#scott mccall implied smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

triskhellion · 1 year ago

Text

CLAIM!

Rated: Explicit (11.9k)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Ethan Steiner, background Cora Hale, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, mentioned Aiden Steiner, Scott McCall

Tags: POV Derek, POV Stiles, Alpha Derek, Human Stiles, Angst & Fluff & Smut, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire/Modern Setting, Strangers to Lovers, Hurt Feelings, Pining, Dad Advice, Making Up, Getting Together, Various Explicit Sex Acts, Top Derek/Bottom Stiles, Hickeys, Come Eating, Knotting.

Summary: Derek calls "Claim" on Stiles at Jungle when Cora and Ethan show interest too. They leave together and have good time, but the next morning various packmates barge in and Ethan, not realizing that Stiles is still there, implies that he was a just a conquest in their game. Hurt feelings, making up, and smut.

Mead Moons prompts: Claiming, Herbs, Hot, & Midsummer Night's Dream @sterek-and-stuff-events

Sterek Weekly prompt: Video (also Claim.) @sterekweekly

Derek:

It started when the three Hale siblings and Isaac all had to share the same bathroom when the family temporarily moved into a guest bungalow while the Pack House was being remolded.

Their parents had the master bedroom and ensuite all to themselves. “Alpha Privilege” they said, smirking and shutting the door in their faces that first morning to get up to god knows what. Laura and Cora shared the modest second bedroom and Derek and Isaac the even smaller third one.

Every morning became a battle to see who got to shower first or at all. Isaac, the often quiet, but sardonic 14 year old they took in from an abusive father a couple years before, eventually just switched to evenings like a reasonable person, but the others refused. 19 year old Laura, 16 year old Derek, and 12 year old Cora instead came up with an elaborate system of dibs that involved yelling “Claim.”

Whoever yelled it first while in sight of the bathroom (not being able to “Claim” while still in bed or eating breakfast, etc, had been Rule #2) got to take the first shower even if someone else had been closer to the door. If you didn’t say it, it didn’t count. Too bad, so sad.

This continued on after they moved back to the larger property months later and was also extended to all manner of things: the corner pieces of brownies, riding shotgun, taking out the garbage instead of a more involved chore, the movie they were watching that night, etc. It became a constant refrain.

Isaac joined in and then Boyd and Erica when they were brought into the pack a couple years later, spreading to visiting friends as well. Even their parents got in on it.

Seven years of triumph, thwartation, and teasing later, the now 23 year old Derek was heading for a night out of clubbing with Erica, Cora, and the newest members of his mother’s pack, brothers Aiden & Ethan. First stop: Jungle.

The place was bustling when they arrived just before 11:00 on a Friday night, full of people letting off steam after what was, for most of them, the end of the work or school week.

That was the case for the twins, who were juniors at BHU, and Derek, who worked weekdays at an auto shop a couple towns over. Cora was a server at an Italian restaurant, but they closed at 9:00, so she had time to go home and get ready after her end-of-night duties. Erica’s LPN shift didn’t start until mid-afternoon tomorrow so she was also down to party into the wee hours.

The music was loud and various light displays shifted between colors and patterns. Aidan went straight for the bar, but the rest of them were checking out the packed dance floor and the winding, rolling, thrashing bodies working up a sweat, their attention soon drawn to a particularly ecstatic whirler who had carved out a space just for himself and seemed to be having the time of his life.

The dancer looked to be a couple years younger than Derek, dark hair short on the sides and longer on top, a few tendrils of which clung damply to his forehead begging to be brushed back. He was wearing tight black pants and a shimmery black shirt on his leanly muscled frame. There was gloss on his lips and makeup around what he thought were dark eyes, but couldn’t be sure with the currently orange lighting.

Derek thought he was beautiful, so alive and full of joy, even though he appeared to be here alone. And the way he gyrated those hips. Unfgh. He had to have him.

He saw Ethan making a beeline for him and when he turned to his sister she was eyeing him as well with a considering look on her face. Oh hell no. (Erica was enjoying the view as well, but she had Boyd at home so he didn’t have to worry about her.) Before Ethan could reach him and just as Cora opened her mouth Derek let out the mother of all “claims” in a truly stentorian roar.

“CLAAAAAIIIIMMMM!!!”

Cora huffed and rolled her eyes and Ethan halted, glaring back at him and clearly pissed that he’d forgotten about “that stupid game.” Derek was grinning like a Cheshire cat when the dancer looked over at him. Now to introduce himself.

Stiles:

Stiles had been lost in the music — eyes closed and just existing in his body, in the present — and enjoying a much needed break from his hamster wheel brain when there was a super loud shout, though he couldn’t make out what was said. When he opened his eyes and turned toward the source of the noise there was a small group of people looking in his direction. A 20-something guy with spiky dark hair and epic stubble flanked by two younger women, a brunette and a blonde.

All were attractive, but the man was on a whole other level. Wowzers. He wore dark chinos and a darker fitted shirt — possibly green — that showed off his muscular chest, upper arms, and other assets. On that note Stiles was dying to see the view from the back. The man smiled at him and he blushed, smiling back.

The three were then approached by a clean shaven, brown-haired man walking from his area of the dance floor and he looked away, embarrassed. They must’ve looking at and calling for him.

Stiles returned to his dancing, trying to get back in the zone, but failing. He glanced back to where the group was still standing, but while the other guy had seemingly multiplied Hottie Prime had vanished. He sighed, feeling disappointed.

I don’t why, it’s not like he would’ve been interested in you anyway the critical little voice in his head said. Yeah, but at least I could’ve gotten to look a bit more.

Ah well. When Stiles turned to face the bar again the man was standing right there in front of him.

“Eeyah!” he blurted, jumping. Of course it was during a break in the song when the volume was low enough that his weird little cry could be heard.

“Hi, there,” the gorgeous stranger said wearing a wolfish grin.

Stiles could see that his eyes were light, but couldn’t make out which color in the blue light. He swallowed and licked his dry lips.

“Um, hey,” he replied with an awkward wave. The music picked up again.

“Do you mind if I dance with you?” the man shouted.

Stiles shook his head, paused, nodded, and then realized that both were kind of ambiguous so finally just started to move again while grinning at him and hoping that got the message across. The amused man leaned in, warm breath ghosting against his ear.

“I’m Derek!”

“Stiles!”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah.”

He saw Derek nod and repeat it to himself, which was adorable.

After a couple of songs of orbiting around each other and mimicking each others moves, Derek stepped in closer and very lightly placed his hands on his hips, watching his face for a reaction. He blushed, nodding, and Derek’s grasp tightened, making a jolt of arousal course through him. The now red lighting momentarily reflected in the other man’s eyes making for a really cool effect as they moved together.

When the music speed up even more Stiles turned around and they danced pressed back to chest, hips first swaying side to side and then forward and back and all around together in time to the beat. Derek was plastered to him — hot and smelling of something spicy, bright, and woodsy — and Stiles could feel as he grew hard against his ass. He shivered, barely holding back a moan. Strong arms wrapped around him and lips brushed against his ear.

“You wanna get out of here?”

Derek:

Stiles told him he’d taken a rideshare to the club in case he had more than a couple drinks for the night so he got into Derek’s car after having him swear he wasn’t a serial killer. He’d also texted someone a picture of his driver’s license and license plate “just in case.” Derek was amused by his apologetic face, but also saddened at the precautions the younger man felt he had to take. It could be a dangerous world.

He didn’t live far from the club, but the tension in the Camaro made it seem longer. Stiles smelled aroused, but also nervous. Derek put a hand on his bouncing left knee.

“We don’t have to do anything, Stiles. I’ll be down for however far you want to go, but we can also just hang out or you can change your mind at any time, okay?” His passenger let out a breath and smiled, saying “Okay.” The atmosphere became much more relaxed.

Derek showed him around the loft and they talked about this and that for a while. Stiles mixed orange juice, Sprite, and strawberry Fanta together when he offered him a choice of water, juice or soda, practically daring him to comment. He held his tongue, but let his eyebrows do the judging. Then he made some tea for himself (Stiles actually awwed) and they joked around, flirting. They watched an episode of some new cooking competition show he’d never heard of, but that came highly recommended by his guest. Near the end of the first episode he felt Stiles watching him.

He turned toward the younger man who’d been looking at his lips and then met his gaze before focusing back on his lips again. Derek leaned in for a kiss and then another, the both of them progressively going longer and deeper. When Stiles came up for air he tried to take a sip of his half full drink, but managed to spill most of it on his shirt. Derek couldn’t help chuckling, but quickly got up to get him one of his sleep shirts to put on after kissing the embarrassed youth on the forehead.

Then he sat back on the couch and pulled a meeping and once again interested Stiles into his lap, looking into his pretty brown eyes.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

They resumed their making out and Stiles moved to straddle him, grinding down against him. Derek slid his hands under the shirt, his shirt, and stroked his sides. His sized up light gray tee hung even more loosely on the smaller man — who was only a couple inches shorter, but slender — and he pulled at the collar to get at his neck. The scent of Stiles’ arousal mixed with him wearing Derek’s clothes was doing things to him.

He lifted his head for another kiss and then leaned back to pull up the front of the shirt to look at Stiles’ belly and chest. Comfortable in his den and focusing on watching his right hand feel that warm, smooth skin — making those abdominal muscles twitch — and inhaling them had him involuntarily making little growling noises. His eyes even briefly flashed red without him noticing.

When Stiles froze and gasped, heart racing and smelling of surprise, he let go of the bunched up fabric and withdrew both hands.

“What’s—“

“You’re a wolf!” the staring human exclaimed.

“Uh, what? You—what…?”

Derek carefully set Stiles to the side and got up, his own heart pounding rapidly, and began to pace. What had he done? Did he actually beta-shift without realizing or something?

“Hey, it’s okay,” Stiles assured, scrambling to his feet, but still giving Derek space. ”My best friend is a wolf, so I just recognized the growly-growls and the, um, Alpha eyes.”

Derek’s head shot up. So the other man knew knew about werewolves then. He exhaled slowly. Well, at least he hadn’t lost as much control as he’d thought. His best friend, huh? Must be that kid who Mom met some years ago that ended up becoming a True Alpha somehow. Steve or something.

“Seriously dude, don’t worry. I’m totally cool with the wolfiness.”

Derek hazarded a glance at Stiles’ face. There was no fear or disgust in his eyes or in his scent. No lie in his heart beat. If anything he seemed curious and even more aroused. Heh. Derek grinned, thankful for the lucky break — he’d freak out about how sideways this could’ve gone later — and moved back toward the couch.

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” he admonished mock-sternly as he sat down. Stiles climbed back into his lap.

“Okay, Alpha.”

Stiles:

Well that definitely had the desired effect. No longer attempting to hold back his wolfishness, Derek dove into his neck, licking and nipping and full on growling while squeezing his ass and rutting up against him. A minute later he was being picked up and yelped, wrapping his limbs around the werewolf who pressed a smile into his skin. God, Stiles loved how strong Derek was. He was set down in the Alpha’s bed and those hungry eyes had gone from their usual green-hazel — he’d finally gotten a good look in the kitchen — to red again.

“What do you want, Stiles?”

Everything, honestly. But was he said was “Your mouth up here…and your hands and body against mine.”

“I can do that,” came the reply, voice full of seductive promise.

And then he was pounced upon, lips seized in another kiss before his borrowed shirt was pushed up again, a hot tongue finding first one nipple and then the other. Derek licked down his chest and belly before kneeling back to peel off Stiles’ pants and then getting up to remove his own as well as his shirt. Wearing only their underwear below — him in red hip briefs and Derek in black boxer briefs — he opened his legs for the wolf to crawl between and press their lengths together, thrusting and grinding with only thin fabric between them. Derek resumed plundering his mouth and swallowing his moans.

Then the Alpha leaned off to the side and rutted against his right thigh, dragging down Stiles’ underwear enough to free his leaking cock. A large, callused hand wrapped around him after being licked wet and Stiles fucked into it as it stroked him. When he was getting close Derek straddled that same thigh and had him suck two fingers before sliding them under the red fabric, up his backside and into his cleft. The fingers alternately rubbed over and circled his hole, not quite dipping inside, until a minute later he was writhing and tensing and crying out.

Derek watched him cum onto his belly and chest, eyes glowing steadily as he continued to work Stiles through his orgasm. After he was spent the wolf collected most of it and used it to slick himself up. Stiles’ stared wide-eyed and hungrily when he pulled his cock out, absentmindedly licking his lips at the impressive sight. It didn’t take long for Derek to come too, stripping himself while looking down at him, all messy and languid and smiling.

With a growl Derek shot his seed onto him, first onto his flaccid cock — making him gasp — and then from his lower belly up to his chest. Stiles closed his eyes and bit back a whimper as the Alpha’s warm hand rubbed their releases together and into his skin before tugging the shirt back down and patting his stomach twice.

Afterward he lay there with Derek, happy and sated, as the wolf laid beside with an arm casually across his torso. About 15 minutes later he started to get antsy though, figuring that he should leave. Stiles wanted to stay right where he was and the wolf had made no signs of wanting him out — no exaggerated yawns or bringing up an early appointment or straight up looking at him and then staring at the door like one girl did freshman year maybe 3 minutes after. But that’s how this worked, right? Was what he was supposed to do. And then maybe if he was lucky the person would want to exchange numbers on his way out.

That had happened twice before. A classmate named Kat that he hooked up with a second time last fall and a sweet guy, Geoff, that he even dated for several weeks sophomore year before he transferred to Georgia. Or was it Alabama? Somewhere in the southeast.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, getting up to locate where Derek had thrown his pants. If he wanted that chance, however slim, of seeing the Alpha again he needed to not be clingy and annoying. A-ha, there they are. Way across the room in a corner.

“You don’t have to go, Stiles. If you don’t want to.”

He froze. Oh right, werewolf. He can probably sense how pathetic I’m being. He’s probably just being nice. Stiles turned around to make up some excuse and then realized Derek would also be able to sense that. Fuck.

“I mean it. I’d like it if you stayed,” the Alpha said, sitting up and leaning forward. “Snuggling with a cute guy, maybe getting another taste before or after breakfast…” He wagged his brows. “Sounds like a great plan to me.”

Stiles broke into a wide smile and Derek mimed circling and throwing a lasso around him, “pulling” him back to the bed. He giggled and went along, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“Give me a minute.”

He hurried back into the living area and grabbed his phone, sending a text to his father that he was staying out.

Stiles had considered moving into the dorms or into his own apartment like most of his classmates, but his father chilled out a bunch once he graduated high school and it made a lot more financial sense to stay home. He also hadn’t liked the idea of his dad living alone if he didn’t need to despite the elder Stilinski’s protestations that he’d be fine. Plus this way he could still harass encourage him to still eat healthy most of the time.

It did occasionally get awkward though. He didn’t hook up that often and when he did it was usually earlier in the night, only obviously being somewhere after the clubs actually closed a couple times. (It was Lydia he texted with the info of the people he’d gone home with, not his dad.) All of his close friends were either in SoCal or out of state currently so it wasn’t like he could claim to be with one of them right now.

