Mellon

Sterek AU: where Stiles and Derek get away to enjoy pumpkin- spiced Fall weekend.

“How about this one?” Stiles asks, pointing to a pumpkin.

 “The side is flat,” Derek says.

 “That one?”

“Too small.” Stiles points to another. “It looks rotten.”

Stiles huffs and crosses his arms. “Look, Goldilocks of Pumpkins, why don’t you pick a pumpkin then?” Stiles taps his foot as he waits. Derek scans the group of pumpkins, then chooses two near the back.

“These.”

“Okay.” Stiles starts walking towards the attendant.

“Aren’t you even going to look at them?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs as he hands the lady cash. “They’re pumpkins, dude. You’re the one who was all picky about which ones we got. I just want to carve into them and then leave them on the back porch until around Thanksgiving when they’re molded and rotten.”

“You’re disgusting,” Derek says, holding a large pumpkin in each of his arms. Stiles leans over and kisses his cheek.

“But you love me.”

Derek just grunts.

Stiles suddenly stops and darts away to the right. “Ooh! Pumpkin donuts!” Derek hears him yell as he watches Stiles run towards a booth. Derek readjusts the slipping pumpkin in his grip as he trails after him. “I bought you one,” Stiles says through a mouth of donut. He swallows, and points to a bucket. “I also want to bob for apples.”

“That’s so gross,” Derek says, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh, shut up, you eat bunnies,” Stiles says as he cradles the paper bag with the donuts between the pumpkin and Derek’s arm. Stiles moves onto his knees as he grips the side of the barrel. He leans down, his mouth open as he tries to bite into one of the apples. They keep sliding out of his mouth as he bites down. “This is so much easier on TV.”

“It’s not that hard,” Derek says.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, turning around to look at Derek. “Fine then, why don’t you show me how it’s done.”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Derek huffs, his face pinched in a scowl. He sets down the pumpkins and donuts, and gently pushes Stiles out of the way. He leans forward and closes his mouth around the apple, extending his canines slightly to pierce into the fruit. He straightens, apple securely in his mouth. The people around the booth clap, and Stiles shoots him an exasperated eye roll. Derek takes the apple from his mouth and hands it to Stiles with a shit-eating grin.

“I saw what you did there,” Stiles says, biting into the apple. “Cheater McCheaterson.”

“I did no such thing,” Derek says, picking the pumpkins back up.

“Liar.”

Derek smirks, and Stiles slides his hand easily into Derek’s back pocket and offers him the apple.

Derek is sprawled in front of the fire in his underwear, his eyes closed as the warmth seeps into his skin. The night is cool, and they’ve created a small nest of blankets around the fire. He opens his eyes when he hears Stiles padding across the floor. Stiles is completely naked, the firelight casting a warm glow across his pale skin. Derek smiles as he watches Stiles lowers himself to the floor, careful not to spill the two steaming mugs in his hand.

“Do you like my Jack-o-lantern?” Stiles asks, glancing over to the fireplace where the two pumpkins are alit on both sides of the hearth. Stiles had tried for a complicated Batman design he found online, but it turned out to look more like an abstract piece of art.

“It’s…different,” Derek says, smiling into his cider. The hot liquid is sweet against his tongue, with a burst of spice. “Oh my god, this is fantastic.”

“My mother’s special recipe,” Stiles says, smiling into his cup distractedly. “She always made it for me and my dad when we carved pumpkins.”

“Mom liked hot chocolate,” Derek said. “But we always ate candy when we carved pumpkins.”

“Do werewolves go trick-or-treating? Did you dress up, or did you just wolf out and pretend?” Stiles grins as he nudges Derek’s calf with his toes.

“Yes, we go trick-or-treating,” Derek rolls his eyes. “How long will it take before you realize I grew up just like you?”

“Just with more hair,” Stiles says before taking a sip from his mug. He glances at the pumpkins. “My pumpkin is ugly.”

