I have to go with the obvious here and say cursed bar! (And by cursed I mean haunted.) Derek’s the surly bartender who patrons are constantly flirting with while he gives nothing in response. They’re batting their eyelashes and sliding their numbers on napkins across the bar, and he puts their martini directly down on top of it and moves on to the next customer.
Stiles is…a server seems cliche.
(Though him trying to flirt with Derek as he picks up drinks from the bar, shouting to him over the crowd and the noise, devastated that Derek never reciprocates but still bravely forging on to save face—and it turns out that Derek can never hear anything he says. He hasn’t heard one stupid pickup line, hasn’t seen a single wink because he’s always moving on to the next drink, has no idea that Stiles wants him, just as much as he wants Stiles…)
No, Stiles lives in the crappy apartment above the bar. Technically it isn’t an apartment, it’s actually zoned as office space and he is living there very illegally, but his landlord really wanted to get the place rented so when a confused grad student asked about it…maybe he didn’t correct him. There’s a small kitchen, a bathroom, hardwood floors, crown molding, and the ghost of the reclusive writer who rented the place as his office, died, and wasn’t found until five days later.
But it’s an old building from the 1890s or something, so there isn’t just the writer’s ghost there. No, there’s also a jilted lover, a gunslinger who died in a shootout, and Stiles is pretty sure he hears phantom drumming in that “old ancient burial ground” kind of way. It could also be the music from the bar below, because it’s really loud through the old floor, but he hasn’t slept much lately so he can’t say for sure.
So Stiles’ illegal apartment is very haunted and turns out he has just enough of The Sight to see all of them. All through the night. Standing over him, wailing at the walls, brandishing a very old six shooter, typing on a very loud typewriter. The only refuge is the noisy bar downstairs so he picks a barstool in the corner, out of the way of the patrons having fun, and settles in. Every night until closing. There’s a few ghosts down there, some old guy yelling about the noise, but at least he’s drowned out by the crowd and the music.
Derek sees this rough looking guy there every night and starts to pay attention. Stiles doesn’t drink often, maybe a beer or a cocktail every couple nights, so he isn’t one of the barely functioning alcoholic regulars. He never hits on anyone, only talks to the people who approach him first, and he never leaves with anyone else. Some nights he pulls out a laptop and actually tries to work with all the chaos around him. He stays until the lights come on, and then almost reluctantly, he trudges back outside.
It’s too loud to talk inside and he always leaves before Derek finishes for the night, disappearing before he gets outside, but one night Derek throws down his bar rag and jogs after him. He finds him at the narrow door between the bar’s storefront and the art gallery next door, struggling to unlock it in the dim streetlights.
“What’s your deal?” he asks, maybe a little aggressively because Stiles is weird. He tips too much on one beer and never tries to flirt and sometimes he pokes at his laptop. People don’t go to crowded, trendy bars to write papers and be sober.
“My apartment’s haunted,” Stiles answers, and as if to prove his point, ghostly drumming floats down from the open window above. The music is off in the bar, the only sound on the sidewalk is from the few straggling groups of bar patrons having a last cigarette or waiting for a cab.
For the briefest second, Derek thinks he sees the weathered face of a dirty cowboy missing teeth behind the glass door Stiles is still struggling to open, and it sends a shiver of warning down his spine.
“How about you stay at my place?” he suggests, entirely unlike himself. Stiles’ eyebrows jump.
“Seriously? I tell you my apartment’s haunted and you invite me over? You have terrible self-preservation instincts.”
Derek would give him that, but he’s seen glasses fall off the bar with no one nearby. Candles in the corner booths relight themselves hours after they’ve been blown out. A bottle of top shelf scotch levitated itself right onto the floor, from behind the metal railing keeping them all in place.
“You moved into a haunted apartment,” he counters. “You have no room to judge.”
Tag sterek fic
50+57 Sterek (also Sterek for 1+3 which I sent before but forgot the pairing?) I hope whatever’s stressing you about this gets resolved in the best possible way!
