stiles-mischief-stillinski - Tumblr blog

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 3 years

Text

For @emmmna who asked me for something to cheer them up. I went through my blog looking at fluffy otp prompts and found this: “‘Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!’ the teacher says, and you turn to me and wink. Are you even real??” au. I wrote it rather quickly but I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart!

Derek is a popular kid, and by law (according to every teen movie ever made) his brand of popular is not supposed to get this dumbstruck when the guy who once sneezed on his apple the first day of pre-school winks at him in the middle of Biology.

Derek doesn’t know what it is about Stiles Stilinski but he drives him insane– standing by his locker, talking to that McCall kid in class, sitting on the bench, fidgeting at lacrosse games. One moment Derek is a perfectly normal teenage boy with a perfectly functioning teenage brain and the next he’s that guy in a romantic comedy; all the lights dim and it’s just him, Stiles and whatever bizarre thing Stiles is doing. It’s horribly, wonderfully unsettling and Derek is 95% sure he’s in some kind of love. (He is still a little disturbed Erica had to physically drag him away last week when his eyes refused to stop looking as Stiles tried and failed to lick some kind of sauce – meat, Derek thinks it was – from his elbow.)

“What?” he asks, blinking, trying to look up at Stiles’ face. Unfortunately, his brain has other plans and he continues to remain fixated on the way Stiles is holding his pencil, twirling it between his fingers. He wonders, briefly, what they would feel like laced between his fingers or running through his hair before immediately stopping because no. Stiles also makes him want to bash his head against the wall 75% of the time. He’s a lethal combination.

Lethal.

“I said I’d like a fall wedding. They seem to be quite popular for some reason. Maybe it’s all the pretty leaves.”

Derek blinks again, suddenly struck by the image of Stiles in a suit surrounded by crisp, golden leaves to match his eyes. It’s a strangely lovely image and turning away a little, he scowls at the way his stomach flutters. He’s seventeen for Christ’s sake. He’s only kissed one person: Paige Krasikeva during a game of truth or dare. “You know Miss Byrne was kidding when she said we’d all get married, right? We’re not going to fall in love just because we got seated together in one class together.”

Derek hopes it will be just one class, anyway. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the year otherwise. At least, his grades won’t.

“That’s what you think.” Derek feels his scowl deepen and Stiles throws his head back, sighing. “Yes, buzz kill, I do actually know what a joke is, thank you very much.” He blushes a little, ducking his head, and Derek instantly feels bad.

“I, uh…”

“Dude, look. It’s fine. Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, offend you or whatever.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

Stiles snorts. “Uh-huh. You moved your chair the moment you sat down next to me. I get it, it’s fine. I’ll shut up, I promise.” He mimes zipping his lips, blush deepening, and his eyes zero in on his textbook but Derek can tell he’s not taking in a word of it, even as he turns the page.

Opening his note book, Derek cringes, writing down the date. He looks to the clock. He’s got another thirty minutes of sitting here with Stiles.

Twenty-nine, he swallows.

Twenty-eight, sneaking a glance at him.

Twenty-seven: “I’m sure you’d make a beautiful bridegroom.”

Stiles’ head snaps up and he drops his pencil. They both watch it roll away. “What?”

Derek wants to slap himself. Of all the things he could have said, of all the fucking things, who the fuck says…that?

“I, erm-”

“You don’t have to mock me, you know,” Stiles hisses, defensive, embarrassed. “I get it. You’re the basketball captain and I’m on the bleachers. You don’t belong with me, whatever.”

Derek bites his lip, supressing a smirk. “Did you…did you just paraphrase Taylor Swift to me?”

Stiles’ cheeks colour again and Derek’s breath hitches. Fuck, he’s never going to tire of that.

“You knew I was paraphrasing Taylor Swift?”

They both burst out laughing at the same time, earning them a scowl from Miss Byrne and a guffaw from the back of the room. Turning, Derek catches Lydia Martin roll her eyes at them before shooting Stiles a knowing look. When he turns back around, Stiles is an even brighter shade of red, if that’s even possible, mouthing something to her. It’s utterly, utterly endearing and Derek kind of wants to do something stupid, like hold Stiles’ hand or draw hearts all over his notebook.

