#*fic21

Ho ho ho, this is a Secret🎅🏻Santa gift for @fairydustedtheory​. You asked for: Fluff and romance. I hope you enjoy it my dear ❤️. 

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*****

Pajama Party

It’s cold outside. Stiles loves the holidays, but it’s cold outside. Don’t get him wrong, it’s a beautiful night, the snow is falling, the world is quite, and Stiles is currently laying next to the love of his life, his new fiancé Derek Hale. But…it’s cold outside, which means it’s cold inside too. As Derek rolls over in his sleep, Stiles slips out of bed and sneaks around his childhood bedroom until he finds what he’s looking for. A large box, filled with Christmas themed pajamas that Stiles received from “Santa” every year as far as he can remember. Stiles is pulling the box from his closet when a voice from behind him nearly startles him to death. But it’s only Derek asking what Stiles is doing. Stiles explains that he is currently freezing to death and his plan to wear festive pajamas in order to save his life. Pajamas Stiles is so graciously willing to share with Derek of course. At that, Derek rolls his tired eyes, but there’s a chuckle in his voice when he reminds Stiles that he is sharing a bed with an actual werewolf now, and if Stiles lets him, Derek can keep him warm all night. Pajamas not required.

Stiles smiles to himself, feeling his cheeks grow pink. But the opportunity so see Derek in comfy Christmas pajamas is too much to pass up. So they compromise.

It’s cold outside, but Stiles could care less. The love of his life is dressed in an ugly winter animal theme thermal shirt while Stiles dawns his favorite button up holly pajama set. Derek pulls Stiles in closer, and as Derek presses his heated palm into Stiles’s skin, Stiles grins and thinks to himself, that he will never be cold again.

For @jesssssah. Dear Jessa, I really hope you have a wonderful time over the holidays and that you enjoy this fic! Merry Christmas! X

*****

The Pleasure (And Pain) Of Your Company

 With the raucous cheers of his awed co-workers ringing in his ears, Magnus gracefully brings Dot from Accounts out of the low dip that ended their impromptu Argentine tango and exits the dancefloor in order to procure himself another one of those knockout cocktails from the mixologist being paid a small fortune to pour life into the company’s seasonal shindig.

 The man doesn’t disappoint, conjuring up a rather fabulous neon creation that mercifully tastes as good as it looks. A master mixer himself, it was always nice to bend someone’s ear over new twists on traditional recipes, and as Magnus’s efforts last year to infuse flavour and strength into the dull-as-dishwater complimentary punch had earned him a severe ticking off from Ragnor (whilst privately rating it amongst Magnus’s best work), alternative ways of livening up the evening appear to be somewhat limited.

Dear @asarcasticwitch​, I totally squee'd when I saw your signup. Your wish list of favored tropes couldn't have been more perfect, and I was thrilled to create something for you! It was so hard to narrow down the choices, but I'm a sucker for Royalty and Historical AUs (although this may be more of the hand-waving variety) so here we are. I hope you enjoy this, and may you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3

*****

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.

– Rumi

Then

The feeling hits Derek for the first time when he is ten. It fills him with a burst of happiness and causes a tingling that runs from his pattering heart to his dizzied brain and down to his fingers and toes.

It also happens at the most inopportune time. The sensation steals over him whilst he is training with the sons and daughters of the neighboring noble houses. And in the middle of sparring, no less.

Derek’s steps falter as the tip of his opponent’s sabre renders a hole in his tunic.

“Derek!” There’s a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently as Derek slowly drifts back to earth. His uncle drops to his knees and pulls Derek aside as the rest of the students watch curiously. “Do you need a moment?” Peter murmurs.

It was so much fun thinking up ideas for @whreflections and i definitely had fun writing this!

*****

the first time.

When someone dies, you learn to hate your memory. Stiles remembers his mom’s order from the diner across town, how she always wanted half tea and half lemonade with heavy ice at any place that could swing it. But, when he closes his eyes, he can’t see what color her eyes were when the sunlight hit them, if it was her bottom teeth that were crooked or just a couple on the top, if her nose tilted upward at the end or if Stiles made the vision of it up so he could feel like he had a piece of her in himself. Was the small scar where she hit her head as a child threading through her left or right eyebrow?

