Hello lovelies 💗 I was wondering if you knew any nice fics where Stiles sits in Dereks lap? 😌 smut or fluff I don't care
Little talks by Vendelin
(1/1 I 5,387 I Mature)
“Your favourite is here,” Danny says, smirking. “I tried to steal him away by giving him some extra attention, but he just looked uncomfortable.”
Stiles snorts, though he’s secretly pleased by his regular rejecting Danny. “He always looks a bit uncomfortable. I bet he’s married with a kid and a permanent guilty conscience when he’s here.”
It had been quite the surprise for Stiles to realise that he had a regular. A pretty young, hot regular, on top of that.
In which Stiles is a stripper, and Derek is the always-polite regular at the club where he works.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us by queerly_it_is
(1/1 I 12,381 I Explicit)
Derek doesn’t get why he likes it so much.
It’s just not -- he hadn’t expected to need this. Not from Stiles. Not from anyone, ever. He doesn’tdo this.
Except he does, now. Because it’s for Stiles, and Derek -- fuck, he likes it too.
Lap Magnet by Prairie_Grass
(1/1 I 30,765 I Explicit)
Wherein an ill-advised floral arrangement leads to a whole new definition of obliviousness, accidental mate-bonds, and far more sex and tropes than one fic really needs.
Five times Derek and Stiles didn’t notice how close they were (literally) and then a whole bunch of times when they did...
This is Ridiculous by zosofi
(6/6 I 35,818 I Explicit)
There's a unicorn in Beacon Hills. A fricken' unicorn. In fricken' Beacon Hills, California. And it turns out that unicorns aren't drawn towards virgins in a happy-go-lucky let-me-lay-my-not-at-all-metaphorical-horn-in-your-lap way. No. They kill them. And guess who's the only virgin idiotic enough to get sucked into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene? Stiles, that's who.
for the Stiles Shipping Central discord server’s monthly ficlet exchange!! @get-your-ass-in-the-impala requested funny, so i hope this delivers XD
(ps this is my 200th fic on ao3 and that’s fucking CRAZY yo)
| Sterek | G | 1.3k | Bed & Breakfast | Meet-Awkward | Humor |
(also on AO3)
There was no one behind the front desk. Stiles had forgotten what room he was in, the keycard didn’t have the room number on it, and there was no one at the front desk for him to ask. What kind of bed and breakfast—one that prided itself on being a wholesome, caring, family establishment, no less—just left the desk entirely unsupervised in the middle of the day? That was no way to run a business and he was seriously considering writing a strongly worded Yelp review.
But he couldn’t do that until he got back into his room. That was where his laptop was. Which he needed for a Zoom-call business meeting in half an hour; Lydia would have his head if he was late for another one of those.
He rapped his knuckles on the wooden countertop and called, “Hellooooo…”
The girl who’d checked him in that morning—Cora, if he remembered correctly—did not appear before him to answer his question, nor did any of the other presumed family members working at this family establishment. The front desk remained woefully unattended. The computer screen hadn’t gone dark, so they couldn’t be too far away, could they?
Absently, Stiles noted that the computer was also unlocked.
Stiles noted this again, significantly less absently.
He was not allowed to use their computer to look up his room number himself. Cora had seemed like the type to rip his arm off of his body and beat him with it if he stepped out of line, and jumping over the counter to invite himself into their system would probably be considered really far out of line. He should wait here until somebody with the proper authorization came back to look it up for him.
He waited patiently. For about twenty-two seconds.
He would be worried about security cameras if this wasn’t a tiny podunk establishment on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He was impressed they even had electronic keycards, much less CCTV, so he only hesitated a bit before jumping up to slide himself across the countertop to the other side. The computer was old and slow to respond, but everything was very clearly labeled on the desktop and it didn’t take him two minutes to find the list of rooms and their occupants.
“Room 16,” he muttered to himself. “Room 16, that’s me. They should really put the numbers on the—”
The bell above the lobby door jingled. Stiles froze as a pair of fatigued-looking travelers lugged their suitcases in from the parking lot.
