay like that, swaying softly with each other, the music long gone, faded into a peaceful silence.

[officerstilinskihale]

sterek and "If I ever go to jail it will be because of you, I can feel it." :)

(image credit: textsfromrandomfandom)

this is partly a gift fic to literaryoblivion for her belated birthday bc i wanna finish all these tfln prompts first and it might be years before i do so, happy belated birthday, my love <3

also notenoughgatorade pushes her luck sometimes and requests like five of these because she knows i don’t know how to say no.

just pretend like everything i’m saying is legit okay. it’s fiction.

-

"If I ever go to jail, it will be because of you, I can feel it," Derek mutters, letting out a little grunt when Stiles clambers onto his palms, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Derek’s shoulders.

"To be fair," Stiles begins, but he shuts right up when Derek glares at him. "Right, no talking about how I got you arrested before. That was years ago Derek, let it go."

Derek lifts Stiles up so he can crawl over the fence before jumping over it himself, easily. He ignores Stiles’ petulant muttering of how he was a big showoff and helps him down. “And yet here we are.”

"We’re doing this for a good cause. Dad’s on a stakeout, he won’t be back until at least 6am," Stiles protests, dusting himself off, before he holds a hand out to Derek, dropping it almost as soon as Derek’s gaze falls to it. Stiles is blushing now, and it’s no less adorable as the first time Derek saw that blush. "Sorry, I mean, let’s just go."

"You do realize you haven’t told me why we’re here, right?" Derek reminds him, shaking his head and following as Stiles fiddles with a door and disappears into the police station. "This feels illegal," he mutters to himself, before he slips inside as quietly as possible.

Stiles is waiting for him just inside the doorway and he mimes zipping his lips, punching Derek in the shoulder when he rolls his eyes. Derek’s just about to keep walking when Stiles stops him with a gentle hand on his chest, points out to the hallway before gesturing to Derek’s ears. Derek listens for a long moment, but there isn’t anything more than the shuffle of papers by a deputy at the front desk, and the steady beat of Stiles’ heart. He shakes his head, and Stiles lifts up two fingers.

"There are two deputies on shift tonight," he murmurs, hot breath washing over the sensitive skin of Derek’s ear and Derek bites through his lip, the sharp tang of blood helping him refocus. "Can you hear them both?" Derek lifts a finger and Stiles pulls back, his eyes intense. There’s the fainter sound of footsteps, to the right, and Derek can easily visualize the blueprints of the station in his mind. He shakes his head.

"Evidence room," he says quietly, and Stiles thinks for a moment. It’s obvious that he’s calculating something, because his eyes always get that sort of manic gleam, and it makes him look like a crazy hot scientist. No, wait. Just crazy. Derek shuts his eyes and tries to push the thought out of his head. Now was not the time.

His eyes fly open at the gentle weight of Stiles’ hand on his shoulder, and though he doesn’t want to admit it, his stomach twists at the soft smile Stiles shoots him. Stiles was right. It has been years since Scott was turned, and over the years, the pack had grown up. That was the only way to put it. Stiles’ fingers twist in between his, the same way he’s twisted his way underneath Derek’s skin, and Derek takes a moment to admire how good their skin looks together, before Stiles is tugging him forward, the spicy scent of determination mostly overpowering the hint of embarrassment coming off Stiles. They move quickly, and quietly, because over the years, Stiles had grown into his body, finally experiencing the grace that Derek knew had always been in his body, just… hidden. Somewhere very deep.

Derek almost snorts, but manages to smother the sound, just as Stiles picks the lock of his father’s office open and pulls them both in. He locks the door behind him and directs a grin at Derek. “Everyone else was busy, but it’s my dad’s birthday, so I wanted to play a couple pranks on him, and,” he immediately adds, when he spots the telltale furrow between Derek’s eyebrows. “There are streamers and balloons and whatnot that we can put up. Please? He’ll love it,” Stiles blinks up at him with wide, earnest eyes, and Derek knows he’s already lost.

"Fine," he sighs, and Stiles pumps his fist. "Don’t start moving around too much, you might walk into something," Derek tells him, because Stiles might be slightly less clumsy than he used to be, but that particular characteristic never really left, and it usually comes back to bite them in the butt.

