Derek just wanted an excuse to run out on his date. A very public fight with the fiance he didn’t know he had is not exactly what he was expecting, but he’ll take it.
Derek decides he’s tired of Stiles flirting and tries to call him out, when it doesn’t work quite like he hoped, the pack takes it upon themselves to get involved.
Sterek AU:The PlayLizst | Dr. Derek S. Hale is one of the most qualified musicologists in the country. He’s done his fair share of travelling to colleges all over the country to to give insights on the musical structures of some of the most famous pieces of classical literature and while he can’t really play any of those pieces, he does have a particular choice of pianist when it comes to listening to them. Mieczysław. Derek likes to think he’s in love with the guy, even though he isn’t sure if Mieczysław is a first name or a last name or even a name at all, and he’s never once gotten a glimpse of the pianist’s face. It’s about the music, the money-makers, and the guy’s hands are plastered on everything. There’s only one other pianist who may be well on his way to being as talented as Mieczysław, a student by the name of Stiles Stilinski. He’s just come back to school after a semester off and after annoying his way into Derek’s life via iced coffee, he’s decided to pursue an independent study with the musicologist to finish up his double degree, and potentially charm Derek into a date once he graduates. There’s one peculiar thing; Stiles always has his hands mostly covered by fingerless gloves, yet still, Derek swears he’s seen them somewhere.
This fic is meant to be read with the playlist playing as background music, but is completely optional. All of the music on the playlist is mentioned in the story at the time it should be playing in the background, should you choose to tune in and out as you read. Enjoy!
The boy scoots closer into Derek’s space as if he’s never heard of something called privacy. “You’re a music professor? My best friend is a music major. I thought being a good friend meant playing through a bunch of classical piano music that he has to know by memory for a test at the end of the week for the entirety of an evening but apparently that isn’t enough for him. He’s been harassing me all morning.”
“You do know there’s something called personal space and right now, you’re about three feet too far into mine.” He moves his laptop clenches his jaw because this kid is swirling his tongue around the straw of his coffee and it’s absolutely infuriating.
He seems to ignore the disgruntled green eyes glaring at him and continues like he’s not sticking his nose into the business of someone he just met. “I guess I would understand his struggle if I were also in the class. I just need these few hours of java and crosswords before his head is back up my ass again.”
“Is that why your head is up mine?”
There’s a charming little snicker that comes out of his perfect little mouth, and it shouldn’t appeal to Derek as much as it does. Regardless, the guy leans back into his own space and shrugs with another swig of his coffee. “Is that the reason you haven’t left yet?”
“Come on, Derek,” Stiles gasped. “Dude, this is killing me.”
Derek undulated over him again, grinning in his fierce, mean way, so that it looked more like a threat than a joke. “Seven more months, Stiles. Pants on until you’re 18.” But, he couldn’t disguise that his own voice was a little shaky, that he was affected just as much as Stiles. Well, even if his voice hadn’t wavered, the steel rod in his pants would have been a good clue.
Stiles keened when Derek got the angle just right, all his weight pressed hard against Stiles from thigh to chest, the slow rolls of his hips dragging across the fly of Stiles’ jeans, and wow, did he ever regret armoring himself in denim that day, rather than soft cotton sleep pants. Or possibly fishnet. Fishnet with big holes. (Pride? What is pride?)
“De–
Derek. Ssss–
” Stiles lost language altogether when Derek buried his face at the side of his neck, the stiff prickles of his scruff scraping against skin so sensitized that it felt like nothing so much as… fishnet… over his jumping nerves. When a hot mouth closed over the thundering pulse there, Stiles’ eyes literally rolled back in his head. “Ohgod–”
Stiles lifted his legs, shifted until his hips were angled further up, wiggled with abandon under Derek’s body, rubbing against anything that felt good. He could feel his skin heating up, his face turning red, the little hairs on his arms and his neck rising with the heat and electricity in his body.
“Yeah,” Derek coaxed, slipping a hand under Stiles head, weaving it through the short strands of his hair and tugging just this side of too hard. “Come on, baby. Let go.”
Stiles choked on his own spit. (Graceful as ever, Stiles.) “Der–
Dude. I. I don’t wanna sling yogurt in my pants.”
Everything stopped. Possibly time itself, but certainly Derek, most of his weight held up with the bulging muscles of his shoulders. His hips were frozen. So was his expression. While this wasn’t a new thing for Derek, having only one expression, it usually wasn’t one of naked incredulity. That’s not the kind of naked Stiles was hoping for.
“What.” Yep. There was the Real DerekTM, all disdain for the superfluity of punctuation. “What did you say.”
Stiles froze as well, the rising tide of his blood taking a sudden turn for the more… icy. “What?”
“Did you just… refer to an orgasm as… slinging yogurt.”
“Um…”
“Mother-of-wolves, Stiles.”
“But. You know. The old yogurt slinger. The pocket weasel. The puffed adder. The–”
Derek dropped his head, face first into the pillow beside Stiles. His body was shaking… but in all the wrong ways. This is not how Stiles had imagined the next five minutes proceeding.
“I was just–”
“No!” Derek surged back up and slammed a palm across Stiles’ mouth. “No more. Not. Another. Word.” But his whole face was twitching, and his mouth was pulling up hard at the corners, and then an actual snort escaped him. Derek was laughing. Frankly, this was almost as good as an orgasm, because it was so rare, and made Stiles just float on the knowledge that he could do that, make Derek laugh.
Derek shook his head and moved aside to sit on the side of the bed, face buried in his hands. “Seven more months, Stiles,” he said.
Look, Derek is the worst. Everyone knows that. Their fearless leader is a total and complete failwolf.
Which means the rest of them? Are kind of the worst too. They’re a ramshackle, slap dashed, sorry excuse for a pack that’s about a half second away from getting one of them killed. And this is a problem, because Stiles would really like to survive high school. Thanks.
Still, no one deserves what Derek has gone through. Nobody.
Welp, this one got out of hand. I went with #9 and I hope you enjoy, Nonny! Thank you for the prompt.
Dialog Prompt#9: “You’re in love with her”
Derek drags Stiles through the front door of the rebuilt Hale House, a meaty fist twisted in the front of his red hoodie, claws poking holes in the cotton.
“A curse most foul is amiss; the only cure be true loves kiss!” Stiles smacks both hands over his mouth, amber eyes going round as dinner plates when the whole pack turns to stare at him.
“What the hell’s wrong with Stilinski this time?” Jackson asks, bored.
“Witches,” Derek replies, finally detangling himself from Stiles and stalking a few paces away. Erica laughs so hard she rolls off the couch.
“Do not guffaw, sweet lady, ‘tis true! This lovesick lad be sad and blue.” Stiles abruptly walks into the kitchen, returning moments later with duct tape firmly placed over his mouth.
“It’s like Christmas and my birthday rolled into one,” Isaac says with a mean-spirited smirk. Stiles flips him the bird and plops down onto the love seat, motioning magnanimously at Derek to fill the pack in on what transpired in the woods.
Derek sighs like he’s the one doomed to be a Disney prince, and sits down next to Stiles. “We were out patrolling, and Stiles trounced right into the middle of a magic circle where a witch was performing a love spell; he ruined the whole thing. Apparently she spent months preparing for the ritual, so you can imagine how pissed off she was.” The whole pack nods in understanding, which Stiles thinks is pretty rude. “She cursed him, disappeared in a puff of pink glitter and now he’s a poet. A really, really shitty poet.”
For @ravenwolf36 who is one of the nicest people I have ever interacted with. Thank you so so much for your patience (and I am so sorry this took fifty years). I’m incredibly glad you stumbled across my blog ❤️
In the end, it was Kira who managed to break Derek’s resolve. Stiles didn’t know why he was surprised. She was a badass trickster kitsune after all. And a member of the extremely tight friend group he liked to jokingly refer to as ‘the three musketeers.’ The first time Derek heard the title, he’d looked torn between smirking and scowling. Kira just fist bumped Boyd, then started talking about getting matching leather jackets. The had three clicked sometime after high school graduation and were pretty much inseparable.
So, through the power of friendship (and adorable puppy eyes), Kira convinced Derek to reveal the recipe for wolfsbane liquor. It was a secret that Derek refused to share because he was a responsible alpha. Or so he claimed. But now that everyone was twenty-one, Kira wanted to have a proper birthday celebration.
(don’t) blame it on the alcoholby wishingonalightningbolt Stiles brews wolfsbane beer in the hope of getting drunk with Derek – for ya know, male bonding purposes. With Scott still at Davis and everyone else so busy all the time, Stiles and Derek are the bestest of bros now, and it’s only right that they be allowed to get sloshed together.
Unsurprisingly, Stiles catches the feels.
Climb Inside His Skinby Stilinski Derek—Derek “my predominant expressions are long-suffering and longer-suffering” Hale—has a classical literature collection.
Stiles has managed to skirt, outwit, destroy, or otherwise run screaming from at least a dozen different supernatural shitstorms since graduating Beacon Hills High School three years ago, but nothing – nothing – could have prepared him for this.
It’s one thing to have Stiles as his anchor. It’s another thing entirely to realize that he’s in love with his best friend. His best friend who happens to be three years younger than him and, oh god, John is going to have him arrested. He won’t be able to become a cop because he’ll be behind bars.
People leave in Beacon Hills, give up on the town, the people, on life itself. And he and Derek are still here, six years later, still able to drink a beer and share space. It’s kind of remarkable in a really understated way.
With Delayed Expressionby Idday “I have… well… she said that she thinks that I maybe have… PTSD?”
The line goes so dead that Derek almost thinks Stiles hung up on him. He waits eight very quiet seconds, and says softly, “Stiles?”
“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles says, breath whooshing back over the phone line.
“I have PTSD,” Derek says more firmly. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, not as a question. It hasn’t really seemed real, until now. He’d spent the whole of his last session arguing that Tamara was wrong about him, and saying it out loud is like admitting it’s true. “Post-traumatic stress dis—”
“I know what it means,” Stiles interrupts, “I just didn’t think I’d heard right. Oh my God.”
(Okay sooo I’m not sure if that last one properly counts – but I’m gonna include it because it’s such a great Derek healing– Stiles helping fic. It does reference canonical abuse though, so be aware of that going in and read the tags!)
5 Pining fics (THERE ARE SO MANY. SOOOO MANY TO CHOOSE FROM!!! We are blessed in this fandom.)
lodestoneby llassah “We could…we could be something, couldn’t we?” Stiles murmurs, eyes slipping shut. Derek looks at the IV line in his arm, the bandages covering his chest, his leg. His hand, pale against the hospital sheets, palm up. Derek waits until he’s sure Stiles is asleep before he responds.
It takes Stiles eight years to ask the question again. It’s okay. Derek can wait.
Yes is a Worldby jezziejay When the nemeton casts a protection spell over Beacon Hills, Stiles can finally go to college. Derek thinks this might be a good thing.
In which Stiles falls in love and Derek learns a lot.
Tell Me, So I Knowby TroubleIWant It took years for Derek to finally confront the way he felt about Stiles, and even after he figured it out he could only explain in Spanish. It took them two years more to get to where they were now. Only with neither of them quite willing to commit, where exactly is that, anyways?
Well, for Stiles it’s a deserted stretch of road behind the Hale house, half trapped in a car wreck after being abducted by hunters. Frankly, he could really use Derek’s help if he’s going to get out of this alive. Mates are supposed to be able to tell when the other is in pain, right? As Derek would probably say, ’querido, no.’