His dad had never given him any shit for it, (all of his “sextures,” as Stiles called them, took place between 7th grade and his junior year of high school,) but the knowing look was enough. He was actually staying over this time — holy crap — so there was no getting around it. Totally worth it though.

When he got back to the room Derek smiled and patted the mattress beside him. Stiles climbed in and cuddled up to the wolf, falling asleep much faster than he would’ve expected as thick fingers carded through his hair.

Stiles woke a bit after 10:00 the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and yawned, happily remembering the night before. He relieved himself and then decided to take a quick shower after finding a couple of towels and washcloths folded and waiting for him. His now clean shirt was there too and a new toothbrush. Stiles swooned. How thoughtful.

There was also a pair of Derek’s boxer briefs for him to keep forever borrow if he wanted. He shushed his dick when it began to stir. Shower, then food, then hopefully more fooling around.

Stiles was just finishing up, greedily inhaling the scent of Derek’s body wash hanging in the humid air — the bergamot and oak that he first noticed at Jungle and was now clinging to his own skin — as he heard the wolf moving around in the bedroom. He was taking a last look in the mirror to make sure he didn’t have toothpaste on his face or hair sticking up all weird when there was a commotion downstairs. The sound of laughing and crosstalk and a door slamming before one guy’s voice in particular called out loudly.

“Hey Derek, how was that sweet piece of ass last night? I can’t believe you beat me to him with your fucking ‘Dibs’—“

“‘Claim,’” corrected multiple voices.

“‘Claim’, whatever. I should’ve just igno—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Derek hissed.

He held onto the counter as the sound of footsteps retreated, looking at the now pained expression in his reflection. Oh. Of course. It had been some kind of competition. And then Derek had wanted him to stay in order to show proof of his conquest, but probably hadn’t expected his friends to be so blatant about it.

Stiles didn’t know what to do. Remaining in here all day wasn’t an option, but he also really didn’t want to go out there. To be seen. Especially upset as he was.

Maybe they’d get bored and leave soon and then he could go too. He put the toilet seat down and sat on it, drawing up his knees and hugging them. His eyes stung, but Stiles took a deep breath and tried to will his thoughts elsewhere. He’d be damned if he was going to cry. Not here anyway.

Derek:

He groaned in annoyance when most of the gang came crashing in. The group from last night minus Aiden (who was likely still sleeping off the drinks he’d no doubt spiked with spotted wolfsbane) and plus Boyd and Isaac. Derek had been looking forward to a nice breakfast with his new companion and then hopefully finding out what that mouth could do. Afterward, assuming Stiles didn’t have somewhere else to be, he wanted to spend the rest of the day getting to know the funny, sexy-adorable, clever, wolf-friendly human. Grr.

Then he realized what Ethan was yelling about. Fuck.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, running toward and then down the stairs. He had really hoped that Stiles hadn’t heard the insensitive wolf, but if the elevated heart rate now coming from the bathroom was any indication he definitely had. Shit.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spat in a barely audible whisper. “You couldn’t hear that he’s still here?” Ethan shrugged.

“I wasn’t really paying attention and assumed he’d be long gone by now.”

“Well, he’s not. Because I like him and asked him to stay. And he heard you. So can you please go the fuck away?” He turned to look at the other sheepish younger wolves. “That goes for the rest of you too.”

Derek saw them out and was the one to slam the door this time. He took a deep breath and steeled himself before climbing slowly up the stairs. After a brief pause he rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay?” He heard a derisive snort and cringed. “Can I talk to you…please?” There was movement inside and then the door flew open. The scents of hurt and bitter resentment, of anger and salt, came wafting out with the toiletries.

“There isn’t anything to talk about,” Stiles said, turning sideways to slide past him without touching him. Derek whined internally. There were no tear tracks on his face, but his pretty brown eyes had an extra sheen to them.

“I’m sorry, Stiles. I—It wasn’t like that,” he started, watching the young man collect his phone before heading down to get his house keys and put on his socks and shoes. “The whole ‘claim’ business was for the opportunity to approach you first, not to make being with you a…a game or something. It wasn’t. Not to me.”

Stiles turned toward him, frowning and mistrustful. He kept going.

“I didn’t know they were going to barge in here. I was hoping to spend the day with you. Not only fooling around, but maybe watching more of that show you like — it was pretty entertaining — or going for a walk. Grabbing some lunch. Stuff like that.”

The human only looked at him, searching his face and saying nothing.

Derek felt desperate, like he was about to lose something special right as it started. Just as it could’ve, should’veblossomed into more. Nipped in the bud instead.

Stiles:

He wanted to believe Derek, he really did. Wanted it with every fiber of his being to be told “Psych, I actually do really like you and want to spend more time with you.” But he was hurt and uncertain and just wanted to go home. And even if Derek had meant it like how he said, he still wasn’t keen on the idea of being involved in a competition between the two men. Who did that? Stiles sighed and headed for the door.

“You could call your friend, the wolf, and I—I could prove it,” Derek called after him in a shaky voice. “He would know that I was telling the truth.”

Stiles paused and sighed again, turning and walking up to the hangdog looking Alpha. He kissed his cheek and murmured “Thanks for last night. It…was very nice.”

Then he left.

That Monday the dark-haired young woman he saw at the club — who introduced herself as Cora, Derek’s sister — came up to him when they crossed paths at the school library. The hesitant freshman apologized for her part in the the whole situation and reiterated that her brother was truly sorry and that he would love to see him whenever if Stiles ever forgave him. She took off quickly once he acknowledged that he heard her, but he didn’t respond one way or the other.

The following day he was still moping on the couch at home, set off again when he tried to watch his favorite cooking show that evening and couldn’t help thinking of Derek. How amazing that night had been and then how things had ended the next morning with him feeling less than. Was he being too harsh? Not harsh enough by not telling Cora to tell Derek to fuck off?

His father came home from his day shift and raised an eyebrow at his broody state. An hour or so later just after dinner he asked what was troubling him and Stiles gave him the gist of it after some hemming and hawing. A sheepish expression came over the his face and Stiles narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

“Well, you know…actually, you definitely don’t know this…but me and your mom? My friend Michael actually noticed her first at the veteran’s shindig, but I challenged him to an arm wrestling match to ask her out instead. Best of three. Mike was a bit…tipsy and overconfident and I won all three rounds. So I got to try my luck and well the rest — he spread his arms with a grin now on his face — is history.”

Stiles sat there with his mouth hanging open. Apparently the answer to “Who did that?” was his dear old Dad. His own father had basically called dibs on his mother.

“You should close that before you swallow a fly,” his father teased. “A little friendly competition is not uncommon. And it’s true that it can get out of hand, become a callous, hurtful thing, but it doesn’t have to be. You’ve never had to deal with this issue before because by the time you and Scott actually had a chance in hell at dating — I love you son, but it’s true — the two of you had very different types. He likes to chase after dark-eyed brunettes and you seem to lean mostly toward athletic or hunky guys—“

“Never say that again,” Stiles said half-heartedly.

“But when you are interested in women it’s generally a blonde…or redhead.”

His dad gave him an amused look, clearly remembering his Lydia phase before they actually became friends. Stiles rolled his eyes. Huh. He wasn’t wrong though. And now that he thought of it, every time he’d been open to meeting someone while going out with friends they’d either been straight or in a relationship or had different types. Danny pretty much swung between super beefy muscle bros that probably lived in a gym and the twinkiest of twinks depending on what he was in the mood for.

Stiles was most attracted to guys like, well, Derek. Or at least his own size. He liked it when someone could move him around, but without giving young Ah-nold (or hell, old Ah-nold) a run for his money. Sue him. What would he have done if Scott was there, was bi or gay, and they’d both been into Derek at the club?

Well, absolutely nothing probably, but in theory? Hmm…

“Let me ask you a few questions, kiddo” his dad said, interrupting his thought experiment. “Did he treat you right?”

Stiles nodded and then blushed. Oh, Derek had treated him well alright. His father rolled his eyes.

“That’s…not what I meant — and say no more — but I won’t pretend that that doesn’t matter too. Ahem.” Stiles ducked his head, grinning.

“Yeah. He assured me that anything that happened was up to me and he washed my shirt that I spilled OSS on—“

“You and your damn concoctions. Which one is that again?”

“Orange juice, Sprite, and strawberry soda…anyway. Yeah. He was…thoughtful and sweet.”

“Hmm. And did he—what was his name again?”

“I didn’t say, but it’s Derek.”

“Did Derek show interest in you? Your thoughts and interests and feelings?”

Stiles sighed.

“Yeah, he did…”

“And finally, did he…like you? Get all smiley? At least hint at wanting to see you again?” Stiles lowered his head onto the table, lightly thunking it a few times.

“Yersh,” he said, leaving his face mashed against the wood. The elder Stilinski waited until he rested his chin on his arms and met twinkling blue eyes.

“Well, if you want your old man’s advice…” Stiles rolled his eyes. As if his father hadn’t been coaxing him to a certain conclusion this whole conversation.

“Sure,” he replied, nodding and shrugging a shoulder. Might as well humor him. His dad grew more serious.

“Your feelings are valid and if it’s truly a dealbreaker for you, so be it. But, if you really like this guy — and it sounds like you do — consider giving him another chance. Not just for his sake, but for your own as well.”

And with that his father got up, patted him on the shoulder and kissed his head, and then wandered into the living room, probably to turn on the tv and catch the rest of whatever game was on.

Stiles thunked his head a few more times. Goddammit. It sounded so reasonable when you put it like that. He stayed there for a while, trying to think things through.

Oh shut up. You know you’d rather be with Derek than be mad. It’s a matter of pride, sure, but you can always have him beg some. Preferably in bed. And you can still be mad at that other dude, who was the one that actually called you a piece of ass.

He grinned mischievously.

Derek:

It’d been an altogether uneventful Wednesday — no screaming customers or tricky repairs or shipping delays for parts — but Derek wanted nothing more than to just go home. Well, there was something, or rather someone, he wanted more, but that wasn’t in the cards. The work had been a helpful distraction the last few days, but in between fixing or maintaining vehicles and checking inventory and whatever else needed doing, his thoughts returned to Saturday and Stiles again and again. Especially today when he finished the last car in the queue a good hour before close.

Finally 6pm came and he was ready to go just 5 minutes after having done the usual post-close tasks already. Derek called out a goodbye to Terrance and Miguel, got in his car, and peeled out of there.

He decided to stop at Rosario’s on his way out of Selva because why not stuff his face while wallowing in his misery? At least his pain was supporting the tiny family owned donut shop. Maybe he’d even put on that cooking show when he got home too. Make it really hurt.

Then he’d check his phone for anything actually important, ignore the pups wanting to hang out some more (especially a certain precipitating beta that dared to say he shouldn’t be so upset about a one night stand as if he wasn’t upset precisely because he hadn’t wanted it to be a one night stand. Or to hurt him.) On second thought, he‘d text Ethan a series of middle fingers for that.

Maybe try to make himself go for a night run before coming back home, taking a shower (he’d finally switched to nights after working a job that got him dirty) and eating a pint of ice cream and going to bed. What a plan. Rinse and repeat the next day, except perhaps he’d get some pie or french toast with maple syrup, strawberries and whipped cream instead. He let his sweet tooth run wild when he was down in the dumps.

But when he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building around a quarter to 7:00 there was a beat up, old blue Jeep in a guest spot that he’d never seen before and an unexpected visitor waiting by the door to the lobby.

“Stiles?!” he blurted, surprised and cautiously hopeful. Also a bit afraid. It seemed unlikely, but maybe he was going to get chewed out some more. The tired looking human stood up from where he’d been perched on a large rectangular concrete planter.

“Sorry for just showing up, but I don’t have your number or anything and your sister said you still wanted to see me.”

He wanted to simultaneously kiss and strangle Cora.

“Yeah, I did. I do. I hope she hasn’t been bothering you—“

“Nah, she just spoke to me the one time a couple days ago when she saw me at BHU. Said her piece and left.” Derek nodded.

“Did you want to come in…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Derek tried to discreetly suss out his emotional state as they want through the door and walked down the hall to the elevator closer together, but he saw Stiles smirk so he probably wasn’t as subtle with the sniffing as he thought. He smelled…Derek wasn’t quite sure actually. There were lots of shifting scents. But he wasn’t acutely upset, which seemed like a good sign.

When they reached the loft he went to the fridge and mixed a can each of strawberry Fanta and Sprite and a cup of orange juice together, dividing it into two glasses. He’d first tried the unusual combination when he’d been pining on Sunday. It wasn’t bad at all, though he wasn’t sure if he’d gotten the ratio right.

Stiles smiled and raised an eyebrow and Derek blushed. After taking a couple sips the younger man took a deep breath and started talking, tracing circles on the table with his pointer fingers.

“So I probably overreacted on Saturday…”

Derek was about to contradict him, but he put one of those fingers to his own lips and then to Derek’s. He almost whined at the touch.

“Shhh, let me finish. I’m not saying I was wrong to be upset at all, but I made some leaps myself. Assumptions that probably were’t true. Like how I thought you had the others come over to show off your conquest.”

He shook his head in negation. Oh Stiles.

“I have my own issues around…actually being liked or wanted,” the human grimaced. “And that just really didn’t help.”

Derek actually did whine then. He hated the idea of Stiles feeling that way at all, much less because of him and his packmates.

“But I talked with my dad and he gave me some advice — you so owe that man a BBQ platter or something, by the way — and he made me realize that whatever stuff you had going on with your friends, that you never treated me like I was just a…prize or a notch in your belt. You were kind and considerate and fun and so fucking sexy and I like you, goddamnit. So yeah. If you wanna give this thing another try…”

Stiles shrugged a shoulder casually, but Derek could make out his anxious scent and racing heart. A huge grin came over his face as his chest thrummed with elation. Oh he was definitely going to thank Stiles’ dad profusely if…whenthey eventually met.

“Yes,” he replied, actually a bit choked up, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Yes, Stiles. Of course. I like you so much. And once again, I’m sorry.”

“Cool,” Stiles said, leaning in for a kiss.

Derek did indeed watch more of that cooking show, but unlike what he imagined a couple hours before he had Stiles with him commenting on everything. He shared his box of donuts mentioning that he had planned to eat them all while missing him and continuing to lament losing his chance.

“Aww, Derek,” Stiles cooed before snuggling up to him and then mockingly “Claim”-ing over half of the assorted pastries, saving two for his father in thanks. When the human left to go home a few hours later it was with Derek’s number in his phone. A couple minutes later he heard what must’ve been that blue monstrosity struggle to life — he cringed and swore then and there to get Stiles to let him tune it up — and his phone chimed a couple times.

The first message was a close-up picture of Stiles behind the wheel from mid-nose down to his upper chest, head titled up and to the side to show off his bared throat with his collar pulled down and a mischievous smirk. Swallowing, he scrolled down and there was also a video of the same, only capturing the movement of it and with Stiles whispering his name. Derek groaned and felt like that “awooga” wolf from the old cartoons, eyes widened and salivating as blood went rushing south.

Then there was another short video with his full face this time, blowing him a kiss and then smiling widely with laughing eyes. It was followed by a few snapshots of him doing so. Derek grinned and saved them to his gallery and the phone number to his contacts under “Favorite Human.”

He picked Stiles up on Friday evening for a 7:15 reservation at the restaurant where Cora worked, everything on the house. They shared tagliatelle alla carbonara, pappardelle with short rib ragu and polenta with taleggio and mushrooms for dinner and a piece of tiramisu and two cannolis — one with chopped pistachios and the other with chocolate chips — for dessert. He hugged his sister, thanking her for the delicious meal and again for letting Stiles know he’d still wanted to hear from him. She grinned and said he owed her and that she intended to cash in a big favor sometime.

His happily stuffed date suggested they catch the local theater’s final showing of the latest explosionpalooza and then stayed over afterward, changing into one of Derek’s shirts and snuggling up to him and giving his ass a squeeze before promptly falling asleep. Derek nuzzled his shoulder and then drank in the sight of him until he started drifting off as well.

He woke when Stiles’ alarm went off and then grumbled and pouted as he watched him get up to leave early in the morning. Apparently, there were some serious home projects going on at the Stilinski residence that day and he also needed to catch up on his studying and coursework after, but he told Derek that he’d be free tomorrow. Stiles smacked a kiss on his head, said “see ya later, sourwolf” and danced away laughing before Derek’s groggy, uncoordinated self could grab him.

He came back over to the loft on Sunday for a triple feature and Derek couldn’t wait to show him some of his favorite ambitious and visually interesting films: The Fall (2006,) Cloud Atlas, and Across the Universe. In between the second and third movie Derek also got down on his knees to show the surprised, but excited younger man what his mouth could do.

When Stiles looked down at him with a half-lidded gaze, scent going warm and musky-sweet as he spread his legs Derek nearly whined in anticipation. Then the human gently held his chin and he stilled the hands that were reaching to undo another pair of those snug black pants. He glanced up again.

“I want to hear how much you want it,” Stiles said with an authoritative voice, but a telltale rosiness on his cheeks.

Derek was amused and charmed and so very turned on. So the blushing boy wanted him to grovel a bit, hmm? Not only was he not above begging, but he found he liked the idea of a little role reversal for once. The Alpha at the mercy of a human.

“Please, Stiles. Let me suck your cock,” he said, running his hands teasingly up and down his thighs and looking him right in the eye. “I want to taste you so much, want to satisfy you and make you cum. Please, baby. Please.”

“Well, alright then,” Stiles said, trying to be nonchalant, but only getting more flustered.

Seconds later Derek had his hard cock in his mouth and the taste of precum on his tongue. Both of them moaned. A hand burrowed into his hair and he began to suck in earnest, his own erection straining and leaking inside his pants. After a couple of minutes he tugged Stiles’ pants and underwear down further to mid-thigh so he could have an easier time fondling his balls, making him groan louder and jerk his hips.

When that movement caused Stiles’ cock to touch the back of his throat he gagged a bit, but then growled in pleasure. The human started to apologize, but Derek popped off and said “It’s fine.” He then snaked his arms under Stiles’ knees and gripped his ass to fuck his own face with him. Stiles’ head fell back against the couch as he whispered “Oh. My. God.”

Derek grinned as he pulled back to suckle and lick around the head before resuming the previous motion. That’s right, baby. Going to ruin you for anyone else. He could tell Stiles was getting close.

“If you’re good…and swallow it all…I’ll return…the favor…next time.”

Fuck. He was going to do that anyway, but now he was really going to give it his all. Derek put Stiles back down and put one hand on the base of his cock, using the other to massage his taint. He went to town with his mouth and when Stiles started tensing he looked up, red eyes locking onto whiskey brown, and instantly started receiving a warm and salty reward for his efforts. Mmm.

Swallowing as he went, Derek didn’t let up until Stiles was trembling and reached a limp arm to tap his shoulder. He drew off, licking the tip one last time, and wrapped his arms around the younger man’s back, pressing his head against the clothed chest so that the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat was all he could hear.

Stiles:

After he recovered from the most epic blowjob of his life Stiles had Derek sit back on the couch and straddled him, pants pulled back up, but left unbuttoned. He freed the wolf’s engorged and so far neglected member, spit a few times into his right hand, and began to work him with long, slow strokes. When he moaned Stiles kissed his open mouth, sucking his bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside and tasting a trace of himself.

He sped up and licked his other hand, adding it to the impressive cock as well to twist and squeeze around the base. Then he nibbled Derek’s left earlobe and whispered.

“Mmm, such a beautiful cock. Fuck my hand, Alpha. Show me what to look forward to.”

God, the way Derek looked when he drew back to see his face. All predatory intensity, hands flexing against his sides. It was a wonder that he wasn’t thrown down and fucked right there. Not that he would’ve complained. (At least as long as there was a pit stop for lube.) Instead the wolf obliged and began thrusting and making those little growly noises like that first night, which were frankly adorable in addition to being hot as fuck.

He looked down between them and imagined Derek pounding into him just like that, disappearing inside of him over and over and he moaned, spurring him on. When the movement went from fast to erratic he removed one hand and pulled up his shirt, knowing how the wolf liked to mark him that way. Derek rumbled, caressing his abdomen, and then shot ropes of cum against his skin. When he was finished Stiles let go of Derek’s cock and took his hand, both of them rubbing it into his skin together.

Still smiling at each other a few minutes later they went to wash up a bit and grab some more food and drinks before hunkering back down for the 60s-tastic Beatles’ musical. Stiles had brought over a handful of snacks and a few beverages too and when he saw that Derek had grapefruit juice this time he introduced him to “R2G2”: Ruby red grapefruit juice, guava nectar, and ginger ale.

“Add some rum or vodka and you’ve got yourself a nice little cocktail,” he informed the wolf watching him fondly.

That Wednesday evening he ended up being introduced to Derek’s three betas — Isaac, Boyd, and Erica — and also the culprit from that first morning after, Ethan. He’d been nearby and when he asked what Derek was up to he told him he was hanging out with some pack members and that Stiles could come by if he wanted to. He took several minutes to think about whether he did want to or not, finally sighing and deciding he should go ahead. He was going to have to get to know them sooner or later.

The betas were all smiles and curiosity and welcome, especially the blonde he remembered from the club. Erica. Then one of the twins he’d also seen there sauntered out of the bathroom and he immediately recognized his voice when he began to speak.

“Oh look, it’s you. Derbear here lucked out after all.” Derek growled lowly as the younger wolf approached him with his hand out. “The name’s Ethan.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and shook it firmly. “Piece of Ass, nice to meet you.”

Erica cackled in delight as Isaac grinned widely and Boyd smirked and shook his head. Derek looked back and forth between them anxiously. The cocky beta snorted.

“Yeah, sorry about all that. What can I say, you’ve got a nice one.” Ethan replied, shrugging.

Stiles saw Derek’s eyes go red and the growling got louder. He walked over to the Alpha and stood next to him, pulling the wolf’s left arm around his back to grasp his hip and reaching his own right hand around to squeeze Derek’s ass, making him jolt and quiet, before settling on a hip too.

“It’s spoken for,” Stiles said baring his teeth in what one could only mistake as a smile from some distance. Ethan raised his hands and ducked his head.

“Alright, okay, I’ll shut up.”

“Thanks,” he snarked.

When Stiles turned to Derek he was looking at him with hunger and pride and the next thing he knew he was being swept up and taken around the corner into the partially separated kitchen as the other wolves oohed and whistled. He was set down on a counter and the Alpha dove into his neck, scenting and licking and then biting and licking all around as he clutched onto broad shoulders.

He walked back into the common area hand in hand with Derek, blushing, but with his head held high wearing what was — as he’d seen in the reflection of the window over the sink — a truly impressive array of hickeys. There was a drawled “Daaamn” from Isaac and Erica looked at Boyd as if she was challenging him to do better, temporary as it’d be. Ethan wisely said nothing, only glancing up briefly and meeting the Alpha’s eye before going back to scrolling on his phone.

Stiles stayed for a couple of hours playing card games and monopoly and taking turns putting on music — they each got 3 songs at a time — and actually having a good time. When he had to go he did his best to leave a single massive bruise on Derek’s neck and the werewolf promised he’d hold onto it until he fell asleep. Of course his dad was sitting in his recliner in the the living room when he came in, recently returned from a swing shift, and his eyebrows shot up as they exchanged “hellos” and “goodnights.”

As he headed up the stairs he heard a muttered “Was he attacked by vampires?” Stiles paused and grinned.

“A werewolf, actually.”

His father sputtered and he heard the foot rest of the recliner swing shut. He turned around on the 7th step as his father came into view.

“Wait, your Derek is Derek Hale?”

“Yep,” Stiles said, smugly. He was also very curious about how his father knew of him.

The elder Stilinski had found out about werewolves not long after Stiles did — when Scott was Bitten by some unknown wandering Alpha. He was on the night shift that first full moon a couple weeks later, but stopped home to get something or other and heard the unholy racket of an angry chained up werewolf coming from the basement. Stiles hastily informed him that the situation was under control and that the murderous looking creature was actually one floppy-haired Scott McCall.

The new wolf hadn’t wanted to join a pack at the time — apparently he didn’t have to as long as he maintained other strong personal connections — but the Alphas in the region, Satomi Ito and Talia Hale had offered resources and basic lessons. Scott took to Satomi right away so she was the one who instructed him and still checked up on him from time to time, but the Sheriff was present with Scott’s mom, Melissa, at the initial meeting and naturally looked up what he could about the resident wolves.

His father had never mentioned the name of the 2nd Alpha knowing how especially nosy his son was back then. Scott had simply misremembered her as “Alpha Helen.” Surprise!

After explaining his dad looked at him, opening and shutting his mouth a few different times before simply snorting and shaking his head.

“Well damn. Good for you, son” he said finally, ambling back to his chair.

Good for me, indeed. And speaking of which, he had a call to make — or maybe a text, this could get embarrassing — to said werewolf bro in San Diego who should still be awake. Stiles had plans for this weekend and some questions to ask.

When Saturday came around — two weeks after he’d left for what he’d thought both the first and last time — Stiles returned to the loft as a man on a mission. Derek was still greeting him after opening the door when he dropped his bag of groceries on the floor and started kissing him. The older man’s amused grin turned into an expression of disbelief and then desire when Stiles dropped to his knees before him. Derek hurriedly closed the door and then he was leaning against it as Stiles gripped his muscular thighs and nuzzled his crotch.

“It’s next time,” he said cheekily as momentarily clawed hands fumbled with the zipper.

He’d been drawing things out some, feeling out the situation at first and then both enjoying the anticipation itself and teasing Derek a little and hopefully making him want, but he was done waiting for more. This was the third occasion of him getting eyes on that gorgeous cock and he was going to get it in his mouth this time. Stiles lifted his eyes to watch Derek staring intently from above and opened up, sticking his tongue out for the wolf to do whatever he wanted while resting his hands on his own legs.

Derek looked at him like he was a precious thing that he also planned on sullying and then took hold of himself, rubbing the head of his cock across Stiles’ cheek and then over his top lip before sliding it onto his tongue and then inside.

“Go on,” the Alpha prompted huskily.

Stiles closed his lips around the hot flesh stretching him wide and started bobbing, eyes fluttering at the taste and feel of him. Oh yes. After a few minutes he withdrew and teased Derek’s shaft with little licks and then over the head and dipping into the slit, making him whine and jerk minutely. Stiles engulfed him again, tongue lapping firmly on the underside of his cock as he resumed sucking.

A hand was placed on his head and Stiles moaned in approval, encouraging the wolf to thrust as well. He opened even wider and let saliva run down, the wet sounds and the grunts of pleasure above spurring him on. When Derek started tensing up he finally lifted a hand to grasp his balls, fondling and squeezing them just hard enough to send him over the edge.

Cum flooded his mouth, warm and rich on his tongue. Derek reached down to run the pads of his fingers up and down his throat, growling lowly as he swallowed. He didn’t stop until he took it all and the Alpha’s head fell back against the door.

“Wow.”

Stiles pulled off, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand and grinned.

After taking a minute to rest, leaning into a bite-worthy thigh and being pet affectionately, he got up with an assist from a starry-eyed Derek, who immediately cupped his face and kissed him hungrily. Then he cleaned up a bit and made space on the counter, gathering the groceries spilling out of the bag. Now to put the rest of his plan into motion. As he unpacked the other pierogi fixings he made a show of looking for a missing item.

“Oh crap, I don’t have the sour cream and I need it for this. Do you think you could grab some for me while I get things started?”

Stiles made a point of not saying he forgot the sour cream because that would’ve been a big fat lie, but he must’ve still reacted in some way, perhaps his heart speeding up as he wondered if this would work or in anticipation, and the wolf narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Derek soon fell victim to his puppy dog eyes anyway and went on the errand after shooting him another dubious glance and saying “Be good.”

Going to be so good for you, Der.

As soon as he heard the car pull away Stiles went hunting through the neat pile of clothes that the Alpha had worn, but didn’t need to go in the laundry basket yet. He selected one of Derek’s light gray T-shirts that the wolf liked to sleep and apparently run in sometimes, which were large even on his broader body. The hem came down to the very tops of his thighs in front and showed just a hint of butt cheek in the back. Perfect.

He’d had that awkward and hilarious conversation with Scott a few nights ago, who excitedly called him full of his own questions after Stiles texted “So, werewolf sex…now relevant to my interests. Give me the deets.”

There were some things he already knew about — the thing about necks, STIs not being a concern, and the importance of scent in general — but he learned that wearing their clothes in particular was like wolfnip. That certain movements and actions made them want to chase and that getting into a position that was head down and ass up went straight to their furry little brains. About the different kinds of marking.

Knowing he had 20 minutes or so at most now before Derek returned Stiles washed up quickly, put the shirt back on, and then peeked into the nightstand for lube, which he actually did forget to bring. Luckily, the wolf kept it in the typical place and he got to working himself open on the bed, teasing, but not trying to get off. Stiles withdrew three fingers when he heard the Camaro pull in — he was a pro at recognizing car engine’s thanks to years of listening for his father or other patrol cars while doing mischief — and set the scene.

Derek called out for him shortly after entering and he yelled “Up here.”

“I hope I got the right kind,” he replied, climbing the stairs. “There were a bunch of different ones, but I just got a tub of original and also picked up s—“

Stiles wished he could’ve captured the look on Derek’s face when he walked into the bedroom and froze upon seeing him sat on the bed, leaning back on his hands with his head tilted up and to the side and his feet on the mattress, knees bent and spread wide.

“Alpha,” he breathed, shifting his weight to one hand and trailing a finger between his cheeks with the other. He rolled over onto his forearms and knees after seeing Derek’s hands clench and his eyes turn red.

Stiles heard the sound of the grocery bag hitting the floor and then a belt being unbuckled and clothes quickly being pulled off and discarded. He shivered with anticipation as the mattress dipped behind him.

Derek’s left hand fisted in the shirt and exposed more of his back as the right palmed the corresponding butt cheek, thumb sliding over his wet hole before slipping easily inside.

“I’m ready for you.”

“Stiles,” Derek groaned, letting go of the shirt to grab the bottle of lube on the bed.

The cap was popped open one-handed as the wolf continued to play with his asshole and Stiles closed his eyes, just focusing on the sensation and listening to the slick sounds behind him.

Then he was being mounted, cock head pressed against his rim. He made a high-pitched whine when he was breached and Derek’s hips jerked forward as he sunk deeper, rumbling deep in his chest. Stiles grinned. Another effective werewolf turn-on. He dropped his head lower so that the Alpha could mouth over more of his neck as he bottomed out.

Eyes all but rolling back at the feeling of being so full, he started rocking and squeezing the thick cock buried inside him. When Derek’s arms braced on either side of him and the thrusting began Stiles’ jaw fell open in pleasure even greater than he’d imagined.

Derek:

The feeling of plunging into Stiles’ welcoming heat was indescribable. He was enveloped. Embedded. Euphoric.

Derek knew that the human was up to something, but had assumed a prank or game of some kind. Maybe hiding notes or trinkets for him to find later or making some mystery concoction.

He was not expecting to find Stiles in his bed, naked except for his shirt, showing off his throat and glistening hole and then presenting for him. It took all of his control to not just rip through his clothes.

And now he was inside with Stiles eagerly moving around him. Derek almost pulled out before snapping his hips and driving forward again and again and again, desperate to fill him. To feel him.

The sounds of Stiles’ pleasure were intoxicating and fueled him to go faster and harder. He shoved his face into a clothed shoulder, inhaling their combined scents and then rubbing his stubble over the younger man’s exposed skin. Despite his wolf’s protests, he held back his knot as he drew near. Soon hopefully, but not yet.

Derek thought of Stiles swallowing his release an hour or so before and how he was now going to plant his seed within this passage as well, saturating the human’s core with himself, and tipped over the edge. He thrusted on, groaning as his cock pulsed, and shortly after Stiles was crying out and contracting around him untouched. Derek wrapped an arm around him and rose up into a kneeling position, bringing Stiles with him and turning his head to kiss him greedily as they rocked through the aftershocks.

They rinsed off cursorily in the shower, Stiles smirking at him knowingly while using soap on his hands, but not his body and then dressing in more of his clothes. Derek backed him into a wall and sucked a massive bruise onto the side of his neck.

Finally, they got around to making lunch, Derek watching Stiles prepare the dough with sour cream and then helping to assemble the potato, cheese, and fried onion pierogis after copying the first few. Apparently, there were several ways to cook them including boiling, baking, boiling and pan-frying, and pan-frying and steaming. Stiles decided on the latter, topping the browned dumplings with chives and parsley and serving them with more sour cream sprinkled with smoked paprika. It was delicious and Stiles smelled sweet with happiness and satisfaction at his enjoyment.

Derek said he still felt a bit hungry afterward and scooped the squawking human up while he was attempting to do dishes, depositing him gently on his back on the kitchen table. He tugged off the loose gray sweats and swept an arm under Stiles’ knees, folding him up and leaning down to lick broad stripes over the sensitive furled muscle before pushing against it and dipping in. When Stiles came he lapped up the pearly liquid on his belly, sucked his cock clean, pulled up the pants, and then carried the momentarily speechless human into the living room.

Stiles chose a movie called Were The World Mine to watch that was on his list, but that neither of them had seen yet. It was about a bullied gay teenager cast as Puck in a school production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream who finds a recipe for a love potion and various shenanigans ensue. Derek’s pick was Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet in keeping with both the Shakespeare theme and his love for interesting, cool-looking films. Stiles humored him and his raving about the aesthetic, editing, soundtrack, and more when it was over, eventually quieting him by climbing into his lap and occupying his tongue.

And that’s how they ended up upstairs again, Derek being straddled once more, only now with Stiles perched on his knot.

He’d been planning to bring it up (ha!) some other time, likely a ways down the road, but Stiles surprised him yet again and asked Derek if he’d like to, obviously curious about it himself. Um, yeah. He was ridden silly until it formed and together they worked it inside nice and easy. Derek grinned from ear to ear as he experienced this dream come true and, well, came more than he ever had before.

Stiles was still milking him, approaching his own orgasm when he heard the sound of the door being opened downstairs and then an all too annoyingly familiar voice.

“Hey Derek!”

He groaned and knocked his head against the bedstead. Did the wolf not have ears and a nose?

“What are you up to ton—“

Before he could manage to say anything the human still defiantly grinding on his cock took a deep breath.

“Get out!”

There was a pause and then laughter and a half-assed “Ope, my bad” before the door slammed shut again.

“I’m getting you another lock, Derek,” Stiles hissed.

“And I’ll only give you the key, babe” he said, grinning and kissing the annoyed human’s nose. And maybe Boyd. Hecould be trusted to be both observant and considerate.

He wasn’t about to let Ethan ruin Stiles’ good time again so he immediately got to work on distracting him from the intrusion, sucking his nipples and taking hold of his cock while moving his hips in small circles.

“Fuck, Der,” the youth said between moans.

Derek refrained from making the obvious joke, but smiled into Stiles’ neck where he was now leaving more pretty bruises. He put his free hand on the humans hip and then moved it over his ass, grabbing a cheek before sliding fingers between to feel where they were connected. That was apparently the last bit of stimulation needed because then Stiles was gasping and spasming around his knot. He grabbed his cock as he came to aim the rest of his release at Derek’s chest and abdomen.

“CLAAAIIIIMM!” Stiles yelled for any other lurking supernaturals and probably the neighbors on multiple floors to hear, panting and grinning wolfishly.

They both started giggling.

The younger man brought his enthusiastic grinding down to a slow slow rocking motion and reached over to rub his cum into Derek’s skin, affecting him more than he would’ve imagined. Claimed. Eyes prickling and heart full with a knot that might never go down at this rate, he burrowed one hand into the hair at the back of Stiles’ head and pulled him in for deep, sloppy kiss.

About an hour later they were sprawled across the couch, heads at opposite ends and legs tangled together while watching — what else — that cooking show when Stiles got a couple texts in quick succession. Derek grinned, pretty sure he knew what that was about. Stiles inhaled sharply and then barked out a laugh, sitting up to smack him playfully on the shoulder as more messages arrived.

“Oh my god, Derek. So that’s what you were doing on your phone literally behind my back while we were waiting for your knot to go down. And why you were asking if I had plans with my dad again today. You little sneak, you actually did it!”

Stiles’ laughter turned into an indignant cry when he grabbed the phone and then trapped the struggling human out of arms reach with his legs.

“Keep trying babe. Alpha werewolf, remember.”

Now Stiles sounded like a cat with its tail jammed in a door. Yeah, he’d be paying for this later, but it was so funny right now. The screen wasn’t locked yet so Derek clicked on Messages and pulled up the most recent ones as the last few came through.

From Daddio:

<I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know why Derek Hale just sent me a veritable feast from Sauce & Bone.>

Aww. Derek was honestly kind of afraid a bit nervous about meeting the Sheriff, but he liked what he knew of the man so far. And he clearly had him to thank for his favorite human and current hellcat giving him another chance. He supposed he’d have to send Scott something too for the werewolf tips. Derek tossed the phone back to the glaring younger man, but didn't let him up just yet. He waited until after Stiles read the last 3 messages and smiled fondly despite himself.

Of course he was still pounced upon anyway and he resigned himself to his fate, which was apparently an adorably growly Stiles draped on top of him and latched onto his neck like a lamprey, biting and sucking marks onto his skin more intensely than usual. After laying there for a while Derek wrapped his arms around him.

“The night’s still young. You wanna go to Jungle, babe? There might be a really hot dancer there that’s fun and smart and snarky and just amazing in every way.”

Stiles detached from his neck to roll his eyes at Derek, but he couldn’t help the grin and blush that followed. He admired his handiwork for a few moments and then got up.

“Nah, I’m in the mood for staying in. I hear there’s this sweet, geeky, super sexy Alpha werewolf that’s good with his hands who lives around here somewhere. Gonna see if he likes to chase as much as they say.”

And with that Stiles started backing away slowly.

Derek stood up, head tilting involuntarily as Stiles started moving faster and then thankfully turned around so he didn’t trip over something and brain himself. He began following as well. The human then ran for and then up the stairs and he set off after his shrieking prey. As soon as Stiles cleared the last step he leapt and wrapped himself around the younger man and turned to let himself take the brunt of the landing, which was at least on the plush rug.

He rolled them over so that he was on top of Stiles in the dark room, rutting against his ass and firmly, but carefully biting the back of his neck. The heavy scent of arousal and the accompanying whine from his captive made him rumble happily and Derek released his jaws to lave over the skin instead.

Then he mouthed over the juncture between Stiles’ shoulder and neck, setting his teeth there and imagining leaving his mark one day, and the human gasped. Derek stilled for a moment realizing that either the wolf friend told him or he somehow found out another way about what biting there meant. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before leaving a kiss right over it.

He might not be ready to say it and he wouldn’t assume that Stiles was there yet so soon, but Derek wasn’t going to freak out about him knowing what he was thinking about either. What he hoped for in the future that he could now see for them.

“I’m so glad I met you, Stiles,” he said quietly.

There was an eruption of wiggling beneath him so he raised up enough to let the human turn over.

“Likewise, Derek,” Stiles replied.

Derek couldn’t make out his expression in the scant light reaching them from downstairs, but there was that sweet scent of joy and he saw a shadowy face coming towards, kissing him softly after his lips were located. And then after arms pulled him down that face sank into his throat, moving until Stiles found that same spot and bit down gently, sucking a mark there too. Well then.

Eyes burning red, he flipped his future mate back onto his belly and got ready for what could be Round 3, Round 5 or Round 8 depending on how and from when you counted it. It didn’t matter. If Derek had his way he’d spend the rest of his life working toward Round Infinity.

#sterek #sterek fanfic #mead moons #mead moons claiming #mead moons herbs #mead moons hot #mead moons midsummer night's dream #sterekweekly #sterekweeklyvideo #mead moons trisk

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sterek-ao3feed · 6 months ago

Text

The Collection

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55819801

by Glitter_Lips

Stiles is determined to unroot the mystery surrounding Derek's framing for mass murder and clear his name. However, there's something much more sinister going on in the FBI and few people Stiles can rely on.

A rewrite of the void is loud and wants chicken to set up its sequel.

Words: 3025, Chapters: 1/21, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Nightmares and Dreams

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: Multi

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Scott McCall's Pack Members (Teen Wolf), Original Characters

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski (implied), Derek Hale/Nogitsune (one-sided), Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Possessed Stiles Stilinski, Kitsune Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapped Derek Hale, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55819801

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #ao3feed Sterek #ao3feed #fanfic

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ao3feed-peterstiles · 2 years ago

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She's our's now

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44800385

by Bisexual_werido

Stiles is kicked out of the pack due to a lie told by braeden and derek and everyone believes it but lydia and Jackson as they know the truth about the lie, the alpha twins start to notice that stiles wasn't around of the pack anymore and Jackson' and lydia didn't even talk or looked at them. They their alpha about this and decided he wanted to meet stiles himself in person.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Braeden (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Isaac Lahey, Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Kali (Teen Wolf), Ennis (Teen Wolf), Aiden (Teen Wolf), Ethan (Teen Wolf), Kira Yukimura

Relationships: Deucalion/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Ennis/Kali (Teen Wolf), Aiden/Lydia Martin, Braeden/Derek Hale, Ethan/Jackson Whittemore, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Deucalion/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Cheating, Cheating Derek Hale, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Good Friend Jackson Whittemore, Good Friend Lydia Martin, Good Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Alpha Derek Hale, Good Alpha Pack, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Top Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Top Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Possessive Behavior, Protective Siblings, Protective Peter Hale, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Female Stiles Stilinski, Background Relationships, Jealousy, Rough Sex, My First Smut, My First Fanfic, My First AO3 Post, Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44800385

#ao3feed #teen wolf #steter #fanfic #peterstiles

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ao3feed-malira · 2 years ago

Text

She's our's now

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/jNGW1mb

by Bisexual_werido

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/jNGW1mb

#malira #ao3feed #fanfic #teen wolf

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roseringleader13 · 7 years ago

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This Isn’t What I Meant By Wet

Author: Roseringleader and @skeletonangel1998 Pairing: Implied one-sided Reader x Scott McCall Warnings: implied sexual content, puns, embarrassment Word Count: 673 A/N: So it’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything, let alone a fanfiction or whatever else. I’ve been on a big Teen Wolf hype as of late, so decided to get back into writing with a small little drabble of stupid proportions. Please be gentle with me and let me or Rebecca (Skeletonangel) if you have any ideas, suggestions, request, etc. We do write smut, we just wanted to get back into the swing of things before writing that heavily. Enjoy! I do want to thank @minhosmeanhoe, @mf-despair-queen, @rememberstilinski, @ninja-stiles and @stilinski-jpeg for they’re amazing stories and making my love for writing come back to life! If you guys didn’t have such inspiring stories and lovely plots, I don’t think I would have gotten my spark back! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You ever have that moment where you want someone just so damn bad, you swear you're about to have your heart beat out of your chest...or your pants are going to suddenly weigh you down from how soaked they are from your arousal? Yeah...me too.

And if Scott licks his damn fingers one more time as he eats these nachos, I'm going to scream. Like Lydia. On steroids. Now, you might be wondering, why not sleep with him? Or flirt? Or tell him to stop? If I did that, he'd know I have a thing for him, so would Stiles, and Lord only knows that damn Stilinski won't let me live it down. So now here we are, in a diner, eating nachos, while I'm forced to suffer as he keeps licking each fucking finger like it's a damn Popsicle and I'm going insane with every flick of his tongue and trying to not moan or squirm in my seat as I sit next to said werewolf and across from the aforementioned Banshee and human. “Y/N, you okay?” A voice interrupted my train of thought, causing my head to snap up and meet the gaze of the brown eyes that have been haunting my every thought. “Hm? Oh yeah, no, yeah, I'm fine. I swear.” I stuttered out, voice trying to keep its cool and not show how horny his unintentional actions were making me. “You sure?” Stiles' voice cuts in, making me internally groan because of course, HE, would notice if that smirk was anything to go by. “YES, I am sure.” I reiterate, y/e/c eyes narrowing in annoyance at the hyperactive spaz. “I'm going to go grab you another soda, your face is turning dark red, you might be overheating.” Scott offered, already standing up from his seat and heading towards the counter before I could stop him. This was not helping. It was bad enough that he was hot enough to melt steel in my opinion, but the fact that he was so kind and strong and protective didn't exactly help the whole- 'I'm falling in love with you and want to climb you like a damn tree' aspect of my confusing emotions. So instead, I choose to attempt to focus on my breathing, get my raging teenage hormones under control and just hope Stiles nor Lydia mentions anything out loud. My luck? That equals me getting the opposite of what I want. “So...you still haven't told Scotty you have a thing for him, huh?” Stiles asked, smirking widely, or at least attempting to given the amount of hard chips he just shoved into his freckled face. “Leave her alone, Stiles. It's not her fault that she's wetter than the ocean for him.” Lydia pointed out with a shrug as if she was talking about the damn weather of all things. Seriously? What happened to that unspoken rule of girl code where you're not meant to throw your friends under the bus regarding sexual desires? Did she just magically decide that didn't exist anymore? “I am not we-!” But before I could finish my sentence, I heard the faintest squeak of sneakers slipping on tile and suddenly, my entire body was drenched in a cold, sticky substance. My y/h/c stuck to my face in thick lines, my black shirt clung to my chest and the entire front side of my jeans in my crotch area were soaked. Turns out, on his way back over with a soda for me, Scott managed to slip on the tile where there was a wet floor sign and succeeded in spilling the entire 20oz glass of soda down my entire front. How a werewolf trips that easily? I don't know. But what I do know is that Lydia's next words made my head slam so hard on the table, it made Stiles jump in surprise while Scott got the most worried puppy dog look on his face. “This isn't what I meant by you being wet...”

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randomperson351 · 3 years ago

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Bittersweet - DH. (Requested - Part 1.)*

Summary: A long to and fro of the story between Derek and Stella and how they came to be through ups and downs.

Notes: This was requested by one of my wattpad people _stellastyless, I hope you like it! If anyone has any requests, you can message me! Also yes, there will be a part two.

Bit of smut in the middle.

Do not repost or rewrite any of my work. Minors and ageless blogs get blocked.

Masterlist

"Stiles, Scott! Hurry up or I'm gonna be late!" Stella hollered from her car window as she waited for the two hyperactive maniacs to finish chatting and get in her car.

Stella was Stiles' cousin and the two were practically inseparable, being only children, and the fact she was currently living with Stiles at his house while she was figuring out her future. Stella was a couple of years older than Stiles and Scott which apparently meant she was more trustworthy to bring the two boys home, hence why she was picking them up from school.

"Okay we're coming, God!" Stiles exclaimed, hoping into the passenger seat and putting his seatbelt on, Scott doing the same in the back.

"Where are you going anyway?" Scott asked, being so close with Stiles naturally meant a two for one deal with his best friend, Scott becoming almost like a second brother to you.

"Yeah where are you going that's so interesting at 4 o'clock? The elderly citizens bingo hall club?" Stiles asked sarcastically and laughed to himself at his own joke while Scott shook his head and smiled a little at his friend's antics.

"No actually I'm going round Lydia's house to show her my new underwear set I'm wearing, hope that's not a problem?" She replied equally as sarcastically as Stiles while making direct eye contact with him when they were stopped at a red light.

Stiles looked over at his cousin with a face of stone and merely said, "That's not funny," in a serious tone, not even looking over to chastise Scott about laughing at Stella's response and not his or to tell her to shut up after looking over at him with a shit eating grin on her face.

"Derek's coming round after school for a pack meeting, are you staying long enough for that?" Scott asked from the backseat.

Stella curled her lip in slight disgust at the thought of having to see Derek's stupid face, his stupid handsome face, his stupidly handsome face.

"I don't know, I'll see when I'm ready to leave."

The rest of the drive home was fairly uneventful, Scott and Stiles stuck in their own world of conversation while Stella thought about what to wear tonight, she was going to a party at a local club; might meet someone, have some fun, hopefully.

They made it to Stiles' house in one piece, just about, and they split off in their separate directions.

"Alright idiots, I'm off to get ready. Don't destroy the house or set anything on fire cause then I'm getting the blame." She warned them playfully, going up the stairs to her own room while the boys went straight to the cupboards and fridge to source food.

23 outfits on the floor, 4 makeup wipes and two hours later, Stella was ready. She collected her things in a matching clutch to her outfit and started down the stairs where her friends were waiting for her outside.

"Bye Stiles, bye Scott, good luck at the meeting!" She called through to where they were doing various detective works in the lounge.

"Bye, have a good time!" Scott yelled through waving her goodbye. Stiles looked up from where he was grossly staring at his laptop and squinted his eyes suspiciously.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do. If anyone at all touches you, get a description and I'll get Scott to beat their ass and then Dad will arrest them." Stiles threatened.

"I won't do that if it's a woman though, if you don't mind." Scott interrupted Stiles sheepishly.

"What why?-" Stiles flicked his head so fast to stare at Scott in betrayal they were all surprised he didn't have whiplash- "What happened to equality of the genders?"

"I'm still not hitting a woman Stiles!" Scott exclaimed.

"Even if they hit Stella?" Stiles interrogated his best friend relentlessly.

"Okay, bye then!" Stella fit in before Scott could launch a tirade of arguments against Stiles defending himself and pointing out "If I just go up and hit a woman, I'll be the one getting arrested!" and Stiles saying, "If it was a woman dipped in salsa and guacamole you wouldn't be saying that, all your little werewolfy senses would be on fire; you and your obsessive love of Mexcian food!"

~~~~A few hours in after Stella left, she's at the party with her friends.~~~~

Stella was getting exhausted. She had been partying, dancing and drinking for two hours straight. She weaved her way through the crowd and went to order a drink; at this point she wasn't completely drunk, just a little buzzed.

That could not be said for everyone at the party though. This weird guy had been following her, what he thought was subtly but actually constituted running into bushes and knocking piles of drinks over, since she arrived. So when she left the safety of her friends, he thought it was his time to strike.

"Hey baby." He said, slinking up next to her and trying to put an arm around her, but failing miserably. Stella let out an aggravated sigh at seeing the same guy again.

"Dude seriously, fuck off! I can literally make it no clearer to you." She took her drink and walked around, trying to loose the guy who was still following her, and find her friends or someone that would scare him off.

He's still following her when she spots someone that might be able to help; however, he might be even worse.

Derek Hale.

Every fibre in her body was screaming to keep walking in the opposite direction to the both of them, since Derek had now turned and made eye contact with her, perhaps after smelling her anger and panic mixed with her regular perfume. But the weird guy was now getting closer and seemed even more aggressive now that she'd made a point of trying to get rid of him, so she really only had one choice.

Her footsteps led her across the room and her heartbeat increased considerably in hesitation and worry, what if this didn't work?

Stella reached out and linked her fingers with Derek's, causing him to furrow his eyebrows but not pull away, maybe smelling her hesitation.

"Just play along, please." She pleaded in a whisper, looking up to him first and then darting her eyes to look at the guy, seeing that he'd followed her all the way to Derek.

Unfortunately, Derek had followed Stella's eyeline after smelling the underlying and rising panic in her chemo-signals and hardened his stare as he realised what was happening. Derek tightened his grip on Stella's hand and pulled her closer to him as the guy approached, making her stumble into his side and rest her hand on his chest to steady herself.

"Who's this Stel? You've never introduced us before?" Derek played, gesturing towards the stalker with a harsh glare thrown in at his direction. Stella immediately caught on to Derek's plan and played along just as convincingly.

"Oh I actually don't think I know your name, what was it again?" She asked pointedly.

"It's Jamie, who the hell is this guy?" He motioned with his head towards Derek but stopped himself from coming any closer to them.

"This is my..." Stella faltered, she didn't know whether Derek would kill her for saying he was her boyfriend or whether he thought this was just a friends thing. Apparently, and luckily, Derek caught on to her sudden apprehension and continued her sentence for her.

"Boyfriend, Derek. And from what I've seen tonight you've taken quite an interest in Stella here." Derek pointed out with withering patience. Something must have shown itself more prominently in Derek's face because Jamie started backing away from them a few small steps at a time like he was trying to do it without them noticing.

"Hey man chill, I didn't realise she had a boyfriend I was just trying to get to know her a little. That's all." Apparently Jamie's sobriety was now coming back to him all of a sudden.

"Well how about this, Jamie-" Derek started, moving forwards to get closer to him making Stella's hand drop from his chest (she was a little mortified she'd let it stay there for so long without realising) but kept his hand tightly interlocked with hers- "You go around here or any party for that matter and try to 'get to know' anyone and I hear about it; I'll rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek showed his glowing red Alpha eyes to firmly get the point across which worked well considering Jamie ran so fast it's a surprise there wasn't a trail of smoke following him.

Derek turned back to Stella with his usual firm expression and looked down, making Stella follow his gaze and see they still had their hands together. It seemed reality kicked in for both of them at that moment and they separated like each others touch stung them.

"Uh thanks, for that I mean." It seemed to be a Stilinski trait to ramble when they were nervous, Stella sounding worryingly like Stiles when she spoke then.

"It's no problem." Derek replied stoically in his classic Derek way. Silence wafted over them as neither quite knew what to say to each other; up until tonight their exchanges in conversation were bitter remarks and hurtful insults.

"Uh would you like to go and get a drink maybe? With me, I mean. It's totally cool if you don't want to I completely understand I was just wondering if-"

"Oh my God you are so related to Stiles. Yes, I will go and get a drink with you as long as you stop the rambling, such a Stilinski." Derek whispered the last part under his breath, leading the way through the crowd to a semi-secluded area of the bar and ordered them both a drink.

"Um excuse you but I think you'll find some people find the Stilinski ramble quite endearing!" Stella argued and sat down next to him, watching him roll his eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

"Do all these people happen to be deaf?" Derek retorted, nearly making Stella choke when she took a sip of her drink.

"The Derek Hale just used sarcasm in a conversation, what?! Since I'm so surprised I'll let the deaf comment slip for now."

Derek smirked and shook his head a little. It seemed he preferred this laid back conversation over the normal back and forth arguing between them.

"So what are you doing here anyway, Scott said you were meant to be at their pack meeting tonight?" She asked curiously, knowing what a bollocking both her and Stiles have gotten in the past just for being late, let alone not showing up at all.

"This is one of the only places where I can buy alcohol that actually gets me drunk." He explained, taking another drink.

Stella nodded her head in understanding and chugged the rest of her drink, Derek watching in surprise as she then calmly placed the glass back on the bar and waved the bartender down to order another.

~~~~A lot of drinks later.~~~~

"Okay so back to you," Derek said through a slightly intoxicated laugh, "why are you here getting drunk? Shouldn't you be helping Stiles crack some murder mystery?"

"Well actually Mr Hale, there are times when I like to forget and have a good time on my own instead of having Stiles, and occasionally Scott, breathing down my neck."

"Forget what?" Derek asked her quizzically, picking up on her use of present tense as well.

"My life dude, the plane crash." Stella blurted out, expecting Derek to know exactly what happened just by a brief selection of words.

"What plane crash?"

"The one my parents died in." The bomb dropped. Derek now looked suddenly serious as he watched Stella's face intricately for any reactions. "You've never wondered why I live with Stiles and Sheriff? I transferred around a lot afterwards, couldn't get settled in anywhere. It's kind of hard to when everyone who you think is your friend is just there because of pity; they were all fake. Same with any boyfriends, all ended badly when they couldn't put up with me anymore. But then, I moved here, Beacon Hills with Stiles and I've never been better. Its like I finally feel like I belong somewhere, you know? It feels like... I don't know, like..."

"Like home." He finished for her, knowing what feeling she was trying to convey. It was the same one he felt after coming back home after the fire.

"Yeah, you got it." She encouraged him, seemingly unaffected by the story because of the alcohol blinding her feelings.

"You want another drink? Its on me." Derek offered, waving down the bartender when Stella nodded her head yes with a dopey smile.

After that last drink, they left the party once Stella tracked down her friend and said she was leaving with Derek. Given that they were both drunk, Derek walked Stella back to his loft so that she didn't injure herself trying to walk back home (although the short walk to Derek's place was a little precarious at times). He had his arm wrapped around her middle so she was supported as she wobbled along, seemingly unworried in her own little world, just letting Derek lead the way.

It did somewhat surprise Derek that Stella didn't say anything when they reached his place, just followed him along and into the loft, taking off her uncomfortable shoes and sitting, literally, on the ground.

"Uh Stella, don't you think the bed would be more comfortable than the ground?" He offered.

"Well obviously, but I can't walk all the way over there. I'm much too tired." She yawned, stretching out her limbs like a tired kitten.

In response to Stella, and not wanting to trip over her in the night, Derek stooped down and picked her up, holding her under her legs and transferring her, and her shoes, to the bed; he gently placed her down once she let go of him.

"Thanks, D." She said quietly, looking up at him from her perched position.

"You're welcome." Derek sat next to her, keeping eye contact as he sat down.

A few seconds passed and Derek lifted his hand, tentatively placing it on Stella's clothed thigh. His eyes flitted to where his hand made contact with her leg for milliseconds before snapping back up to her eyes, only to find them already watching him.

Slowly he began stroking his hand up and down, fingers brushing her inseam as he went. Stella shuffled just a little closer, careful not to disrupt Derek's lovely ministrations. With his free hand, Derek reached up and moulded it around the side of Stella's face, pulling her close and flicking his eyes down to her full lips that he just needed to have against his.

"If we start this now," Derek barely whispered, looking deep into Stella's eyes,"I may not be able to stop later on."

"That's okay. I don't want you to."

"You're sure?" He checked again in a soft voice as to not break the moment, but was already leaning closer still and tilting his head, tempting her further to give in to him. His hand on her thigh was now moving more confidently upwards, getting closer and closer to the present ache she was beginning to feel there. "You're telling me, you want me to take your clothes off, revealing your beautiful skin to me, have me lick and kiss every new inch that gets exposed to my gaze, get you nice and relaxed with my tongue and fingers, then have me fuck you however you want until you cry. Is that what you're saying, Stella?"

Stella was breathing hard now but trying desperately not to let it show. She swallowed hard and regained herself a little, the buzz she felt from the alcohol giving her an extra edge of confidence. Her lips were so close to his, dying for a taste; all it took to connect their lips would be a cock of their heads at the right angle, that's all.

"Yes, I want you Derek." She whispered against him, feeling him smile at her words.

With his hand that was wrapped around Stella's face, Derek stretched his thumb to rest on her chin, pulling her closer still until their lips grazed, but didn't let them fully connect yet. Using his thumb, he pulled her chin down a little to separate her lips from where she had her mouth closed, moving forward and slotting his lips between hers to take Stella's bottom lip and suck on it, closing his eyes.

Stella caught up straight away, moulding her own mouth around his, reaching a hand up to hesitantly play in his hair; a little too hesitant for Derek's liking. He pulled away from her mouth only far enough to tell her "pull harder," and then dove straight back in.

One pull was all it took for Derek to loose his restraint, kissing her harder and pulling Stella into his lap, securing their crotches tightly together through the layers of clothing they wore and rutting upwards to create a marvellous friction that benefited the both of them. The hand previously on Stella's thigh travelled up to hold her waist tightly, holding her still and in place as they passionately kissed.

After not too long, Derek began removing clothes, starting with his classic leather jacket and Stella's small coat she'd worn, throwing them across the room somewhere. He didn't care where they landed, Derek was more focused on getting Stella's lips back on to his, which he promptly took care of.

Stella gasped at a particularly hard thrust up into her after she pulled on Derek's hair again, inducing her to pull her shirt off as fast as possible, to which Derek growled appreciatively at the sight and flung the both of them around so Stella's back landed on the bed, but managing to never disconnect their hips; the beauty of being an Alpha werewolf.

"How about we start on that list of things you wanted me to do to you, hmm?" Derek said tauntingly, leaning his body over Stella and pinning her in place with his weight. When he received a half-moaned half-whined yes he kissed a small channel through her chest and down to the top of her jeans, starting to undo them and tug them off with alarming ease.

Lets just say for the rest of the night, Derek talked the talk and walked the walk.

~~~~The morning after.~~~~

"Oh crap." Stella muttered to herself, holding Derek's bedsheet up to cover her chest. She looked around and saw her clothes thrown around the entire loft. Literally, all over the place.

Derek was sleeping like the dead next to her so she stealthily stood and began collecting and putting on her clothes, grabbing her clutch on her way to the loft door and gently squeezing through the little gap she made to leave.

It was a long walk home to her house and she spent the entire time in what felt like a trance state, remembering everything that happened last night and berating herself for getting drunk; in this town, she knew better.

Stella begrudgingly unlocked the front door, took two steps inside was immediately swarmed by Scott and Stiles who were stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Scott didn't really look like he wanted to be stood there but Stiles looked at her with faux disappointment in his features.

"And just where have you been all night missy?" Stiles started, looking suspiciously at her over his mug of coffee.

"How do you know I haven't been out for breakfast and come back?"

"Well for one, you're in the same clothes and I know if you would've come home you would've changed, and for two, bold of you to assume I actually went to sleep. I mean seriously..."

As Stiles rambled on about his distinct sleeping patterns Stella could see Scott sniffing the air, like he was looking for a scent. As discreetly as she could, Stella made small sharp shakes of her head at Scott so he wouldn't blurt something out about why her scent was different, specifically Derek Hale different.

Luckily Scott noticed her begging and nodded in agreement to not say anything. "Stiles! I'm sorry I didn't come home last night, but I'm super tired and I would like to sleep." Stella told him.

Stiles shrugged and went back to the kitchen to look for food while Stella took off up the stairs, reaching the comfort of her room and taking her shoes off as she sat on the bed. There was a knock at the door and Scott poked his head round, asking if he could come in. She beckoned him in and Scott sat next to her on her bed.

"Why do you smell like Derek?" Scott leapt straight in with the questioning, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"Well, he caught me walking home last night, I was pretty wasted and it was really late so he offered to let me stay at his place."

"That sounds very unlike Derek." Scott commented, never knowing Derek to even let him stay, and he was meant to be his adoptive beta-in-training.

"Yeah well, I guess I must've been pretty wrecked." Stella nodded her head, hoping silently Scott would take the hint and leave her be; which thankfully, he did.

After Scott left her room, she flopped back on the bed and sighed. She didn't know what her next interaction with Derek would be like, but some part of her hoped she got to see the casual, easy going Derek she was talking to last night.

~~~~A week later.~~~~

It turns out, Stella was not that lucky.

A few days after their encounter together Derek held a pack meeting at his loft where he was back to his usual brooding self; which Stella didn't mind considering everyone was there, its not like she was expecting him to leap up and bury her in a hug or anything.

So the meeting happened and everything was very professional, until Derek asked Stella to stay behind for a moment. He waited until all the wolves were out of listening range before turning back to Stella with an expression she knew all too well.

"It didn't mean anything." She guessed before Derek even opened his mouth. "Is that what you're about to tell me?"

Derek didn't reply like he was thinking of an excuse or something, so Stella went on.

"So where do we stand now, did it really mean nothing?" Again the Stilinski ramble burst through as soon as she got nervous.

"Why are you so upset over this?" Derek interrupted her questioning.

"Oh I don't know, I thought maybe you cared? That maybe you wanted something with feelings because we had sex and are going to be around each other with the pack and things? That you felt the same way I did?"

Derek turned around so he wasn't facing Stella when he started his speech. "I'm sorry you got that impression Stella, but I don't feel the same. You're just Stiles' irritating cousin to me, no more than a pack member."

Stella didn't say anything, she couldn't. All she could do was focus on her breathing. Derek could tell she was crying silently, could smell the salt of tears in the air and her distressed chemo-signals.

"So you're no different then," she spoke through a sniff, but kept her voice strong and stony, letting Derek now how much he hurt her. "Good to know."

Before Derek could do anything to try and get them on level ground again, Stella was out of the loft door and barrelling down the stairs, finally letting her tears go as she ran home.

Stiles came into her room that night after not seeing her for dinner, something Stella never missed, and went to check on her. Ever since she got home she'd gone straight up to her bedroom and shut the door, not even saying hello to the boys on the sofa. When Scott mentioned to Stiles he could smell how upset she was, Stiles panicked to say the least.

As soon as Scott left he ordered a bunch of Stella's favourite food and waited for it to arrive, hoping the food would coax her out of her room. But when he called up to let her know it arrived, she just said to start without her; that led them to now, Stiles stood outside her door and knocking quietly.

"Yeah?" He heard her muffled voice through the door.

"Can I come in? Its Stiles."

"Okay." She agreed.

Stiles walked in and saw his cousin wrapped up in her quilt like she hadn't moved since she got home.

"Hey Stell bell, missed you for dinner." He said as friendly as he could, approaching her cocooned form and sitting on her bed next to her.

"Sorry, didn't feel like eating." Stiles didn't need to have werewolf senses to hear the wavering voice and tell tale signs of crying no matter how much Stella wanted to hide it.

"Hey its okay, I left yours in the fridge for whenever you want it. So what happened?" Stiles asked, wanting to know immediately what or who had caused his cousin (in his mind though, sister) to cry.

"Nothing really, just some dick who I thought liked me like I liked him but it turns out he's no different. I guess I just really wanted him to be, you know?" Stella explained best she could without giving too many details away.

"Well maybe its best to not be with this guy if he is so much of a dick, maybe he's bad news that you should stay away from if he can hurt you this bad." Stiles suggested, rubbing Stella's back in comfort.

She wormed her head out of the layers of quilt she had covering her, looking up at Stiles.

"You know what, you're right. Thank you, Stiles." Stella sat up and hugged him tightly, Stiles returning it with just as much gusto.

"Anytime Stells, anytime. Now how about some Mario Kart and food binge?" He suggested, knowing the way to make her feel better by heart now.

Stella smiled broadly and nodded, getting up and following Stiles downstairs. If Derek didn't feel the same, so be it; Stella could go back to how they were before, not a problem.

Part 2

Part 3

#randomperson351 #derek hale #derek hale angst #derek hale oc #brief stiles stilinski #brief scott mccall #derek's a bit of a dick #implied smut #reader is stiles' cousin #derek hale x female oc #requested #derek hale x female reader #do not repost #bittersweet part 1

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drabbles-mc · 2 years ago

Text

Nothing New

EZ Reyes x OFC (Lola Ortega)

Whumptober 2022: No.15 Emotional Damage- New Scars

Warnings: angst, language, referenced/implied smut

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Ohhhhh there is going to be more for these two I already know it. But this was such an adventure of a fic. What a time. Shout-out to @narcolini and @ashlingnarcos for helping me work through this despite the numerous roadblocks I hit with it. I feel like I’ll be coming back to these two when Whumptober is over. They’re officially on the idea rotisserie.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @doritosandjellybeans @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @anditsmywholeheart @i-love-scott-mccall @withmyteeth @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @lexondeck @redpoodlern @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardsanddetectives @littlekittymeow @amorestevens @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @choochoo284 @passionatewrites @solidly-indulgent @broiderie (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

EZ woke early, his body rousing him even though he didn’t have his alarm. His eyes slowly began to open, one of the first things he became aware of was the fact that he was waking to a mouthful of long, dark hair and someone’s hand lightly gripping onto his thigh to keep his legs hooked over hers. Pulling his head back, he let out a nearly silent chuckle as it all came rushing back to him.

He slipped his arm from around Lola’s waist so he could gently smooth her hair down, pressing it away from his face. His head dropped back against the pillow as he took a deep breath, trying not to flinch at the ticklish sensation of her hand twitching against his leg as she slept. Her breathing was slow, even. EZ took a moment to just listen to it, to soak it in. He couldn’t see her face, but he could picture her expression. He wished that he knew that kind of peace—he didn’t think that he had that even when he slept.

Carefully lifting her arm off of his leg, he unhooked it from around her. He set her arm down, letting it drape over herself as he slowly slipped away from her. He managed to get out of bed without waking her, although something told him that it would take quite a lot to do that. Running his hand over his face and head, he walked around to the other side of the bed.

He stopped for a moment to look at her. A few stray locks of hair were cast over her face, the arm that hadn’t been holding onto EZ was tucked up underneath her pillow. He could already see the lines from the sheets indented in her tan skin. Her lips were almost turned down into a frown but not quite. Even still, she looked so relaxed. EZ smiled at her for a moment before turning back around and making his way towards the door of her room.

Before he got there, though, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that she had hanging on the wall between her door and her dresser. He stopped in his tracks, unable to avoid the reflection staring back at him. It felt different to see himself that way, in his entirety. Usually he was only seeing himself from the shoulders up in the tiny mirror above his sink in the bathroom of his trailer.

His boxers were hung low on his hips, the rest of his clothes in a heap on the floor along with hers. He looked at himself, unable to ignore the fresh scar along his abdomen. The one that accompanied the one that went down along the outside of his bicep, slicing through the outer edge of his Santa Maria tattoo. His tattoo was no longer the perfect match to Angel’s.

That was the one thing that the tiny mirror in his tiny trailer afforded him: avoidance. He wasn’t forced to look at the fresh blemishes etched into his skin. His fingers ran along the one on his stomach before he turned his arm and traced along the one that cut through his tattoo.

His whole life he had been repressing memories. The nature of remembering everything was learning how not to think about them. While there was no hope of forgetting anything, he had gotten much better at locking things up. The world was full of reminders that he had to ignore every day, but now his body carried those reminders too. These were ones that he couldn’t look the other way on, he couldn’t speed past them in the hopes of not getting a good look. They were there. All the time.

He spent all of those years in prison and had managed to get out unscathed. Or, rather, no marks that had lasted past his stay. Most of the damage that he’d sustained then was internal—it was all in his mind. The bumps and cuts and bruises during those years all faded away eventually.

And yet, less than one year outside and now he looked like this. No amount of muscles and skin-fades were good enough to distract himself from the ridges on his skin. He could cover them up, hide them from other people, but he always knew they were there. He could feel them sometimes, the pull against his skin that didn’t used to be there. Even when he had them covered, he still couldn’t avoid being aware of them. Sometimes he thought it was all in his head, but at that point he also reasoned that it didn’t really matter.

He shook his head at himself, trying to dispel the memories. That night had started off as a clusterfuck, and looking back they should’ve taken it as a sign to cut their losses. But that had never been his strong suit, or the strong suit of any of the men in the club. Sunk cost had them all by the jugular. And now he had reminders of their mistakes that were never going to go away.

He applied a little more pressure as his fingers ran along the scar on his arm. He repeated the motion a few times over, like if he kept pressing, the skin would smooth itself back out and the scar would disappear. He could feel the tearing like it was happening all over again. His mind instantly transporting him back, like he could smell the blood and hear the gunfire around him.

EZ didn’t realize how tense his muscles were, or how tightly his jaw was clenched, until he felt a soft palm resting against his back. The warmth brought him back to the present, although his body took a moment to catch up, his limbs still feeling locked up.

Standing up on her tip-toes, Lola hooked her chin over his shoulder so she could look at him through the reflection of the mirror. Her hair was a mess, but there was a tired and warm smile on her face as she slipped her arms around his middle. He hoped that his smile looked more effortless than it felt.

“Easier to check yourself out if you turn the light on,” she said with a soft laugh, pressing a kiss against his bare shoulder.

He looked at her through the mirror, a little more relaxed as he focused on her face. He took his hand from the scar on his arm and rested it over her hands. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Oh,” she laughed, “it’ll take more than that.”

“Yea?” he chuckled.

“Once I’m out,” she shook her head, “I’m out.” She paused. “You okay?”

He nodded, trying to look more certain of himself than he really felt. “Yea, why?”

She shrugged, resting her chin back on his shoulder again. “Looked like I interrupted an important conversation that you were having with yourself.”

The laugh that he let out was tired, but genuine. “Those don’t happen very often.” He waited for her to have another witty response. Instead, he saw her focusing on him, eyes raking over his whole body. She didn’t have the same scrutinizing expression that he had when he looked at himself, though. “What?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Nothing. Just, you know, it’s been a while. You’re different now. Just…just taking it all in.”

A smirk curled the end of his lips as he said, “Didn’t get enough of that last night?”

She laughed, rolling her eyes as she pulled her arms back from around him, playfully pushing the center of his back. “Cállate.”

He shook his head as he laughed. Before she could step back too far, he reached behind and grabbed her arms, pulling them back around him again. She didn’t fight him on it as she pressed up against his back once more.

She smiled, leaning into him. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“That’s nothing new.”

She nodded. “True.” Her fingers splayed across the toned muscles of his stomach, “These are though.” There was a playful smirk on her face as she said it.

EZ rolled his eyes but he was still smiling. “Wasn’t going to stay lanky and fifteen forever.”

“I guess not.” Her smile shrank a tad as her fingertips ghosted along the scar on his stomach. “This is new, too.”

She felt him tense beneath her touch, and not in the same way he would to flex. It wasn’t him trying to show off, make himself be more impressive. He tensed because there was no shrinking away from her. There was no getting away from her stare, her touch.

“Didn’t miss that one by much.” He gently moved her hand as he spoke.

She allowed him to redirect her touch. He rested her hand against his chest and she let it happen as she replied, “I can see that.” She saw the slight knit of his brows and she chuckled softly. “What? I know a fresh scar when I see one,” she paused, leaning against him a little more, “even if I wasn’t pre-med like some people.”

“Right.” He tried to feign normalcy as he threaded his fingers with hers, both their hands pressed against his chest now. “When did you get back, anyway? I always pictured you in some expensive penthouse in New York somewhere.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I was only in New York for a few months after I graduated.” She shrugged. “Just an internship. Then I came back home. Or, you know, homeish. Couple towns up. By then, though, you were already…” her voice trailed off.

He nodded. “Yea.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She brought her other hand up, resting it on the outside of his arm. At first she just traced along the lines of ink that made up the tattoo. She remembered seeing Angel’s. She must’ve missed when EZ got the same one. She wondered how long before he went to prison that had happened.

EZ watched her as she studied his arm. He wanted to pull away but he couldn’t force it to happen. Ever so slowly, her fingers wandered to the scar that was now part of the tattoo. Two types of permanence intertwined.

“Assuming I just missed this one too?” she asked.

EZ swallowed hard, nodding, but he didn’t say anything. She waited for him to push her hand away again, or to shrug her off, but instead he stood and watched. She watched him as he focused on the feeling of her fingers wandering over his skin.

“What happened?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, didn’t even try to meet her eyes through the reflection, she changed her question. “Does it have to do with the leather vest on my floor?”

That got him to pry his eyes away from her hand. He shook his head, “It’s called a kutte.”

She rolled her eyes but she was still giving him a small smile. “Don’t do that, EZ.”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

She moved, stepping so that she was in front of him, forcing him to look at her and blocking his view of the mirror. For a moment he looked her over, taking in the sight of her in her over-sized t-shirt, one that was just barely long enough to reach the tops of her thighs but it still did the trick. It was hard for him to wrap his brain the fact that the two of them were really there. After so many years together, and then so many years apart, suddenly they stumbled back across each other and immediately ended up here. She was different, but not really. He was just different.

Her voice drew him back in again. “I’m listening.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, shaking his head as he looked anywhere but at her. “Lola…”

“Ezekiel,” she matched his tone. She gently cupped his chin and turned his head so that he was forced to look at her. “You can tell me. It’s not like—"

“Stop,” he lifted his chin out of her hand and took a step back.

“EZ,” she plead.

“You don’t have to do this.” He backpedaled, grabbing his long-sleeve off the ground and slipping it on over his head, a vain and futile attempt to hide it all.

“This?” she asked, stepping over to him. “What’s this?”

He shook his head as he scooped his jeans off the floor. “You don’t need to pretend that you’re worried about me. Or pretend that you still know me.”

“I’m not pretending. I—”

“Whoever you think I am,” he shook his head, fastening the belt around his waist, “whoever I was, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“What? And you think that the rest of us are the same people we were in high school?” She walked over to him. She stood as close as she could, looking up at him. “Do you think I’m the same person I was back then?”

He huffed. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

He let out a laugh, one that felt cruel. He saw the way that Lola flinched at the sound and he felt bad, but there was no taking it back now. “How could it be? You, you went off to college, went across the country for an internship, came back and started up your own life here. You know where I was while you were doing all of that? What I was doing?”

Tears sprung into her eyes. “EZ…”

He grabbed his kutte off the floor, slipping it over his shoulders. He didn’t look her in the eyes as he spoke, his voice cold, “I gotta go.”

“Ezekiel!” she wanted to sound angry but she just sounded sad.

“I’m sorry.” He gave the side of her head a chaste kiss, like that would be enough to soothe the sting of what had just happened.

The urge to tell him to go fuck himself was strong, but the words got caught in her throat. She didn’t know how much she’d really mean them, anyway. She watched him as he pulled open her bedroom and walked out. Part of her wanted to go after him, but she didn’t know what kind of good it would do. She heard the change in the sound of his footsteps after he put his boots back on, followed by the sound of her apartment door shutting behind him.

Taking a step back, she sat back down on the edge of her bed. It felt like the air had gotten sucked out of her lungs. How things had gone wrong so quickly was beyond her. Maybe he was right, maybe there was too much distance between who they were now and who they used to be. Maybe they were only good before daylight started creeping through the cracks of her curtains.

Raking her fingers back through her hair, she pushed it back out of her face. She looked around her room for a moment, and aside from the string of her clothes littered across the floor, there was no sign that EZ had ever even been there. If she wanted to, she could pretend that none of it had ever happened. Or, if she wanted, she could just say that she had fallen into bed with an old friend who turned out to be an asshole now and that would be the end of it. But she didn’t want to do any of that.

She took a deep breath as she stood up off her bed once more. She went around the room, collecting up the mess she’d let EZ make the night before, tossing all of her laundry into the hamper where it belonged. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes out of her dresser, she went off to shower and try to get ready for the day, not that she knew what was going to be in store for her now. Her plans had just taken off out the door a few minutes before.

The next couple of days went by quickly. The hours were long but the days were short. Lola had taken the time to think of every possible way to try and reach out to EZ, every possible avenue the conversation could take. She knew that EZ could ignore a text, reject a phone-call. She didn’t want to leave him an easy out. Ever since he left her apartment, all she’d thought was that she shouldn’t have let that be that easy for him either.

That was how she ended up standing outside the gates of the Romero Brother’s Scrapyard. She hadn’t even known that the place existed, let alone known that it was home base for the local motorcycle club. Being outside county lines separated her more than she thought.

It was quiet as she walked across the lot. She didn’t expect it to be busy, but she was expecting to see someone at least. It was a shot in the dark assuming that EZ would be there, but even if he wasn’t, maybe someone could at least direct her to him.

“Ho-ly shit,” a familiar voice came from across the yard, “is that who I think it is?”

A wave of ease washed over her, not just at the fact that it was Angel who saw her first, but the fact that he actually sounded excited to see her. EZ must not have told him what happened. She turned to him with a smile. “Hey, Angel.”

“Lil Ortega,” he grinned as he walked over and pulled her into a hug.

“God,” she groaned with a laugh, “I don’t miss that.”

“Yea you do.” He pulled away from her so he could look at her. “What’s up?”

“Looking for EZ.”

He hummed knowingly. “Of course you are.”

She rolled her eyes, not feeding into the game. “Is he here, or not?”

“C’mon, Lola, you finally show up to my stomping grounds and you’re lookin’ for my baby brother? Feels a little personal.”

“I didn’t even know that all of this was back here,” she looked around as she spoke.

“Should’ve, you know, called me, texted me, sent me a fuckin’ pigeon or whatever. I would’ve invited you.”

She looked up at him, shaking her head. “Phone works two ways.”

He sucked his teeth but a smirk quickly took over his face. “You got me.” He nodded towards the beat-up trailer on the other side of the yard. “He just got off his shift.”

She patted him on the chest. “Thank you.”

“Now that you know we’re here,” he called after her, “you got no excuse to be a stranger!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she continued her way towards EZ’s trailer. Every step closer, the sense of unease grew stronger. By the time she got to the trailer steps, she almost wanted to turn around and bail. It was too late now though. Taking a deep breath, she reached forward and knocked against the flimsy metal and screen door.

Seconds later, EZ was standing on the other side. Even through the screen, Lola could see that he was slicked with sweat, his dark green work-shirt darker in placed where it was dampened with his sweat. His expression went from annoyed to something sullener when he saw Lola standing on the other side of the screen door.

She saw the rise and fall of his shoulders as he sighed, as he weighed out his options for a response. “I came all this way,” she said with a weak smile, “least you could do is let me in.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did pull the door open, allowing her up the steps and into his tiny trailer. She didn’t offer any comment on it, and he didn’t offer any kind of an explanation. They both knew that his living situation wasn’t what she had shown up to talk about.

He leaned back against the small counter in his kitchen, unable to look her in the eyes. He hadn’t been expecting her to track him down. A large part of him just assumed that the two of them were done, that they were going to go back to being strangers. The energy radiating off of her let him know that he had been an idiot to think that way.

“I thought about what you said.”

He sighed, head dropping so that his chin tucked against his chest. “Lola, look, I’m—”

“Don’t try to go back on it now.” She chuckled dryly. “You…you were right. My life hasn’t looked the same as yours.” She crossed the minimal space between them. “But that doesn’t get to be your excuse to shut me out, to make it so I never know you again.”

He lifted his chin, just enough to look her in the eyes. “It’s not worth the trouble.”

She stepped in a little closer, her hand reaching for his arm. With no issue at all, her hand found the scar even beneath the sleeve of his work-shirt. She felt him flinch but she didn’t let up. “Knowing you isn’t trouble for me. It feels like it’s trouble for you.”

He huffed out a tired chuckle, but Lola could see the emotion welling in his eyes. “You’re doing good, Lola. Great, actually. Me? This?” he gestured to his trailer and the door that led outside, “Is going to ruin that.”

“Why, because you think it ruined you?”

“I ruined me,” he argued. “That’s how I ended up here.”

“Stop.” She shook her head at him. “You didn’t ruin you. You aren’t ruined. You’re, you know, a little banged up,” her thumb traced over the scar as she said it, “but you’re not ruined.”

“If you knew—”

“Then tell me. Let me make that call.” She paused. “Or are you the only one who gets to do that?”

There was a long stretch of silence before he sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“Don’t shut me out,” she replied honestly.

He slowly shook his head. “I don’t—”

“Stop making excuses. I’m not asking you to bare your whole soul to me right now. I wasn’t asking for that the other day, either.”

“Some things are a bit heavy to bring up the first time seeing you after, how many years was it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yea, because hooking up was us really easing back into the friendship.”

The comment got a genuine smile out of him for a moment. He wasn’t expecting that from her, but maybe that was him forgetting that she changed over the years too. “What are we doing here, Lola?”

She shrugged. “Getting to know each other again, apparently. A little out of order,” she moved her hand from his arm to the side of his face, “but still.”

“You’re still a sap.”

She hummed in agreement as he leaned into her touch. “Apparently I’m not the only one.” She paused. “I’ve missed you.”

He brought his hand up, and he could see the relief in her body as he laced his fingers with hers. “Me too.”

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writing-wh0re · 3 years ago

Note

How would the twins hold the readers hand?

Headcannon time! Because I want to give you all something while working on longer projects.

Fuff / Implied smut(?)

Okay so,

I feel they would both love physical contact.

always wanting a hand on you at all times, both because they love you

but also because they want to show you off.

Happy you're on their arm.

They would both lace their fingers in yours.

Loving how soft your skin is against theirs.

How warm their hands always are.

Okay but George I feel would always place a kiss to your hand, every morning before kissing your lips.

George would also be the type to squeeze your hand in a secret code.

Three hand squeezes for 'I love you'

Two finger taps against the back of your palm for "Beautiful"

And dragging his thumb back and fourth against yours slowly, softly, teasingly for "I need you now".

George's hands would bring comfort to you, especially when you would walk the halls, having his hand in yours made being amongst a crowd that little bit easier.

Fred would be a little different to George.

Although he would have similar signals to George.

The three hand squeezes for 'I love you' would be the same.

His middle finger rubbing up and down against your palm would mean 'Bedroom.'

and a kiss to your hand would indicate 'gorgeous'

Fred would constantly hold you hand.

Especially in class.

At first it would of bugged you, definately when he would take your writing hand.

You could never get work done.

But Fred would love to draw on the back of your hand.

Different imaginary creatures.

Or new product ideas because lets be honest.

Fred would look at your hand more than his, so it would help him remember.

Either way, the twins would be obsessed with you.

Holding your hand would be the only appropriate way they could touch you in public.

It would also be a sign that they love you.

They need you.

They care for you.

I hope this is good enough and enjoyable! More coming soon x

\/\/

Everything Taglist:

@andreaareynoso

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@hufflepuff5972

@crazylokonugget

@meph1stophelian

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@hehehehannahthings

@dilf-lover21

@pandaxnienke

@gummybee12

@my-river-lilly

Add yourself! - Please message me if you want to be added to a specific character list!

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salazarslytherin · 3 years ago

Note

smutty baby blurb for sirius 🥰 with some fake fighting and pinning to the ground perhaps 🤔

please join my celebration <33

sirius black x genderneutral!reader <3 (i imply that reader is short? but not that short, in my mind sirius is like 5'11-6", so reader is just shorter than that.)

tw/cw: smut build-up, i guess? making out, safeword is in place!!

word count: 0.2k

🃛 masterlist!

tag list at the bottom ☯︎ join tag list here

"You're so small!"

"No, I'm not!!"

"I literally tower over you."

"You're not even that tall, dumbass. I could totally take you."

What was intended to be an empty threat came true as you launched at the man, tackling him down onto the ground. Your hands struggled to pin his down, the faint smirk on Sirius's face telling you that your stature posed no threat to him.

Your legs straddled Sirius's waist, but not a moment later, his hips bucked and you were flipped over. The man hovered above you as he stretched your arms above your head, pinning them down with ease.

"This isn't fair. That wasn't a fair fight!"

Your complaints were muffled by Sirius's lips pressing against yours, a chuckle slipping from his lips as you humphed at your boyfriend's antics.

Lips glided against yours as Sirius's legs nudged yours apart, your own moving up to wrap around his waist. Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt a hand fumbling with the hem of your shirt, Sirius's touch ghosting the skin of your waist, his tongue slipping between your lips.

Your hips ground up against his, swallowing his throaty groans as Sirius's free hand travelled up your torso, groping at your chest as he ground back down against you, cock hardening in his jeans.

"So," Sirius's lips detached from yours for a brief second, slightly breathless as his tongue teased his bottom lip, "Still think you can win now?"

Your lips quirked upwards as you stared at the man, feeling cocky despite your helplessness, trapped under Sirius's tight grip.

"You really think I'm a loser right now?"

taglist: @marvelslut16, @siriusbarnesslut, @marimorena06, @weasleysbitch2, @reg-arcturus-black, @themoonwithprophets, @moonys-gf, @quindolyn, @lilypad-55449, @kermiemoon, @jamespotterlover, @remoony1, @siriusblackwifeeey, @iamnibbsi, @azura-mist, @accio-remus-lupin, @tomriddle_whore, @greenlyblue, @lillsthoughts, @jeannelupinblack, @i-love-scott-mccall, @justadreamyhufflepuff, @shit-thats-true, @dorcasmeadowesx, @elenapatricia99, @90sgoldentrio, @itsmentalillness, @sprucewoodlover, @kiaslily, @daisyyy2516, @whoreforegeorgeandfred, @selenesheart, @i-wanna-b-yours, @teenwolfbitches28, @zzzfour, @secretsthathauntus, @victoriatori2006, @bberee, @dracosafety, @percyweasleyspuff, @remusjlupinisdead,

#ash's celebration <3 #mine #writing #baby blurbs #marauders #marauders era #harry potter imagine #marauders imagine #hp imagine #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black imagine #sirius black x y/n #sirius black angst #marauders smut #hp smut #harry potter smut #sirius black smut

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sterek-ao3feed-archive · 1 year ago

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the taken time

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51370435 by MagnusOpum Before Matt had access to a kanima, he had access to a fourteen year old Stilinski with poor self-esteem. OR To be perfectly honest, Stiles thinks soulmates were made for the precise purpose of fucking with him - and not in a nice way. Words: 2896, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Matt Daehler, Erica Reyes Relationships: Matt Daehler/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Matt Daehler Being an Asshole, Creepy Matt Daehler, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Age Difference, No Underage Sex, No Smut, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Softie, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Pre-Canon, Teen Wolf (TV) Season 1, Dysfunctional Relationships, One Shot, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51370435

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #IFTTT #ao3feed #ao3feed Sterek #fanfic

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asterekmess · 3 years ago

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I can’t sleep, thank you insomnia. Do you have any sterek fics you absolutely love and read when you’re having a bad day??