"Yes, dear," Stiles snarks, and Derek raises an eyebrow. Sometimes he thinks Stiles forgets that Derek can see him blush in the dark. “I wish we could turn the lights on,” Stiles sighs, and Derek snorts. He can smell the contentment wafting off Stiles as he flops down onto his dad’s chairs and starts blowing up the balloons, his cheeks hollowing, and Derek needs to look away stat. He picks up the streamers and starts taping them onto the ceiling, making sure they’re evenly spaced, because the one time he left an awkward loop in the middle, Laura had hidden his Christmas gifts for six hours and laughed when he cried to his mother. “We need this done in a few hours because I need to find dad’s secret stash of sweets-“

"Desk drawer behind the legal pads, and at the back of the L-M file cabinets," Derek interrupts, and does not blush when Stiles beams delightedly at him.

"Well, we need to replace them with these ridiculously expensive, healthy, organic stuff, so he won’t murder me and will hopefully only maim me," Stiles finishes, pulling out a box tied neatly with a bow and waving them in the air. Derek sighs. "None of that attitude, Mr. Wolf, we can do anything we set our minds to!" he proclaims happily, and this time, Derek snorts out loud.

"Idiot."

+++

"There, this is done, we can go," Stiles yawned a few hours later, pulling out his phone to check the time. "Shit, when did it get so late?" Derek shrugs, and takes a look around the room. They did a pretty good job, and Stiles nudges their shoulders together. "Thanks for helping me out." His voice is soft, and when Derek turns to look at him, Stiles is studying him from underneath his lashes, his mouth parted.

"Anytime," Derek admits, more honestly than he had intended, and he doesn’t resist when Stiles wraps his long, dextrous fingers around the soft bones of Derek’s wrists and pulls Derek towards him. They’re quiet for a long moment, and when Stiles finally opens his mouth to speak, Derek can barely hear what he’s saying over the pounding of his heart.

"Were you ever going to ask me out?"

Derek glances at him, and ducks his head. “Maybe.”

Stiles snorts, but the sound comes out fond, and Derek lets his hand rest on Stiles’ waist. “When?”

"Eventually," Derek settles on, and he shrugs. "I didn’t want you to spend your time here because you thought that’s what I wanted."

"God, just fucking kiss me already," Stiles breathes out, before he lifts up on his toes and presses his mouth to Derek’s.

And it’s perfect, the drag of lips gentle and chaste… sweet, almost, underneath the birthday decorations with the moonlight filtering gently through the shutters. Derek can see every mole, every freckle on Stiles’ skin. Derek could probably kiss Stiles forever.

Or… until the Sheriff throws the door open and flips the light on, dragging in a handcuffed suspect.

It’s like watching a car crash.

Stiles yelps, flails, and stumbles backwards, hand flying out and crashing into the desk in his attempt to balance himself before dropping into the chair that had luckily remained in the room. The chair creaked for a second, and it was easy to spot the exact moment Stiles remembered he had loosened one of the leg screws before it gave way, tipping Stiles onto his side. Luckily, he had been worried that completely breaking the chair might hurt his dad, and so he didn’t actually fall off, just startled and was now sitting awkwardly tilted, his face burning.

"Surprise, dad," he croaks, and the Sheriff blows out a huge sigh.

"Thanks, son," he shakes his head, before leaning back out and calling out for one of the other deputies to take the perp from him. "So," he begins, once they’re left alone. "Breaking and entering, really?" he directs his question at Derek, who winces and doesn’t reply.

"It was for a good cause," Stiles argues, and huffs. "I bullied him into coming with me," he added, and the Sheriff raises an eyebrow.

"Doesn’t look like he had to be convinced to come over."

Derek flushes, and Stiles splutters in outrage, his own cheeks heating. “Daaaad,” he whines, before shooting his dad a pleading look. “I’ll tell you where all the pranks are if we don’t ever talk about it,” he cajoles, and the Sheriff thinks about it for a moment. “And I’ll let you have one of your Milky Ways back,” he adds, and the Sheriff shrugs.

"Fine, but I’m only postponing this conversation," he directs a hard look at Derek, who nods. "No complaints," he warns Stiles, who lets out a put upon sigh and stomps up and over to Derek.