“It’s not,” Derek says.

“You must really love me,” Stiles says. “You’re lying to spare my feelings.” Stiles sets his cup down and crawls over to Derek and straddles his lap. He hooks his hands behind his head. “But at least it’s not boring like yours. Triangle eyes and a jagged mouth? Really?”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek says, leaning forward and kissing him.

His mouth tastes like apples and cinnamon, like pumpkins and fall, like home.

It did well on Twitter, why not post it here?🤫

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So I love mutual pining as much as the next fanfic enthusiast but what about:

Stiles just blatantly thirsting for Derek.

Like just outright, can’t mistake it, everyone knows it. That Lydia fascination switches gears to Derek at whiplash speeds. Every chance he gets he’s complimenting Derek on his biceps, on his face, on his hair, on his clothes, on his shift, everything. At first it’s all physical stuff, but as they go on Stiles starts peppering in flattery about Derek’s personality and training and brilliant mind.

And Derek has no idea what to do with any of it. Stiles isn’t really actively seducing him, just seems to be appreciative, if you will, and Derek’s never really been just casually flirted with, everyone who hit on him just wanted to get him into bed.

After the first couple times Stiles makes Derek blush, Stiles ends up asking if Derek would like him to stop hitting on him. Derek manages to get out that he would absolutely like Stiles to continue, thanks. And Stiles makes some throwaway comment about Derek returning the favor.

It escalates.

Stiles’ compliments go from tame to dirty in the blink of an eye, just blatant come-ons. He still gives Derek the sweet flirting too, but now he’s also giving him a little grin and looking at Derek with heat in his eyes, adding in some of the best and the worst pick-up lines Derek’s ever heard. And there’s apparently never a bad time for it, either.

They’re researching something that’s trying to kill them late into the night? Stiles looks up from some ancient book written in another language when Derek brings him coffee and says in a sleepy-rough voice, “Derek, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print.” Then he winks, takes a drink of his coffee, and gets back to a crash course in... that actually may be a dead language, Derek’s not sure.

They’ve just killed something that was trying to kill them? Derek’s in shift, still looking as menacing as ever, and Stiles sidles right up to him withi his bat over his shoulder, scratch on his cheek, and says, “Hey, you got a Band-Aid?” He grins and points to his cheek. “I scratched myself when I fell for you.”

The turning point comes when they’ve killed something that tried to kill them, and almost succeeded in killing Stiles. Derek’s sitting in his hospital room like the creeper he swears he isn’t, dodging suspicious looks from the Sheriff, who’s only just now in the know about werewolves and supernatural things since Stiles’ wounds are pretty hard to explain otherwise. And Stiles finally starts coming awake, squints at Derek in the dim light, and manages a crooked little grin as he croaks out, “Is this heaven? Or is God just missing an angel? Oh shit, hi, Dad.”

After that, Derek thinks about Stiles saying he could “return the favor,” and about Stiles in a hospital bed after nearly bleeding out in his Camaro.

So it escalates again.

He’s rusty, is the thing. His first attempt does not go smoothly. After a pack meeting, when Stiles is still healing but able to hang around as long as there’s somewhere for him to sit, when everyone else is gone, Derek clears his throat and looks down at where Stiles is laying back in the arm chair, eyes closed but still awake.

“What are my chances of getting you into bed?” is what he manages. Which is honestly less pick-up line and more obvious innuendo, that actually can’t be acted on because Stiles still runs out of breath walking up the stairs right now.

Stiles grins though, eyes closed still, knows exactly what Derek’s trying for. “Pretty good, but you might have to carry me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my bed, but I’d rather be in yours.”

Derek snorts and bundles Stiles up in the Camaro, drives him home. He helps Stiles up the stairs, helps Stiles get changed - and oh, Stiles is a goldmine of pick-up lines and innuendo in that situation - and gets Stiles into bed. He stays until Stiles is asleep (and then honestly a little while after that), and then he slips out the front door instead of the window, like a person, as Stiles would say.

