Sterek one-shots

Write What You Know

I'm actually really proud of this one so let me know what you think. It's kind of short though.

Derek never had any trouble finishing an assignment for his English class. Even if there's some supernatural big bad out there and it's finals week. He was majoring in English. That's what he liked. He was going to become a teacher, maybe write a novel or two on the side. But, this assignment his professor gave them today in class had him stumped.

'Write what you know.'

That's it? Write what you know? Well, that's just too damn broad of a topic. Derek can tell you the entire ancestry of werewolves like it was written on the back of his hand if you'd like but obviously, that's not an option he can choose.

He'd spent the rest of the night and most of the next day trying to figure out how to get this damn paper done by its due date. He was still struggling when the pack came in for their normal Friday night bonding session.

Stiles bounded over to the wolf plopping down ungracefully onto the couch next to him.

"Hi, Der." The younger said, leaning over, kissing his cheek.

That's when it hit him. He pressed a sloppy kiss onto the younger male's lips and bounded into his room away from the noise radiating from the rest of the pack. Stiles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

Later, Stiles found his way into Derek's room, crawling across the bed and curling up next to the wolf who was typing away at his computer. Stiles never interrupted Derek while he was working, the few times he had before Derek ended up forgetting what was flowing out of his mind and getting shoved right back into his writer's block. So, Stiles learned when and when not to be quiet.

Derek paused for a moment to rub the others back before little 'taps' echoed through the room again. Stiles fell asleep not to long after laying down next to Derek and when he awoke the other had just sent the document to his professor and had another copy being printed out.

"Can I read it?" Stiles yawned.

Derek looked hesitant for a moment before nodding and getting off the bed. Stiles grabbed the laptop, sitting up, he started reading.

'Love is insanity. It's founded on stupidity and idiocy. A four letter word that just brings torture, an endless spout of pain, and inhumanity. Yet, it's something we long for everyday of our lives.

Love is the constellations that dance on his pale skin, it's the way his eyes seem to sparkle even when he's at his lowest points. It's the days he loves being the center of attention and the nights he keeps to himself. His hatred for the outdoors but fascination with the moon. His inability to focus that counteracts with his pristine intelligence that drives everyone up a wall. It's when you see that big picture and he's worried about the little details. The way he uses his hyper activeness to his advantage and pushes himself to get the job done.

Maybe love is when he shows up on your doorstep babbling on about something that had happened earlier in the day but he can't quite remember but knows he needs to be comforted. Or the way he pulls on your heart strings every time laughter bubbles up his throat and fills the room. Maybe it's the way he smiles and drops his head after he gets complimented because he's not quite sure how to respond or the blush that convers his pale skin when you whisper the words 'I love you' just loud enough for only him to hear.

Love is the coincidence of finding him and knowing that nobody can compare. It's the way he looks at you and you can see how his moods boosts in a split second as you approach him. Love is a fuel for progression for when we cannot bare our inner demons anymore and he's always right there to make it better. It's when our lips meet and he tastes of coffee and Adderall and it's become so intoxicating that you just can't help but want more.

Love is the clutter he leaves around your apartment because it's more his home than yours or the extra drawers you leave just so he has a spare change of clothes when he needs them. It's the mess in his backpack because he can't manage to organize any of his schoolwork but still manages to keep straight A's. It's how his handwriting can gracefully dance across the paper one second and the next it's unreadable to even himself.

It's your first date at the pier where you took his hand and told him that you wanted something more. It's where you drove him home, walked him to the door, and shared a first kiss that can only be described in the most cliché ways. It's the late night phone calls and the constant ongoing messages that never seem to end even though you have absolutely nothing left to talk about because the thought of saying 'goodnight' sends an ache through your body and you'd rather just 'accidentally fall asleep' and send a message when the sun rises apologizing for being tired despite it being damn near three in the morning when you finally succumb to your exhaustion.

Love is when you feel like you're flying and falling and having a heart attack, all at the same time.

And, I call him Stiles.'

Guys, I'm literally so fucking tired. The past few weeks I just can't seem to get enough sleep even with going to bed at a normal or early time and sleeping in later for school. I come home and end up falling asleep as soon as I get home too. What's wrong with me? Send help.