"The desk drawer is locked shut, you’ve seen the chair, and there’s whoopee cushions underneath your desk. I didn’t want to properly traumatize you, so I went with really crappy ones. You’re getting old, after all," he says, grabbing Derek’s hand and tugging him towards the door. "Well done on catching the bad guy dad, knew you had it in you, okay byeeee," he calls out, shutting the door behind him. "That was close," he says, leaning against the wall. Derek looks at him like he’s crazy. "What?" Stiles protests. "It could’ve been worse!"

"We could’ve been arrested!" Derek tells him, but there isn’t really any heat behind the words.

"To be fair," Stiles starts, and laughs when Derek shoves him away.

[officerstilinskihale]

Hi! :D (416): In case you're wondering what I'm doing, I'll be banging an 18 year old this weekend. Repeatedly.

notenoughgatorade also requested this! :)

-

"We’re going out tonight," Erica tells Derek immediately after he picks up the phone.

"Hi Erica, nice to hear from you. It’s been what, two weeks?" Derek says sarcastically, and he can practically hear Erica’s eyes roll. "Where even are you?"

"I’m back in L.A., okay, I just disappeared for a while because marketing was up my ass, and I was due for a vacay," she sniffs haughtily, and Derek shakes his head even though she can’t see him. "So, we’re going out tonight."

+++

For someone who’s the CEO of the family company, overseeing the operations of over 50 different retail stores across the country, Derek was young. Very young, in fact. At only 22, the second youngest Hale child was never in line for the position, but after the tragic accident that killed his whole family, there was no one else who could’ve done the job.

Sometimes, Derek’s not actually sure if Erica’s human, in the six years he’s known her, she’s more perceptive than anyone, and it seems like she can read his mind sometimes. Like now.

"Loosen up," she nudges his shoulder with her own, and he shoots her a wry smile. The two weeks off did wonders for her, she seems more relaxed, and happier than he’s seen her in a long time. She looks good. Derek probably needs a vacation. "It’s good to see yo-Stiles!” she calls out suddenly, pushing back away from Derek, who startles at the sound. What the hell is a Stiles?

Stiles, as it turns out, is a lanky, mole-speckled, baby-faced teenager, with golden whiskey eyes and a mobile mouth that has Derek’s cheeks burning as he slides in next to Erica. “Hi, I’m Stiles,” he greets Derek easily, his eyes widening as he checks Derek out. Blatantly.

The corner of Derek’s mouth lifts, and he doesn’t miss the way Erica waggles her eyebrows. “Derek,” he replies, before nodding at Erica. “You and Erica good friends?”

Stiles nods enthusiastically, bumping shoulders with Erica, an affectionate smile on his mouth. “For sure,” he says. “She was a senior when I was in my freshman year,” That means Stiles is barely 18, if Derek’s lucky. Derek’s never lucky. “I may or may not have had the biggest crush on her.”

"Then he realized he was gay," Erica adds, and Stiles blushes, punching her on the arm. "It’s true!" she shrugs. "Besides, you shouldn’t hit me, I’m the reason you even got in this place," she reminds him and he wilts back into his seat.

"I turn 18 tomorrow," he mutters petulantly, and Derek nearly spits out his old fashioned. "This is an 18+ club, it’s perfectly legal for me to be in here in," his gaze drops to his phone to check the time. "2 hours."

"And yet," Erica intones, her grin stretching wider. Stiles sighs out a half-assed apology, and she knocks their knees together. "Besides, this way Derek and I can buy you birthday drinks."

"That’s not legal," Derek protests, avoiding Stiles’ gaze.

Erica raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to come up with a list of not very legal things you’ve done?” Derek scowls. “I thought not,” she winks, and Derek rolls his eyes at her, pulling another sip from his drink.

"Just the one," he concedes, and pretends not to notice Erica waggle her eyebrows at Stiles.

+++

Somehow, one turns to two turns to four turns to Erica disappearing and Stiles insisting they go dance.

Derek isn’t a dancer.

"I’m not a dancer," he tells Stiles, who ignores him and continues tugging on his hands. They’re both pretty fairly drunk, although Stiles a lot more drunk than Derek, and pouts. Actually pouts. "I’m terrible at it," he tries again, and Stiles drops his hands.

"You just gotta wiggle your hips," he demonstrates, and Derek’s mouth goes dry. "I can always dance by myself," Stiles tells him, his eyebrows raised. Stiles graciously doesn’t laugh when Derek stands up so fast he makes himself dizzy, though he does snort when Derek tangles their fingers together. "Don’t worry," he whispers, leaning in closer to Derek and enjoying the feeling of a hot, hard body against his. "I’ll teach you," he promises, his eyes sparkling, and Derek has no doubt that he will.

+++

The next morning, Erica’s tapping at her phone before opening up the voicemail Derek had apparently left for her at 4:27am.

M’not coming to work today. There’s the sound of someone giggling in the background, and Derek halfheartedly shushes whoever it is, but he’s giggling himself and Erica snorts. In case you were wondering, Derek slurs, and she can hear the smile in his voice. I’ll be banging an 18 year old this weekend. Repeatedly. She wrinkles her nose, yells “TMI” at the voicemail, even though it was her idea to set the two up in the first place, and listens fondly to Stiles and Derek bickering on whether Derek could keep up with Stiles. You’re still on voicemail, Stiles informs Derek, who mumbles, Shit, before the feed cuts out.

Erica snorts, pulling up a text to Derek.

You’re welcome for not letting you deal with UST when he was jailbait xx

She’ll probably pay for that later, but hopefully by the time he comes to work on Monday, Derek’ll have forgotten all about it.

[officerstilinskihale]

juily, please tell me how the little brother reacted to the news of derek and stiles dating?? i'm assuming in that fic derek was coming home for summer vacay so i figure after a couple of weeks he would be a regular presence in the hale house and that kid, was he still holding on to the crush?? how devastated was he? how long did he go w/out talking to derek? (hales are drama queens i need to know the scene he made that his future husband was dating HIS BROTHER AURGH)

omg for a second i literally was like "silvia what the heck are you smoking i literally don't know what you're on about" but then i got that u were talking about two birds haha (DAMMIT I WAS GONNA PUT A HEADCANON BUT THEN I HAD TO WRITE I HATE U IT'S 5:30 IN THE MORNING)

ps forgive me idk how time works so just roll with it

-

"So," Laura starts, and snorts when Derek glares at her from the passenger seat.

"Don't," he warns, and she shakes her head, but drops it obediently.

Cora's not so quickly discouraged, however. "What're you going to tell Luke?" she demands, her eyebrows raised, and Laura snickers.

Derek doesn't reply, and when she peers over at him from the back seat, he has his eyes shut, as if he was asleep. She looks over at Laura, who rolls her eyes dramatically, and swerves.

"HOLY-" Derek swears, and the girls giggle. "What the hell, Laura?"

She shrugs, unfazed. "You were pretending to be asleep, that trick hasn't worked on anyone in years." Derek mumbles something petulantly under his breath and she shakes her head. "Sometimes I don't know how you survive in the outside world, where you have to act like a normal human being."

Derek glares at her again, but she's actually old enough to remember the time Derek wanted to dress up like a ballet dancer for Halloween, so she's not affected by it in the slightest.

+++

Luke is, to the surprise of absolutely no one, pissed.

He stays blissfully unaware for three weeks, and only breaks one plate during the first time Stiles comes over for dinner and beams at him. They would've gotten away with it, too, had he mentioned to Stiles that Luke didn't know just yet. And really, how was Derek supposed to know that Stiles would ruin everything by proposing to bake some cookies?

They've been 'dating', in the loosest sense, for nearly a month, and Talia insisted Stiles and his father come over for a 4th of July BBQ, and while waiting, Stiles pulls Derek into the kitchen.

"Come try this," Stiles teases, holding his dough-covered fingers for Derek to taste. Derek's eyes go dark, and he takes a step closer. "I feel like I've made a huge mistake," Stiles' voice drops, and Derek smirks at him.

"Maybe," he says, his own voice low, ducking in to suck Stiles' fingers in his mouth. Stiles' eyes go wide, and Derek admires the way a flush paints its way across Stiles' cheeks and down his neck. Derek knows from firsthand experience just how far Stiles' body that flush goes, and he crowds Stiles' against the counter, pulling off Stiles' fingers with a slick pop! before ducking in to drag his teeth across Stiles' collarbones.

"Holy fuck," Stiles breathes out, his hand dropping to rest on Derek's hips. "I don't know if you know this dude," he ignores Derek's growl. "But we're in your mother's kitchen. Like, shit," he hisses, his hips jerking up into Derek's involuntarily when Derek sucks a messy hickey underneath Stiles' ear. "Don't you have a fucking bedroom?"

"Too far away," Derek growls against Stiles' skin, relishing the way Stiles shivers underneath him.

Stiles gives in way too easily, tilting his head up to give Derek more access. "Okay," he says, and when Derek kisses him, he's smiling.

"Derek, mom said what the hell!" There's a loud crash, and when Derek and Stiles pull away from each other, there's a bowl in pieces all over the floor, chips scattered every which way. "What is this?" Luke says dangerously.

"Oh hey Luke!" Stiles grins and waves, even, because he has no idea. "Derek and I were just banging. Baking," he amends, waving at the cookie dough behind him and Derek wills the earth to swallow him whole. Stiles is barely even blushing. "Did you want to try some?"

"How long?" Luke asks, his eyes narrowed at Derek. He sounds mad, and Derek sighs.

"Just under a month," he admits. Shakes his head at the sharp intake of breath. "I'm sorry, I didn-"

"Don't," Luke cuts in, his eyes wide and betrayed. He stares at Stiles for a long moment, before nodding once to himself and disappearing.

"What was that?" Stiles asks, after a few long moments, where they're both staring at the empty doorway. "Did you not tell him or something?" Derek remains silent, and Stiles smacks his arm. "Dude, dick move!"

"Don't call me dude," Derek says automatically and winces when Stiles hits him again. "I didn't want him to be upset!"

"Oh my god," Stiles shakes his head. "You go clean that up, I'm going to bake these, and you're only having one," he threatens, but he can't hide the way his mouth curves up in a smile when Derek ducks down to press a kiss to his mouth. "Nerd," he mutters, and Derek rolls his eyes.

Luke doesn't speak to him for a whole month, but it's worth it.

[officerstilinskihale]

six million light years later, i've written a fic! for the lovely lonewolfed and her old man birthday. i love you lots and lots, my sweet lil' moonpie, and i hope you enjoy your day!

M | 10,612

Summary: “Wait, you’re an intern?” he blurted out, wincing when the guy turned to him, his eyebrows raised. “Sorry, I just thought you were my new boss or something.”

He laughed a bit hysterically, relieved.

“No, just an intern,” the guy shook his head, before sticking his hand out with a small smile. “Derek Hale.” 

or, as i like to call it “that fucking intern fic that made me want to shoot myself like sixteen times. yeah. that one”

many thanks to my beta captainscruffywolf, and while i don't wanna admit it, i've been consorting with satan in a v-neck (i.e. peterhale). in all seriousness though, thanks for helping me out with the epilogue darling, you are the bestest.

[officerstilinskihale]

Lucy Whitmore

Lucy Whitmore: one of the pairing has no memory of the other

~o~

The first thing that Derek noticed was the harsh lights, the stinging fumes of ethanol and he blinked, his head fuzzy with—anesthetic?

There was also a boy, slumping down in those awful plastic-backed chairs; a boy with the expression of a man who’d been through enough tragedy to last a lifetime. The worry lines in his forehead seemed permanently furrowed, his whiskey-gold eyes were sad, and his long, slender fingers pulled at his open mouth as what seemed to be some sort of nervous habit. He smelt terrified, and Derek had a sinking feeling it had something to do with why he was where he was.

It was a while before Derek realized that he didn’t remember much more than his name and he willed his wolf to the surface, his jaw clenching when it didn’t seem to be hostile towards the boy. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The roiling aggression that Derek knew should be itching under his skin refused to appear, instead Derek was horrified to find out that he wanted to feel the boy run his hands through his hair, the warmth of his skin against Derek’s own and the steady thrumming of his heartbeat against Derek’s fingers.

He shifted, and the boy’s head snapped up, that obscene mouth dropping open and Derek was hit by the sudden wave of relief rushing off of him, his eyes widening in shock.

“Derek?” he asked, getting up and off his chair tentatively, and his arm twitched out as if to touch him before pulling it back towards himself, holding himself stiffly. “Are you okay?”

Derek blinked and tried to remember something—anything—that could explain how he was feeling. But his brain couldn’t come up with anything more than memories of a flash of long blonde hair, bright white teeth and the acrid smell of smoke and ash burning in the back of his throat and when he spoke, his voice was rusty with disuse. “Who are you?”

There was a long pause and the salty scent of tears soured the air for a moment, the boy’s fists clenching at his sides. “I’m just a friend,” he said quietly, his heartbeat skipping a beat over the lie and Derek’s eyes immediately dropped to the boy’s chest before sliding back up to his eyes and the boy swallowed. “I’m Stiles.”

Derek could feel something flash at the back of his mind and he struggled to catch it, gritting his teeth when he felt the sliver of whatever he had been about to remember slipped through his grasp. “How do I know you?” he asked, suddenly furious, furious at the way his wolf was practically whining for the boy’s touch. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying, Derek,” the boy—Stiles—said, swallowing harshly. “Listen, we… we are friends.” Derek narrowed his eyes, because that didn’t seem to be a lie, but what he had said earlier—

“You said you were just a friend, but that was a lie,” he said matter-of-factly. “Are we…” he didn’t even know how to finish that statement.

Stiles nodded jerkily, swiping a palm over his eyes, as if Derek couldn’t smell the salt of his tears. “Yeah, we’ve been dating for a while.”

Derek slumped back into his pillows. Figures. Only he would end up dating someone and remembering next to nothing about it.

“Hey,” Stiles said quietly, placing a hesitant hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We’ll figure this out okay?”

Derek swallowed, before nodding jerkily, because what else could he do?

If Stiles noticed the hesitation, he didn’t say anything, just squeezed Derek’s shoulder lightly before dropping his hand. “Do you want to see the others?”

“How many are there?”

“Well, there’s Scott, who’s your co-Alpha, I know it sounds weird,” he said hastily, raising placating hands when Derek’s gaze jerked to him. “Because things happened a year ago where he became the true Alpha or something, and there’s Erica, Boyd and Isaac, who are the betas you bit. Lydia’s a banshee, Danny’s human, and Allison’s a hunter who we’re friends with, hey, be nice,” he said to Derek’s derisive snort, before he rolled his eyes. “We have a truce with her father, and Gerard and Kate are both dead, so, uh,” his scent turned sour again, and Derek watched him carefully for a moment before it cleared. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Derek sighed. “I’m not going to remember all of them, am I?”

“It’ll take some getting used to, but I’m sure you can handle it,” he grinned, pushing himself into a standing position and stretching, his shirt riding up to reveal a small patch of mole-speckled skin and Derek had to dig his claws into his palms so he wouldn’t reach out and touch. “I’ll be here the whole time though, you’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he nodded, looking up at Stiles earnestly. He didn’t really know why he said what he did next, but he figured it couldn’t hurt. “I trust you.”

Stiles’ heart tripped and thudded against his chest and he flushed, his cheeks turning bright pink as Derek watched, fascinated.

“I… Yeah, that’s good,” he coughed, his eyes brighter than they had been since Derek first woke up, and Stiles waved towards the direction of the door. “Be back in a sec.”

When he disappeared, Derek shut his eyes and let his head fall back onto his pillow.

[officerstilinskihale]

Richard Castle or Bree Van de Camp

Richard Castle: the author’s choice from a fic they have not published yet.

so this is from an intern au i’m hoping to finish over the summer!

~o~

“So, uh, about this thing,” Stiles started, only to stop mid-sentence when Derek held up his hand.

“Look, you’re cute and everything, but if I’m going to get this job, and I will, I can’t afford any distractions, so I’ll take you out for a coffee or something afterwards, yeah?”

Stiles’ jaw dropped, because, wow, that was rude.

“How do you know I won’t be getting the job?” he snapped back, arms crossed over his chest, immediately affronted when Derek had the nerve to start laughing.

Like, full-on, throwing his head back and his whole body shaking, laughter.

“That’s adorable, really,” Derek said with a smile. “I’m going to go grab some punch, I guess I’ll see you around, Stiles.”

What a dick.

[officerstilinskihale]

JUILY IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A DRABBLE PROMPT, CAN I PLEASE HAVE DEREK AND STILES MEETING IN THE MOVIE THEATRE, WHILE ON DATES WITH OTHER PEOPLE, AND GETTING INTO A NERDY ARGUMENT ACROSS THE SEATS ABOUT THE DIRECTOR OR BOOK IT'S ADAPTED FROM OR SOMETHING THANKKK (ps you're a butt)

what am i, your slave? (spoiler alert: i am 100% your slave)

also i am so sorry bc i know nothing about any movies lately so i’m going to revert to twilight and i copped out on the arguing i'm trash.

~o~

"Sorry, hi, excuse me," Stiles shuffled across the seats, wincing as some of the popcorn kernels dropped out of the bag and onto the floor. "Oh, my bad."

"Shhh," someone hissed at him from a couple of seats away and he whipped around, spraying more corn kernels around him.

"Are you kidding me?" he snapped back, belatedly realizing how hot the guy was. Still, he was rude, and Stiles was already on a roll. "It’s not even the freaking previews yet!" he hissed, waving at the screen behind him, where that goddamn Optus ad was playing. “Is there something so compelling about a ridiculous PSA? I’m sorry my politeness is such a nuisance for-ow!”

"Stiles," Heather whispered, poking Stiles’ side again, her eyes wide. "You’re embarrassing me!"

"We’re watching Twilight, babe," Stiles rolled his eyes, plopping down onto his seat carelessly and upending even more popcorn kernels. “You can’t really get more embarrassing than that.”

He knew that was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth, and he started to apologize when the guy from before snorted.

"Oooh, great choice of words there, Stiles,” the guy said, and Stiles whipped around to glare at him, in time to see the guy’s date elbow him and hiss,

"Derek, drop it!"

"Yeah, Derek,” Stiles emphasized, his jaw clenched. “Drop. It.”

"Don’t worry about it, Jen," Derek waved a hand dismissively. "I’m just surprised such a tragedy of a human being managed to score a girlfriend."

Stiles opened his mouth to shoot back a witty retort when Heather stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"You answer him," she said, her voice toxic. "And you won’t have a girlfriend.”

"Fine," Stiles gritted his teeth, and turned back towards the screen. He liked Heather, he really did. They grew up together, and their parents knew each other even back before either of them were born. She was smart, funny, and beautiful in that sweet sunshine fairy kind of way, but lately they’ve been fighting more and more and Stiles was kind of tired of it.

The previews started rolling, and Stiles chuckled at the promo for the Lego Movie.

"Aw man, this looks like it’s going to be so good,” he whispered gleefully, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

"Are you twelve?" Derek asked, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Are you sixty?"

Derek sneered back at him and Stiles settled back into his seat with a smirk.

Stiles - 1, Derek - 0.

+++

Halfway through the movie, Stiles was genuinely having the time of his life. Heather was furious, and he assumed Derek's date was mad too, seeing as they had stormed out of the theater to go to the bathroom together only a couple of minutes ago.

"Look, if you're telling me that you've never even peeked at 50 Shades of Grey, then you're lying," Derek hissed, grateful that the cinema was dark enough that Stiles couldn't see his blush.

"Of course I've read parts of it," Stiles rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to see how flustered you would get first," he whispered conspiratorially, winking as he pulled his face back (when did they start leaning in closer to each other?) when Heather and Jen appeared, identical displeased expressions on their faces.

"I wanna go home," Heather said, her arms crossed over her chest. "We need to talk," she raised her eyebrows meaningfully at Stiles, who glanced over at Derek before he nodded, swallowing the lump around his throat. He patted at his pockets for a few moments to check if he had everything before turning back to Derek and Jen.

"Nice to meet you two," he mumbled awkwardly, the corners of his mouth twitching when Derek gave him a shy smile. "I guess I'll see you guys around."

As he walked out of the theater, Heather stomping furiously a few yards ahead, he slid his hand into the pocket and fingered the crumpled sheet of paper, his stomach warming at the thought of the ten innocuous digits scribbled hastily onto the page.