Cris | 20 | Spain

I like people Derek Hale, places and things.
{ x | x | x }


Fire is catching! And if we burn, you burn with us.


It starts, as most things do, with, “Hey.”

"Not interested."

Well. Equal parts amused and offended, Stiles says, “That’s great. I was just going to tell you your wallet fell out of your pocket.”

He ignores the dirty looks from some of the other students. Yes, they’re technically in the quiet zone of the library, and yes, everyone has midterms they’re frantically cramming for, but Stiles can’t just leave knowing someone’s most likely going to get robbed. He is his father’s son, after all.

The guy finally looks up from his book in confusion, and Stiles is maybe a little sucked in by how nice his whole face package deal is. Just for a moment.


"Your wallet?" Stiles says slowly, pointing towards the back left leg of the guy’s desk chair. "It’s right there. I watched it fall out when you sat down just now."

The guy continues to just stare at him, so he rolls his eyes and picks the damn wallet up himself. He’s not in the greatest mood. Sue him. He has his own midterm to get to, and he hasn’t studied nearly enough because he slept through his alarm that morning. 

"Here." He shoves the thing into the other man’s hands. "You’re welcome, by the way."

He can feel the guy’s eyes on him as he walks away, but he’s more focused on remembering the key players and results of the Battle of Hastings.


"Is this seat taken?"

Stiles looks up from his lunch, startled. Everyone he knows is in class now, and it’s late afternoon so it’s not like there’s a shortage of places in the cafeteria to sit. “Uh, no?” he says around a mouthful of chicken.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," the guy says as he slips into the chair across from Stiles. "I thought Tri Delt put you up to coming up to me."

"Rude wallet guy!" Stiles says with a snap of his fingers. God, he must really have been out of it that day if he’s forgotten that jawline so quickly.

"Most people just call me Derek," the man says with a grimace.

Stiles snorts. “Well, Derek, most people would not have assumed they were being hit on by a random stranger in the quiet level of the library, so I guess neither of us are most people.”

Derek huffs out a breath, clearly frustrated. Stiles is just about to tell him that it was his decision to sit with Stiles when he says, “My sister made an off-handed comment about how I haven’t dated anyone in five years to her girlfriend and some of their sorority sisters overheard. Apparently it spread to a couple of the other houses, so I’ve been dealing with a lot of,” he sighs, “unwanted attention recently.”

"What?" Zero percent of that story makes sense to Stiles.

"A bunch of people have been placing bets on how long it’ll take me to say yes to a date, and who I’ll say yes to. At least that’s what Laura says. I’ve stopped visiting her at the house, or talking to anyone else."

"I still think I’m lost here," Stiles says slowly. "Laura’s your sister?"

Derek nods.

"And you don’t date."

Derek shakes his head.

"So everyone’s made it a game to date you?"

Derek nods his head again.

"Wow." Stiles leans back in his chair. "That’s fucked up."

That startles a little laugh out of Derek. “It’s not an excuse for how I treated you the other day, but I wanted to explain why I was on edge at first. It wasn’t you.”

"I didn’t figure it was. But, you know, thanks for the confirmation." Then, because he really can’t leave it alone, he asks, "You really don’t date? Ever? Because I gotta say, it’s kind of a shame."

The tips of Derek’s ears slowly pink up, and he says quietly, “I’m starting to rethink that.”

  :)    teen wolf    fanfiction    sterek  
sterek in the most ridiculous version of cinderella slipper metaphors - (417): woke up and there was a mans ass as my screensaver...


Derek’s alarm goes off, jolting him out of a drunken sleep. He growls into his pillow, slapping his hand along the floor until he finds his pants and pulls his phone free. He thumbs the screen open without looking at it, effectively shutting off the alarm, then drops the phone back on the floor, pressing his face deeper into his pillow. It smells good. It smells really good. It smells like -

“I haven’t gone home with anyone in a really long time,” the omega shouts into his ear over the noise of the club. “Promise me you’re not a serial killer.”

“Pinky promise!” Derek bellows back, holding out his hand. The omega tips his head back and laughs.

