Tumgik
#teen wolf fic
mrspasser · 17 days
Text
I'll lay my head down here
Sterek fanfiction Stiles needs a place to sleep. He chooses Derek.
Also available on A03.
Tumblr media
image source
“I’m not sleeping on the floor again, you assholes!” Stiles throws a balled up burger wrapper at the infuriating werewolves who took over his intended sleeping space. 
Isaac bats the greasy paper ball away with a quick flick of his hand, hardly having to look at it. “You snooze, you lose, Stilinski,” he says meanly, as he snuggles deeper inside the couch pillows to drive his point home. “Besides, I gave up my bed, I shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor.”
Stiles perks up when an idea crosses his mind. Upstairs, in Isaac’s room, are Lydia and Cora. Maybe he could -
“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski!” Jackson cuts his unspoken thought off with one sharp remark. He glares at him from his spot on the couch he’s sharing with Isaac: one asshole werewolf on each side. The guy is extra touchy because Lydia picked Cora as a sleeping partner over him - which is more than fair, if you ask Stiles, both Lydia picking Cora over Jackson and Jackson being sour over getting the cold shoulder from his girlfriend.
“I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t think you’ll fit,” Allison offers apologetically from his right. She’s squeezed in the large armchair with Scott, who’s already fast asleep and snoring softly. 
He waves her offer away. If he’d try to squish himself in the chair with them, neither one of them would sleep a wink all night. Same goes for the couple in the other available chair, although Stiles is more sure to survive the night with Scott and Allison than with Boyd and Erica. That only leaves - 
“You could try Derek?” Allison blinks innocently at him. 
Stiles huffs a laugh, letting the sarcasm bleed through in generous helpings. “Yeah, right.” He leaves it at that, too tired to hope to put up the proper facade of pretending to dislike the Alpha werewolf. Hey, we all deal with our crushes in our own way! Stiles has to do what he can when literally living with a pack of wolves, who can smell pheromones and who knows what else.
Eventually, he settles for stretching out on the rug that Lydia made Derek buy a while back. It’s not overly cushiony, but it’ll do the job. It’ll have to. Besides, he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in four or maybe even five days, staying up researching and worrying most of the night. The Big Bad is dead, the worrying is over and his research paid off: he should be able to sleep now, right?!
At first, Stiles uses his hoodie for a pillow, yet after about twenty minutes he gives up and pulls it back on because he won’t be able to sleep if he’s cold. Derek patched up most of the holes in his loft and it’s actually resembling a nice apartment these days, but it’s still the middle of the night in February and Stiles is lying on the floor without a blanket or a pillow. He misses his own bed. His comforter. His pillow. His other pillow, the one that’s older than him and oddly lumpy, but it was the one that was in his mother’s bed until the day she died. It hasn’t smelled like her in a long, long time. Stiles has also washed it a couple of times during the years, he’s not that much of a pig, despite popular opinion. But it’s familiar and comforting and he still takes it with him for sleepovers with Scott. 
He considers whether or not he would’ve brought his pillow if this impromptu sleepover had been planned in any way. He’s known Scott since kindergarten, he’s his best friend. He wouldn’t say or even think anything bad about Stiles still needing a special pillow to sleep even when he’s almost twenty one years old. And while he knows most of the people in this room for five years or even longer and trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a bunch of dickheads who will tease him every chance they get.
It’s a pointless thought exercise, because nothing about this sleepover was planned. They were supposed to kill that wyvern during the day, when it slept in his creepy little cave. That's what all Stiles’ research was for! He even found a way to kill the beast without having to hack it to pieces, which was nice because in the end he was against animal cruelty, you know? But then there were witches, two of them. They weren’t planned, neither was the ensuing fight in the woods. The unexpectedness of it all had left everybody antsy, especially the werewolves. And even though they recouped with a movie night and a nice pack pile, nobody wanted to be very far away from the others. Hence the impromptu sleepover that had Stiles sleeping on a rug, between the coffee table and the couch. Which wasn’t fair, because he totally knocked a witch out with his bat! He did his fair share and pulled his weight and what not. The least he deserves is a nice night of sleep.
Another hour later, Stiles is sore all over and chilled to the bone. There’s no way he can sleep like this. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he whispers to the leg of the coffee table that he knows has Isaac’s claw marks on it. 
As quietly as he can he makes his way upstairs on the rounding stairs. On the landing there’s three doors to choose from: the one on his left leads to Isaac’s bedroom, where Lydia and Cora are sleeping. The one in the middle is the bathroom - with a bath, for heaven’s sake, Derek has a tub! - and that leaves the master bedroom on his right. The Alpha’s den. Stiles has never been inside it. He even doubts if Isaac has set foot in the room very often, besides for cleaning purposes.
Stiles never really intended to go into Derek’s room, because despite what the others seem to think, he actually values his life. And his dignity. He thought it better to take a chance with the girls, take on the risk of Jackson wanting to kill him the next morning when he discovered Stiles had slept in the same bed as his girlfriend.
But…
The door to Derek’s bedroom is cracked.
Stiles can see inside. 
He can’t see that much, with it being the middle of the night and the only light coming from a gap between the curtains in front of Derek’s window. But the moonlight is just right, illuminating the sleeping form of the Alpha in the bed. A bed that is more than large enough for two people and Derek is neatly sleeping on one side of the bed. If Stiles is quiet enough he might even be able to slip into the bed without waking Derek. The werewolf got hurt pretty badly today and healing always takes a lot out of him. There’s a pretty good chance the guy is sleeping like a log.
Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s gonna risk it.
***
He didn’t think he’d actually do it, but after a few minutes of indecisiveness on the landing, Stiles quietly tiptoes into Derek’s bedroom. He rounds the bed to the unoccupied side of the mattress and gingerly lifts the tip of the blanket.
“You’re not getting in with your jeans on,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.
Stiles yelps and he’s already stammering halfway through an apology when he suddenly shuts his mouth. His back teeth actually click together. There’s a few seconds of silence and then: “You’d let me into your bed?”
“Not with your jeans on,” Derek repeats. Usually he wouldn’t do this, but he’s been listening to Stiles toss and turn downstairs for a while now and with all of his pack members sleeping peacefully, he’d like the last one to get some rest too. Besides, Stiles would continue to keep him up with his restless behaviour otherwise; Derek just can’t seem to tune him out. It’s been that way for years already, maybe even from the beginning.
“O-kay.” He can feel Stiles staring at him in the dark and he patiently waits for the decision he knows the boy is gonna make. No, not a boy. Stiles will be 21 this Spring. Derek has seen him grow up, literally and figuratively, along with the rest of his ragtag pack of teenagers. Stiles still wears jeans and plaid most of the time, but the garments don’t hang as loose on him as they did when he was 16. He’s grown into a handsome young man, with a good head on his broad shoulders. Derek counts himself lucky to have Stiles as part of his pack, to have him close. Not as close as he sometimes might wish, yet Derek is always conscious of not playing favourites. So he usually keeps Stiles at an arm length and takes care to treat him just like everyone else. It helps that the two of them elevated snark and banter to an effective communication style. Despite all the sarcasm and barbs, Derek is pretty sure there is no-one in his pack who sees through him like Stiles does. It was scary at first and it made him lash out, but Stiles stood firm. Derek is immensely grateful that he did.
There’s the rustling of clothing hitting the floor, jeans and a shirt, then the blanket lifts and Stiles scoots underneath. Derek feels him settle in behind his back, a foot or so away. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers in the dark.
“Go to sleep,” Derek grunts, eager to go to sleep and not think about the young man who is sharing his bed.
***
Derek’s bed is pretty comfortable, Stiles thinks to himself as he digs himself in. Oh, who is he kidding?! Derek’s bed is amazing. The mattress is just the right combination of firm and soft, the pillow hugs his head and shoulders just right and the comforter is warm but still light to the touch. It’s a million times better than his bed at home, even when he’s not counting the fact that he’s sharing the bed with a hot werewolf.
Yet Stiles can’t sleep. 
Yes, the pillow is heavenly. Yes, the mattress allows his tired body to finally relax. Yes, the comforter hugs him nicely. But there’s something missing and Stiles knows exactly what it is. His pillow.
He needs to hold something. He needs to be able to curl around something. Or someone, his traitorous brain suggests as he feels Derek move across from him.
“Why aren’t you asleep, Stiles?” Derek asks in that long-suffering tone he uses when Stiles is doing something to annoy him. Which is pretty often, although Stiles knows the annoyance is mostly for show these days. He has turned onto his back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight where they are looking over at Stiles.
“Can’t,” Stiles laments, trying to catch the comforter between his arms in lieu of his dearly missed pillow. It doesn’t really work, because the comforter also has to cover Derek’s bulk and there’s little left to use. Little to none, especially when Derek snatches the comforter back from where it was probably leaving a cold gap on Derek’s other side. The sudden move has Stiles sort of falling over from where he was laying on his side. He’s more on his front now, filling up the space that was between them at first. He can feel the warmth of Derek’s body from just a few inches away. It’s actually kind of comforting.
“Try harder,” Derek commands and he closes his eyes again.
Stiles thinks of answering ‘Yes, Alpha’, but thinks better of it. It might make Derek move again, to push Stiles out of bed instead of pulling him in to have a cuddle. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, focussing his mind on the almost tangible presence of Derek’s bare shoulder mere inches away. Derek is warm and smells nice and if Stiles was a werewolf, he’s sure he’d feel even better about having his Alpha so close. Yet even though he’s not a werewolf, he still enjoys it. A lot.
He falls asleep.
He knows that, because he wakes up at some point, at an unknown hour of the night. He’s warm, so warm. And comfortable, even though his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being. It also moves a little, because his pillow is Derek and the Alpha werewolf gently moves his arm in what Stiles suspects is a more comfortable position. He would panic about sleeping half on top of Derek if he were not so damn comfortable. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Surely if Derek wouldn’t want him sleeping on him, he’d push Stiles off. Instead, Stiles feels Derek’s arm wrap around his back, accompanied by a soft sigh from the Alpha.
Stiles sleeps.
***
Derek is not the first to wake up, although he is certainly not the last. He becomes aware of the world with Stiles wrapped around his torso, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest. He’s only a little surprised by how good it feels to wake up like this and it takes a while before he brings himself to carefully move out of Stiles’ embrace. The boy mumbles a little, but doesn’t wake up. Derek watches him for a moment, standing beside his bed. He’s not sure how to feel about this, except for some embarrassment about wanting to crawl back into bed and slot himself back into Stiles’ arms.
Downstairs, most of the pack is still asleep. Isaac has his arms wrapped around Jackson’s lower legs, as if he’s cuddling a particularly bony teddy bear. Jackson is still asleep, even snoring softly. Scott snores too, curled around his girlfriend in the large armchair. In the other armchair, Boyd is watching him carefully, his arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend. 
“Morning,” the dark man rumbles quietly, not to wake Erica.
“Morning,” Derek answers, keeping his voice down as well. “Coffee?”
Boyd inclines his head in thanks and Derek ambles on to the kitchen, where he finds Lydia, immersed in a science journal. She has a cappuccino sitting in front of her, the cup half empty. “Good morning, Derek,” she says, briefly glancing up from her reading material.
“Morning,” he repeats, busying himself with the coffee maker. He brings a cup to Boyd when he’s done and returns to join Lydia at the table. He sits back in his chair, his coffee in front of him, to catch the rays of pale sunlight that slant through the high windows. It’s quiet in the loft, with most of the people still sleeping and the ones that are awake quietly starting up their day.
He sips from his coffee, listening to the sounds of Cora waking up and going into the bathroom. She comes downstairs not long after, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt - same as her brother, her bare feet hardly making a sound. He points to the mostly full pot of coffee on the counter when she enters the kitchen and he gets a hair ruffle as thanks from his little sister. She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, enjoying the sunlight on her face just like he is. 
It’s Stiles who comes down next, although Derek can hear from the way he drags his feet that he’s barely awake. Why he’s not sleeping in like he should be, is anyone’s guess. He expects Stiles to stop in the living room, to wake up Scott or maybe even Jackson if he’s feeling particularly cheeky, but he doesn’t. The footsteps pretty much make a beeline from the stairs towards the kitchen. Derek opens one eye from where he closed them against the sunrays to see Stiles shuffling towards him in his boxers and T-shirt, rubbing a hand over his face and yawning soundlessly. His hair is standing up on one side. He’s wearing socks, navy blue ones with a red line near the toes.