“A room for two, please,” one lady said, southern drawl matching her fluffed up, mile-high hair. Stiles’ mouth opened to say that he did not, in fact, work here, but before he could, she added, “Do y’all have a pool? I brought my suit but the last place we stopped didn’t have so much as a hot tub, can you believe that?”
“Yes,” Stiles said automatically. “There’s a pool around the back. It’s only open until six, though, so make sure you get in before then.”
The lady’s husband asked, “Cleaned regularly?”
“Yes, sir.” Cora had assured him as much that morning.
“Good man!” the husband said with a grin. “What room’s got the best view?”
“Uh, well…” Stiles’ fingers moved without his say-so, bringing up the clearly labeled map of the facilities. “If you’re early-risers, you’ll want an east-facing suite. You don’t have to worry about city skylines out here, so you’ll get a perfect sunrise view. I’d recommend the west for its sunsets, but those suites look out over the parking lot." He waggled a hand. "It’s well-maintained, as far as parking lots go, but the uninterrupted forest view to the east is just—”
He made the chef’s kiss noise and the tourists laughed heartily.
"We also offer home-cooked meals for breakfast and for lunch!" Stiles put in. "You're on your own for dinner, but there are a number of restaurants in the town a few miles down the road. I can vouch for them personally, and I would recommend the—"
"What are you doing?"
Stiles jumped a mile high. He whirled around to find a man behind him. A stunningly beautiful man who was not Cora but was clearly related to her, with the same high cheekbones and kaleidoscope eyes. He looked both baffled and offended.
Stiles blinked. "I was…just…"
"He was about to give us our room number," the lady jumped in cheerfully. "He tells us the east side has the best view!"
"That's right," the actual employee said slowly, stepping up to edge Stiles out from in front of the computer. "Room 22 is free."
Stiles leaned against the back wall, cringing internally, as he got them checked in properly and sent them on their way. He cringed externally as the guy turned to squint at him.
"Okay, so, I came in to ask a question but nobody was in here and the computer was unlocked and I waited but nobody came back and I just needed to check one thing and then people came in and they asked about the pool and I was already back here and I didn't wanna—"
The guy raised a hand to stop him. "What was the question? The first one?"
"My room number," Stiles admitted sheepishly. "It's 16."
The employee checked the log. "Well, Stiles," he said, with the familiar undertone of what the hell kind of name is that to his voice, "we don't usually let people behind the counter."
"Yeah, I figured, but I was just—"
“Helping customers, apparently.” He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a particular quirk to his mouth that said he might be fighting one down. His eyebrow rose. “Very nefarious of you. We might sue.”
Stiles wouldn’t have been half as embarrassed if he’d been caught out by someone less attractive, but the pretty eyes and the bone structure and the bulging biceps now on full display before him all added up to him being on the verge of spontaneous combustion.
“I am very sorry, please don’t sue me, mister…?”
The obvious answer was Hale, considering that was the name on the sign out front, but the very attractive man offered up “Derek” instead. The ease of it did nothing to diffuse Stiles’ blush. Nor did the unsubtle once-over Derek gave him.
“Oh,” Stiles said. “Okay, uh, well, that’s good! Thanks for that. Lydia—my business partner, that’s Lydia—she would kill me if I missed our Zoom meeting for litigation purposes.”
Derek cocked his head. “Zoom meeting?”
“Yeah, we need to discuss some quarterly projections, which we really should’ve done before I left for vacation, but I’ll be the first to admit that my time management skills are not what they should be for someone in my position, and my laptop is in my room which is why I needed the—”
“What time’s the meeting over?”
Stiles blinked at him. “Three-thirty, probably. Why?”
“I get off at four.”
Derek promptly turned back to the computer, leaving Stiles to stare at his broad back and comprehend the implication of those words. It took him long enough that Derek glanced back—that smile had finally broken through to grace Stiles with its presence, more than a little mischievous—and jerked his head at the counter. Cheeks burning anew, Stiles hoisted himself gingerly across it.
