can we talk about leatherjacket-wearing scott pls
and stiles mocking him like dude, derek gotcha, you’ve officially been pack’d with that leatherjacket. did you cry? was there a ceremony? did derek put the jacket over your shoulder and ruffled through your hair saying “you’re my pup now” and together you howled at the moon?
… I have this feeling of protectiveness over characters I want to play. I worry about them, if someone else gets the part, I’m afraid they won’t do it right. They’ll make the character a victim or they’ll make her a villain or they’ll just get it wrong somehow. When I get like that, anything’s possible.
Sticks and stones may break your bones but tv shows and books will crush your soul to a million pieces
Kettle’s just boiled.
Stiles’ eyes burned with tears. He wasn’t sure if they were out of anger, frustration, or heartache. He supposed it didn’t matter. It definitely didn’t matter to Derek, who stood there staring down at him, his own eyes hard and uncaring, missing all the warmth that Stiles had learned to expect from him.
“You’re like one of those sad, pathetic girls who expect the bad boy to change his ways for them. But I won’t, Stiles. I’m never, ever going to love you. You mean nothing to me. You’re jus that stupid little kid that I keep safe once in a while because Scott needs me to.” Derek laughed. “God, Stiles, I at least figured you were smart. If I was going to actually fall in love with someone, why the hell would it be you?”
Stiles didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was closed over, his breathing ragged.
“Look at me, Stiles.” But stiles refused to. He didn’t want to see those eyes filed with anger and hatred, burning holes into his heart. “Look at me!” He shouted. “And look at you. Gangly, too tall. Not ugly, maybe. You were fun to play around with when I was bored. But I can do so much better than you, and you know it.”
“Then why did you ever bother?” Stiles got out, his voice thick but steady.
Derek shrugged. “Because it was easy enough to convince you that I cared. You’ve got baggage, don’t you Stiles? You try to be the upbeat one, the one who makes everyone laugh, but you’re not hiding it all that well. You’re damaged, and the damaged ones are always the easiest.”
The tears finally started to fall, one by one they cascaded down his cheeks. He had been stupid, he realized now. He actually believed that he had meant something, anything, to Derek. But he didn’t, and he never would.
“You’re fucked up, you know that?” He told Derek. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”
Derek waited until he was finally gone and then sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands.
“What is wrong with you?” Erica demanded, slipping out of the shadows.
Normally Derek would yell at her for eavesdropping but he didn’t have the energy or the heart.
“You love him.” She stated, not taking anther step closer. “I can sense it from here! Why would you—,”
“Because this life isn’t safe for him. Do you know how fragile he is? One little accident and he could die. Something that would barely faze us could kill him in seconds.” Derek paused. “If it keeps him safe then that’s what I’m going to do. What good is loving him if he’s dead?”
“What good is loving him if he’ll never look at you again?” She whispered.
Derek shrugged and flashed a surprising grin. It couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes, though. “That’s what I’m good at, Erica. Dealing with heartbreak is my only talent.”
“I’m fine.. aside from the not sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant overwhelming crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen.”
STILINSKI RANCH SERIES | 5/?
→ by Mack
Derek groaned as Stiles’s mouth was doing things to his neck that the older male was pretty sure Stiles shouldn’t know how to do. This thought process continued until Derek realized that this means that Stiles has been with other people and suddenly, he was jealous and flipping them, pushing Stiles against the wall, his hands reaching for Stiles’s, lacing their fingers. He raised them up above their heads, pinning them as he leaned in. He claimed the other’s mouth with a possessive sound, very like a growl, and Stiles was shivering beneath him as he did his best to press closer to the ranch hand.
Stiles was making the most frustrating of noises and all they served to do was make Derek’s blood boil in way that was both addicting and frightening. He dropped one of the hands to bring his hand down, gripping at a hip. Stiles used his partial freedom to grip into Derek’s hair, tugging firmly. Derek gasped, sucking the other’s lower lip in before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled away his deep green eyes locking with honey brown, and his mouth twitched as the other grinned dazedly at him. Then the teen—Damnit, he was sixteen! What the hell was he doing?—then blushed and Derek felt the rumble of enjoyment that was his body’s reaction. He pulled in his lips for a moment before releasing, still watching. Stiles wanted to say something, that much was obvious.