The werewolf opens his mouth to point his packmate towards the coffee maker, but before he can say anything, Stiles has reached his chair and slings a hairy leg over his lap. He plonks down unceremoniously and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around his waist. 
“You were gone,” Stiles mumbles disapprovingly, his mouth moving against Derek’s collarbone. And just like that his heartbeat evens out and he’s fast asleep again.
Derek sits frozen in his chair, his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage. If Stiles were awake he could probably feel it pound against his own chest. His hands hover uselessly on either side, not knowing whether to wrap around Stiles or pick him up and toss him to the floor. 
Stiles is oblivious, his sleeping body moulding easily against Derek’s. He’s warm and pliant, just like he was when they were sleeping together in Derek’s bed. 
When he chances a look at Lydia across the table, she’s already watching him steadily with a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips. “Glad to see you two finally got your heads out of your asses,” she comments eventually, before primly taking a sip from her cappuccino and going back to her reading.
Behind him, Cora snorts quietly in amusement. She comes up at his back and puts a hand in his hair again, running her fingers through the short strands. It’s grounding and Derek only notices how much he needs that when she lightly scratches her nails across his scalp. 
“He’s cute like this,” his sister remarks and even though he can hear the humour in her voice, he can also hear the truth in her heartbeat. “Best not wake him up, big bro.” She runs her hand through his hair one last time and then she wanders off, leaving him to carefully wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back.
Slowly, Derek feels himself relax. The loft is quiet and peaceful and Derek is in his own little bubble, with the sunlight on his face and Stiles in his lap. Almost automatically, he starts to rub his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back. Aside from some sleepy snuffling, there’s no real response. Derek picks his coffee back up and slowly drinks it, tilting his face towards the sun. It’s a nice morning.
444 notes · View notes
teencopandthesourwolf · 8 months
Text
“Why did you ask me that?”
“Huh? What's that?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.
Whatever. 
There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.
The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves (not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening) plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—probably still lurking somewhere what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes—who can obviously hear any and all conversations that are or could be happening inside of the building. But, sadly, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle.
So. 
He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.
He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.
Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.
Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.
Derek almost laughs at that.
The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.
“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 
“I—what?” Caught off guard, always and only by Stiles. 
Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.
Oh, right.
“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.
Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looks as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.
It doesn't last.
Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.
Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.
An anchor.
Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.
His heart.
“I asked because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye. Which works, of course—because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 
Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.
“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and maybe hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 
Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way; self-preservation and all.
“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 
Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.
“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add (after what is undeniably too-long a pause), “And yeah. Maybe I do.” 
Then they look at each other. They just—look.
Look and look and look.
And they each keep looking at the other for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.
Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.
Whatever happened to self-preservation?
Something is happening and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about that. 
Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.” Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, and adding with a shrug of one shoulder, “Till we're not.”
The latter part is spoken like a dark secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice—that's not how he means it. It's more of a promise than a threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like (it's been a while).
The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's, and Derek could swear he hears every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive, nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.
He feels utterly alive.
It's honestly a struggle not to whine like a pup and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because, oh, Derek would be so fucked right now.
He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.
Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit, and just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.
In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 
He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.
Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper. “Till we're not.”
Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.
Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.
That's a lot of weird. 
Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.
He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 
He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”
Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.
Derek is memorised. 
Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe. 
“Everything, Der.”
.
for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)
1K notes · View notes
palemoondust · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
My yearly post haha . Anyways here’s a little Christmas post, I’ll be posting again soon, sorry for being so busy with life.
Please show some love ❤️
690 notes · View notes
theemporium · 1 year
Note
hey bestie, smut prompt 22 for stiles? 🙂
22. “can you feel what your doing to me”
.
It was an incredibly stupid plan—but then again, when wasn’t it when it came to the pack of Beacon Hills?
You couldn’t exactly remember what had led you into this situation, or how you and Stiles got the short-end of the stick to be volunteered into it. But what you did remember was Derek rambling about hunters having a sixth sense for supernatural beings in close vicinity so—as the only two humans in the pack—you and Stiles were thrown in the deep end. 
And now the deep end meant hiding in a really small closet whilst some of the deadliest hunters stood in the room just before you. 
“Can you stop moving? They will hear you rustling.” 
“I can’t!” 
“Oh my god.” 
You were pressed against the door, using a small crack to watch the hunters in the room. You couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but the tables of weapons spread out in front of them was intimidating enough. 
“I’m serious, stop wiggling,” Stiles hissed from behind you, letting out a heavy sigh. 
“Stiles, I can’t,” you hissed back at him. “If you move the hanger that is poking me, maybe I’ll fucking stop.” 
There was a pause before the boy spoke. 
“That’s not a hanger.” 
Your body tensed for a few moments as the boy’s words ran through your head, taking you a few moments to really process his words before you felt your cheeks heating up. 
“Stiles—” 
“I can’t control it,” he grumbled from behind you, letting out a small groan when you tried to move away again, only to push your ass further against him. “Fuck, don’t do that. Can you feel what you're doing to me?” 
“I’m trying to help!” you whisper-yelled under your breath.
“That’s the opposite of helping,” Stiles groaned into your ear, biting down on his lip. His hands found your waist, gripping it tightly in hopes of making you stay still. “Just…stop.”
Your heart was thundering in your chest, your lungs feeling like they were on fire and the last thing you should be focusing on was Stiles’ dick pressing into your ass when your lives were quite literally in danger. 
And yet, it was your only focus. 
Maybe you could blame it on the adrenaline pumping through your body at the risk of getting caught. Maybe you could blame it on a temporary lapse of judgement. Maybe you could even blame it on the crush you had been harbouring for the boy for ages.
Or maybe, you wouldn’t really need a reason as you pushed your ass back into him, rolling your hips against the bulge in his jeans. 
“Shit,” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth and gripped your waist harder. “What are you doing?” 
“Shhh, I’m just trying to help,” you murmured as your arms wound behind your, fingers tangled in his hair as he leaned against your shoulder. “Just keep quiet, Stiles.” 
“Fuck,” he moaned against your shoulder as he began to grind his hip against your ass, something about the action so needy and desperate, and yet it set your whole body on fire. 
Your hands dropped to cover his, slowly guiding them up until they were cupping your tits over your shirts, a pathetic whine leaving the boy’s lips as he continued to rut against your ass. It didn’t take long for muffled curses to leave his lips as he finally came. 
“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathlessly chanted as you continued to circle your ass against him, even when he let out a small whine. “I-I can’t, it’s too much.” 
“Such a good boy, Stiles,” you whispered in the closet knowing you still had to find a way out before your luck ran out. “Such a good boy for me.” 
“Just for you,” he whispered, face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he squeezed your tits, listening to the soft mewls you let out as you both desperately tried to keep your cover from being blown.
.
2K notes · View notes
whor3vib35 · 1 year
Text
Game Night
Stiles Stilinski x reader
Tumblr media
“Scott hates me” you whine, laying against the bed. In the beginning you thought it was your imagination. Now though you know it’s not all in your head, Scott hates you.
Today Stiles had a lacrosse game so you being his girlfriend were there. The game went amazing. Stiles ended up scoring the final goal of the game. You were so proud of him, the smile on his face made yours grow. You ran onto the field embracing him in a big hug giving him a kiss on the lips. He laughed against your lips holding you close to him and twirling you around. “Congrats, baby” you mumble against his lips.
He placed another kiss on your lips before telling you that he had to go to the locker room. You nodded watching him head to the locker room with the other players. He gave you a final wave before disappearing from your sight.
After a few minutes you decide to wait by the locker rooms for him. The two of you have plans to go back to his house. While waiting for him that's where you heard it. You hadn't meant to eavesdrop but when you heard your name you couldn’t help but listen.
“Is Stiles coming tonight?” you recognized the voice as Lydia.
“No he’s going with Y/n” you could hear the annoyance in Scott's voice. “This is the third time he’s declined hanging out to spend time with Y/n.”
“What’s wrong with you thats his girlfriend? Don’t tell me you're jealous” you could hear her laugh at the thought but Scott doesn’t.
“Of course I’m not jealous I just don’t like her” you could hear Lydia question why that was. His answer solidified the idea that he hates you. “Stiles can do so much better than her.” You tuned out the rest of their conversation.
You knew Scott didn’t like you but you hoped that over time he would warm up to but he never did. The rest of the group didn’t mind you the girls would invite you out shopping and to sleepovers. It was just Scott that didn't like you and you had no idea what you did. Now you find out it was nothing you did, he just didn’t like you; he thought Stiles could do better. You finally had the answer to the question that had been plaguing your mind for months.
Your problems weren't over though with one question answered, more showed up. Did Stiles know how Scott felt about you? If he knows about how Scott felt about you, would he break up with you? You know how much Stiles loves Scott so the idea that Stiles would break up with you to make Scott happy wasn’t too far-fetched.
You watched as Stiles took off his jersey throwing it in the hamper. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the bed next to you. “Scott doesn’t hate you” he grabbed your arm pulling you into him. The two of you are cuddled up in bed together, your head on his chest while his hand runs up and down your side. You lean up and place a kiss on his lips. You weren't planning on telling him about what you heard but you did want to gauge if he knew how Scott felt.
“If Scott asked you to break up with me would you” you could tell the question surprised him. He tensed under you. Stiles had just had a big win, his shining moment and you felt you were running it and you were. It was selfish of you to bring this up but you needed to know before it got any worse.
“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled at the sudden question but stopped when he saw the look in your eyes. You were being dead serious. He could see the doubt in your eyes about your answer. It hurt him thinking that you doubted his love towards you. “Of course not baby” the sincerity in his voice made you believe him. The look of complete love in his eyes settled all your doubt.
You lift yourself up off his chest placing a deep kiss on his lips he returned the gesture right away. Pulling you into his lap, his hands on your hips as he deepened the kiss. He started to place kisses on your neck. Sucking dark hickeys into your neck mumbling small ‘I love yous’ against your neck. You whisper ‘I love yous’ back to him.Every last one of your doubts disappeared with every ‘I love you’ and kiss. You're not going to let Scott come between the two of you again. It no longer mattered if Scott liked you because Stiles did he loved you and you love him.
2K notes · View notes
starshipsofstarlord · 10 months
Text
Little Rascal
The pack discovers that Peter has a life that he cares about hidden in Beacon Hills. A wife and a son that they have never before met (1.4k)
Warnings - fluff, pet names, dad!Peter, brief mention of murder and sex, Peter’s secret little life, threats, season 4 based yet loosely different with how Peter goes about working with Scott, deadpool
peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
To say that Peter was glad to be home, away from all of the chaos that he contributed within the McCall pack, was a dangerous understatement. He hates being away from his own little world, for he cared for those he had in it, and he was a whole different person whilst he was there.
Home, it was the first time in a long duration of such where he felt as though he could call a place that. But it wasn’t just the environment, it was also those that lived in it alongside him, he loved the mundane aspects, how he could relax on the sofa and not have to worry about the ghosts that were in his scorned past.
“Honey Bee.” Peter called out to his sentimental lover; the only one he could love other than his troublesome young son. The dismissive clatter of dishes reached his ears as they were placed in the kitchen basin, and his love came to stand before him as he was seated on the couch, a tiny monster of his own creation clasped with his arms around his mothers legs.
“Yes darling?” She spoke softly to him, combing through her son’s dark locks with her maternal fingers, and the sight made the big bad wolf smile a real smile, one of happy content. Y/N’s head was cocked to the side as she enquired on why he called for her presence, and the man stood, untangling his child from around his wife’s legs and brought him up into his arms.
Taryn was weightless, yet he weighed down Peter’s heart heavy with loving adoration. He could not wait until he and Y/N procreated another little critter that would run around their home just the same as the one he held did. It was the best thing to ever happen to him, being a father.
He had not watched Malia grow up, and that was nothing short of a shame, but now he had the chance to do better and be there as he was more than well aware of the ever encompassing presence of his youngest child.