Arranged Marriage; Forgotten First Meeting
To me this sounds like two princes who have a very drunken hookup in college, both too drunk to recognize each other, and then stumble out the next morning without looking their silent shame in the face.
A few years later they’re out of college, they’ve stopped partying (mostly), they’re respectable, it’s time for them to do their princely duties and get married. For the good of their countries and solidifying old fashioned alliances and whatnot. Neither of them is particularly thrilled about it because rumor has it that Stiles guy is kind of a weirdo, and Prince Derek has one hell of a stick up his ass.
But they’re adults, they’ve known this was coming, they follow each other on Instagram (though Derek has posted all of one picture, that was clearly posted for him), they can handle it.
They finally meet in person, officially, with their parents and diplomats and a trusted photographer in the room, and there’s…something about this guy. Stiles narrows his eyes over their handshake that’s been going on too long, trying to place why he seems so familiar; Derek raises his eyebrows at what he interprets to be blatant dislike, and things are off to a rocky start.
There are formal brunches during which Stiles practically glares at the guy, because when has he met him before? Somehow he knows him!
Stiles plays the piano, because he’s a well rounded prince, but Derek can’t even focus on the music because he can’t stop watching his fingers. There’s something familiar about them. He has some distant, fuzzy memory of those fingers—and for some reason they’re a turn on?
They’re at a diplomatic soiree, keeping close to each other for appearance and because they really should get to know each other, when a server approaches them with a tray of crystal champagne flutes filled with the finest bubbly. Stiles shakes his head as Derek holds up a polite hand, and the server moves on.
“Bad experience in college,” Stiles says, and Derek just nods. Neither can remember the details, but there were two bottles of stolen champagne finished off on a rooftop under the stars.
It isn’t until much later, maybe months, maybe after the wedding that they realize why they know each other. Maybe Derek takes off his shirt for a quick swim, or Stiles spills something on his dress shirt and has to borrow one and starts unbuttoning while Derek’s standing right there. Maybe it’s Derek’s abs Stiles remembers licking, or a particular mole Derek has a weird memory of biting a massive hickey onto while drunkenly advising Stiles get it checked for melanoma.
Either way, there’s a moment realization where they stand there, gaping stupidly, totally blindsided as that night slowly filters back into their minds in bits and pieces, and then there’s probably more ab licking and mole biting and Derek’s still weirdly concerned about melanoma.
Time for some more vampire!Stiles.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Words: 5,459
Rating: Mature
Content Notes: Canon-typical violence off-screen and some wound treatment.Derek stumbled and saved himself from falling by catching his shoulder on a tree. He hissed as the motion jarred the hand he had clamped over the gashes in his side and took a moment to catch his breath, ears straining to catch any sound of his pursuers. Leaves rustled under quiet footfalls to the east and Derek took off running again.
He didn’t have a destination beyond getting away, and he wasn’t sure that he could do even that. These woods were unfamiliar, and while he might be able to keep one step ahead under the cover of the thick forest, he didn’t know what he would do if he got to the edge of the trees. Luckily for him, the forest had been getting thicker for the past twenty minutes, so he didn’t seem to be in danger of running out of woods yet. Running out of energy was another story: the gashes in his side were still weeping blood without any sign of stopping, and the new moon hiding up with the sun overhead wasn’t doing anything to help out his stamina levels.
Derek happened upon a clearing a few minutes later, a small, squared-off house sitting in the center of the glade. Derek paused and listened for a moment. He couldn’t pick out a heartbeat from within the house, but there was a rhythmic clattering noise that sounded like typing. A vampire, Derek hoped, and crossed the clearing in quick strides to knock on the door.
The door swung open a moment later to reveal a pale man whose eyes went black as he took a breath in. Derek belatedly realized that it might not be the best idea to meet a strange vampire with an open wound that had been bleeding down his side for the past hour.
