if u tag me in things i will be 100% happy idont even care what it is
The prompt was: Male puppies let female puppies “win” during play fights so they can get to know them. Sterek. You know the drill.
Derek Hale is a bit of a legend at college. Stiles had heard his name even before he set his foot in his dorm room, where he spent his first year, before he and Scott managed to get an apartment to share. However, actually seeing Derek Hale appears to be a lot more complicated. Stiles decided to Facebook him, after hearing so many stories about the guy’s ridiculous face, and judging by the Facebook profile picture (the only one available for Facebook stalkers to look at, sadly) they were no exaggerations.
Derek Hale’s known for arguing with everyone in his classes, including the professors. Apparently he’s also a werewolf, which makes his ability to call people out on their bullshit a scary asset of his. Stiles is torn between wanting to see the guy in person once in his life, and thinking that he’s lucky that he hasn’t.
Post-Nogitsune, Stiles finds out via camera footage an unlikely person has been keeping watch over him.
The first night after they excise the Nogitsune from Stiles’ body, he doesn’t sleep. Stiles shivers fitfully, falling between hazy memories of hurting people, hurting his friends, dark rooms and long hallways, screams, iron bars and fire. John holds his son close, grateful he’s alive, wipes the sweat from Stiles’ brow, clutching him close to his chest until Stiles falls into a restless sleep. Stiles’ eyes still twitch underneath his eyelids, and his body writhes like he’s in pain, but there’s not much John can do aside from hold him. It’s not unlike ten years ago when a seven year old Stiles crawled into his bed after Claudia’s death, trying to keep the nightmares at bay.
Unfortunately a few nights later John is on the night shift again, and he can’t stay, even though he wants to. “I’ll be fine, Dad, just go,” Stiles says. He still looks too pale, drawn, the skin dark around his eyes, but it’s nowhere near that hollow, empty look his body had when he was carrying the Nogitsune inside. Stiles is healing. Slowly.
"Just call me if you need anything, okay?" John says, and after a hug, he leaves in the cruiser.
It’s a quiet night, not a bad patrol, just breaking up some would-be exhibitionist teens at the lookout point near the Preserve; nothing compared to the chaos of the previous weeks. It’s nearing 2 a.m. when John’s cell phone beeps, and his heart suddenly starts pounding when he sees the security system on his home has gone off. Is Stiles sleepwalking again? Worry and fear spike through him, and John quickly clicks to the camera footage. The worry changes to confusion when he spots Stiles sprawled out in his bed, eyes closed in the semblance of the weary thing that passes for sleep nowadays. Stiles is safe. So why did the alarm go off?
John gets his answer when he sees the window opening and a figure stepping through. “Damnnit,” he curses, and turns the engine on the cruiser, intending to hightail it back home, but, wait— is that Derek Hale?
Derek slips into the room quietly, and doesn’t seem to do anything other than watch Stiles sleep for a few moments, a frown lingering on his face as he watches Stiles toss and turn.
John doesn’t know what this is; what Derek is doing in Stiles’ bedroom, watching him sleep, and a fierce wave of protectiveness rushes over him, because this is Stiles, his son, and he only just got him back—
What is he doing? Derek is slowly approaching the bed, like he’s made his mind up about something, and then he cautiously places a hand on Stiles’ arm. Trails of black run slowly up Derek’s arm, from Stiles to him, Derek’s face contorting in a spasm of pain. Stiles’ face goes from tense to relaxed, his whole body sinking back into the bed, the chest that was heaving with erratic breaths before, now slowing to an even, calm pace.
Oh, John thinks.
I’ve been lamenting about the lack of Sheriff Stilinski as Johnny Cage fic for ages sooooooo I finally did something about it… \o/
Contrary to what Stiles and the others may think, John wasn’t shocked to learn that the supernatural is real. He was shocked because the supernatural is here in their realm. He’d spent the first twenty-four hours after explantation-time-around-the-chess-board in denial. Then the panic came spurred on with thoughts like who’d ever taken over fighting in the arenas had managed to lose enough times to green-light an invasion.
But no, that didn’t make sense, because the more John dug into this terrifying new world of werewolves and who knows what else, the more he began to understand that this all isn’t new to the realm. It’s just new to John. He blames the shock of that revelation for the night he drove out during a lightning storm to an empty field. Once he was sure that no one would hear him he’d yelled at the stormy sky and tied to summon Raiden. And well, if he cursed a blue streak when the thunder god didn’t show, nobody is the wiser.
See the thing is, as far as Sheriff John Stilinski is concerned Johnny Cage is long dead.
Derek stop himself from sighing into his drink, wondering why he’d even bothered coming to the bar. He felt about as welcome and needed as a fifth wheel on a car. Scott, Allison and Isaac were talking about something on their side of the table, Danny and Ethan were on the floor, dancing close to each other and who even knew where Lydia and Aiden were. And Derek. Derek was nursing his whiskey. And Stiles was late.
So late his drink had arrived before him. Derek eyed Stiles’ glass, glanced at the door and wondered how desperate he would seem for company if he texted Stiles to ask where the hell he was. He’d even gotten his phone out, half a message typed out when Stiles burst in through the door.
Unable to stop himself, Derek sat up straight and waved slightly at Stiles. Who caught sight of him almost immediately and hurried over with a grin. “Hey guys!” Stiles greeted, giving Derek’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “Sorry I’m late. What’d I miss?”
Scott pointed at the drink next to Derek’s glass, “Here’s your delayed orgasm.”
And Derek promptly choked on his drink, coughing at the burning sensation twice as hard when Stiles cheerfully asked, “With the extra shot? Whoa, Derek! You alright there?”
"You like those huh?" Derek asked, body leaning towards Stiles, watching him take slow sips of his drink. "Orgasms."
From the other end of the table, he heard someone call out to God and for patience. Stiles missed it entirely, beaming at Derek. “Oh yeah! I love orgasms! Especially with a double shot! But Scott keeps telling me to take it easy so. Single shot orgasms. They don’t have the same kick to them but.”
Derek slid his fingers across the table, fingertips tapping against Stiles’ glass. “Mind if I try your orgasm?” He heard Isaac choke on his drink.