“I-“ before he could speak on what he had planned, there was an ever so stiff knock rattling on the front door to his secret haven. A derelict sigh made the man roll his tortured eyes as he steadied Taryn more securely upon his hip, pressing a firm peck to his wife’s temple before stepping towards the entrance to their home and unlocking the barrier that protected all that he cared for to onlooking eyes.
And there on the other side was formidably confused pack members, of which he occasionally aided, his only surviving nephew included. His arm propped more securely around his son as he glared with lack of impression, bemused about his unexpected visitors.
They shouldn’t have been here, he hadn’t even let them know the whereabouts of his address, and thus they must have tracked his scent to here. “Can I help you?” The old alpha scowled, his expression creasing even more when Derek dared to take a step closer. “That’s your son.” His raven haired nephew stated, picking up on the boy’s familiar scent.
“You have a kid, other than Malia?” Stiles retorted, feeling rather glad that his werecoyote girlfriend had not accompanied them to their destination. Scott too was rather surprised, he had expected that Peter had nothing driving his life other than a blood lust for power, however it appeared that they had all been wrong. There was a piece of him that was surprisingly human, and it was something that none of them had ever expected to uncover.
After all he had done, perhaps he had committed his wrong doings for another reason than vengeance; he was protecting his own little pack. “Peter, we need your help.” Scott stated with his soft alpha demeanour, understanding if he were unwilling to give his aid at this particular time. He had never been a fan of Peter, not after changing him to be a werewolf against his will, and especially not after threatening the lives of those he cared about, but he had to admit, he conditioned a heart felt feeling for the man. It wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t not happiness either.
“I guess you’ve caught me in a good mood.” It was something the pack members had rarely witnessed, Peter was hardly generous, but he wanted to try and be a good example for his son. “Come on in - but don’t make yourselves at home. I’d prefer for this to not take too long.”
At least his blunt honesty wasn’t peculiar behaviour, and thus with wary footsteps Stiles was forced by Scott’s hand upon the back of his shoulder to enter the home of Peter Hale. “What’s your kid’s name?” Derek asked, curious about his newly discovered cousin. The kid shyly bowed his head, his locks falling before his eyes as Peter placed him like a feather on the floor.
Taryn was preferable to remain in Peter’s shadow. Tucking his hands around his father’s legs as he adapted to the strangers that his father had invited inside. Without hesitancy, despite the company he had, Peter crouch’s down and comforted his son. “It’s okay, you can introduce yourself. These are… some friends of mine.” He’d have rather proclaimed them as acquaintances however that would unsettle Taryn, and it wasn’t exactly the truth.
“My name is Taryn.” The spawn of Scott’s first enemy quietly spoke, making his father proud for doing so. “Why don’t you go to your room son, I’ll be right in after talking to my friends.” The boy needn’t be told twice, he was shy, especially around the rare amount of strangers he had met, and so he gladly trotted off down the hallway, giddy for his ‘daddy’s friends’ leave.
Peter stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “What is it that you needed from me?” His stoic demeanour returned as he expectedly awaited an answer to those that brought constant chaos into his now calm life. “Perhaps to know who would have a child with you, the mass murderer that went around the town killing only for it all to be blamed on a mountain lion.” Stiles scoffed, shocked that someone would willingly procreate with such a monster.
“That would be me.” A voice startled the sarcastic boy, one of feminine grace and beauty which astounded Stiles whom was gasping at the sight of the goddess like creature that stalked in the room before them. “Do we have a problem here darling, or do I need to rip a tongue or two out to bring some quiet back to our home?” Her eyebrows raised as she glowered upon the folk that were crowded in the entryway, looking to her husband for confirmation.
“It’s fine Y/N.” It wasn’t very often that Peter called her by her name, however he was on edge for the seriousness that was contorting the faces of the pack members. “But what I am wanting to know is what isn’t fine, since I assume that’s what you lot were going to tell me.” Derek inhaled through his nose as Scott stepped closer, understanding that the threat was far larger to Peter than he had earlier anticipated.
“There’s a dead pool for supernatural creatures. They are going to try and kill us for money, your money in fact. And I’m willing to bet your family are on the other parts of the list; so, are you willing to help us protect our kind, or will you run, like you always do? I’d understand if you did the latter, I never knew you had a son and a…”
“Wife.” Y/N finished the sentence for Scott, crossing her arms as she stood closer to her husband. “If you need help, you have mine, I will do anything to protect my son.” It was unexpected however Derek nodded in appreciation for her words. Peter weaved his fingers through hers as he ogled worryingly at his beauty, and he was the beast, a beast that was to be hunted and fighting for the life of his family.
“Our son.” He spoke humbly, becoming protective as he thought of all he had to lose. “Just tell us what you want us to do Scott, but remember, our priority is Taryn, his life is more important than any other to us. I will not save a life if it means risking his, but we will do our best.”
“I understand.” Scott said harmlessly, for the first time gracing his maker with a smile. None of this would have tied the alpha up in this mess if Peter had never bitten him, however there was nothing for him to do that would erase that past. “And thank you, I’m glad that we’re on the same side when it comes to this.”
643 notes · View notes
obriengf · 1 year
Text
One, and Only || Stiles Stilinski x Reader
Summary: Stiles makes it his mission to show you that you’re loved. Words: 2.2k Warnings: angst? reader insecurities, ends with hella cuteness Notes: honestly the first thing that came to mind was “FOUR FOR YOU, GLEN COCO”
Tumblr media
𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎  𝓋𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
You didn’t think anyone would notice; but he did.
It wasn’t hard when the smile that he was so infatuated with had faltered, and the eyes that had effortlessly become his favourite colour had lost their vibrancy with haste. He saw the way you would sink back as one of Beacon High’s students barged into classrooms with faltering feathered wings that left behind fuzzy trails, and a trolley of assorted gifts ready to capture the hearts of your luckiest fellow peers. It was simply as if you would burn if gotten too close to the red heart decorations that served as a constant reminder that Valentines Day was within arms reach.
You were a different person during this time of year, and Stiles Stilinski couldn’t understand why your light dimmed so easily from some silly holiday that was more of a passing phase. 
Tumblr media
With his shoulder leaning so nonchalantly against the cool metal of his locker, Stiles Stilinski crossed his arms, whisky gaze stuck on your figure down the hall. You were walking toward your own locker as he waited for his plan to take heed - witnessing your bypassing and cringing of some Sophomore’s poorly written ballad to his boyfriend. He didn’t know just how strongly it all weighed on your mind, but he could sense it, and it made his chest ache with pitiful sorrow.
Valentines wasn’t something that you wanted to dislike so much, but it was difficult when you couldn’t help but consider the worst. You were never given the chance to celebrate such occasion for bringing people together, never shown just how gratifying sharing your heart could be - the thoughts were strong and they were screaming at the top of their lungs that maybe you just weren’t desirable enough. Maybe you weren’t as attractive as the people that surround you, or as interesting to make company with. Maybe your passions were overbearing and your voice had rung too loud. Maybe you were bound with too much energy and the world just wanted to settle down. Maybe, you were destined to be alone, and that was okay. Until you decided that maybe you didn’t want it to be okay.
You bit your lip as you turned you back to the commotion; the pain was a reminder to not fall victim to such fantasy. You could dream and you could wish, but reality was harsh and it never ceased to show you that maybe you just weren’t cut out for being someone’s love. At least not now. Even though you craved the attention and utterly yearned for reminders that you were somebody else’s idea of complete endearment.
So, you took a deep breath and chose to wear a mask of indifference. Pretending that your chest didn’t pang with hurt and that you weren’t finding it hard to breathe. You continued to filter through the halls and try not to watch those who were lucky enough to experience the beautiful uneasiness of butterflies that you so secretly craved. It will be over soon, you reminded yourself with utter consistence.
That was, until your locker was in view, and something looked quite evidently different.
The shade of red that you saw was dreamlike - so delicate and velvety, as if one touch and it’s gentle tone would fall a part in your hold. It was beautiful as it sat against the harshness of the grey metal door - like a poetic metaphor that somebody has surely penned by now - with a thick green stem placed through the slotted vent. A single rose was not what you expected, but it made you smile, wide, and even more so as you picked up the small folded place card that was taped up beside it. Your name was scribbled in messy cursive, and you couldn’t hold back the exhaled giggle that had sat with anticipation.
Stiles had straightened his posture now as he watched you with bated breath. The moment you shone a smile, his heart soared and began to thump against the caging of his chest with the utmost adoration - he had given you happiness, and it was the best feeling in the world. 
“What does it say?” A voice sounded beside him, prompting the boy to break his focus. He turned to face Scott and a knowing smirk. Stiles hummed, proving that he didn’t hear a word of what his friend had asked, too lost in his thoughts, and it made the other boy chuckle, “The note? What did you write?”
Stiles’ tone was quiet as he veered his eyeline back to your blushing cheeks and that damn sparkle in your eyes that he didn’t realise he missed, “That they have a beautiful smile.” 
“Such the romantic.” Scott teased, swiftly managing to dodge the propelling whack that Stiles aimed toward his chest. Not that Stiles really minded the playful jab from his best friend; he would do anything to see the light that made you shine, the glow that he admired so much. It’s what usually comes with a silly high school crush, afterall. 
Tumblr media
You felt honoured to receive something so sweet, even though your mind did briefly wonder to the notion that your peers sought out an amusing outlet by playing a prank on you. It was hard to understand why someone would leave such a pretty flower for such a self-perceived plain you, with a smile that you hardly found of any beauty. 
Your worries, however, were torn down as you entered your economics class and were met by a stunning crown of petals as another singular red rose was placed upon your desk. The cursive handwriting was the same and the messiness made you chuckle as you opened the new card, eyes widening and lips parting softly at the sentiment inside -
I think you’re beautiful, as well. 
You were too engrossed to notice how you were being observed, the sun catching two baby brown eyes as they flittered over your form and took such pride from the happiness you found. A lazy smile curled at his lips, chin perched comfortably in his propped up hand as you began to blush, bashful at the possibility that someone noticed you let alone thought so kindly of you.
Coach Finstock’s voice broke you from your running mind, returning you to a reality crowded within a fourth period classroom and something about opening your textbook to chapter eleven. You took contentment as you laid the rose down gently along the edge of your desk, your fingertip so elegantly running over the soft petals throughout the entire hour.
Tumblr media
By the time the last bell of the day had rung, you were entering the school parking lot with five roses cradled within your arm, held close to your chest as you strived to protect them. Your day had continued to be full of surprises as you were approached during study break in the Library, a delivery by the resident Valentines gift-giver and his still shedding wings, as another rose was presented to you. Soon to be followed by two more that fell out of your locker as you were changing over your books - and for a second, you wondered how the perpetrator got in there in the first place - but it dissipated quickly as you grew warm from your new gifts. 
Your footsteps halted over the tarmac, jaw dropping slightly before you managed a whisper under your breath, “This can’t be real.” Not that you should be so astonished by now, it really isn’t nothing new, but the more you consider what today has brought then the more you start to fall back into the fantasy of someone someday loving you. Your windscreen wiper held down another rose, and another note. You mentally planned to pin these short yet heartwarming forms of literature on the wall of your bedroom later this evening, so that you can look over them everyday, and remind yourself that there is hope. Your hand was slightly trembling, a concoction of anxiety and excitement begging to take control, as you reached for the card and flicked it open.
Just seeing the way these roses have made you happy, has made my day.. week.. year... decade? You deserve every single one and more. 
It was a hasty move as you brought your thumb up to wipe the tear that fell through your lashes, an expression of gratitude and a growing heart. You had never faced such kindness, such willingness to see you happy, such displays of affection that really tugged at the thumping muscle in your chest. You didn’t have a clue on who would be leaving these for you to find - and a part of you was okay if you never found out. Just knowing that they are out there, that they can truly see you, was more than enough. .
Tumblr media
Fingers tapped with incoordination against the battered steering wheel. They would often flex toward the door handle, but slip back at the last minute, nervousness brewing with every second passing. Your front door was in view, and your car was in the driveway, so you hadn’t left for school yet. That’s good, that means he still has time. He can finish off his plan. He just need to get out of the damn Jeep first.