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“That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”


sterek » stiles can teleport places au

For Sterek Week! Friday: Sterek AU

 Derek steps down onto the beach, his dogs already far ahead of him. The wind is biting and grey is settling in but he’s not going to let the weather stop his daily routine. Sand moves under his feet and he notices a man wandering over the beach, hands in his pockets and his whole body shivering.

 His dogs rush around the man’s ankles, excited for some human contact other than Derek. Not many people come to this place and he’s not even sure how the man got here. Derek watches as the figure bends down to pet his dogs, and as Derek drifts closer he smells the breath of magic on the man.

 It hits him hard and his own eyes start to burn with colour involuntarily. The man freezes, standing straight, and his pretty pink lips part in terror. His face goes pale and waves of his scent hit Derek’s nose. It’s flooded with the prickle of magic and anxiety. Then the man is gone.

 Derek’s dogs rush up and bark at his heels, moving around excitedly at the man’s sudden disappearance. He feels like he should be worried. No one comes to this part of the coast and the closest town is two hours away. The last time he was around something supernatural his family died, but now Derek doesn’t have anything to lose or the energy to care. The man seemed to think Derek would do more harm to him, anyway.


 It’s another month before he sees the man again. This time he’s scrambling through sandy bush, swearing whenever his hands swipe against the cutting grass. Derek clears his throat. The man darts his head up and his warm, amber eyes stare back. He slips and falls on his backside.

 “What are you doing here?” Derek says, unfriendly.

 He licks his lips, and his heart is thrumming. “Are you – are you magic too?”

 Derek’s eyes threaten to glow blue again. He’s anticipated the dance of magic that falls off the young man so he has a better grip on his control. Derek steps forward, his eyes narrow. He doesn’t want anyone falling into his territory and he curls his lips, revealing his fangs. Derek lifts his hands, his claws lengthening and blue pierces the man. Hair begins to cover his face and Derek smells a bit of fear, hears a small squeak, and then the man is pulled into the air and he’s gone.


 “I’m Stiles,” he says, and this time he’s right by Derek’s small cottage, hidden behind rows of trees. Derek snarls at him but the effect is lost when one of his dogs runs to Stiles’ legs and starts trying to lick his hands and knees.

 “Go away,” Derek tells him.

 “I can’t, not by will,” he says, inching closer. Derek would’ve hoped that because he’s got an axe in hand that the guy would be wary and hopefully run away. He’s a sweaty, angry, lonely man, and though he’s chopping wood he probably satisfies the image of an axe murderer.

 Stiles doesn’t run away.

 “I’ve never met anyone,” he clears his throat. “Different.”

 Derek has a burst of sympathy start up inside him but he tears it down instantly. He goes back to throwing his axe against the log and he only stops when he hears a loud chuckle.

 “Didn’t think you’d be the kind of person to have pink flowers on their window sill,” Stiles says at him.

 Derek glares. The flowers had been his mother’s favourite, and he’s only ever seen them grow in this part of the country. “What do you want?” he snaps.

 Stiles shrugs, looking away. His lips look cracked. “Answers.”

 “Well I can’t give them to you,” Derek says gruffly. He turns back to his small cottage and hopes by the time he’s used his pathetic little shower that Stiles will be gone. When he goes back outside, his dog is whining at a spot that smells like magic and smells like Stiles.


 He returns from the grocery store, his beat up truck trailing up the dirt of his driveway. It’s dark by the time he gets back and when he steps inside all of his lights are on. Derek smells him everywhere, like he’s gone around and poked in all of Derek’s things.

 His kitchen is even emptier than when he left it and the larger of his two dogs comes down the stairs and immediately starts to press its side against Derek’s legs. Derek bends down and runs his hands through his dog’s coat, accepting a wet kiss from the only company he gets these days, and then he moves down the hallway. He’s surprised to find that Stiles didn’t step into his bedroom.

 It takes more than a few days before his scent has left the cottage completely.

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  oh?    perfect    teen wolf    fanfiction    sterek