“Four o’clock, then,” he declared, once both feet were firmly on the lobby floor. “I’ll be here. I guess. For, like, coffee, or something? Bit early for dinner. If that’s what you meant, I mean, I could be wr—”
“I was thinking I’d go for a swim,” Derek said. “Pool’s open until six, you know.”
Stiles’ mouth went dry. “Yeah. Yeah, I do know that, we totally can�� Okay.”
When all Derek did was duck his head to hide a laugh, Stiles decided that was his cue to leave, before he said or did anything embarrassing enough to make Derek change his mind. He had no idea what about this situation had made him appealing, but it had, and he was going to make the most of it.
So, I rarely do any kind of 'self promotion' on here but I thought why not... so for all my Sterek fans:
These are two current WIPs of mine:
Leave Me in Ruins - Derek finds himself in a difficult spot when he mistakenly sleeps with Stiles. The two agree to forget it but Derek can't.
Before long its becoming a regular thing, now Derek has to deal with the issue of falling even more for Stiles or losing him all together.
Stiles never dreamed of waking up next to Derek but it's now a regular thing. However, he has to keep his emotions in check so Derek doesn't realize how he truly feels all while keep their 'relationship' a secret from the pack and dealing with the new big bad of Beacon Hills.
Like it or Not- Stiles works as the editorial assistant at Vogue. He loves everything about his job except for his boss, Derek Hale. Derek Hale is the worst and Stiles hates him.
But when Derek drags him to the yearly awards dinner within the company, he is forced to play boyfriend for the night to make Derek's ex jealous. Things couldn't get much worse...or so Stiles thought.
Tags: | Post s2 | Canon Divergent | Canon Revisited | energy bond | Alpha!Derek | Spark!Stiles | fluff & humor | Stiles harbors Derek in his bedroom |
The actual studio space inside of Glazed Ware Inc. is considerably larger than its intimate lobby.
There are two long, steel working tables with a dozen stools set up around each one to provide ample working space for customers who have come in to sculpt or paint or hand build. There are two doors behind the tables that lead to a drying room and the kiln yard outside, and on the other side of the tables, are the handful of pottery wheels.
Which Derek immediately starts heading towards.
“Whoa,” Stiles drawls, hand coming out to grip Derek’s arm, “Slow your roll, cowboy. The wheel isn’t something you just sit down at one day and start using. We gotta start you with something a little more basic.”
“I’ve faced supernatural entities of mass destruction all my life.” Derek raises a single, pointed eyebrow. “I think I can handle a pottery wheel.”
Stiles gives him a teasing look. “Proves how much you know.”
Derek rolls his eyes, huffing. “Where’s the clay?”
“We can use freshly pugged clay since it’s recycled and unsellable,” Stiles turns and starts towards the white barrel against the wall where pugged clay is kept. He opens the lid and fishes out a few cylinders for both of them, handing Derek half as he straightens. “And now? We wedge.”
They take their clay over to the wedging table set off in the corner. The table is made from a textured, absorbent material that makes it possible to wedge against, and Stiles demonstrates how. He takes one of the pugged cylinders and starts to knead it against the board, two hands pushing it away and back in a rocking motion intended to homogenize the clay particles; ensuring the smoothest throwing experience.
Derek picks up the motion easily. In fact, because of his superstrength, he even ends up finishing all of his wedging before Stiles does.
“You grew up in a competitive household, didn’t you?”
“Most of us were werewolves,” Derek says, reaching over to grab one of Stiles’ still un-wedged cylinders to start wedging it for him, arms flexing from forearm to bicep with the motion, “What do you think?”
stiles passed out on the couch in the living room, talking in his sleep, and the betas are actually considering suffocating him with a pillow because he's waxing poetic about derek's EYEBROWS while unconscious. jackson actually gets up with a throw pillow in his hands and makes like he's gonna do it but scott stops him.
I have an awesome fic to add regarding this old ask:
"Do you guys know of any stories where Stiles does not know of the supernatural? Thanks for everything you guys do ❤"
It's "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" by Grimm. There's an excellent podfic of it, as well, by Lunchee. I probably listen to it 3x a year, it's just such a fun story. Stiles doesn't know about the supernatural, but he finds out about magic and then it snowballs from there. Hilariously, the Sherrif DOES know, it is PRICELESS.