“You know,” he whispers, after a moment, feeling brave, “I’ve still never forgiven you for sneezing on my apple. Maybe you could buy me a new one, after school.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “That one is on you, buddy. Who actually brings an apple to give to their teacher on the first day of school anyway?”

It’s Derek’s turn to blush. Dammit. “Oh, I don’t know. People with manners?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s…the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god, but it is.”

“Are you going to buy me another one or not?” Derek asks, rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. God, what is wrong with him.

Grinning, Stiles reaches into his bag, presenting him with a –

“I don’t know what kind of apples you eat but that is an orange.”

Stiles curses, scratching the back of his neck, and Derek just about falls out of his seat with how tingly he feels looking at him.

He desperately hopes he’s not giving him heart eyes.

“Points for trying?” Stiles grins, hopeful.

Derek pretends to consider him before taking the orange and beginning to peel it. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If marrying me includes a date after school today.”

In the end, it’s Stiles who falls out of his seat, and Derek can’t stop grinning for the rest of the day thinking about it.

Pick you up at 6? comes a text the moment he sits down in History. Erica peeks over his shoulder, trying to pry as usual, but Derek hides his phone, heart pounding as he replies, I help coach the pee wee basketball team until seven. Pick me up then?

So. Darn. Cute, Stiles texts back.

“Derek…are you – are you blushing? Oh my god, you never blush. Who was that? Was that Stilinski?”

“Shut up, Erica.”

Stiles ends up taking him to an apple orchard and buys him exactly one hundred and one apples.

“One hundred and one apples for forever and a day?” he asks, winking. Derek’s stomach flips.

“Sure,” Derek says, shaking his head fondly, biting into one and then, because Stiles bought him several different kinds, another.

“Forever and a day?” Stiles asks, fourteen years later, holding out an apple. It’s cut in half and getting down on one knee he opens it carefully, like a box. Inside is a ring.

“Sure,” Derek whispers, grinning so hard it hurts, falling to his knees and burying his face in Stiles’ neck to hide his blush.

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

Stiles laughs. “Fair enough.”

#this was ridiculously cute #i love it #stiles stilisnki #derek hale #sterek

2K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 4 years

Photo

idk why you guys told me not to watch this show, this is peak fucking comedy

4K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 4 years

Photo

#sign me up for this #stiles stilisnki #lydia martin #sibling au

20K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 4 years

Photo

TEEN WOOF by Madeline Hrybyk

(watch it. i’m serious)

15K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 4 years

Photo

All we do is drive. All we do is think about the feelings that we hide, All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign. Sick and full of pride, All we do is drive // And California never felt like home to me, and California never felt like home. And California never felt like home to me Until I had you on the open road. [x]

#stiles #derek #sterek

5K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 5 years

Text

Purple

The result of one of my and sandflyfever’s typical conversations that somehow always seem to end up as all-caps Sterek AUs.

Stiles can pinpoint the exact moment that Derek’s hair starting turning purple. It wasn’t a strange thing in itself; everyone’s hair changes color with their mood. The colors are different for every person: for some people red means happy, for others red might mean terribly sad.

At this point, Stiles has known Derek for long enough that he can decipher most of his hair moods-red when Derek is content (Stiles has rarely seen that one, but he’s caught Derek quietly reading in his loft a few times with red hair so bright it looked like a traffic light), blue when he’s mad (Stiles has seen that color a lot), and yellow when he’s annoyed (that color seems to occur a lot in Stiles’ presence). The purple hair, however,showed up with no warning or explanation.

Stiles had been making a pot of coffee in the loft kitchen while Derek and the rest of the pack were in the living room discussing an upcoming training session. He’d poured himself a cup, and seeing that there was enough liquid in the pot for another, poured a second and carried it into the living room with him.

Noticing how tired Derek looked that day, Stiles casually handed Derek the mug as he passed by. A few moments later, Derek’s hair turned purple.

Stiles had been startled, staring at Derek’s hair for a moment with a dazed expression on his face. He recovered quickly though, averted his eyes, and kept quiet. You can’t just ask someone about their hair color, after all-especially not Derek, who is emotionally closed off as it is.

Stiles didn’t think he’d see the purple hair again for a while, thought maybe it was an anomaly, but it made another appearance only a few days later.

Stiles had been at Derek’s loft again, waiting for Scott to stop playing chess with Isaac so he could give him a ride home. Much to Stiles’s dismay, Derek was sitting on the couch watching some boring house renovation show, at a time when Stiles knew for a fact that there was a Star Wars marathon on. So Stiles had tried to subtly grab the remote and change the channel before Derek could notice.

Except that when Stiles grabbed the remote he completely fumbled it, flailing around wildly in attempt to grab it before it crashed to the floor. He tripped over the coffee table an fell to the ground, bringing both the remote and a glass of water that had been on the table down with him.

He lay there for a moment with his limbs splayed, shirt rucked up above his stomach, and water dripping onto his face before slowly bringing himself to a sitting position. He looked up, face flushed with embarrassment, only to see that Derek’s hair was purple again. Stiles silently handed Derek the remote and didn’t try changing the channel again.

The purple hair became more and more frequent over the next few weeks-until it became present all the time. Or at least, every time Stiles saw him. Not knowing the meaning of it was driving Stiles crazy, so one night he makes the executive decision to do some detective work and figure it out.

He almost feels kind of shady about prying into Derek’s feelings, but somehow manages to convince himself that it’s for the good of the pack. A pack should be in tune with each other’s emotions after all, right?

He starts with Scott.

“So,” he says casually, as he and Scott battle each other in Halo on Stiles’ bedroom floor. “Have you noticed that Derek’s looking a little…purple, lately?”

Scott doesn’t turn away from the game, but answers him quickly. “Yeah, but…I’m not about to ask him about it, you know?”

“Well, duh,” Stiles responds. “But, what do you think it means?”

“I don’t know,” Scott admits. “Maybe he’s, like, going through something.”

“But it’s purple all the time,” Stiles presses.

Scott shakes his head in Stiles’ periphery. “No, man, I think it only happens in group situations. Like I’ve seen him alone and it’s never been purple, but when we’re all there…bright purple.”

“Huh,” Stiles says, filing the information away to process just before Scott’s hair turns a proud shade of magenta as he defeats him in the game.

Stiles tries Lydia next. Then Isaac. Then Allison.

All three of them give similar versions of the same theory. Derek’s hair is purple at pack meetings, but falls back into one of his usual colors when he’s one-one-one with someone. Stiles chalks it up to some kind of group anxiety, or maybe even something positive like pack pride, and plans to never think about it again.

Until he runs into Derek at the grocery store a few days later.

Stiles sees Derek standing in front of the bacon section, hair his usual mellow black as he surveys the selection. Grinning, Stiles subtly approaches him and immediately begins to tease him when he reaches his side.

“Are you sure you should be buying bacon? You might want to start thinking about watching your weight, buddy, you’re getting a little tubby,” he jokes, picking up a pack of bacon and glancing over at Derek.

Derek’s face looks startled at first, before it quickly falls into a scowl as his hair turns….purple. Again.

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek seethes.

Surprised, Stiles shoves the bacon back onto the shelf. “Dude, I was just joking,” he says sheepishly. “Clearly you don’t need to…have you seen your abs lately? Not that I have, actually, now that I think about it, so I guess technically you could be getting tubby and I wouldn’t know…” Derek’s glare intensifies, his hair turning an even deeper shade of purple, and Stiles starts backing away slowly.

“You’re such a jackass,” Derek says. “My abs aren’t a problem. You know what is a problem? You interrupting my grocery shopping with your endless babbling.”