Or, a love story in two parts… and two languages.
Cosominationby zoemathemata For Fictional Force/Hoktauri who prompted “pining! Derek/oblivious! Stiles, graduation day”
Cosominate – To sleep together in the same bed or similar space.
Five Times Derek and Stiles Sleep Together – 4 platonic bed shares and one not-platonic bed share! Features Pining! Derek, Oblivious!Stiles and a very tense moment where Sheriff Stilinski has been hurt! But it all turns out okay.
the officeby stilinskisparkles “Sure, I like him,” Derek scowls right at the camera, “We’re friends.” He blinks, expression suddenly going hopeful, “Why, did he say something?”
*
“I have worked at Beacon Hills Office Supplies for two and a half years,” Stiles pretends to hang himself with his tie, glances out of the conference room to where Derek is signing for a package with a suspicious look on his face. “It’s not all bad, I guess?”
Okay, but I really love the idea of this werewolf biker gang who only trusts a former hunter to fix their bikes. I don’t know how they come to this arrangement, but I fucking love it.
I say Chris split from the family, but he still struggles with it. There’s still that lingering prejudice in there that Allison doesn’t have, so she did a full, clean break. Packed up, left the state, made her way to California, and started picking up odd shifts at mom and pop garages. The kind of places that if you ask for a job, they’ll tell you to check out whatever car they’ve got in the shop at the moment, and if you fix it, you’re hired.
She wanders up towards northern California, using references and referrals to get jobs, and eventually lands in Beacon Hills. Obviously here, either the jeep or Scott’s bike breaks down. Probably the jeep, but I love the idea of Allison driving late at night in the rain, seeing some poor schmuck on the side of the road trying to get his bike started, and pulling over to help him out. Also obviously, Scott falls madly in love with his hero in all of .5 seconds.
I also love the idea of Stiles absolutely refusing to take the jeep to her garage because he’ll figure it out himself, he can do this. And sometimes she’ll wander over to his place when she knows he’s working on it, lean daintily against the open hood, and watch him struggle. She’ll offer to help, or ask pointedly if he’s planning to use that tool or that part, but she’s not going to push. She knows this jeep is his baby, very few others get to touch it, but she knows that someday it will be in her garage and she will go to town on it.
That damn thing is going to purr like a kitten by the time she’s finished with it.
But the Hales.
Obviously they come through Beacon Hills and stop by her garage, but how.
Maybe Allison has already been fixing their bikes for a while, in other towns they’ve been to, and they come to Beacon Hills specifically to see her. They’d been going to her for a while before they found out about her family, but she’s always taken such good care of them that they have no reason to not trust her. She knows exactly how they like their bikes, what brand of parts they prefer, and it’s a fucking pain to find a new mechanic who can match her attention to detail. They know, they tried once, and they ended up right back at Allison’s garage (and she gave Derek a knowing, slightly mocking smile, but didn’t actually comment on the subpar tuneup he’d been riding, so he let it go and never strayed again).
Or maybe it’s more of a desperation kind of situation. They’re flying through Beacon Hills with hunters on their tail, and they’ve been riding too long and their bikes are starting to show the strain. Finally admitting that they can’t keep going, they find the nearest mechanic, and it isn’t until they see the Argent family crest pinned up on a corkboard that they realize. They get quiet just as Allison is coming back into the office, wiping her greasy hands on a rag, and she stops at the sudden shift in the atmosphere.
“I’m not like my family,” she tells them, and Derek doesn’t buy that for a second, but he knows the Argents’ reputation and he knows better than to try to attack one head on.
It’s a bit of an awkward standoff until Scott rolls in to bring her lunch and kisses her on the cheek, and his eyes flare yellow at the presence of other wolves. Then Derek knows that she’s really being truthful and only then does he even remotely begin to relax.
It takes a while; the Hale pack leaves and returns a few times before they really get settled in Beacon Hills, but Allison has a way with their bikes. She’s like a god or something, it’s not natural.
Every time they ride through town, they find themselves staying just a little bit longer. Making connections. Making friends with Scott and Stiles. Finding it a little harder to leave each time until eventually, they don’t.
The hotels they usually stay in are getting old, so Derek buys an apartment for them to stay in while they’re in town. He’s got the money and he isn’t spending it on anything other than their bikes, so they might as well be comfortable and have a place to crash that doesn’t smell like strangers.
Then Isaac starts staying a little longer than the rest, skipping a ride every now and again, and he gets his own place. Derek’s paying for the apartment, not him, so he shouldn’t get to stay in it longer than the rest.
Next it’s Erica and Boyd, looking to maybe settle down. They’re talking about marriage, hesitantly discussing kids in a way that’s a joke for now but there’s an undercurrent of want to their cynical laughs. It makes sense that they would start checking out homes around town, they don’t want to end up across the country from Isaac, and they couldn’t possibly find a better mechanic.
Derek’s the holdout, as per usual. It takes a little more convincing for him to admit that he’s found a home after so many years on the road.
“I could use some help around the garage,” Allison mentions offhandedly, making sure to emphasize that she doesn’t like hiring people she doesn’t know. And if Stiles is going to bring his jeep in, he needs to know that there won’t be total strangers working on his baby, and he really needs to bring that thing in because it started smoking from the hood the week before.
So maybe Derek starts spending longer stretches in his apartment—the apartment. That only he uses anymore. And maybe the day that the jeep finally gets towed to the shop, he picks up a clean rag and steps up beside Allison at the open hood. Scott’s comforting Stiles in the office, watching it all through the big window like a parent watching their child go through lifesaving surgery, but Allison doesn’t let them distract her. She just smiles at Derek and hands him a wrench.
Sorry! This doesn’t sound familiar. Maybe in some a/b/o fics but not like actual married sterek. I’ll post if I think of anything.
I have never heard of this fic, but now I wanna write one.
Sure, Derek is handsome and kind, and it’s kind of a bummer to everyone at his workplace that he’s so disgustingly happily married. But the way he talks about his husband? That guy must be kind of a doofus. Funny, definitely, considering how often Derek tells tales of all the antics he’s gotten up to just to cheer Derek up, but just as often the stories are about him being a clutz. Like dropping not one, but two entire bags of flour all over himself, accidentally ripping his pillow while taking the pillowcase off for washing, stumbling down the stairs for the sixteenth time, fistpumping and accidentally hitting a lamp, breaking both the lamp and his own pinky… the list goes on.
Seriously, this guy sounds hilarious. And sure, Derek says he’s gorgeous, but the only picture they’ve seen of him is one where he’s drunk and has his entire face wrapped in sticky tape. Derek has it as his phone background.
Sure, Derek might have more, but honestly? People aren’t that curious. The stories are a lot funnier anyway.
But then comes Derek’s something-anniversary working for whatever the company is, and he decides to invite everyone to his house for dinner and to meet his husband. They’re all kinda expecting a clown, to be honest.
What they get is a fucking runway model. Waistcoat hugging his body, hair perfectly styled, pants making it abundantly clear where he’s got what, eyes and smile to sweep you away. He’s absurdly gorgeous.
Derek doesn’t even notice that everyone has gone deadly quiet while having several different crises. He just gives his husband a kiss hello, and starts introducing everyone.
“I think you broke them, babe,” Stiles says, barely containing his grin. “Have you been telling them about the lamp again?”
“… no? Okay, yes.”
“Ugh, seriously? That story makes me sound like I can’t control my limbs. No wonder they’re frozen in shock that I can take two steps without falling over.”
“Hi. You’re really beautiful,” one co-worker manages weakly after a while, and Stiles has to stop and blink for a second.
“Uhm. Thank you?”
Meanwhile Derek is just standing there all smug, because damn right he hit the jackpot here.
theproblemwithstardust 