Yes, @fandomismycopilot! This is such a good fac. Thanks for the reminder.
What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm
(4/4 I 118,749 I Explicit I Sterek)
There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.
There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.
the one (1) fic to come out of my “everybody send me all the prompts for november, i’m gonna write so much stuff!!!!” endeavor 😬😅 obviously that did not happen. but hey, now i have a spreadsheet full of prompts that i can still write whenever the inspiration and motivation strike, so there’s that!
this one was prompted by @nerdherderette ❤
| Sterek | 1.4k | Gen | Established Relationship | Christmas Shopping | Derek Hale Is A Hopeless Romantic | Oblivious Stiles Stilinski | Tooth-Rotting Fluff | Hand-Holding |
(also on AO3)
It was cold out. Maybe that was part of the problem.
Beacon Hills was northern enough that snow was a guarantee in the winters, but it was only a few days after Thanksgiving and it hadn’t quite hit them yet. There was plenty of fake snow, though, as all the storefronts decked their halls six ways to Sunday, and the crisp late-autumn breeze was plenty cold enough to warrant sweaters and scarves and knitted hats pulled low over ears. Derek was starting to wish he had worn gloves.
If his fingers were going numb, it stood to reason that Stiles’ fingers were too, especially with how much he sent them whistling through the air to punctuate whatever point he was making. Derek had sort of stopped listening. He was fully concentrated on his goal.
As they meandered down Main Street, past brightly lit storefronts full of loudly advertised Christmas-themed merchandise, Derek sidled in close and made another grab for Stiles’ hand. His fingers slid off the back of it, the hand leaping up to gesticulate another very important talking point.
It had to be cold-induced numbness. Honestly, that was the only explanation at this point for how he hadn’t noticed the last three times that Derek had tried to take his hand. Either that or he really was just so absent-minded that all the bumps and brushes and points of contact were forgotten as soon as they registered.
Derek fought not to growl in frustration. This was so dumb. He just wanted to hold Stiles’ stupid hand. Was that too much to ask for? Why did he have to make it so difficult?
Derek kicked a fake pine cone, dusted with fake snow, off the sidewalk with prejudice.
“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, turning all the way around to point back at the pine cone as they passed it. “I wanna get me some of those! Put ‘em up around the house, make it feel cozy and shit. Dad thinks that’s a waste of money but Melissa likes the vibe, and we all know Dad can’t say no to Melissa, so if I give them to her to bring over, I’m in the clear.”
Stiles’ hands fell back to his sides. The left one was right there, barely six inches away from Derek’s right. Now, if it would just stay put long enough for Derek to—
It slid right out from under Derek’s fingers, up up and away to point at some sale notice in a window down the street. The explosive sigh that Derek couldn’t contain finally caught Stiles’ attention. Derek, unbalanced by his latest attempt, was now standing far closer than was reasonable.
“Dude,” Stiles said, confused. “What are you doing?”
Derek’s face, already reddened by the cold wind, flushed even more. “Nothing.”
Stiles’ eyes narrowed in benign suspicion. “Are you sure?”
“I’m not doing anything!”
Not successfully, at least. He was fucking trying.
Stiles held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! There’s just one more store up here that I wanna check out—Allison’s getting back into watercolors and Lydia said there’s decent art supplies on sale in there—and then we can head back to the car. Unless you want to head over to the park and look at the lights?”
The display the city put up every year was beautiful, every tree wrapped up in strings and strings of fairy lights and sprinkled with decorations. Derek would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about going there with Stiles, watching his face light up more than the trees, sharing in the experience together. Walking hand in hand down the narrow lanes, like Derek’s parents used to every year, the kids following in their wake like ducklings. It had been a quiet, indulgent fantasy, something that he’d tucked into his back pocket a long time ago alongside all the other silly, overly-romantic things he wouldn’t admit to wanting.
“Or we can just go to your place and watch a movie,” Stiles suggested easily, when Derek took too long to respond, already starting to walk again. “It’s cold as balls out here anyway.”