Stiles nods, moving away because the pieces of the puzzle are all falling into place. Clearly Derek’s purple hair is a reaction to Stiles-since it’s only showing up up here, where they’re alone, and at pack meetings, where Stiles always is. And judging by the current look on Derek’s face, the purple color is not a positive reaction to Stiles’ presence.

“Fine. I’ll just…get out of your hair.” Stiles says, cringing at his unintentional pun before fleeing the scene.

Stiles’ mind reels as he crosses the grocery store. It was clear to him that Derek’s purple hair represented a deeper level of annoyance than his usual yellow. It was glaringly obvious that Derek was actually completely bothered by, and possibly even hated, Stiles.

Stiles ran over the evidence in his head. His new theory explains why Derek’s hair had gone purple when Stiles had dropped the remote and made a complete fool of himself. Clearly Derek was also annoyed that Stiles had brought him coffee-catered to him like a freaking child in front of the whole pack. And now, he was pissed about Stiles berating his figure and his eating choices.

Shit. Stiles had thought they were friends. Sometimes, he’d maybe had even hoped that one day they could potentially be more, but even Derek’s hair clearly couldn’t stand being in his presence.

Stiles checks out of the store immediately, leaving to go straight home and wallow. While tossing and turning in bed that night, he makes a decision to leave Derek alone. If Derek doesn’t want to be around him, if he is so put off by his presence, Stiles will make it easier for him. He’ll just…stay away.

Stiles manages to avoid Derek for a good two weeks. He doesn’t go to pack meetings, comes up with lazy excuses that he gets Scott to relay for him. He either ignores Derek’s texts, or gives detached, one-word responses. It works, for a while. Until Scott interferes.

It’s a Thursday night and Stiles is lying on his bed, pretending he can’t make it to that night’s pack meeting. His phone goes off and he checks it to see a text from Scott.

“Dude, we have a situation,” it reads.

“What kind of situation?” Stiles responds. He’s supposed to be ‘feeling sick,’ but he figures he could still text even if he actually was sick.

“A Derek situation,” is Scott’s response.

Stiles bites a thumbnail before responding. “What do you mean?”

“His hair is green.”

Shit. Stiles knows what green means-the whole pack does. Stiles himself has seen Derek’s green hair on only a few occasions he’d prefer to forget-when Boyd died, on the anniversary of the fire, whenever he talks about Laura. Green is bad. Green is sadness; real, deep sadness.

“Did something happen today? Is it a bad day in history type thing?” Stiles asks.

He frowns at Scott’s response. “No. It’s been like this for a while.”

“For how long?” Stiles types back.

“Pretty much since you stopped coming to pack meetings.”

Another text from Scott follows. “Also, he keeps asking where you are.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and writes back, “I told you, I’m sick.”

“BS,” Scott replies. “You were completely fine at school.”

“It’s complicated.”

Scott’s next response takes a minute. “Ok well can you uncomplicate it? Clearly Derek needs help getting out of whatever funk he’s in. He needs the whole pack.”

Stiles scoffs, thinking about the outraged expression Derek had aimed at him in the grocery store. “I’m sure you can manage without me.”

“Stiles, he’s started wearing hats,” says Scott’s next text.

“Hats?” Stiles questions.

“Yes, hats. So we can’t see how green is hair is. It’s bad, Stiles. I’m telling you, he needs all of us.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. Doesn’t know how to make it clear to Scott that Derek doesn’t want him around. Doesn’t know how to tell Scott that the thought of it has been breaking his heart a little bit for the past two weeks.

His phone chimes again. “We’re having a pack pizza party tomorrow night. 7 o’clock. Please say you’ll come.”

Stiles hesitates. Derek doesn’t want to see him, and he’s not really feeling up to seeing Derek yet, either. But Scott clearly really wants him there.

“Fine,” he says, then he tosses his phone across the room.

When Stiles gets to Derek’s loft the next evening, he hesitates before knocking on the door.

It swings open a few moments later and Derek’s standing there, looking….well, kind of terrible, to be honest. He’s wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt despite the fact that it’s 85 degrees out, and he’s wearing a knitted cap on his head that’s covering all of his hair.