Stiles eventually sighed loudly before rubbing his hands together, an attempt to pump himself full of encouragement. It was now or never as he forced himself to slip from the vehicle, one occupied hand immediately held behind his back. Every step was forcing his heart to beat louder, the sound of blood rushing was now echoing in his ears. He started to contemplate whether you would be disappointed to see him - the easily excited ADD kid that talks too loud wherever he goes. On the other hand, he isn’t as bad as he used to be, Stiles thought as his lips pursed and head tilted to the side, brows raising. But your disapproval was still a possibility and it provoked his stomach to churn. 
He bit his lip, head shaking, as soon as he reached your door. Your voice was muffled beyond the white wood as it was projected from somewhere further inside. Stiles’ leg bounced. After a few hushed words of motivation, his knuckles sounded a knock, instinctively taking a step back as the door was approached from the other side. 
You both were speechless. 
Stiles thought that you were even prettier up close. Especially with your wide eyes and soft lips that were lifting into a confused smile. It baffled him why you hadn’t been snatched up by someone already. 
And you were ever surprised to see the Stiles Stilinski standing at your door, with such an adorable dumbfounded expression. You were so captivated by his brown bambi eyes that you didn’t even hear yourself say his name, until he broke from whatever captivation he held, his throat instantly clearing.
“Hmph, yeah, right... hey Y/N...” He started, voice chuckling with shy nervous energy as he began to smile. He didn’t continue until you smiled back, your grin accompanied by a warm peachy hue that pinched at your cheeks instantly. “I-I... I wanted to give you these, it’s the rest of the bouquet... so you have a dozen. The perfect bouquet of roses.” The hand behind his back had fallen into view, another six deep red stems of roses making you gasp lightly. 
You took them from his hold, your fingers brushing momentarily and you swore that the skin contact alone sent hundreds of goosebumps up your arm. 
Stiles cleared his throat, his voice quiet and raspy, “They say that a dozen roses mean something... that it’s like a way of asking someone to be yours.” Your head fell into a nod, your gaze absolutely fixated on the gorgeous nervous boy in front of you.
You smiled wider, “And what is it your way of saying?” 
“That I like you. A lot, actually.” He was quick to answer as his arm was thrown behind his head, scratching at his neck. He chuckled again and the sound made your heart soar. “And Happy Valentines Day. You deserve one, and you deserve plenty more. I just... I hope that this is the first of many great ones for you.”
You willed yourself to hold back tears - the last thing you want is to cry in front of the weird cute boy that has made you feel absolutely amazing. 
With a tentative step forward, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, a chaste yet meaningful kiss pressed over Stiles’ speckled cheek. You hummed, “Thank you, Stiles. You have no idea what all of this means to me. How can I make it up to you?”
 “Let me drive you to school, and we can start from there?” You could hear the hopefulness in his tone and how his gaze grew in anticipation. You nodded, teeth sunken into your bottom lip, and that sparkle finally returning to your eyes.
You never would have guessed that your first Valentines Day would be the start of what would be the best years of your life.
1K notes · View notes
sterek-stuffs · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
Do you get annoyed when people say the Sterek fandom is dead? Well, prove them wrong by reblogging this fresh new rec list of fics published in the past three years!
Pulling Strings by Gia279 54k words, M
Stiles and Derek pull off the ultimate game of survival charades: fooling the alpha pack into thinking their leader, alpha of alphas, demon wolf Deucalion himself, is still alive, in order to find the location of the Darach and save Beacon Hills and their pack, while Stiles learns to control this brand new, unusual power.
The Curse of the Love Sweater by HisBeloved 56k words, E
The "sweater curse" or "curse of the love sweater" is a term used by knitters to describe the belief that if a knitter gives a hand-knit sweater to a significant other, it will lead to the recipient breaking up with the knitter. When Stiles and Derek were children, a misunderstanding created a rift between Claudia Stilinski, owner of The Hale Yarn Company, and Talia Hale, the best knitter and spinner in the county, leading to the opening of Lucky Ewe, Claudia Stilinski's yarn store. Stiles and Derek have been lifelong competitors at the Beacon County Fair and after their mothers died, became owners of competing yarn shops. Derek is a budding knitwear designer on the eve of the release of his first book of patterns. Stiles wants him on his popular knitting YouTube show despite the decade-long feud between the Stilinski's and Hales. Hijinks, fluff, and ridiculousness ensue, and the boys get their happy ending.
Don't they know it's the end of the world? by flemoncake, mute90 20k words, M
Stiles thought being in love in a dangerous, post-apocalyptic world was a bad idea. He voted for pleasant, casual sex all the way. But being afraid of love doesn't stop it from coming after you. Being afraid doesn’t stop anything from coming after you.
love in suspension by creationmyth 6k words, T
They walk side by side back to the camaro, Derek’s all tensed up while Stiles hums some unnamable tune under his breath. When they finally break the treeline, Stiles pulls Derek by the arm so they’re face to face. “Thank you,” Stiles tells him quietly, making sure Derek knows he’s sincere. “It’s what we do.” It is. It really is. (or: Stiles and Derek learn, over time, how loyalty becomes love.)
ouroboros (get it right) by yesimirreputable 5k words, M
You try again, and the story's always the same: you never make it past eighteen.
a light and darkness in the heart of the forest by thedaughterofkings 10k words, T
There's a beast in the forest, they say. If you call to it, it will answer. To save his mom, Stiles will face up to it and hope the price won't be higher than the reward.
nothing but hope and virtue by dappledawndrawn, LeafZelindor 60k words, T
Senator Derek Hale, a California Democrat, had considered a future where he needed to hire a new campaign manager. He'd always expected to hire someone from inside the campaign. They'd have been familiar, respectful, come into his office carefully, with nervous excitement, and called him "sir" too much when asking for their first assignment. They'd have been familiar with the ins and outs of working with a werewolf pack, and everything would have been fine. Not great, maybe, but fine. But instead, Deaton retires with no warning, and almost sight-unseen, he hires Stiles Stilinksi, who is sprawled across his office couch, entering random contacts from Derek's Rolodex into his phone. Derek's a little in love with him. It's going to be a long campaign.
Fairy Wings and Beastly Tails by Bliz, PalenDrome (nerdherderette) 8k words, T
The prince knows it’s risky. He thinks about how he could manage without his wings; what his life would be like without flying or the ability to do spells. He thinks about his father and Scott, and all the others he’d leave behind if he fails. But then he thinks about the creature and the sadness in those green eyes, and how the image haunts his dreams. “I’ll do it,” he says as the Oak Witch’s grin grows wide.
Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold by raisesomehale 86k words, E
Seven years after being tricked and imprisoned by the Argents, Derek Hale finds himself off the blistering coasts of Antarctica aboard the Argentum Domina, an illegal prison ship out of which the Argents operate their behemoth, underground poaching empire. Bitter and packless, Derek spends his days working off his servitude by poaching creatures for Gerard to sell on the Black Magic Market, no future or end in sight. Until, Allison Argent brings him a capture case with a reward price so ludicrous that he has no choice but to accept. The only problem is, the target creature shouldn't even exist. Derek is flung fast into the deep webbings of a bigger mystery than he could have ever imagined. And discovers that, like this enchanting creature, not everything is as it seems.
My Soul to Keep by jacyevans, Jmeelee 18k words, T
Stiles came with a whiteboard, and blue dry erase marker, flapping it over his head like a white flag on a battlefield. "Come on," he coaxed. "You must want to say something. You've never gone this long without telling me to shut up." He waggled the marker in Derek's face. Stinging alcohol and pungent polymer singed Derek's nose hairs. His fingers itched to pick up the board, and not because he wanted to tell Stiles to be quiet. He enjoyed the babble that filled the apartment every few days, the hearty food, Stiles' particular, reassuring smell: maple sugar buzz, spicy-sweet deodorant, milk-sour frustration, floral shampoo, and spring grass at night. It soaked into Derek's couch, his bed, his skull. If any of it were real, Derek would take the board and write: thank you.
A Functioning Adult’s Field Guide to Enemies With Benefits by BisexualGoblin (LadyBoBo) 31k words, E
The six years Stiles was away for college, he certainly missed a lot—namely the whole best friend turned into a werewolf thing. But he didn’t think he missed enough to get replaced by a douche bag like Derek Hale. Now with Scott’s wedding looming, it’s the perfect chance for Stiles to show Derek who the real brains of the operation is. If only he could stop jumping into bed with him…
Let's build a beehive by GreyHaven 25k words, G
Ten years after he last saw Derek, Stiles' life is in ruins and he has nowhere else to turn. He has Derek's address but will he be welcomed? A post canon AU about healing, growth, acceptance, and love.
Handstands For You by Fenris13 15k words, E
"No, really, you don't have to—!" Stiles hisses, flinching as Derek rubs soap with needless intensity into the cut. "Shut up and keep still," Derek growls back. Stiles whines in response, squirming in Derek’s grip but otherwise following the order. Stupid werewolves and their stupid regeneratey-healy powers. It’s not Stiles’ fault that he’s wimpy and human, so when he gets thrown down a flight of stairs and through a rotten wooden wall by lake monsters, he still remembers it the next morning.
Shaking the wings of their terrible youths by Daisyapples 29k words, N/r
Stiles didn't expect much when he stopped a stranger being attacked in an alleyway. He didn't expect the wolf following him around New York, didn't expect the help when he was sick, didn't expect the psycho blond attacking him, or the place to stay. He didn't expect the new family. Oh, and he definitely didn't expect werewolves.
Dear Fellow Traveler by lanalua (this is me!) 32k words, M
Years after shit went down in Beacon Hills a traumatized Stiles is dating Lydia and living in New York, trying to avoid and get over anything related to the supernatural. When he finally decides to go back to his hometown and face his fears, he will be lead down a path of self-discovery that will change the course he had set for his life. Stiles shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Derek, it was just that he couldn’t. If he’d had magic the whole time, did it mean he could have been less useless back in highschool? Did it mean he could have helped, maybe kept Erica and Boyd alive? Kept Derek and Scott from leaving? It was too much. Guilt tore through his stomach like an arrow. He felt himself start to hyperventilate again.
As always, check the tags in individual fics to find out if they're right for you, and don't forget to leave the authors some love!
778 notes · View notes
vikingstoner69 · 1 year
Text
Derek Hale/Reader: Make Me Your Bitch
Fandom; Teen wolf 
Pairing:Derek hale/reader
Info: its the full moon and the reader wants something a bit more this time
Tumblr media
"What's wrong Der?" You ask, seeing an even more sour look than normal. Derek looks down at you with a softer look. 
"Sometimes having super hearing is not always good" he says grumply, you grab his hand and give him a smile.
"Then tune them out, besides it can't be that bad all the time" you grin with a teasing smile, you pick up your drink as the band starts up another song. It was Friday night and you and Derek were out in town. He was against going but you talked him into it. 
"And how do you spouse I do that?" He grins as you wrap your arms around his neck and he goes to your waist pulling you closer and you bite your lip as you look up at him. 
"I'm sure I can think of a few ways to distract you" you whisper against his lips and he growls as you pull away.
"Oh really now" he smirks as the room gets darker as they dim the lights In the club. 
"Oh yes, I can give you something else to think about" you say against his neck close to his ear. Derek's hold on you tightins just a bit. 
"Don't tease me, it's the full moon and I can smell how wet you are" he growls lowly making you bite your lip and your cunt throb at his tone of voice. 
"Then maybe we should get out of here?" You grin and nip his neck as the bass of the music goes through your body. Everything was so loud and the energy in the club made you feel a rush of adrenalin. Without saying a word Derek heads for the exit and leads you outside the warm summer air hitting you all over in your shorts and tank top. 
"Where are we going?" You ask looking up at him. Derek stops and pushes you against the tree behind the building, his car right in front of you. 
Derek kisses you deeply and you moan and reach up your hands going into his hair. You hear him growl lowly when you nip his lip he pulls back and his eyes are glowing red and you feel yourself become even more wet. 