And then he goes home and Googles pick-up lines. He’s gonna need to build up a stash if he’s going to keep up with Stiles’ repertoire.

paint it black 🎂🖤🎂

Steve’s hands are stained black when he greets Eddie at the front door. His nails, his palms. Eddie follows the trail of dark speckles up Steve’s forearms to the smeared streaks on his apron, the smudge at the tip of his nose. It’s all over his mouth, too, like he tried to eat black lipstick.

“You going for a goth look today, baby?”

Steve put his hands on his hips; presses his lips into a flat black pout. “Food dye is a dangerous business.”

“Oh?” God, he loves when Steve gets all grumpy baker boy on him. He wades into Steve’s space, fingers hooking into his belt loops, pulling him flush and planting a soft kiss behind his ear. “So if you’re covered in food dye…” His tongue traces an inky smear on the side of Steve’s neck, “does that mean I get to eat you?”

“Oh, my god,” Steve rolls his eyes and shoves him, a brilliant blush working up the tight set of his jaw. “The kids are about to be here any minute.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie agrees and wiggles his fingers over the lip of Steve’s jeans.

Steve bats his hands away. “So behave!”

“Fiiiiine.” He lets go and throws up a Vulcan salute. “Scout’s honor.”

“Dude,” Steve despairs, covering his face with both hands. “No. Can’t believe I let you fuck me.”

Eddie cackles, and Steve grabs him by the hand and leads him into the kitchen. There, on the counter, stands a homemade birthday cake, made to look like the 20-sided die from Eddie’s favorite set.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes. “You made this for me?”

Steve’s pretty pink blush is all the way up his cheeks now. “Yeah.” Jesus fuck. Eddie might cry. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Well, heyyy! First Sterek art of the year, this time for @sterekvalentineweek! I haven’t made art in a while, and I’ve been heads down in a lot of writing (for both work and fic, so yeah, a lot of words). Then, I looked at an WIP art piece I had in my queue yesterday, and the idea struck me to make some Movie Fix-It art with a drabble to change things up and get into another headspace. I also wanted something nice to treat myself and others, so yeah, this is 100% self-indulgent. 24 hours later, I present some romantic Sterek fluff to you. Just imagine Derek filling pages of a journal trying to document his process to make the Jeep good as new again. And Stiles seeing this for the first time? So many feels! Inspired by the prompts “confession” and “rose” (the latter influencing the color palette and vibes). Cheers, and hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine’s Day, and spread all the Sterek love! <3 Title: Memories Bring Back You  (<- on AO3) Rating: G WC: 200 (w/ art) Tags: Reading, Reunions, Bonding, Developing Relationship, Getting Back Together, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Valentine’s Day, Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Romantic Fluff, Diary/Journal, Love Confessions, Mixed Media, Digital Art, Double Drabble Summary: It’s surreal to see Stiles flipping through the pages of his precious journal, soaking in every single word and drawing he’s documented over the years. “You’re a dumbass, Derek,” Stiles declares plainly. [Or: Derek tells Stiles how he really feels about him after all these years apart from each other. Because it’s written down on paper now, and it’s about damn time.]

Sterek AU: They meet for the first time in the hospital while Derek is visiting Peter and Stiles is visiting his dad after a heart attack. By the time a release date for the Sheriff is set, they keep wanting to exchange numbers or ask each other out but afraid of being rejected.

I honestly tried to resist the last four times this was on my dash, but turns out I can’t. ;_;

  Stiles is on Plan 13.