When too much time had passed, Derek rolled his eyes.
“What is it? And don’t say nothing, Stiles. You are a really bad liar.”
Stiles chuckled softly at this and it seemed more to himself than to Derek. The older male rose his brows.
“It’s nothing really… I just…”
“Stiles. Spit it out.”
“I really like that… when you do stuff. With my neck.”
Derek blinked. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked, not sure he completely understood.
“When I do stuff with your neck?”
Stiles gave a long suffering sigh and looked away, suddenly interested in whatever was off to the left. Derek didn’t bother to look.
“Yeah. Like. The kissing, yeah. Really digging that. And the biting. I’m like… surprised I haven’t come from that. But I also love when you grab it. It’s like… kind of possessive and aggressive and as stupid as it probably is, I really find it hot. Like… hot hot. Really, really hot.”
Derek stared for a long moment before he slowly smirked. His green eyes glinted as he pressed in a bit more.
Stiles nodded rapidly. “Yeah. You have no idea.”
Derek shrugged. He was finding this very interesting and his body was also enjoying the turn of events.
“No, I really don’t,” he agreed. “But, I’d like to get an idea.”
Stiles didn’t move and Derek didn’t expect him to. He released the hand he still held to the wall, moving his own arms to wrap around the younger male, tugging him hard against him. He was half hard and he didn’t know if Stiles would be able to feel him, but if he could, he’d definitely feel him now. The other gasped and pressed closer and Derek could feel his excitement.
Trying not to pay attention to that, he kissed along Stiles’s jaw, punctuating the path with little nips. He grinned as the other’s body wriggled the closer he got to his neck. He lifted a hand to grip at the side and back of his neck, pressing his fingers firmly into the skin. Stiles pressed his neck back into the touch which tilted his head to give him more room on the other side. Derek’s eyes flickered to Stiles’s face which was lax in relaxed pleasure and the boy licked his lips.
The ranch hand teased his nose along his jaw the rest of the way down and then he was kissing at Stiles’s neck, switching between biting and soothing with a swipe of his tongue. He knew that he was better off playing it safe but with the noises Stiles was making—breathy gasps and needy whimpers and other sounds that Derek couldn’t place names to but they set him on fire anyway—and they way he writhed and shifted between him and the wall, and the friction was making it harder—how ironic and annoyingly so—to take things slowly. Finally, he gave in and tugged at his shirt collar to reveal one particular patch of skin that tempted him. With the shirts Stiles wore, no one would ever see any marks me made there. He was torn between wanting people to see what he had marked as his own and the excitement of the secret that was his and Stiles’s. He bit down hard and laved his tongue over the mark before he sucked upon it. When he pulled away, he admired the hickey on his shoulder before Stiles was gripping him by the face and pulling him in for another hot and heavy kiss. Derek gave in and it was when they were writhing and rutting against each other that Stiles’s dad came calling.
“Stiles? Son?” Derek and Stiles jumped apart as if a bucket of ice cold water had been dropped onto them. It might as well have with how fast their arousal wilted away. By the time Mr. Stilinski joined them, Stiles was brushing Henrietta and Derek was working on a saddle. If the older man noticed the obvious tension in the air, he said nothing. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“Stiles, yours and Derek’s entry forms for the horse show came in. Judge Martin said to get them in before next Tuesday. Stiles nodded a little more sharply than was called for but his father had looked away to focus on Derek. The ranch hand did his best to not betray a thing, and the sad part was that unlike his son, he was good at it. Finally, the older man shrugged and dropped the papers on a nearby work table.
“I’ll get out of your hair. Derek. Don’t let him get you distracted.” He glanced at the saddle. “Missed a spot.” With a nod, he took off.
Derek felt the bile rise in his mouth. He knew. Maybe not all the details, but he knew. He let Stiles have his happy dance of relief but deep down, he knew what he had to do.
* this is a work of fan fiction. don’t own the bbs. wish i did. also warning. underage sexual themes are present. still rated pg 13 at the present.