"To my loft so I can fuck you into my bed" he growls in your ear and then he pulls away grabing your hand and helping you into the car. You squeeze your thighs as your cunt aches. Derek gets in and groans as your scent hits him. You look over at him as he starts the car and speeds off. You lean over and kiss and nip his neck up to his ear. 
"I can't wait to feel you deep inside of me" you bite his neck and he growls. His hands are tightening on the steering wheel.  He lets one hand drift to your thigh and you bite your lip as you see his claws on your leg and you feel your heart speed up. 
"Stay still" he growls as he cuts through the crotch of your pants and you shiver and moan as you feel his finger on your clit. 
"Derek" you moan, Derek groans as he sinks his finger deep inside of your soaking cunt. 
"Your soaking" he groans as he finger fucks you. You moan and cry out as you get closer and closer to coming but he stops and removes his hand from you and you whine. 
"Derek, please don't stop! I need you!" You beg not realizing that you had made it to the loft. 
"Where here" he says, opening his door and you blink as he opens your door and you step out on wobbly legs and you look up at Derek as he pins you to the car door once it's closed, his body heat making you shiver. 
"Are you sure about this? You know I can be rougher on the full moon" he says honestly looking you in the eyes. You lean up and kiss him, molding your body to his. 
"I don't want gentle Derek, I want your more primal animalistic side tonight" you tell him leaning up and kissing him deeply and he growls his hands going in your hair and pulling your head back. 
"Better be sure because once you're in my loft your mine" he says huskly. You could feel how hard he was and you felt your cunt clench around nothing. 
"Make me your bitch Derek" you moan Derek picks you up with a snarl and carries you to the loft door. Once inside he pushes you against the wall and kisses you deeply as he rips your shirt off and grabs both breasts in his hands and squeeze making you moan in the kiss. You pull up at his shirt, your hands going under and your nails run down his chest making him snarl. 
"Your mine" he growls picking you up making your legs wrap around his waist and you moan and cling to him as you feel him against your cunt through the rip in your shorts. 
"Yes Derek, all yours" you moan and kiss him deeply. Derek's hold on you is tight but you don't mind one bit. You moan as your back leaves the wall and you feel the softness of his bed under you. 
Derek kisses down your neck to the top of your breasts where he uses his claws to rip off. Your body arches and you moan as you feel his hot mouth on your nipple as he sucks and bites at your breasts. Derek pulls back as he undoes your ruined pants and he pulls them down leaving him naked on his bed. 
"Not fair" you whine leaning up and tugging at his shirt for him to take it off. Derek is on his knees in the middle of the bed as he takes off his shirt and you undo his pants as you lean up and kiss and bite his neck and chest till you got to where his pants met and you nipped there making him growl and pin you to the bed his body fitting perfectly between your legs. 
"You think teasing is fun, do you?" His eyes glowing a blood red making your insides twist. 
"Maybe" you moan as his fingers return to your cunt. He chuckles and nips your hip bone. You moan as you feel his hot breath on your cunt. 
"When you cum on my face I want to hear every sound you make" he growls before shoves his face in your cunt sucking and lapping at your cunt like it's the best thing he has ever had. 
"Fuck derek" you cry out your hands going into his hair as you grind down on his tounge. You feel your body break out in a sweat as you get closer to cumming. Derek shoves his tongue in you and you cum hard screaming out his name. Derek kisses up your body till he reaches your ear.
"I love the way you taste" he growls hotly in your ear. You moan and reach up your hands resting on his shoulder. And you wrap your legs tightly around him and you thrust your hips up. 
"Fuck me Derek, please!" You beg, Derek kisses you deeply and you moan and cling to him, your hands roaming his body. You moan in the kiss when he grinds his hard cock Into you. Derek frees his cock and thrusts into you roughly making you  scream out his name. 
"So fucking tight" he snarls as he fucks you into the bed. Your nails scratching down his back making him snarl and thrust harder making you cry out. You kiss him deeply and flip him on his back and you slam down taking him deeply and he snarls as his hands hold your hips tightly. 
"Fuck! I feel so full!" You cry out your nails digging into his chest. He leans up and sucks a mark into the side of your neck, both of you breathing heavy. 
Derek flips you back over but pulls out making you whine at the loss. He grabs your hips and flips you over till your ass is in the air and he smacks your ass making you moan and push back into his hand for more. 
"Your ass looks so good with my handprint on it" he groans, you moan and look back at him. 
"Derek fuck me" you beg and Derek line his cock up with your enterce and you cry out when he shoves in starting a hard fast pace. 
"Fuck!" He groans his head falling back as your body takes every inch of him. Derek growls and fists your hair pulling you back hard to meet his thrusts. 
"Oh!" You cry out when you feel sparks go through your body. You shove back roughly and he growls smacking your ass. 
"You fit me perfectly" he groans, feeling so close to his end. Without a word Derek pulls out and you are flipped onto your back. Your protests are cut short when he shoves back into.  you're nails leaving marks in his back. 
"So close Derek please" you beg feeling so close to reaching your peak. Derek looks down at you as you cum hard. Your nails drag down his back and you scream out as you cum hard. 
“Mine!” Derek growls as he cums deep inside of you making you moan Derek rests his head on yours as you both try to catch your breath and he kisses you one last time before rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. 
“10/10 deftly worth it” you grin looking up at him with a tired smile and he chuckles and looks down at you. 
“The moon is still full” he chuckles 
1K notes · View notes
taleah-bonnick · 4 months
Text
more sterek fic recs - all completed
finally, some more sterek! enjoy :)
quiet perfection by hyperlittlenori - this is one of my favourite sterek fics ever, it's honestly one of the softest things i've ever read and it has me grinning from ear to ear every single time i read it. it's an AU with a deaf derek and a sign speaking stiles. they meet for the first time at the station and are instantly enamoured with each other. all i want is for this fic to become a series, i just want more of them.
chasing slumber by hyperlittlenori - another fic by this author! this is some of the most intense sterek smut i've ever read in my life, i literally forgot to breathe during it. the boys use sex to cope but it's a lot healthier than it sounds, i swear. there's also a lot of fluff, i love this one so much. this authors writing is immaculate.
from love not lust by hyperlittlenori - another one, i know! this one is just really simple and sweet. the boys fall in love through book annotations and it's so extremely soft. asexual derek is beautiful.
deaton's dream beans by thenerdnextdoor - a coffeeshop/bookstore AU! derek is a brooding hermit who owns a bookstore and stiles is an obnoxious but adorable barista who's trying to start a war with a rival coffee shop. this is such a fun story, with a tiny bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff. also, background thiam! i've read this multiple times, it's just so silly.
i ain't scared of your teeth by antisepticdork - stiles gets attacked by harpies, derek gets growly about it, they fall in like. this one is very much a 'monster of the week' fic, very chill and a bit goofy.
we've written volumes (in blood and scars and ink) by notthequiettype - stiles gets attacked by the alpha pack and derek nurses him back to health with a whole lotta werewolf healing mojo. solid banter, minor smut and a lot of fluff.
you saw me standing alone by orphan account - so obviously i like fics where stiles gets hurt and derek plays the sexy nurse, because here's another one! this is such a sweet fic, and the smut at the end is A+, slutty bottom derek is one of my favourite flavours of derek. he mewls, guys. mewls.
this is ridiculous by zosofi - a pining derek, a bloodthirsty, virgin killing unicorn and an oblivious, virginal stiles stilinski. this fic is so goofy and i love it.
warm shadows by stilinskisparkles - stiles gets hurt after another kidnapping and derek offers to help him out while he heals. a zero angst fic with some great banter and an evil peter hale thrown into the mix. these boys are so in love i wanna scream.
hear it in the silence by elisela - post season six fic where stiles and derek are best friends. stiles drags derek along on an impromptu road trip to escape the pressure of college and they realise they're in love along the way. such a romantic fic with top tier healthy communication, it's just a really beautiful story about falling in love with your best friend.
click here for part one of my sterek fic recs!
236 notes · View notes
strangerstilinski · 11 months
Text
✶ 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 ✶
Teen Wolf Rewrite Masterlist
Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character
Tumblr media
s e a s o n o n e
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; after an already traumatic evening involving the unfortunate discovery of a gruesome scene, amber is convinced to hike through the woods with her two best friends in search of the other half of a dead body. but it's not as if she could ever say no.. not when stiles looked at her like that.
~ 155,000 words
Slowburn, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining
Violence, Language, Underage Drinking, Some Sexual Content ✩
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three ✩
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
Tumblr media Tumblr media
s e a s o n t w o (ongoing)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; as if the last month and a half hadn't been stressful enough — now there were a few more werewolves, a kanima, and a seriously disturbed old man added into the mix. but amber, stiles, and scott could totally handle this. it would be fine. everything was great.
Violence, Language, Underage Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content ✩
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three ✩
chapter four
chapter five ✩
chapter six
chapter seven ✩
chapter eight (complete - editing in progress - available on ao3)
chapter nine (complete - editing soon - available on ao3)
chapter ten (in progress)
chapter eleven (tba)
chapter twelve (tba)
Tumblr media
𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭
stiles & amber's ideal date
𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬
is lydia bi?
where can i read chapters 8 & 9?
Tumblr media
494 notes · View notes
winterbarnesblog · 1 year
Text
A space heater and a koala - Derek Hale x y/n
Tumblr media
Summary: It's fall time...and you are COLD...but your space heater is there to warm you up
Warnings - none
Things in fic - FLUFF; Lovely fluff, because we all need some fluffy Derek Hale fics
A/N - Enjoy fluffy Derek!
It was that time of year...fall...The time of year you loved but equally hated...You loved it for all the obvious reasons. There was apple cider, comfy socks, lying by the fire as you watched movies, and going to pumpkin patches. But you hated it because it meant you were cold...ALL THE TIME... You woke up cold, you went to bed cold, and you left the house cold. And you absolutely hated it.
But this year was once again different because you had your boyfriend Derek...Sure there were thousands of things that you loved about him, but one of the things you loved about him most was how he was always warm, he was literally your own personal space heater, and it came in handy during the fall and winter seasons.
Derek would come back to the loft and see you under every blanket he had in the house, walking over to you and pulling the first one off, only to reveal a second one, then there was another, and another...so many blankets and all for one person...So when he finally pulled away all the blankets, there you were almost shivering, with fluffy socks, long pants, and a long sleeve shirt on, and Derek didn't wanna laugh, he really didn't in fact he tried to hold in his laughter, but when he finally climbed into bed and you latched onto him clinging to him like a kola he finally lost it letting out a small laugh
"It's not funny! I'm freezing! And the stupid blankets do nothing! I could lay under paper and be warmer!" You said slightly annoyed, as your words muffled due to you talking up against Derek's chest
"You're adorable you know," Derek said letting out a small laugh and giving you a kiss on your hear
"I know" You said with a small smile
"Now, tell me about your day," You said softly snuggling up to Derek more, if that was even possible at this point
"Well it was pretty boring, but Scott and I-" He said, but cut himself off as he heard soft snores coming from you, so he took one of the blankets and draped it over the both of you as he closed his eyes and continued to hold you...It was safe to say you both felt very safe and comfy.
______________________________________________
A/n - I hope you enjoyed this! One of the readers from my Derek Hale Halloween fic gave me the inspiration to write this!
1K notes · View notes
teencopandthesourwolf · 5 months
Text
He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 
He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 
Was it Laura?
Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.
She didn't tell him she was going before she left New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone because she had known absolutely that he would follow if she had said a single word to him.
(Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to; those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things).
Laura left him to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.
They hadn't even gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house, or to mark graves, grieve properly. 
That place also happened to be the place they had been born. The place they'd grown up and called home. Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.
The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.
That thought still haunts him. One of so fucking many. 
Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell her they were all gone because of him. Tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.
In the aftermath of the fire she hugged him, and had kept hugging him. Over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him, again.
Alpha.
(Big sister).
She just never knew of all the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing. 
And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed her hold him—feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his pack. His parents. His entire family. 
Now, he remembers that last time. 
“I'm going out.” 
Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck and pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 
It always took him a moment, these days, but Derek hugged back. 
“What's this for?”
“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight? You won't be asking for one of these.”
Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again. Not after…
He pushed his sister off him, gently—a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 
“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you—I don't sleep in anybody's fucking bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek was ashamed of so, so much, and crawling into his sister's bed for the first year after the fire was just one of those things. “Just—leave me alone.”
Laura was the one—the only—person that Derek had left in the whole world, and yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 
“Then where do you go to, all these nights? Now you're sleeping in your own bed and not clinging to me, night after night, nightmare after nightmare.” She hadn't meant it as a dig. She was his sister and she loved him.
Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people, moving on.
Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars and hanging around in back alleys, desperately trying to find scumbags he could taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.
Derek hated being a werewolf, now. 
“Just—out.” And he left standing her there, watching him walk away as he left to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 
That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.
It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 
Now here he is, standing in his big stupid loft that he bought for his betas (yet another pack he managed to destroy) having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping themselves as far around his shoulders as they can reach. 
Stiles.
“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.
(He knows all about those).
“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs this—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 
But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.
Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back. Feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 
Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”
And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.
More confidently now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist. Hugs him tighter, properly, allowing himself to be hugged back.
Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. This kindness. 
He decides to let the 'dude' pass—because maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 
Stiles's dude.
It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 
“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."
Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 
.
for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)
681 notes · View notes
palemoondust · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
AU SUPERNATURAL HIGHSCHOOL FANART: Set in a timeline where both stiles and Derek are teens from rivals packs, who also happen to play for the same school Lacrosse Team.Awkwarddd.
However when a series of murders start occurring in Beacon Hills, Spark Stiles and Alpha Derek must put aside their differences and join packs to solve the murders happening in their door step .
This been in the works for a while so I hope y’all like it, if anyone wants to write a draft or something based of this prompt that would be cool . Love y’all .
180 notes · View notes
theemporium · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
[REQUESTS OPEN]
[3.1k] or, void understands you. he can help you. he isn’t scared of you or what you are. you just have to let him set you free. (smut)
.
“Look at you,” he cooed softly, his hands running over your exposed skin with a feather-like touch. “So pretty when you listen, little dove.”
“Please,” you whimpered out, your voice was breathy and soft and he loved it. He loved the way your glossy eyes stared up at him, the way your cheeks were flushed and your lips raw and the way your whole body responded to him.
“Good girl using her manners now, hm?” he murmured with an amused huff as his fingers trailed over the plain of your stomach, smirking a little when your body twitched under his touch. “What would they say if they saw you right now?”
“I—” you gasped when you felt his hand grip your thigh, keeping your legs open and spread just for him.
“They’re scared of you,” he told her as his eyes caught hers. His stare was intense and deep and made her squirm beneath him. “They don’t understand you and they never will, little dove. They don’t understand people like you and me.”
And despite your better judgement, the snide remark slipped past your lips. “And you do?”
There was a pause. The hands exploring your body stopped, the soft creaking of the pipes were the only sound that could be heard as the seconds dragged on and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up.
But Void had no problem solving that for you.
You felt his fingers roughly grab your chin, forcefully tilting your head back until his dark eyes met yours.
“I know you better than you know yourself, baby,” he gritted through clenched teeth as his leg slid between your own. “I know what makes you happy…what makes you sad,” he dipped down so his lips were brushing your own. “I know what makes you scream.”
Your eyes fluttered closed but quickly snapped back open when his grip tightened.
“They will never understand you like I do,” he whispered softly, almost like he cared. Almost like a lover’s words. “They will never give you what you need like I would.”
And a part of you knew what he said was true. They would never understand what you were or what you could do. It scared them. It scared them so much they locked you up in Eichen House without a second thought. They locked you away when they could no longer control you. 
“Pretty little dove trapped in a pretty little cage,” Void whispered as his hand slipped between your thighs, your legs practically shaking in anticipation. “I can set you free.”
“Please,” you breathed out, desperate and needy and so beyond caring what it meant now. It had been weeks now. Weeks of the lingering gazes and teasing touches, whispered words and late night talks. You found yourself intrigued by the hyperactive brunette, wanting—no, needing to know more about him.
Then something changed.
Something snapped in him.
Something darker.
But you, being the foolish and hopeful fool you were, you still blindly followed him because he wasn’t scared. He didn’t treat you like a freak of nature or a monster. He looked at you like you meant something, that you were worth something.
You followed him down to the basement because you craved it more than anything else. You craved him more than anything else.
It was a blur of emotions and pleasure. The way his hands gripped your hips, the way he led you back towards the couch and trapped you beneath him. The way his lips were on yours, his kisses as addictive as his words and the little sounds he made making you want to whatever he asked. Just as long as he kept touching you. 
He was pulling the scratchy material of your shirt off with your sweatpants following quickly after until you were tucked beneath him, dressed in only a pair of flimsy panties and your body burning up as you desperately chased your high over and over again.
But he would never let you reach it.
“You want that, baby?” Void hummed, his thumb brushing along the soaked material, drawing out a small whine from you when he circled your clit. “I can you make you feel so good.”
You nodded, hands gripping his wrist as you helplessly tried to grind against his palm. But Void was two steps ahead, pulling away from you completely as he tsked mockingly.  You let out a pathetic whine, every instinct in your body wanting to reach out for him, for the warmth of his body.
“Use your words, little dove.”
You stared up at him as he sat there, kneeled on the couch above you. Your eyes glanced down at his hands, following up his arms to the shirt that practically stuck to his body. Your gaze dropped to the front of his sweatpants, your throat going dry when you saw how hard he was, when you saw how badly he wanted you to.
“I want you to set me free,” you spoke so softly, looking like the semblance of innocence as your shaking hands rested on your stomach. Your pinkie darted down to trace the hem of your panties and he was seconds away from ripping the material off with his teeth.
“Yeah?”
You nodded, gulping a little. It made him hard to know he still scared you a little.
“You understand me.”
“That’s right, baby,” he praised as he leaned down to press a long, hard kiss against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, hands instantly reaching to grip his shirt as you tried to pull him closer. “I fucking understand you. I am the only one who can help you.”
“You’re the only one who can help me,” you repeated breathlessly.
The movements were quick and fast, almost invisible to the human eye but then again, Void wasn’t human. He sat back against the couch, with you now prettily straddling his lap. He could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he ran his hands up and down your arms. He could feel the way your body leaned into his. 
“If I’m gonna set you free, baby, I need you to listen to me, okay?” Void spoke, his voice low and gravelly and it sent shivers down your spine.
You nodded.
“Words, little dove.”
“Yes.”
His lips twitched. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll obey you,” you said, your voice shaking a little.
“Atta girl,” Void murmured happily as his hands rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips. He watched with eager eyes as you wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking the digit as happily as you’d suck his cock if he let you.
You whined as he pulled his hand away, slumping back in his seat as he took in the sight in front of him. Your hands tucked behind your back, chest rising and falling with little pants and your eyes glued to him, waiting for him to touch you again. Waiting for him to allow you to touch him.
“Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, little dove?” The mocking tone in his voice wasn’t lost on you, wanting to press your thighs together but your position prevented you from doing so. “So wet and needy for me. Bet you are just desperate to come, hm?”
You gulped, nodding your head frantically. “Wanna come so bad.”
“Yeah? My little dove wants to come?” his voice sounded so soothing, so fucking patronising but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame. “Go ahead then, baby.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as he relaxed in his seat, head laying against the back of the couch. “What?”
“Make yourself come,” he repeated again, his lips twitching into something quite vindictive and yet you couldn’t help but think how pretty he looked. “Use me, baby. Use me to set yourself free.”
“I-I don’t get what you—” you babbled, your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze as he cooed mockingly.
“Don’t get shy on me now, little dove, thought you were my good girl,” Void spoke as he ran his hands up and down your bare thighs. “What was that silly little fantasy you had? You…my thighs…yeah, you liked that one, didn’t you?”
Your breath hitched as he let out a small laugh. You don’t know how he knew, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know how. The nights were you were unable to sleep, the covers were stuffy and your body felt warm and the only thing that made it bearable was slipping your hand beneath the hem of your panties and letting the pillow muffle your moans so you don’t get caught.
For him to know, to hear the little whispers and fantasies you thought you shared in the privacy of the dark rooms at night…
It shouldn’t have excited you as much as it did to know there was a possibility he was watching you, listening to you…that he was right there with you.
“Go on,” Void’s lips twitched upwards as he slowly guided you to straddle one of his thighs. “Put on a show for me.”
Deep down a part of you knew this was a bad idea. That you shouldn’t be here with him, alone and in this position. That following him down was your first mistake and everything else that followed only added to the mess. Deep down you knew that he was bad.
But you just truly couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Your hands moved to grip his shoulders, lip nervously tucked between your teeth as you began to rock your hips back and forth. Slow, deliberate movies as your clit brushed against the material of his sweatpants, and it felt good but it was not enough. 
“C’mon, baby, use me,” Void urged, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Thought you wanted to come, hm?”
“I do,” you whispered.
“Then stop acting like a fucking brat and do as you’re told,” he growled as his fingers twisted around the material of your panties and ripped them with ease, letting the ruined material drop to the floor.
Your hips stuttered against his thigh, your hands gripping his shirt as you tried to get the words out of your mouth but no sound came out. You stared down at him, helpless and dazed and god, you didn’t think you had ever seen something so fucking hot.
“Can’t do anything yourself, can you?” Void commented, shaking his head slowly and something in your stomach twisted. “Need my help for everything, don’t you, little dove? Can’t even come yourself.”
“I…I can,” you argued but it fell limp when he gripped your hips, guiding them along his thigh.
“Can you?” he mocked, head tilted to the side as your hips began to move more frantically. Moans began to spill from your lips, desperate and shameless and sounding so pretty so his ears. “You want me to stop?”
“No!” you cried out, shaking your head as he bounced his leg beneath you.
“You look so pretty like this,” Void praised as you clutched onto him like a lifeline. “Nobody can make you feel like this. Nobody can make you feel like this but me.”
“Just you,” you whined out, tears welling in your eyes and your thighs burning but you couldn’t stop, not even if you wanted to.
“Just me, baby,” he growled, lifting his hand to roughly grip his cheeks so he could watch the dazed look on your face as you reached your high. “You only need me.”
“I only need you,” you whimpered, lips parting when you felt the muscles in your body tensing up. “Please.”
“Say it.”
“Please,” you moaned out, eyes fluttering closed. “Please, let me come. I-I need to, just please, please, please—”
Words escaped you in a desperate plea, like a mantra he could have listened to over and over again. Your body clinging to him, hair sticking to the back of your neck and your whole body shaking as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his thigh as he sat there, fully clothed and amused. 
“Come for me, little dove.”
The words barely processed in your head as your orgasm washed over you, a bright white light shining behind your closed eyes. Your head tilted back, his name and moans mixed together deliciously with sobs as your body let the pleasure wash over you. You were exhausted and sore and barely fucking coherent.
But he wasn’t done.
He ignored the whimpers that left your mouth as his grip on your hips remained, your cunt pressed against his thigh. He guided your face to his, unable to help himself as he kissed along your wet cheeks, the salty taste of your tears making him groan.
“Look how good I’m helping you,” Void murmured, lips brushing against yours but he never quite let you lean closer to kiss him. “You’re gonna help me too, hm?”
You let out a shuddered breath.
“Gonna be my good girl and help me, yeah?”
“I wanna be your good girl,” you whined softly, squirming in your spot and letting out a small moan as your clit brushed against his thigh again. “I wanna help.”
“So good for me,” Void praised as you leaned into his touch. He had you wrapped around his finger and he knew that. He knew that you were so fucked out and so fucking out of it that you would have done whatever he said, would have done whatever he pleased. And he would be lying if he said that thought alone didn’t make him unbearably hard.
You barely had time to respond before he had flipped you over, your stomach pressing into the edge as he bent you over the back of the couch. You could feel him behind you, his hands gliding along your back and down to your ass, squeezing and groping it. You jumped a little when he landed a quick slap on your cheek, the sound echoing through the basement along with your soft whimpers. 
You wanted to turn your head back, to look at him over your shoulder and see his face as he enters you but something told you to do otherwise. Instead you laid there, hands clenching the fabric of the couch as he spread your legs and let the cool air hit your soaking cunt.