If you have the time, would you mind writing a sterek drabble for the prompt “I came out of a closet in Ikea screaming ‘for narnia’ and fell on you”? (Sorry for bothering you)
absolutely no need to apologise, nonnie, you’re not bothering me at all! thank you so much for the prompt! here is 1k of everybody lives and nothing hurts IKEA crack. i hope you like it! ♥
‘Aha! There it is. The Stockholm.’
Derek drops his face into his hands as his mom strides towards a fake living room like she’s marching into battle. In the next fake living room over, his six-year-old cousin is screaming at the top of her lungs while his uncle Peter spins her around and around in a rotating armchair.
Derek gets it, to a certain extent. Moving into his first ‘grown up’ apartment–his mom’s words, Derek thought the apartment he shared with two roommates in college was pretty damn ‘grown up’, he certainly paid enough ‘grown up’ rent for it–is exciting. He’s definitely pretty fucking ecstatic to stop living with his entire family. Again.
What Derek doesn’t get is why everybody needed to come to IKEA to ‘help’ pick out furniture. He has suspicions that his dad and his sisters are only in this for the meatballs.
Sterek AU where Stiles is on the verge movie star and Derek is the quiet librarian who doesn’t recognize him.
OHhh I love this ok, because mistaken identity is one of my favorite things.
1 Stiles is a little overwhelmed, ok. He didn’t mean to become the Next Big Thing. All he wanted was to make enough money with his shitty YouTube channel to keep the lights on and his dad in PT.
But then, fame happened and he has no fucking clue what to do with it, with all the people who want his attention and the mountain of scripts growing in his dad’s garage.
He doesn’t even have time to read books anymore, and that right there is the true travesty of his upturn in fame, if he’s honest.
2 Still. He’s got the lights on, and his dad has the best fucking care, and he gets to go really cool places. It’s when he’s in said really cool place, filming a movie that is either going to be Oscar bait or THE summer blockbuster (Stiles really didn’t pay attention) that he finds a library.
3 And in the library he finds the prettiest, grumpiest librarian he’s ever seen. Maybe just the prettiest, grumpiest PERSON he’s ever seen and he’s filming with Gal Gadot. Stiles quickly decides that the library is his new favorite place.
The books are nice too.
4 It takes him four trips to realize Derek (pretty grumpy book boy is named Derek, glares when Stiles brings him coffee and reads books to little kids in a soft, excited tone that makes Stiles want to melt, it’s adorable) has no freaking clue who he is.
It’s the first time since his second movie that Stiles wasn’t immediately recognized, and he knows he’ll have to tell Derek eventually, but he doesn’t want to–he wants to be a normal dude with a book, arguing with a pretty boy about the Lord of the Rings movie adaptations and being utterly charmed by the way Derek flushes when he slides new books across the counter to him, mumbling, “I saved it for you.”
5 They start texting when Stiles has to spend a week at a remote location doing night shoots, and the light flirting they’ve been doing takes a turn for the sexy. Stiles spends his time elated that this beautiful, sweet guy–he volunteers to bottle feed kittens and his landlord made him stop fostering pets because he adopted four–wants to spend time with him and terrified that Derek is going to realize who he is before Stiles tells him.
6 As soon as he gets back to town, even though he’s exhausted and still covered in fake blood and he’s due on set in three hours–he begs Derek to meet him, stumbles into the all night cafe wide eyed and almost hyperventilating and announces, “I’m a movie star, I don’t even know how it happend, and I should have told you but you didn’t know who I was I wanted you to like me I’m so sorry for lying.”
7 Derek gives him a smile Stiles really likes, fond and exasperated and amused, and says, “I knew who you were when you came in, Stiles. You just didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t.”
Stiles falls into his seat and gapes at Derek. “How?”
Derek snorts, “You came to the library with Gal Gadot. You weren’t subtle.”
Stiles kind of sputters about that because he’d forgotten she’d been there–but Derek just rolls his eyes, and leans across the table and kisses him. He’s blushing when he pulls back, but firm when he says, “Shut up and drink your milkshake. I’ll drive you to set.”
How Do You Call Your Loverboy? by @eclecticklutz / Ithinkwehaveanemergency
“Oh Sylvia? Yes, Mickey? How d’you call your lover boy?” Stiles speaks along with the music, inflection and pitch changing perfectly along with the track. He grins as Derek arches an amused brow. He lowers his own brow an an exaggerated come-hither look. “Come here, loverboy.”
Derek stifles a laugh and starts in on his food in an attempt to hide the blush that graces his cheekbones while Stiles sings the rest of the song.
And if he gets redder still when Stiles randomly quotes some lines from the movie as the Dirty Dancing soundtrack plays on, the young renter doesn’t comment.
For @sterekdrabbles! September 3rd’s prompt was kit, free, prince, so I knew I had to write about werefox kit Stiles! =3 Enjoy another kid fic!
Also on AO3.
**********
Derek was wandering through the forest far from home when he heard a soft whining sound. Curious, he followed the sound into the underbrush.
Lifting a low branch, he saw a little fox kit stuck in a trap. The poor thing was whining pitifully and looking up at Derek with big brown eyes. “Shh, I’ll get you out,” Derek said softly, then pried the trap open. Werewolf strength was so useful, even if he was still little.
Free, the fox stepped gingerly on its paw, then climbed onto Derek and scented him happily, making Derek feel like a heroic prince.
Awwww.
The Treehouse
The treehouse has seen and been through a lot in its lifetime.
It has been built and repaired and expanded on so many times that the
treehouse doesn’t even remember its original form. Its walls have been
colored on by crayons, markers, paint and mud. It wears each patch of
art with pride.It has seen friends vowing to always be best friends, and also
seen those very same friendships break apart. It’s watched as tiny feet
grew into bigger feet, and then bigger still, until they no longer
climbed its ladder to confess all their secrets.It has a lot of sweet memories, and some not so fond. But its
favorite story, the one it will whisper to the leaves at night when the
moon is bright and full, is the story of the wolf who fell in love with
the human.Like most good stories, this one started with a lonely boy
longing for a friend. Day after day he would climb its ladder and stare
out the window. His hair, black and disheveled, would flutter in the
breeze as he would sigh and watch his siblings romp in the grass below.He was quieter than the other kids. Sure, there were times
where he could be seen racing with everyone else, but most of his time
was spent up in the quiet of its walls. Pillows were strategically
placed so that he could sit on them and catch the most light as he read
his comic books. Sometimes he read out loud, as if he had an audience,
and afterwards he’d sigh and look out the window.One day, as the boy was reading one of his books, a voice yelled
out “Derek!” from the base of the treehouse’s ladder. The boy, Derek,
startled and his face lit up. He waved the new kid up and fidgeted as
he waited for the boy to join him.
For @sterekdrabbles today, September 5: mole, quiet, whisper. I’m sort of pretending this happened before they came back in season 6. (Which I never watched.) 🙂
~
Derek traces his fingers over the moles on Stiles’s cheek like he’s charting constellations.
They’ve been quiet for so long, drinking each other in, re-memorizing what they already knew and memorizing everything they’ve learned in one night, reacquainting themselves and acquainting themselves in ways they never had been before.
Even a whisper might break the spell that’s been cast in their silence but Stiles knows it’s important, hand on Derek’s, cheek tilting into Derek’s palm.
“I missed you.”
Derek smiles, actually smiles, and leans in to kiss him, I missed you, too clear in the soft press of his lips.
“That stupid witch!” Derek watched his mate pace back and forth in front of him. “What kind of stupid plan was that?!”
“She had a good tactic.” The glare he got for that put his own to shame. “Don’t go out and try to get revenge, Stiles. Scott and the others have it under control.”
“But she ruined it for us, Derek! Don’t you understand?! I can’t undo it! I can’t-”
Derek moved forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles, holding him close. He closed his eyes as the young man hiccupped a sob.
“We were so close, Der.”
“I know.”
♡
Oh, the angst. Why do I do this?
Also, I can’t come up with a title. If you can think of one for this, dm me.
@sterekdrabbles challenge words today were ‘revenge, tactic and witch’.
theproblemwithstardust 