He doesn’t remember the last time she smiled before the dirt separated them or what she liked to watch on television before they could only choose from the handful of hospital channels that didn’t result in static, but he knows she preferred sneakers to sandals and she thought the way you spoke about yourself was important. She liked trees and bright-colored bugs but Stiles doesn’t know if she knew she was going to die. He likes to think she didn’t, that she was pleasantly surprised when the pain made way for a field of wildflowers, a hospital gown’s chrysalis shed for the wings of the baby pink sundress she always wore on date night. He can’t remember if she believed in heaven, but he hopes she is there anyway.

For @kaistrex. I went with the Wolf!Derek and somehow this happened?? I hope you'll like this silly little story. I was more than a little intimidated by the fact that you were my giftee 😳*goes back to hide under a rock*

*****

When The Wolf Comes Out

As far as Stiles remembered, he always wanted a dog. He idealised the love and friendship that a dog would bring him.

When he was four, his babcia had a dog. It was a tiny chihuahua with globulous eyes. Then one day the dog was gone. And later so was Babcia.

Stiles’ father had nothing against dogs but he had everything against adding any chore to his plate. He had Stiles’ mom to take care of, and then his teenage son and the town as whole as the newly elected sheriff of Beacon Hills.

Stiles went from writing that he wanted a puppy in his letter to Santa when he was five to crying when he saw dog droppings in the street when he was nine. Though if he was being honest, he could admit now that crying about dogs was easier than crying about other things then. And here he was now, a grown man and getting his first job out of college; he had never had a dog.

Until now.

For @regardselena <3

*****

Winter Wolf

He's been out there for months. Stiles knows it. He's seen a glimpse of him every now and then whenever it was quiet and nobody was around. And yet, no matter how often he tried, he couldn't get Derek back to them. As soon as Stiles' attention shifted onto the wolf, he would turn and vanish between the trees.

They don't know what it had been that set Derek off. It had been months after the alpha pack was gone. Stiles had been saved. There had been losses but things had gone back to normal long ago. If you don't count the nightmares that is. They had somehow crawled back into their lives, wounded, but fond of the future they had just saved. And then, just like that, the loft had been empty. A shift in the pack bonds, an emptiness that had clawed at their hearts.

At first they had searched. Hours and hours they had run through the woods for a trace that didn't seem to have a source. Something that had smelled like Derek and yet again didn't. The searches had ended with more frustration every time and each time Stiles had struggled more to convince the pack of another try. He still doesn’t understand why they could give up. Maybe since everyone else could feel the emptiness in their supernatural bond it had been a lot harder on them, than it had been for Stiles. Maybe they couldn't take it anymore. But eventually the searches had stopped.

For @thisnewjoe <3

*****

Stiles took in a deep breath. The night air in the preserve was one of his favorite smells, even better tonight since it had rained earlier that day. He had never really expected to enjoy being out in nature as much as he did these days, but gathering nights had become one of his favorite things. With the moon at its highest and completely full he couldn’t miss this chance to grab a few different materials for his spellwork.

Some part of his brain told him that he probably shouldn’t be out here, especially with rumors of a new group of hunters coming to town. Those rumors included the lovely detail that this particular group seemed to have no code to speak of and hunted down anyone supernatural. Nothing was off limits for them, including a mystic like himself.

Merry Christmas, to my wonderful giftee, @flynnifox​. Hope you enjoy this <3I said I'd probably never write a coffeeshop AU but HERE WE ARE. AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN!

*****

It’s a cool, early-November morning, and Derek goes through his usual routine of stopping at the tiny coffee shop on his way to work. It’s set back off the main street—practically undetectable unless you know where to look—but it’s always busy.

Derek pushes through the door, eyeing the plaques in the window stating that the shop has won The New York Times’ Best Coffee award for the last seven years running, as the bell above tinkles merrily. The line is long, as usual, but he doesn’t mind, often using the time spent waiting to check his emails before he gets to work.

He looks up as the line moves forward, and notices someone he doesn’t recognise behind the counter. Derek rolls his eyes, because for a place that sells incredible coffee, they sure do have a high turnover of staff. He goes back to his emails, anxiously thinking about where he’s going to get the funding for his next exhibition when the unfamiliar voice of the new barista makes him look up from his iPad.