“So wet for me,” he mused with a laugh, his fingers sliding along your slit and pressing slow, deliberate circles against your swollen clit. He lightly shushed you as you whined, his fingers moving to slowly push one inside you, enamoured by the way your cunt instantly clenched around him.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Void muttered as he fucked you at a torturous pace, sliding in another finger to tease you that little bit more. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take me, little dove.”
“I can,” you gasped out, nodding your head helplessly. “I can take it. I promise I can take it.”
“Yeah?”
“I want to help you.”
Void groaned under his breath, the words sounding so desperate and innocent from your lips that he couldn’t resist any longer. He shrugged off the clothing with little care, his hand wrapped around his hard cock as he pumped it a few times, spreading the bead of precum along his tip.
You could feel the heat of his body behind you, his arms caging you in against the couch as he ran the head of his cock along your cunt, tapping your clit as you wriggled and squirmed beneath him. Breathless pleas escaped your lips as you urged him to fuck you, to finally be inside you and who was he to deny you when you sounded so pretty.
A broken moan let your lips as he thrusted inside you, little care about being gentle or tender with you. The groans that escaped his lips didn’t sound human as he entered you, feeling your tight cunt clench around him with such neediness.
“You wanted this, little dove, you wanted me to fuck you like this,” he growled as he bottomed out inside of you. “Such a desperate little thing, so needy for attention, aren’t you?”
“Void,” you moaned out, one hand reaching back to grab or hold some part of him as he mercilessly fucked you, your body bouncing with each thrust but it felt so good you couldn’t even care. “Please, please, please.”
“So fucking cockdrunk you can’t even answer me,” he said with a laugh that sounded so patronising it shouldn’t have made you clench around him the way you did. “Do I do your fantasies justice, hm? Can he make you feel like I can?”
You let out a high-pitched whine. “Stiles—”
“Don’t fucking say his name when I’m inside you,” he growled, his hand finding it’s place around your throat as he pulled you back until you were pressed against his chest. “He wouldn’t even know what to do with a desperate little thing like you.”
Your brain felt fuzzy as you approached your second high of the night, so close to the last and yet your body crazed it. You crazed the release—you craved him—like an addiction, a shot of pure fucking adrenaline and dopamine straight to your brain. You craved him like you craved air.
“Please,” you cried out, your legs shaking as you reached closer and closer to that edge.
“Come around my cock,” It sounded more like an order over anything else, but you were happy to comply. “Come around my cock and scream my name. You sound so pretty when you scream my name, when you tell everybody in this fucking prison who makes you feel like this.”
Everything passed in a blur. The tidal wave of exhaustion and pleasure as your second orgasm wracked through your body, the way Void groaned your name as he quickly followed you through your high a few thrusts later, coming inside you as he did. The way your eyes fluttered closed because it took too much effort to keep them open. It took too much effort to do anything at that moment.
But you could still feel him. His warm, heavy body behind you as he slowly pulled out, a soft whine leaving your lips when you felt his fingers graze over your leaking cunt, slowly fucking his cum back into you with two fingers. Your body felt buzzed and tired and sore, and yet you didn’t have the energy to tell him to stop.
Not as he fucked you through another orgasm.
Not as he held your shaking body as you cried out his name.
Not as he pressed his lips against your jugular, whispering “you’re mine” over and over again until it was the last thing you remembered as you passed out.
Because he was right.
He was the only one who understood and he was the only one who could help you.  
You were his.
.
3K notes · View notes
undercoverbastard · 7 months
Text
Judging a Derek by His Cover
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stiles asked, in a bit of a disbelieving tone. “I mean I-... have you seen you? Resisting you sounds impossible, Derek, I mean seriously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would tell you no if you gave them even a second look that’s- that’s impossible, you’re-”
Derek had already begun to tune out, a sick feeling crawling from the pit of his stomach upwards. He had grabbed for his shoes, fumbling slightly as he slid them on, in the middle of Stiles’ rambling. Before the other could continue, Derek waved away the rest with a nod.
“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use.
+.+.+
OR: a fic from the vaults, inspired by modern-day royalty au, derek’s penchant for being sought after just for his looks, and im not sure what else was going on in my brain at the time tbh
Word Count: 4387
———
“I have to get ready,” Derek said, pushing himself up and out of the bed. He sighed, sitting on the edge, staring at his hands a bit blankly. He wished he could freeze time - stay in moments like these. These moments are stolen in between chores and tasks, family and staff. He didn’t want to have to leave.
“Oh?” Stiles asked, stretching out lazily, tucking his hands behind his head. “What’s on the agenda today, sir prince?”
The tone was teasing but it made Derek cringe. Another reminder. He didn’t hate his position or his family or his people or any of it - he loved Beacon and his family was amazing and he adored being able to be a part of what made all of it. But, his position - his title - came with limitations. Expectations.
“Some gathering,” Derek mumbled, ducking his head a bit lower, “my mom says it’s in celebration of the peace treaties - ten years this week. But…”
“But…?” Stiles prompted, moving to curl behind Derek, his chin resting on a pillow as he gazed up at the other’s face. Derek cut his eyes to the side, letting the slightest of smiles curve across his lips before it fell off again. That was another one of Stiles’ talents - his ability to make Derek laugh and smile, no matter the day or its events.
“But,” Derek gathered a deep breath, “she’s been hinting at… socializing, at dating. She keeps bringing up names and countries and heirs and… I don’t know. She keeps mentioning Braeden and just…”
Stiles moved away, crawling up to a sitting position himself. Derek cast a look back at the other, waiting for some sort of response. It took a minute, Stiles facing away from him and seemingly fiddling with his shirt and hair. When he turned back he had a wide grin, cheeky and teasing.
“Oh you’ll do fine, Der, who could ever resist you? Huh?” Stiles said, giving him a nod of appreciation. It made Derek’s throat dry up, a reminder creeping in.
“Resist me…” Derek repeated a bit dumbly, staring now to the side of Stiles’ head, looking unseeingly out the window on the opposite side of the room. He heard Stiles give a huff of laughter, saw the shaking of his head from his peripheral.
“Obviously,” Stiles scoffed, “they’d have to be blind!” And that’s when Derek’s blood ran a bit cold, color draining from his face ever so slightly. “Anyways, I should - uh- get going. Let you get ready for the party and all that.”
Stiles stood up, fingers carding through his hair before tugging at and smoothing down his shirt. They’d laid lazily in the spare room for hours, taking turns carding fingers through one another’s hair, biting lingering kisses into one another’s lips, straddling each other’s laps as they got lost in the quietness disturbed only by soft groans and gasps. It had been bliss, those couple hours together. It was one of the only times Derek didn’t feel like he was on display or out of place to some degree. It felt right. Comfortable.
Staying quiet, Derek watched as Stiles stood up, slipping his shoes back on and fretting over his clothes again. He was always busy, mind and body in constant motion even if it didn’t make sense. It used to infuriate Derek when Stiles first began working in the library - he could never focus with the other’s mumbles and murmurs and humming and moving. It was chaotic in the smallest of ways. Now, though, he felt restless if Stiles didn’t move - his skin felt prickled if the younger man stayed still too long, a wrongness about it.
Before Stiles could open the door and sneak a look outside before he darted out, Derek asked, “Why didn’t you?”
Stiles paused, looking at the other in confusion and a half tilt of his head. “Why… why didn’t you resist me or - turn me down? Why?” Derek elaborated. His voice held steady and sounded normal but his heart was lodged in his throat and the tips of his fingers felt numb.
The question at least gave Stiles pause. He stepped back closer in the room, an incredulous look on his face once his mind seemed to catch up. He began waving, hands exaggeratedly emphasizing the length of Derek’s form still sitting on the bed before he gave an answering huff.
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stiles asked, in a bit of a disbelieving tone. “I mean I-... have you seen you? Resisting you sounds impossible, Derek, I mean seriously. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would tell you no if you gave them even a second look that’s- that’s impossible, you’re-”
Derek had already begun to tune out, a sick feeling crawling from the pit of his stomach upwards. He had grabbed for his shoes, fumbling slightly as he slid them on, in the middle of Stiles’ rambling. Before the other could continue, Derek waved away the rest with a nod.
“Right, right - you’re not… blind,” Derek interrupted. Stiles seemed a bit stunned at the overly neutral tone. Derek always spoke in an even manner, known for being a bit brasher in his tone than others but fairly neutral and even overall - it was a mark of the Hale family, after all. To be balanced in all ways. He couldn’t risk being too nice or too rude. He may toe the line of overly curt and brash but he was never outright cold with his words. But even he could hear it - the change in his voice. It was exceptionally vague - not a hint of brashness. He was as even as his mother in her political discussions - unreadable.
Moving past Stiles without looking him properly in the eye, Derek mumbled about needing to get ready. Stiles attempted to stop him, his voice going low once the door opened, but it was of no use. Even the soft touch to Derek’s shoulder as he stepped out slid off with just a single step, allowing the steadily growing wall between them to commence.
Derek tried not to think about it. Shoved the thoughts out of his mind as he left the mostly empty hall and trailed back to his own room. He shouldn’t have thought Stiles would be interested in anything else besides his looks. It was, after all, his saving grace. After Kate’s stunt years back, most people averted their eyes - unable to meet Derek’s. It lingered with some, but it only took a year or two at most before he was once more a display.
Giggling visitors from other countries bashfully complimented him on how handsome he was, eyes raking up and down his body at parties and celebrations. Tabloids posted dozens of photos whenever he left the palace - endless remarks of his looks and how well clothes fit him and how others were sure the good looks didn’t stop at just his face pouring from every media outlet in the country and even in others.
He was used to it. He smiled his practiced smile, knew when to bow his head and murmur thanks. He was used to the squeezes to his bicep when being requested to dance and the lingering eyes of his partners. But that was it. Even Kate had said so when she still played the part of smitten girlfriend.
She’d tease him for his quiet nature and his lack of ability to feed into normal conversations. He could talk policy as needed and he had a plethora of books surrounding philosophers, history, and even art at his disposal - but they were drab topics outside of negotiations and proper business. And even if the analysis of Picasso’s The Old Guitarist was one Derek found interesting and showed the necessity of the arts and their value to civilizations old and new, Kate didn’t want to hear about it. Besides, even with his most impassioned topics on the table he still was a man of few words. Part of that came from being the son of the reigning Queen of Beacon, another part came from Kate’s backhanded nature.
Either way, it didn’t matter. Derek earned his keep with his looks. He was a nice face to look at and a figure that harnessed desire. Either no one cared what else he might be able to offer or his lack of personality drove them back to their distanced gazes. Just because Stiles could quote at least one line from every book Derek has ever picked up since he started working in the library and just because Stiles had enough words for five people let alone a conversation of two didn’t mean he wouldn’t be the same.
It was to be expected.
+.+.+
Several hours later found Derek in one of his more casual attires but one fit for a prince nonetheless. The party and celebration were not one for hosting political affairs - they were for rejoicing. Sure, it was shared amongst several other visiting countries, and the sprawling room and subsequent halls were filled with faces far and wide, but none of them came to talk about further negotiations, treaties, or trade options. They all came to eat, dance, and laugh - embracing the decade’s worth of peace since King Christopher took his father’s place in Silvenia and ended the wars and trade blocks.
Derek stood off to the side, doing his best to obscure himself as much as possible in the throng of people. He’d eaten, he’d talked to his family, and he’d even danced with several people. He had done his share, he thought. This was meant to be enjoyed, and he enjoyed being alone.
He couldn’t, however, forever hide from Braeden. He’d seen his mother walking with her, laughing. His mother’s eyes seemed to search the crowd, trying to find him, and he did his best to slink away before she caught a whiff of his location. He’d done a good job so far, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor to try and avoid her all night. It had only been two hours and the celebration would more than likely go well into the night. His mother would find him eventually.
Musing the odds of success if he were to try and slink away to his room or possibly to the gardens for a couple of hours to avoid detection a bit longer, Derek zoned out momentarily - unaware of his surroundings. He acknowledged the movement of others, the change in music, but it was all background noise in his mind. Which is why it was the perfect time for him to be found.
Just not by his mother, it seemed.
“Derek?” Stiles asked, gently laying a hand on his arm, eyebrows scrunched up in concern. “You okay?”
Shaking himself out of his clouded thoughts, Derek nodded and went to pull away from Stiles’ touch - planning to test out his garden escape. He should’ve been looking out for the man. After all, Stiles has been a regular attendee of nearly all the Hale family’s gatherings and parties for over 10 years. His father was now the Head of Palace Guards and his mother had once overseen the library he now worked in. Stiles’ presence was all but guaranteed between his two parents both working in the palace on a daily basis. Derek had just distantly hoped he wouldn’t approach him here - similar to all previous events.
“Then you wouldn’t mind me asking for a dance, would you?” Stiles asked, his eyebrows now unscrunched, one raised in question as he held out his hand. Derek stared for a moment, bewildered.
In all the years Stiles had attended these gatherings, he’d never once asked to dance with Derek - he rarely spoke to him. He’d danced with Cora once or twice, the two having been closer as kids since they were the same age and Cora deciding Stiles was the perfect partner for her scheming ploys. But even now in recent times, since Derek and Stiles had begun their… whatever it was between them, he had never asked. It had been nearly a year of sneaking into hidden library corners, empty guest rooms, and ducking into stable stalls - stealing kisses, fingers unbuttoning shirts, hands roaming skin. In that same time over a handful of parties, political events, and other such gatherings had come to pass of all different magnitudes and Stiles had all but avoided Derek.
Cautiously, Derek put down the drink in his hand and laid the other in Stiles’ open palm. He let the other pull him seamlessly into the throng of moving bodies. The music wasn’t slow enough for proper dance steps but it wasn’t fast enough to deter other couples from swaying and moving across the floor together. Blessedly, Stiles moved into the crowd and guided one of Derek’s hands to his waist, clasping the other in his hand while Stiles laid his second hand on Derek’s shoulder.
No one really led in this dance, but Stiles letting him control the speed and direction was a godsend as he was sure to stumble if he had to follow. Derek was sure he had Cora to thank for that, as he recalled his younger sister demanding to be the lead and making a young, 11-year-old Stiles learn to follow in all their dance numbers. He recalls hiding smirks and laughs behind his hand and drinks, watching the two kids stumble about when Stiles accidentally went to lead them and Cora stubbornly refused to follow.
He pushed those memories aside, trying to remove the fond film he’s learned to lay over all the memories with Stiles in them. He doesn’t know when he’d begun to do it, but it was harder than he’d expected to try and stop it.
“You left kinda fast earlier,” Stiles finally murmured, voice low as his eyes danced around the room. They got a couple of second glances, those who knew of Stiles’ position a bit surprised to find the two dancing together. Sure, he danced with Cora over the years, but that was largely when they were kids and it was cute - something for the adults to coo over and take pictures of.
“Yes,” Derek answered simply. He didn’t know what Stiles wanted and he preferred to keep his cards close to his chest. Stiles huffed at the minimal response, a fond eye roll following it shortly after.
“Okay, thanks for that,” Stiles teased, “what I meant is why? Did- did I say something to upset you? Did something happen - are you okay?”
Even in shorter sentences, Stiles still somehow rambled. His tempo was a bit too fast, his tone of voice wavering and pitching in odd places, teeth biting at his lips as he came up with a dozen more thoughts - his face mirroring his reaction to each one in live action. Derek quelled the amusement he found in the mannerisms.
“Just wanted to leave.”
At this, Stiles seemed to stutter in movement, feet delayed and causing the two to stumble momentarily. Both of Derek’s hands moved to hold him at the waist, righting him before he could fall while Stiles’ hands both gripped Derek’s shoulders to help anchor himself. They found themselves closer together, the stance becoming a bit more personal and intimate than before.
“Leave… me?” Stiles whispered quietly, looking over Derek’s shoulder. Derek stayed quiet, unsure how to answer without giving too much away. “Is it because of what I said? That I’m attracted to you? Did that upset you?” It was Derek’s turn to bring a stutter to their movements, going rigid. He thankfully composed himself much quicker, only setting them off by a step at most that was easily regained.
“I don’t have an issue with you finding me attractive, Stiles,” Derek sighed, “like you said, who isn’t.”
It wasn’t a question. But he couldn’t control the bite that came out with the last two words, a bit of a sarcastic drawl underlining his words. At this, Stiles snapped his eyes to the side, looking questioningly at his dance partner. Derek didn’t explain any further, instead avoiding direct eye contact as best he could while still dancing.
“Is that…” Stiles’ words faltered, dying off. Even without looking at his face, Derek could see his thoughts play out. He swear he could hear the gears grinding in his head as he raced through all possible questions, answers, scenarios, and each of their meanings in a span of a few seconds. It would never cease to impress and exasperate Derek how Stiles thought just as quickly as he spoke - often one blending into the other without filter or regard for how his words came out.
“Der,” Stiles said, his voice suddenly a bit louder and demanding. Derek just raised his eyebrows in response, gaze still not meeting Stiles’. The younger boy huffed, hides sliding up from Derek’s shoulders to grip either side of his face and force Derek to look at him before he continued speaking. “What I said was true. I don’t know any sane person who would turn you down, but - that’s not the only reason I’m attracted to you. You know that, right? You have to know that.”
Derek swallowed the lump in his throat, giving a partial shrug to try and show his indifference on the matter. It seemed to be the wrong response, however, when Stiles growled out low in frustration, his fingers digging in a bit more into Derek’s skin and demanding his attention.
“You have to know,” he said, incredulous. “You think - what? All this time I just wanted some casual… fling? That I just saw a pretty face and that was all it took? A pretty face and I spend hours sneaking away from my work, hiding from my dad, skirting around guards?”
Stiles paused, but not long enough for Derek to actually respond. He shook his head as if in disbelief before continuing, “Is that it? You thought I just wanted to fuck around with you? Jesus Christ, how shallow do you think I am? Better yet! How stupid?! If I just wanted someone for their looks why would I go after a prince? A prince, Derek. I know we’re evolved and all but I’m sure your mom would still approve a hanging or beheading or some other medieval offing of me, fuck.”
Derek couldn’t help but crack a wry grin at Stiles’ vomit of words, head ducking down slightly as he tamped down on his laughter. The idea of his mother not only approving but requesting a beheading seemed comical - the woman was terse and poised, levelheaded beyond compare, but she was also the same woman who cried over Animal Planet at 9 PM on a Tuesday after seeing a crocodile eat a baby zebra. She blubbered about ‘the poor baby’ for half an hour, squeezing Cora into a smushed hug against her chest and all but breaking Derek’s bones as she held his hand. It was a hilarious thought, all things considered.
Stiles’ noise of exasperation broke him from his daddling thoughts, surprising Derek. Another thing Stiles was good at; even without trying, he got Derek lost in his own rambling thoughts - Stiles’ jabber and ranting offering endless avenues of thought and consideration, even if absurd. It was a nice change of pace, having something to ponder and get lost in. Something that was entertaining and not all too important that demanded his full focus or response all at once.
“Derek, I am about to make a damn fool of myself and if someone overhears this and then sees you walk away from me I think I’ll be forced to exile myself but, Jesus fuck , here it goes,” Stiles let out a long breath, eyes closing briefly before reopening and settling on Derek as if he were a target. “I am in-fucking-love with you. I love how you speak with your eyebrows and eye rolls better than any person can with words. I love how you obsessively read fucking historical books and pour over goddamn poetry and art journals. I love how you get spaced out when we talk about centuries-old plays and hundred-year-old paintings as if you can’t comprehend what they mean and are stunned by their mere existence. I love how you talk and sound like you’re thinking of murdering me and then just- laugh! And god, your laugh - I still can’t figure out if it’s your smile or your laugh that’s my favorite. And, fuck- I just… I can’t think of a single thing I don’t obsessively think about when it comes to you. And of course, of course, you’re fucking beautiful - work of art, walking god, all the usuals - but I… I just love being with you.”
They stopped dancing, coming to a halt in the middle of the mass of people. Derek is sure the song changed, people who still lingered a bit further away now going through similar steps and movements he couldn’t be bothered to recall or put a name to. He also knew they were being watched - hell, he’s sure half a dozen people caught at least half of that spiel, with Stiles’ voice raising in tone and pitch and volume like crazy throughout as if he couldn’t control it.
He felt a bit punch drunk, in a way. He didn’t know if he should be embarrassed that Stiles caught him wistfully zoning out over paintings or if he should laugh at the fact that Stiles has somehow done what not even his family has by being able to read and understand his responses just by facial expressions alone. It felt like a weight had been removed from his shoulders but his stomach felt heavy, stirring with nerves.
“You love me?” he finally asked. Stiles groaned, smacking his head against the curve of his own arm that rested against Derek’s shoulder. He was muttering and cursing quietly.
“I only repeated it about a hundred times but, yes. Yes - I love you. I am in love with you, I will figure out all the euphemisms to say it and learn it in as many languages as I can. Hell, I’ll do it old school - find a fucking boombox and sta-”
Stiles’ remaining rant cut off as Derek pulled his chin up, pressing a harsh kiss against the other’s lips. It wasn’t soft or biting, just… hard. Solid. Reassuring. Stiles helped quell the bruising press of lips by softly dragging a thumb over Derek’s cheek, the gesture making the kiss soften until they both were pulling away. Stiles looked awestruck, eyes dancing and sliding side to side to take in the room before ultimately landing once more on Derek’s face, a pleased grin taking over his face as their eyes met.
“I’ve been stupidly in love with you ever since you began singing that awful song when I tried to explain what a Blue Period was and then I kept humming it all week because it was stuck in my head,” Derek offered as an explanation for his actions. Stiles paused, eyebrows pulled together in consideration for a second before he broke out into loud laughter, probably remembering the exact scene from two years prior. If no one saw them before they surely had garnered enough people’s attention by now.
“I think I’ve been in love with you since you told Harris off for making me cry during the Polka,” Stiles grinned. It was Derek’s turn to bark out a laugh, louder than he had laughed in a while. He remembered that, it was 8 years ago - when Stiles and Cora were still learning various dances. Cora had to learn for the sake of her title and appearance, Stiles was just the poor culprit she wrangled into the mess and who could barely keep time with the three-step beat, leading to lots of stumbling and Harris berating him before Derek growled out a retort about being so pathetic to bully a child.
Derek remembered it as a scarring experience, Stiles refusing to dance for two weeks after. Stiles, however, decided it was the moment in which he’d fall in love with a then-angry, overly private 16-year-old that barely even spoke to him. Derek wasn’t sure which moment of realization was more absurd between them.
“You were thirteen !”
“And I was in love!”
It got quiet between the two, both of them just grinning at the other. Neither bothered to realize just how quiet it had gotten, or how much space had been carved out around them during their conversation. They were lost in their own world, ignorant to the rest of the room around them.
It wasn’t until a minute or two passed when a cleared throat caught their attention, making them realize the quieter atmosphere and their center stage set up among the crowd. Talia - Queen Talia - stood beside them, a knowing smirk on her face as she regarded them with a raised eyebrow, hands clasped in front of her.
Stiles gave a half-choked squawk in realization while Derek bowed his head, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. They separated abruptly, standing side by side to face Talia head-on.
“So,” Talia broke the silence, “I don’t think I’ll be introducing you to Braeden anytime soon. Seeing as you already have a boyfriend, hm?”
Stiles choked again, some mangled word dying in his throat, while Derek simply looked up at his mom with a deer-in-the-headlights look. When she gave a pointed tilt of her head, eyes shooting to Stiles as the younger man seemed paralyzed on the spot, Derek knew she was encouraging him to confirm. To say something .
“Yes,” he finally managed to pull out, his hand reaching out to grasp Stiles’ and squeezing it in question. When he got an immediate squeeze in response, he gave his mother a wide, genuine smile. “I’m dating Stiles.”
With that, Talia seemed pleased. She clapped her hands, announced that further celebration was to commence, and then left them as they were. It was oddly anti-climatic, the room returning to its usual activity and volume as before - only sneaky side glances were thrown their way in curiosity. It was easy for Derek to pull Stiles back to the outskirts of the room, however, the two of them were unable to stop glancing at each other and sharing smiles.
193 notes · View notes