I do! The catch: They're pretty much all my own fics. XD I just find my own stuff so familiar, and since it's mine, it's always to my taste. There ARE a couple that aren't mine though, so I'll try to give you a lil list:

1. Lock All the Doors Behind You - @entanglednow Rating: Mature WC: 25.9k Tags: Feral Behavior, Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Protectiveness, Hurt/Comfort Summary: He has no idea what you're supposed to say when you find one of your...werewolf acquaintances, completely out of their mind, growling like they're about to see what your insides taste like. There's no handbook for this. Stiles is thinking that if he survives he might write one. My notes: I know that this one is very commonly suggested, and I can't even say why I read it on off-days, but I do read it. Rereading fics isn't something I usually do, unless they're mine, but this one just has...I don't even know. There's a certain level of respect Stiles has for Derek that I appreciate, even though there's also plenty of teasing? 2. Too Long To the Weekend - @dizzyredhead Rating: Explicit WC: 5.2k Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut Summary: When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up. My Notes: This one is short, sweet, and it's just a lighthearted, fluffy piece that doesn't make me feel too much, you know? It's not super intense, it's just a gentle, nice experience. 3. Why Can't You? - Me Rating: Teen & Up WC: 3.6k Tags: Family Feels, Hurt Stiles, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Pre-Slash, Mentioned Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, but it was an accident, Magical Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, One Shot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sheriff Stilinski Doesn't Know. Canon-Typical Violence Summary:

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

My notes: I like rereading this one because of the comfort, because it's nice to see Stiles feel raw and vulnerable, and to have Derek soothe that somehow, even if it's just by being near him. 4. The One You Choose - Me Rating: Mature WC: 13.4k Tags: Post-Season/Series 03B, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depressed Stiles Stilinski, Touch-Starved Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, Derek Hale is a Softie, Sharing a Bed, Nightmares, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Beta Derek Hale, True Alpha Derek Hale, Frottage, Scent Marking, Scenting, Stiles is a Year Older Than Scott, because I said so, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, I have too many tags, Mentioned Sheriff Stilinski Summary: Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours. My Notes: Again, with the liking the comfort. Having someone's hurts soothed always kinda soothes my own hurts. 5. Easy - Me Rating: Explicit WC: 3.1k Tags: Getting Together, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Morning Sex, Blow Jobs, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Stiles Stilinski is Good at Feelings, One Shot, I've never done a one shot before, I don't know what other tags to add Summary: A late night visit is nothing unusual, but something is different about this one. My Notes: This is another one that's not too intense, it's just gentle and soft. 6. All Roads Lead To Home - Me Rating: Mature WC: 42.7k Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - High School, Growing Up, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Minor Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Minor Derek Hale/Paige, Minor Derek Hale/Heather, Minor Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Mentioned Braeden/Derek Hale, mentioned Derek Hale/Jordan Parrish, mentioned Derek Hale/others, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Warning: Kate Argent, Abusive Relationships, Bad Parent Talia Hale, Good Peter Hale, Aromantic Isaac Lahey, Demisexual Stiles Stilinski, Bisexual Derek Hale, Minor Allison Argent/Malia Tate, so much swearing, Literally everyone cries at least once, lesbian Allison Argent, Miscommunication, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski Summary: Stiles Stilinski moved to Beacon Hills in the fifth grade, ten years old and still raw from his mother’s death. My Notes: This one is longer, and it's got a bit more of a growing up, rollercoaster type feelings thing. Has some sad bits for a chance at borrowing the catharsis, and some happy bits that soothe the ache, plus some nostalgia layered over top. Again, I know how it sounds, that I mostly just reread my own works on bad days, but eh, it works for me. I hope one of these might make you feel better, and that you can get some sleep!

#personal #go for it #fic talk #fic rec

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sterek-ao3feed · 7 months ago

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Sweet As Honey, Bee

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54953245

by JenCollins

Stiles and Derek still have a lot to navigate through in their fresh relationship, but both are ready for the hard work. aka Babies getting their happily ever after. Part two of “ One Drop Of Darkness, Please”

Words: 10183, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Honeycake

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Idiots in Love, Eventual Smut, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Minor Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Flashbacks, Post-Nogitsune Arc (Teen Wolf), Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Nightmares, mention of past Void Stiles, Implied/Referenced Torture, Not Stiles he did it whole being Void, getting better, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Working Through Problems, Happy Ending

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54953245

#Sterek #Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale #Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski #ao3feed Sterek #ao3feed #fanfic

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drabbles-mc · 3 years ago

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You Should Probably Leave

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ like this whole blog, alcohol, mentions of blood/injuries, implied smut (nothing explicit), light angst

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Alright so I’ve been wanting to write a fic for Bishop inspired by You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton for soooo long now. And maybe I should’ve been working on requests or WIPs but instead I finally sat down and got this out and I feel so much better for it. I’m soft for Bish and Chris Stapleton’s music always puts me in my feelings. Hope y’all enjoy!

Bishop Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @kelpies-shed @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @lilah1903 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @just1bri @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow @beardsanddetectives @bruxasolta @buckybarneshairpullingkink @i-love-scott-mccall @withmyteeth (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

“Thanks again for this, querida,” he tried not to stare at you as you stitched up the gash just above his collarbone.

You shook your head, “You know me, Bish, I never say no to patching any of you up.”

Despite the gloves you were wearing, Bishop could feel the warmth emanating from your hands as you pressed against him. Both of you were trying to keep your minds focused on anything but what they wanted to be. Bishop tried to remind himself that the only reason you were in his house to begin with, the only reason your hands were on him, was because he called and needed your help. No matter where the two of you ever stood, you’d never turned your back on him or the club. Some days you showed up more begrudgingly than others, but you always showed.

And you tried to stay focused on the task at hand. You tried not to think about the hard planes of muscle beneath your palms and fingertips. The fact that Bishop was sat on the edge of his coffee table in a snug black tank top only served to try and distract you, and it was effective whether that was his intention or not. With each breath that he took, you felt not only the steady thrum of his heartbeat, but also the rise and fall of his chest. Pressing your lips together, you willed yourself to focus. Even though your eyes were trained on your stitching, you could still feel it when he was staring at you. A gaze that heavy never went unnoticed.

Despite the fact that neither of you were a fan of the circumstances, there was something familiar about the whole situation. It felt almost ritualistic in a way. Both of you were covered in a shroud of quiet complacency as you kept going about your work. Every now and then you’d notice his hand twitch, or a brief, sharp inhale if you pricked a particularly sensitive patch of skin. You’d stopped apologizing for it a long time ago, though.

“Alright,” you nodded, sitting back and rolling out your neck, “you should be good to go, now. Just, you know, don’t get stabbed there again until the stitches heal up.”

He chuckled as he tried his best to look down and get a good look at your work, “You’re an angel.”

“Something like that,” you shot him a smirk as you peeled your gloves off, immediately balling them up and throwing them in the small garbage can you’d pulled over.

There were a few moments of silence between you. They weren’t awkward—things were long past being awkward with Bishop. But there was a certain kind of pressure in the air that you never knew how to react to. Far too many possibly’s and maybe’s lingered between you if neither of you provided the next move.

Running your palms down the denim that covered your thighs, you let out a sigh, “If you’re good, I should probably just get going. I got—”

“Least stay for a drink.”

“Bish…” you shot him a knowing look.

“You don’t let me pay you,” he stood up, adjusting his top and jeans, “At least drink my wine,” the look in his eyes said everything his mouth didn’t—it’s really yours anyway.

Taking a deep breath, lying to yourself for a moment and pretending that you had the resolve to say no to him and your favorite bottle that was tucked away in the top cabinet. Your eyes dropped down to the floor for a moment before you looked back up at him again and nodded, “Fine. One drink,” you stood up, “But you gotta go change. I don’t want to smell your blood while I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “Alright,” he started making his way towards the hall that led to his room as you walked towards the kitchen. He watched you, “It’s on the—”

“I know,” you cut him off, not even bothering to spare him a glance. You heard his quiet laughter as it faded with him walking farther down the hall.

When he came back out, you saw that he’d swapped out the tank top for an equally snug black crewneck t-shirt. No blood, no stitches in sight. If it weren’t for the bruising on his knuckles and his cheekbone, you’d forget what drew you here in the first place.

He noticed that while you’d poured yourself a generous glass, you hadn’t drank any yet—there were no lipstick stains on the edge of the glass. It didn’t escape his attention that you’d also poured him a glass of whiskey and set it at the chair opposite from you at the small table in his kitchen. With a soft smile curling the ends of his mouth, he pulled out the chair and sat down across from you. It wasn’t until he reached and took his glass in his hand, raising it slightly in your direction, that you mirrored the gesture and took a sip.

After a few beats of quiet, you asked, “So, how are the kids?”

He let out a soft chuckle at the way you referred to the men in his club, “The kids are good.”

“Any of them need patching up tonight too?”

“Wouldn’t have offered you a drink if they did,” he quipped.

You laughed, nodding, “I guess not.”

You saw the way his lips twitched slightly, like he was trying to stop himself from saying something. It was hard not to slip back into the familiarity of it all. Denying yourselves one of the few creature comforts the world had left to offer either of you wasn’t easy, and neither of you were good at it. He knew that he shouldn’t tell you what was going on, that not only was it not your business but it could end up actively working against both of you down the road. And yet, you were there, sitting across the table from him, wine glass delicately grasped between your fingers, and he wasn’t strong enough to fight the urge to let you in.

“What’s on your mind, Obispo?”

The softness that cradled his name as you said it stripped away the very last of his resolve. He was barely a sip into his drink but he started spilling his guts like he was a handle deep. Very rarely did his eyes ever lift from the glass clutched in his hand, or the wood grain of the table. But when he did look at you, you could see the silent plea for acceptance in his eyes. He had no right to put everything on you, and he knew that, but you also asked. And you stayed, and you reassured him in the brief pauses. Some things never changed.

The glasses were empty, and the stories were all wrapped up. You were sat with one foot on the floor, the other resting on the edge of the seat of your chair as you hugged your leg closer to your chest. Your chin rested on your knee as you held your empty wine glass in your hand. Despite the residual exhaustion on his face, you could see that he felt better. Everyone needs someone to talk to, and you knew that his list of people was short and only growing shorter. He did it to himself, but it didn’t mean that you had it in you to turn him away when he needed it.

His eyes were on you now, but you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze the same way you used to. You inhaled deeply, but only a few words fell from your lips, “You gonna be alright, Bishop?”

He found comfort in the way you held his stare. There was a beat of silence before he nodded, “Always am, hermosa.”

You chuckled as you reached forward and set your glass back on the table. Bishop Losa, a never-ending supply of charm. You lingered in your seat for a moment, knowing you had to call it a night but wanting to soak up a few extra seconds of sitting at the table with him.

Finally, you let your other foot drop to the floor before standing from your seat, “Call me if anything happens with the stitches, okay?” you gestured towards his chest.

He stood up, trailing behind you as you walked towards the front door, “And if nothing happens?”

Your hand was wrapped around the doorknob as you turned around to face him, already knowing how close he was before you turned, “Then call next time you need fresh ones,” with your other hand, you reached up and cupped the side of his face, the pad of your thumb ghosting over the darkening bruises on his cheek, “Take care of yourself, Bishop. For me, at least.”

He leaned in closer, his hand reaching over your shoulder so that his palm was braced flat against the door, serving not only to close the gap between you, but to keep the door shut underneath his weight, “This is me taking care of myself.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Get better at it, then,” you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the cheek with fewer bruises, leaving a smudge of lipstick behind that made you smile, “Goodnight.” You turned the doorknob and attempted to pull it open, but had no success. You sighed, looking at Bishop as you waited for him to either say something, or let his weight off of the door. When he did neither, you spoke up first, “I should go.”

“Maybe,” his shrug was noncommittal.

“Bishop,” you leaned your head back against the door as you looked at him, “don’t do this.”

“Don’t go,” his tone wasn’t pleading, it was almost a dare if anything.

You’d never been one to back down from a dare, “We shouldn’t do…this,” you had no idea what to call it anymore.

“It doesn’t have to be this.”

“No?” you chuckled, but you could feel yourself being convinced to stay despite the fact that the right thing, the smart thing, was to yank the door open and leave.

“No,” he didn’t offer you a chance to further the argument as he leaned in and kissed you, pressing you back flat against the door.

He tasted like whiskey and in such close quarters smelled like clean clothes and lingering traces of smoke. You all but melted into him, any thought of trying to fight him on it, trying to do the sensible thing went straight out the window when you felt the weight of his body against yours.

It should’ve felt messy but it didn’t—it felt familiar and safe. All of the should-haves became inconsequential as you melded in between him and the welcoming softness of his mattress. His hands roamed your body, tracing over curves like backroads he’d traveled countless times. Beneath the initial layer of desperation, there was comfort in his movements, in the way that you fit together. And maybe it shouldn’t have still been that way, but it was, and you weren’t in any position to fight it. His calloused hands were so soft with you, even when he was holding you close.

You tried to afford him the same gentleness. The only marks you were leaving behind were from smudged lipstick, and a few faint red trails down his back. You minded the fresh stitches, not wanting to be the cause of any more pain. You wrapped yourself around him, trying to keep him as close as possible. The feeling of his stubble against your neck, his breath hot against your skin, the feeling of being tangled up all felt so natural. You reveled in every single word of praise, soaked up every adoring name that fell from his lips even though you knew that you shouldn’t. The regret and reminiscing could wait until morning.

You were tucked against his chest, each of you trying to catch your breath. The thudding of his heart felt like the pounding of a drum against your cheek, a fast rhythm you could lose yourself in so easily if you let yourself.

“You should stay,” he beat you to the punch, not allowing you the chance to try and leave again.

You were too tired for that anyway, so you relaxed against him a little more as your eyes drifted shut, “I guess I can stay.”

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was filtering in through the thin, flimsy curtains of Bishop’s bedroom. The warmth of being beneath the blankets, and the body heat shared between you and the man almost made you want to fall back to sleep. Blinking yourself awake, you found that he was lying on his side, facing you, already awake and watching you.

An exhausted smile crossed your features as you took him in, “Creep.”

He chuckled, “Not my fault you sleep late.”

“Late?” you groped around blindly for your phone under the pillow but came up with nothing.

“It’s not that late, querida,” his smile was soft.

You sighed, giving yourself a full-body stretch before forcing yourself to sit upright. Wrapping the blanket around yourself felt silly in light of, well, everything, but you still did it. Running your hands down your face, you leaned over the edge of the bed to grab your bra and shirt off the floor.

Even though you felt him watching you, you didn’t look back over your shoulder at him. It was so easy in these moments to forget how messy things used to be. The look that you were sure was in his eyes wouldn’t make it any easier to keep that history in mind and get yourself out the door in a timely fashion. The less distractions you allowed yourself, the better.

Slipping into your bra, you finally looked over at him and offered up a sympathetic smile, “I should probably—”

“I know,” he wasn’t angry, or even sad. There was a certain resignation to his tone, a pitch you’d gotten to know over the passing months.

Swinging your legs off the edge, you stood up and started getting the rest of your clothes on. Your shirt covered the dark marks scattered across your chest from the night before, but you still felt the heat rising in your face knowing that they were there. Shimmying into your jeans first thing in the morning was the last thing you wanted to be doing, but you had comfier clothes waiting for you at your house. Home.

Bishop made no move to get out of the bed. He still watched you, though, his eyes tracing every move you made. You ignored the tiny hint of sadness in his features. Walking around to his side of the bed, you braced one hand on the edge of the mattress. Leaning in, you used your other hand to lightly trail over the stitches you’d given him not even twelve hours before.

“Careful with these, okay?”

He nodded, “Of course.”

You kissed his cheek, cupping his face for all of a moment, “Careful with this, too.”

He chuckled, exhaustion settling back into his expression where peace had once been, “Thanks, querida.”

“I’ll see you, Bish,” you flashed him one more smile before scooping your shoes up off the floor and making your way out of his bedroom.

He watched as you passed through the threshold, saying the words regardless of the fact that you were too far away to hear them, “I’ll see you,” the only response he got was about a minute later when he heard the sound of his front door closing behind you.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #bishop losa #obispo losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x you #obispo losa x reader #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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