Stiles stopped and turned back, eyebrows raised.
“I mean—” Derek stuffed his own hands hastily into his pockets; they had been reaching out again. “Not no to the movie, that’s fine, I just meant— We can go see the lights.”
Stiles nodded slowly. “Okay. Store, lights, home for movie. Sounds like a plan to me.”
He kind of looked like he thought Derek was a little crazy tonight, but he managed to make it look fond. It was good to know that weird, erratic behavior wasn’t enough to run Stiles off. They had only been dating for three weeks, and they had been busy weeks with not a lot of time to actually spend alone together. This outing was their first proper date, if shopping for Christmas presents together really counted as a date. It felt like one to Derek, but maybe Stiles felt differently. He didn’t know all of Stiles’ dating preferences yet. Hell, for all Derek knew, Stiles didn’t even like holding hands and he’d been trying this whole time to brush Derek off without hurting his feelings!
That would be fine, mostly, Derek told himself. He could date someone without hand-holding. It was a silly, childish kind of thing to want anyway. He didn’t need it.
He told himself that repeatedly throughout the fifteen minutes Stiles spent perusing art supplies for Allison. He kept telling himself that as Stiles tried to super sneakily slip a leather sketchbook that Derek had been eyeing into his order without Derek noticing. He almost succeeded in convincing himself of it as they made their way diagonally through the square toward the park.
Derek hadn’t been to see the lights in years. Not since before he’d left town. He knew some of the pack had come in previous years, but he hadn’t really felt like joining them on their double- and triple-dates, and it wasn’t the kind of thing that felt right to go to alone. No matter how much he’d imagined it, he hadn’t even thought to consider actually asking Stiles to come with him, new as their relationship was. Or maybe he had just resigned the whole experience to being a thing of the past.
As the lights came into view, though, they brought with them all the wonder they had when he was a child. He’d half-expected it to have been a rose-tinted glasses kind of deal, aggrandized in his memory by how much he missed the people he’d experienced it with. But it wasn’t. Every limb of every tree, sparkling all around them like something out of another world. His father had always called them fairy lights no matter how much his wife teased him for it. Surrounded by light, Derek could still hear the laughter.
Cold fingers found Derek’s. He startled. Looking down, he followed fingers to hand to arm to shoulder, all the way up to Stiles' face, still turned toward the display. It was a long moment before Stiles looked back at him. The smile on his face was brighter than any fairy light.
He didn’t say anything. He just turned his hand to lace their fingers together more securely and squeezed. Cold as his skin was, Derek suddenly felt warmed all the way through. He smiled back.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to…” Stiles waggled their joined hands a little. “Not everybody’s big on hand-holding.”
“No!” Derek said, face flushing. “I mean, yeah, I— I don’t mind.”
Stiles laughed, head ducked. Then his head snapped up, eyes narrowed with sudden and inconvenient perceptiveness. “Wait, is that what you were doing earlier? Were you trying to hold my hand and embarrassed about it?”
Derek opened his mouth to deny it, but the utter mischievous delight in Stiles’ face robbed him of the words. Instead, he said, “In my defense, you were making it really difficult. Would it kill you to hold still for five seconds at a time?”
Grin so wide it must be hurting his face, Stiles said, as dryly as he could, “You know, I think it might.” He dragged their hands up between them and pressed a kiss to the back of Derek’s. “I’ll try, though. For you. How’s that?”
His eyes were sparkling, reflecting a thousand tiny points of brilliance from all around them, and his lips were warm where they stayed, grinning, pressed against Derek’s skin. Their hands fit perfectly together.
It was better than anything Derek had dared to imagine.
Hey! Remember the above moodboards? Remember I promised a fic? Well guess what? I did it! Chapter 1 is uploaded and while the chapters will be released on a schedule I can confirm they are all written. Hope you like it :)
Not all treasure is silver and gold (1/10 | Mature)
Can you believe it is almost exactly a year since I said I was going to write this?
And there were some wonderful beans that might want to know I wrote this. Please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from this list: