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Life Round Here
Fandom: Teen Wolf. Pairing: Sterek. Rating: General. Author: Phlossie Tags: Fluff, Airhostess!Stiles, BookShop!Derek, Established Relationship, Words: 968 Part of the Overgrown Series
Summary: Stiles arrives in an airport, Derek drives a car, they have a cat. Domesticity is involved.
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A History of Heart Shaped Chocolates.
A fic i wrote for Poedameron back in december! sorry, i didnt realise it was stuck in my drafts!! :/
11:58pm <Unknown>
-Come pick me up
-The App says 10 golf course dr.
-There’s a turn-in on a bend.
-Bring a shirt.
It’s the last one that really gets him interested.
What could someone possibly be doing out in Tildern at 12am that left them shirtless and rideless?
“You aren’t seriously gonna go…” Scott hasn’t got up from the couch yet so he can’t be that concerned.
“Why not Scotty? Mysterious stranger sends me a text in the middle of the night? Who wouldn't answer that call.”
when you really want that url but the blog hasnt been active in three years.
The Best Thing Since Peanuts.
For Sterek Week 2015 by phlossie. Sorry its a bit late!
Stiles might be reconsidering the wisdom of choosing Charlie Brown for halloween. He’d thought it was funny to begin with, like really funny. Cos you know, Scott was a Werewolf… and Stiles was pretty much his human; and who didn't find vague werewolf puns using fifty year old comics amusing? Now though, now that he can see all the ridiculously attractive, hot models in their designer crafted costumes, he is feeling a little bit… underdressed.
Even Scott looks cool in his last-minute-holyshitineedacostumestileswherecanigetacostume?-costume, which he’d picked up from the party shop at the end of their street and was covered in dubious-might-be-actual-blood-stains. In fact he seemed to have picked up a very pretty Katniss or maybe genderbend hawkeye, Stiles couldn’t tell between all the writhing bodies and strobe lighting.
So, yeah, Stiles was beginning to regret the scull cap and yellow top combo that sorta made him look like a psychedelic Dr.Evil. Which he wasn’t against per se, it just wasn't what he was going for when he started out.
That was: cultured, intelligent and funny, not just, that-one-weird-kid-who-always-manages-to-make-things-awkward, which, he had a feeling, was what he was.
He sidled over to the bar hoping to drown his troubles in ridiculously overpriced, but if he’s lucky paid for by the hosts, beverages, they were probably all going to taste like horrifyingly inaccurate children’s sweets, but at this point, he was beyond caring.
Unfortunately the bar was occupied by a very glowery do-not-approach-on-pain-of-death Lumberjack.
Bittersweet Mulberry Sky
By phlossie fo Sterek week 2015.
Razzmatazz is the color of Stiles hoodie when he walks to meet Derek in the woods. So close to red it almost passes. Derek can see the differences though, in the color and the boy. The new slope to his shoulders, the cautious distance in his whiskey eyes. He doesn't overbalance the way he used to at the slightest push.
The color makes his eyes hurt and he scowls by wrote. Falling into an attitude so familiar its like a second skin. Stiles gives him that cocky smile, mostly unchanged by the years, and it all settles back into place the way he knew it would. Derek breathes in for the first time since he left.
Stiles takes him to see the house, returned to its grandeur, but, like his old pack, fundamentally differing from memory. The walls are a soft green grey that makes a hidden part of him shiver, Stiles slyly comments that its Timberwolf. Derek wonders what on earth possessed anyone to let him choose the paint. It’s almost a perfect match to the color of his Henley.
They have dinner with whoever turns up. The pack is spread across the state, Derek can feel the tight threads holding them together like a spot at the corner of his vision, not quite focused, annoyingly uncatchable. Stiles keeps their legs pressed together at the knee under the table and he can smell the loneliness on his skin, see it in the way he keeps a measured distance form the others, hear it in the careful way they address him.
He wants to reach out, to fix this unfathomable brokenness, but it is not his to fix.
They scrub the dishes in mutual silence. Derek choked on insecurity and Stiles isolated by choice.
Scott puts the game on and the others all settle onto the couch, lazing around each other with the easy, unselfconscious, camaraderie a pack should. Stiles stands back, against the wall and Derek with him, not sure if he fits in this newly made family, even in his childhood home.
Stiles watches them for a while, then silently takes Derek by the hand. Leading him out of the building and into the forest.
The crescent moon smiles down on them, brushing stripes across their faces between the trees.
Stiles runs his fingers through the underbrush and sets off a flurry of tiny phosphorescent bugs, the sunglow in their abdomens softening the contrast of shadow under the boughs.
They watch the winking yellow lights create constellations of their own design and Stiles fingers become forever tangled in Derek’s heart.