“Hi,” Stiles says casually. “You cold?”

Derek sighs. “No. What do you want?”

“Pizza,” Stiles answers honestly.

Derek frowns. “I don’t have any.”

Stiles looks at him for a moment, confused. “But Scott said… he trails off for a moment. “Oh Christ. You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Derek asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing there’s not a pack pizza party happening here tonight?”

“No…” Derek answers slowly.

Stiles sighs. “Alright. well, then I guess I’ll go.”

Stiles turns around, ready to leave, and almost doesn’t hear the small noise of protest that comes out of Derek’s mouth. Stiles swings back around to face Derek, narrowing his eyes at him.

“What?” he asks.

Derek’s face is closed off though, no emotion showing on his face. “Nothing,” he finally says.

“No,” Stiles goads, “You were going to say something.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Derek responds.

“Yes, it does. Derek, what is up with you?”

Derek grits his teeth this time. “Nothing,” he repeats. “Go ahead and leave.”

“Of course you want me to leave,” Stiles argues.

“Why would you think that?” Derek asks.

Suddenly, Stiles is mad. Like, boiling mad. Like, his hair has probably turned orange mad.

“No, you know what dude?” Stiles seethes. “You don’t get to hide like this. You’re cheating. Take off your stupid hat.”

“No,” Derek argues. “They’re my emotions, I should be able to keep them to myself.”

“Not when the whole pack is worried about you,” Stiles counters. “Jesus Christ, Scott sent me over here under a stupid pizza ruse to check up on you. Take. Off. The. Hat.”

Derek doesn’t move. So Stiles does the first thing that comes to his mind. He lunges.

The surprise of the move knocks Derek a little off balance, but he’s able to get a hand onto his hat and hold on. Stiles persists, though grabbing at Derek’s hat, his arms, anything he can reach as they wrestle around the room.

Eventually, it all comes to an end as they crash onto the ground. Derek falls down below Stiles, reaching out an arm to break the fall, which leaves Stiles free to grab his hat and launch it across the room.

And there it is. Derek’s green hair, on full display. It’s a deeper green than Stiles has ever seen, and his heart aches a little as he wonders what could have made it that way. Stiles can’t help himself; before he knows what he’s doing, he reaches up and runs a hand though Derek’s soft, green, hair.

Except when he does, it’s no longer green. It turns purple.

Stiles pulls back a bit, his stomach sinking at the sight of the stupid purple hair.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. I messed up, didn’t I? Your hair is purple again which means nothing good.” He pauses before barreling on. “ I-Do you hate me?”

It’s a question that’s been on the forefront of Stiles’ mind for two weeks now, and he can’t help asking Derek. Now, while he has the chance. While he’s spent two sleepless weeks acquainting himself with the idea.

Derek just looks at him for a moment, before replying. “Does it look like I hate you?” he asks softly.

Stiles frowns slightly, taking in what Derek’s saying. He looks down for a moment, sees where their chests are pressed together, where their faces are only inches apart. He feels where Derek’s arm is looped around his back and senses where Derek’s got a thumb tracing circles along his spine.

“Oh,” Stiles breathes out. Everything truly comes tumbling into place then, and Stiles looks up at Derek, hardly daring to hope for the new conclusion he’s just reached.

“You-“ Stiles starts, but he doesn’t say anymore because the look Derek is giving him is so intense that it stops the words right in his throat. Then Derek glances farther upward.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, “Your hair is blue.”

“Blue?” he croaks out. He knows what blue hair means for him. He remembers the number of times it’d gone embarrassingly blue around Lydia in his earlier high school days.

“Blue,” Derek responds. His eyes flit back down to Stiles’.

“What does blue mean?” Derek asks.

“It means-“ Stiles pauses. “What does purple mean? Because I thought it meant that you like, really hated me, but now I’m starting to think that it could maybe be something else.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It means this, you idiot.” Then he surges forward, capturing Stiles’ lips with his own.

