First Of All - Happy New Year To All 4 Of My Lovely Followers.

First of all - Happy New Year to all 4 of my lovely followers.

Second - I am starting fresh and making it my new year’s resolution to not only like posts on tumblr, but also to reblog them so others might have the pleasure of enjoying them as well. 

Last night I read a post and the comments asking readers and people who browse and enjoy original and fan art to try and take the time to not only click the like button but to reblog them as well. While I did find the tone of the post to be quite confrontational, after a night of rest and some thinking - plus looking back and realising that I have only commented on maybe 50 fics on A03 in the entire time I have been using the site that maybe a little effort on my part wouldn’t go astray. 

So my resolution is to interact more with writers and artists when I enjoy their work. I cannot guarantee that I will be successful, but I am willing to try.

Over 1k, fuck yeah! My prompt word is sleep. Because sleepy and peaceful Sterek is very important to me.

“Sleep” for my 1k prompt event!

“Sleep bad,” Stiles insists, stumbling on his feet and clumsily yanking at his tie. “Sex good!”

“Sleep good, too,” Derek counters, shoving Stiles gently back onto the hotel bed and kneeling to strip his shoes, dress pants and socks off. Well, at least they’re on the same page about getting naked.

But when Stiles finally struggles out of his shirt and makes a grab for Derek’s boxers, he is rudely diverted by the covers being tugged up around him, and then Derek is tucking them both in.

“It’s been a long day,” he coaxes. “We’re both exhausted. It’s okay, let’s just sleep.”

Stiles pouts. “No-o, we can’t! I had plans! Was gonna be-” he has to break off to yawn. The sheets and puffy white mountains of comforter feel warm and nice… really nice, like… clouds or something… only, no. None of that! He forces his eyes back open, because he can almost feel Derek’s ‘I was right’ smirk. “Epic! It was - is going to be epic.”

“Hmm,” Derek says incredulously. “I don’t know about you, but I am not up for epic anything right now.”

Stiles sighs. “This is why they tell you to fuck beforehand, isn’t it?”

“Which we did,” Derek reminds him wryly, clicking the lights off.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles admits. “But I wouldn’t-” he muffles another yawn- “wouldn’t mind a second round.” He rubs up against Derek’s side, crotch first, and it’s supposed to be hot and sexy… but from Derek’s chuckle, it reads more as adorable, puppy-puddle cuddling.

“How about tomorrow before the brunch?” Derek offers. He noses into the side of Stiles’ neck, scenting him. God, Stiles loves it when he does that, the hint of instinctual possessiveness that he’s more often so careful to hide.

Not that Stiles doesn’t love that too, how he’s usually so thoughtful and thorough, like when he goes down on Stiles and seems to catalog each reaction for future use, looking up through his dark lashes to make eye contact as he does that one thing with his lips…

“Nooowww,” Stiles whines, wriggling against Derek’s thigh. “It’s bad luck if we don’t! You have werewolf stamina, you can do the work. I’ll just lay here and enjoy. We can put a pillow under my hips or something.”

“Ah yes, you make it sound so appealing,” Derek says, but he strokes Stiles’ side as if he’s considering.

“Haha, jokes on you,” Stiles says, letting his heavy eyelids droop closed as he enjoys the lazy contact. “Sex with me is always appealing. Or is bed death already setting in?”

“Don’t think a lack of passion is gonna be our problem,” Derek says into Stiles ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down Stiles spine even before he nips his earlobe. Stiles’ breath catches, and he turns into Derek’s mouth for a sloppy, awkwardly angled kiss.

And then, just as he’s getting into it, he’s manhandled onto his side and his back is snugged firmly against Derek’s tummy and chest.

“Sleep,” Derek insists again.

“Fine,” Stiles says, or tries to. It comes out as another huge yawn. His limbs feel pleasantly heavy from all the dancing, his head muzzy with the buzz from all the champagne toasts.

“Wake you up with a blowjob tomorrow,” Derek offers, sounding moments from dozing off himself.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs happily, rubbing his face into the downy pillow. Sleep, actually, good after all. He threads his fingers through Derek’s to pull his arm tighter around his chest, and the last thing he notices as he sinks into dreams is the unfamiliar feeling of their new rings pressing into each other.

Five word prompts: "but did you do it?" Or "here's a glass of whatever" for sterek? there are so many good ones in that list omg.

[I went with ‘here’s a glass of whatever’]

-

It wasn’tvery hard to get the address. Scott sent him many threateningmessages but he’s still a romantic at heart, and even though Derekdoubts it’s going to be easy,he can’t help but feel hopeful. Heshould have texted Stiles weeks ago but it was hard to understand hisfeelings, to overcome the fear of messing things up, ruining atentative friendship by following his heart.

Inthe end though, his heart wins. It just hurts too much staying away,only dreaming and hoping. He’s just tired of being alone.

–

Theshop smells like cake, coffee and Stiles.It’s overwhelming and Derek almost walks away but when he sees Stileslooking directly at him, eyes wide and mouth open, he realizes hedoesn’t want to leave.He wants to keep this, him,for as long as he can.

Hesits at the nearest table, hands shaking. He takes a deep breath andtries to calm himself. Don’t mess this up,he keeps thinking.

Whenhe looks up, Stiles is walking towards him, his face showing nothing.Yeah, this is not going to be easy.

“Hello.”Stiles says, perhaps a little too cheery. “How can I help youtoday?”

“Stiles–”

“Here’sthe menu.” Stiles keeps talking, dropping the paper on the table.Before Derek can even look down, Stiles is snatching it back. “So?Have you chosen?”

“Whatever.”Derek blurts out. “I don’t care, just – can we talk?” His handsare itching to take Stiles’, now that they’re here he’s desperate totouch, to hold and keep. He’s trying not to make a scene, though,he’s pretty sure if he dared to reach out Stiles would dump themilkshake he’s holding in one hand on his head. And even if Derekdoesn’t actually care about what people think of him, this is Stiles’work. He’s trying to apologize, not ruin Stiles’ life.

“I’llbe right back with your order.” Stiles turns around.

Dereklets out a breath. Yeah, this won’t be easy. At all.

–

Thecoffee shop is practically empty, save from Derek and two other girlssitting on the table across from him. They keep giggling andpretending they are not watching his every move. Derek rolls hiseyes, too busy watching Stiles discuss something with his co-worker to pay attention to them.

Whenhe finally walks towards Derek again, Derek sits straighter. “Hey.”He goes for a smile. “Can we –”

“Here’sa glass of whatever.” Stiles says, placing the glass on the table,it shakes and spills water everywhere. “And your ‘I don’t care’cake.” Derek closes his eyes. Fuck, why Stiles has to make thingsso impossible. “MayI offer you our special of the day? It’s called 'fuck you'”.Stiles’ co-worker gasps and the girls from the next table stopgiggling immediately. “I hope you enjoy your cake, sir.” Hesays. “And never come back, thank you.” He fakes a smile andturns around again.

Keep reading

Creator: Michicant123 Type of Work: digital drawing Title: Ugly Sweater  Summary: Stiles wears his favorite Christmas sweater just for Derek.

I just love the expression on Stiles face in the redraw. It’s perfect.

redraw screenshot TEENWOLF

i just needed dispatcher!derek and stiles calling into the sheriff’s dept to talk to the dispatcher bc he was lonely, and subsequently, falling for derek’s voice.

*

“Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department,” an unfamiliar male voice answers. Stiles pulls the cell phone away from his ear and stares at it like he accidentally dialed the wrong number. “Hello?” The man’s voice is annoyed, and then the line goes dead.

Stiles hits redial immediately. “Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department,” the same voice says, more annoyed than before.

“You’re not Edna,” Stiles says. “Edna’s the evening dispatcher, where’s Edna?”

“Who’s this?”

“Stiles Stilinski. The better question is, who are you?”

“Derek Hale.”

“My dad doesn’t work with a Derek Hale. I know everyone who works in that department, and I’d remember a Derek Hale.”

“You’re the sheriff’s son?” Derek asks.

Stiles grins, despite the fact that he’s on the phone. “So, you’ve heard of me?”

“I wouldn’t be proud of that fact.”

Stiles huffs and hangs up.

*

The next night, he calls again. The same Derek Hale answers the phone.

“Where is Edna?”

“She’s out of town for awhile.”

“So, you’re a temp?”

“I’m a deputy.”

Stiles frowns. “I don’t remember seeing you around.”

“I’m new. Is there anything I can actually help you with?” Derek’s irritation is evident through the line.

“No.”

This time, Derek hangs up.

*

Stiles calls two nights later, and ignores the way his stomach flips when Derek’s voice comes over the line. “What are you doing?”

Derek sighs. “What do you want, Stiles?”

“Edna used to read me the word from her word of the day calendar.” Derek remains silent. “Well? What’s the word? Unless you rearranged her desk.”

There’s some shuffling on the other line. “Suidefenestration. It means – “

“To kill yourself by throwing yourself out of a window.”

Derek grunts. “How did you know that?”

“Uh, duh? I took Latin as an undergrad, four years. I learned a word or two. Did you not know what it meant?”

“I thought you were in high school.”

“Grad school, dude.” Stiles laughs, and hangs up.

*

The next time Stiles calls, he opens with, “Has my dad been eating donuts? Because either it’s that, he somehow got freaky with a chalkboard, or he’s becoming a coke addict. I’m not sure which is more disturbing.”

“I don’t spend my time monitoring the Sheriff’s diet.” Derek doesn’t bother to sound polite or nice. Stiles thinks that maybe he should complain and that the BHSD should hire a better dispatcher. But Stiles is too selfish for that.

“Go look in his office.”

“I’m not going to snoop in my superior’s office!”

“Please,” Stiles begs. “Derek, pleasepleaseplease.”

“How old are you again? Grad school, really?”

“You’re just sad that you’re not this awesome.”

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

*

Keep reading