  If he’s entirely honest with himself, most of his Plans don’t really deserve the capital letter. There was the one where he’d simply walk up to Seriously Hot Guy and ask for his number, but he’d chickened out of that one before he even got to his feet. There was the one where he’d ask Danny to hack into the hospital records to find Seriously Hot Guy’s contact information, except he didn’t even know the guy’s name and besides, what would he do then? Call him up and say, “Hey, I just happened across your number in a totally non-creepy, non-stalkerish way and was wondering, would you like to go out for a coffee? Because I noticed you drink that dishwater from the hospital cafeteria and seriously, man, you could do so much better if… oh, this is Stiles. From the hospital? No, from the waiting area, with the… of course you have no idea who I am, never mind.”

  Yeah, that’d work.

  If Stiles is entirely honest with himself, his plans kind of suck. A lot.

  He prefers not to be honest with himself.

  It’s just that… Seriously Hot Guy is just so… well, for one thing, he’s seriously hot. But he’s also had that look in his eyes almost every time Stiles has seen him; something a little lost, like he needs someone to help him with… with something, okay, and just doesn’t know how to ask for it. And Stiles likes helping people, especially people who are hot and bring books like Wolves and the Wolf Myth in American Literature to read while they’re waiting for news about… whoever they’re waiting for news about. While reading books like that when they’re not pacing, so they have to be smart, right? Seriously Hot Guy has to be smart, and Stiles has always had a thing for smart people. And hot people. And maybe-a-little-bit-needy people.

  Basically, he’s been doomed from the moment he saw that guy.

  So, Plan 13. It’s a good plan, fully deserving of the capital letter. All Stiles has to do is:

  Obviously, Stiles’ brain isn’t quite up to the task. What Stiles’ brain needs, right now, is chocolate. Chocolate always makes everything better.

  There’s a vending machine down the hall. Stiles picks a row at random – he doesn’t care, as long as it’s chocolate – and bounces a little on his feet as he waits for the bar to drop.

  Which it doesn’t.

  “Aw, seriously?” Stiles pushes at the vending machine, but his chocolate is stuck. That’s just… that machine has no idea what’s at stake here! If Stiles can’t get his chocolate, he can’t get a date, and if he can’t get a date, he might as well give up now and become a hermit because how hard can it be to ask one random stranger for his phone number? “Fuck!”

  “Hey.”

  Stiles flinches so hard he almost crashes into the machine. He turns and there, standing not three feet from him, is Seriously Hot Guy, with that earnest look on his face like he’s waiting for the world to kick him if he should so much as try to smile.

  “Uh,” Stiles says intelligently.

  “Candy got stuck?” Seriously Hot Guy asks, tilting his head at the vending machine.

  This is the opportunity Stiles has been waiting for. This is where he says something meaningful that will make Seriously Hot Guy want to know more about him. This is where he says,

  “Uh. Yeah.” He searches desperately for something to add. “And my money’s gone,” he offers.

  Oh god, what is he doing? He’s never lost for words! If anyone played a word association game and Stiles’ name came up, 90% of the time the answer would be, ‘talking.’

  The other 10% would be Jackson and he’d say, ‘loser,’ but whatever.

  Seriously Hot Guy nods like that’s the most significant thing anyone has ever told him.

  “I, uh.” He clears his throat and looks torn for a moment, like someone’s torturing him. “Maybe I can invite you for a coffee instead?”

  Stiles’ mouth drops open.

  “You’re kidding,” he says, and maybe it comes out a little bit like an accusation because Seriously Hot Guy looks even more pained than before, and oh god, what. “No,” Stiles hurries to add, “I mean, yes. Yes to the coffee. Yes, I want to have coffee with you. Coffee is great. Did you know that Hawaii is the only state in the US that grows coffee?”

  “It’s in the coffee belt,” Seriously Hot Guy says solemnly, but there’s a smile twitching at his mouth now.

  “Yeah!” Stiles beams at him. He’d known the guy was smart.

  So, turns out that Plan 13 is a total wash.

  Stiles still gets Derek’s number, so that’s okay.

Day 11: wander

Day 1<

Day 10<

Day 12>

Little Merlin going on an adventure

Happy Halloween!

they grow up so fast

Merlin doodle