When they part, Stiles looks down at him, grinning wildly. “You know,” he says. “I’ve always thought blue and purple looked pretty good together.”

3K notes · View notes

stiles-mischief-stillinski · 5 years

Text

Stiles and Derek getting together pretty casually. They don’t really talk about it. Nothing really changes other than them continuing to sleep together after that first time.

They’re definitely dating, Stiles is confident in that, but he’s still uncertain how Derek feels about him. He doesn’t want to be the “so where is this going?” guy. Especially not when right now everything feels as close to perfect as Stiles has ever experienced it.

At least three times a week Stiles gets to wake up next to Derek in bed. When Stiles threads his fingers through Derek’s whenever they’re close enough together to touch, Derek lets him, squeezes Stiles’ hand softly in his own.

Derek remembers his ridiculously unnecessarily complicated coffee order from the one place in town that Stiles says gets it right. Everywhere else he takes it black but that place is special.

The first time Derek brings Stiles a coffee with no reason other than Derek was seeing him and driving by anyway. But the look on Stiles’ face when he tastes it makes the back of Derek’s neck flush.

But Stiles who sometimes can’t fathom Derek Hale being attracted to him. Like the first time they get together. Derek has Stiles pinned against a wall, and it’s familiar. Except, this time after they’ve been staring at each others’ mouths for far too long, Stiles’ hands clutch Derek’s leather jacket, but he’s moving before Stiles has a chance to pull him in.

There’s a lot of kissing, and Derek’s hands on his waist slipping underneath his hoodie. And when Stiles presses his hips closer, grinding up against the feel of Derek against him, he pulls back and says, “you’re really fucking hard…” like Derek doesn’t know. Derek is probably bemused.

Neither of them are good at talking about feelings or anything. Sometimes they sit for long periods of time in silence together. Derek is always waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to relationships, Stiles knows this, so he gets Derek is probably feeling vulnerable or whatever.

Derek gets a new tattoo and doesn’t even tell him about it, he just shows up one day with it. It’s a small constellation Stiles doesn’t recognize on the inside of his right wrist. Derek is aloof when asked about it. And he wonders again if Derek really trusts him.

Then he’s sitting in English one day and feels the unmistakable press of a pen against the back of his neck. “What are you doing?” He asks, ducking out from the Sharpie Malia is wielding.

“Playing connect the dots.” Stiles doesn’t ask why. He just turns around and lets her commence. It’s not until he snaps a picture that he sees it. When he sees Derek later that night the marks have faded somewhat with the intense alcohol scrubbing.

Derek presses his thumb against the redness on the skin there, cups Stiles’ jaw gently. “That’s your tattoo right?” Stiles asks.

“Yes,” Derek says, letting his hand go. Stiles pulls it to him, turns Derek’s hand over to look at it.

“I don’t understand,” Stiles says, truthfully. “Why didn’t you say that when I asked about it?”

“Because we weren’t alone,” Derek says simply. “And you never brought it up again.”

“I thought it was too personal,” Stiles says.

“It was,” Derek smiles at him. “It’s my favorite pattern of moles,” Derek says.

“Yeah, I got that,” Stiles says. “What’s it mean?” Derek doesn’t say anything. Instead he moves behind Stiles carefully. Stiles lets him, he doesn’t tense up when Derek presses himself in close. It’s a familiar feeling, Derek enveloping him, nosing at Stiles’ neck and the underside of his jaw. Derek presses a kiss to the spot of his moles.

“Oh,” Stiles sighs. He pulls reluctantly away from Derek and turns around to face him. “We’ve only been going out for like three months,” Stiles says.

“Maybe I’ve been waiting for longer,” Derek says. Stiles can’t help the grin though it wobbles slightly as he feels a sting in his eyes. Derek returns it, before he leans forward and kisses Stiles.

“I love you,” Stiles says when he pulls back. “I’m not getting a tattoo about it though, alright?” Derek laughs and Stiles feels his chest flutter at it.

#sterek #stiles stilinkski #derek hale #oooh #i love it

4K notes · View notes