They wake late, the shadow of the trees keeping the bright sun from their faces. Derek watches Stiles’ umber eyes come open, watches the dappled light reflect off his iris and wonders what the warmth in his chest means, the fuzzy wuzzy feeling, if its just from the sunspot, or if it’s generated there, in the depths of his being.
Stiles retakes his hand, but doesn't lead him, simply stands and waits, ready to go where ever Derek does. A part of him isn’t ready to go back, even though he is back, and knows he will be again eventually. It has a lot to do with the cracks in the tight web of connections between Stiles and his family and a lot to do with not coming back soon enough the first time.
They find a stream. Derek knows it runs into a lake, and they splash through its chilly water, following it’s flow into the open. Derek strips off his shirt and collapses into the polished surface, Stiles watches the ripples rush towards the shoreline before joining him. Letting the crispness cleanse the hollow part in his chest, enjoying the vastness of the blue sky, the feeling of infinity, suspended in the water. He realizes this is his absolute zero, his point of genesis.
Their point of genesis.
The start of something new.
Sylvan
written by Phlossie for Sterek Week 2015.
Terror flooded his senses making him trip and tear through the dense trees. His lungs and throat ache with the fridgid air.
He can hear their boots behind him, crunching on leaves, they aren’t trying to be quiet. Make no pretense of stealth: want him to be afraid, to run like a frightened rabbit.
Derek’s hand is rough in his. Pulling him along with a vice like grip, half shifted, even more panicked than he is.
It feels like they’d been running for hours, and the hunters always sound like they’re just meters behind.
There is a sharp crack; a gunshot he thinks, and Derek takes a sharp turn, for a moment icy fear grips Stiles thinking that he’s been hit, but they kept running and Derek doesn’t falter.
Stiles legs give out soon afterwards though, and he falls face first onto the mouldering leaves. Derek heaves him upright by his hold on his hand and Stiles’ shoulder screams under the pressure. The wolf hoists him onto his back and continues running.
He can still hear the hunters behind them, and see the shafts of light their torches split through the trees. They seem to be everywhere.
Stiles wonders where on earth they had gone so horribly wrong, it was supposed to be easy, just a couple of looney hunters, nothing they hadn't dealt with before. Their resources and numbers so insignificant he’d been surprised Isaac hadn't rescued himself already.
That should have been the first warning sign.
Hours later, Derek collapses against a tree, slinging Stiles onto the dirt, doubling over to drag in ragged gulps of air, choking around sobs.
Something crunches in their immediate vicinity and they both startle, Stiles grabs Derek by his wrist and drags him into a small hollow between the tree roots. Clinging to him in abject terror.
“Derek” he whispers, for no particular reason other than to assure himself that the other was there, brain so choked with fear it needs to be doubly sure.
Derek doesn’t say anything, simply curls himself more tightly around Stiles.
Both their bodies shake as the adrenalin wears off, Stiles hardly notices as his shoulder gets progressively wetter with Derek’s tears.
When the glaze finally leaves his eyes and he recovers his wits he asks what is wrong.
“They’re gone” Derek replies. “I still cant feel them- Not even Scott”
“Oh” It’s all he can manage through the adrenalin and fear, his emotions clogged by cracking twigs and crunching boots.
-
This is a SHAMELESS plug for my series ‘Together We stand’ You should really go read it.
Kismet.
For Sterek week 2015 - day 2 AU. By phlossie.
It’s not really a surprise, working out that Hale is a Werewolf. It’s not an easy thing to hide. Between the ‘mystery illnesses’ every full moon and the tendency towards reclusively and growling. Which, honestly, was just sloppy. No, the surprise came when he worked out that Derek liked him.
It was confusing at first, and scary. Stiles never thought he would be in the same league as a guy like Derek Hale, after a while though, once he got used to the idea, it was fun. Even though some people thought they were freaks, wizards weren’t known for being progressive, and more than a few Slytherins chose Stiles as a hexing bag, they quickly learnt he was not to be meddled with and their friends stuck by them. They were good, life was good.
And then Stiles found out Derek’s family was going to die.
And things went down hill from there.
Cachous for Love
For Sterek week 2015, by phlossie.
“Don’t even think about it”
Stiles continued to advance, wriggling his sticky fingers in mock menace.
“I knew baking with you was a bad idea…” Derek edged around the bench to get away.
Stiles reached across it, but his arms weren't long enough and he settled for obscenely licking the frosting off each finger instead. “But you promised you’d help me not burn the house down.”
Derek was beginning to question his sanity… who was he kidding, he was always questioning his sanity. He was dating Stiles, they shared an apartment, Stiles sung in the shower and collected scented, woodland animal shaped, soaps. At this particular moment though, he had no idea how it had gone this far, because Stiles was obscenely licking lime green frosting that Derek had expressly banned him from using because it ‘looks like Shrek’s earwax’ off his fingers, and he liked it.
