beauty and the beast comparison | 2 of 2
“I’m so not buying your threats anymore!”
Tag sterek
Congrats on the followers!! Could you please do “You’re about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.”?
I certainly can! Here, have a college professor AU with oblivious, socially awkward Derek being wooed by Stiles with baked goods and bad puns!
Derek doesn’t know why the new professor annoys him so much– they’ve never so much as had a conversation with each other, but somehow that doesn’t matter. He’s seen him around campus a few times now and even that’s enough for Derek to know that there’s something about him.
He never seems to shut up, for one thing. And it isn’t just talking, no. It’s the way he talks. This guy treats conversation like it’s a whole body activity. Hands gesticulating wildly, shoulders shaking with laughter, shifting from foot to foot, that wide, mobile mouth open in amazement or stretching wide into a grin. It’s so unnecessary. Such a waste of energy. Derek gets exhausted watching him, but he can’t stop staring. It’s infuriating.
Two weeks into the semester he’s standing in the quad with Isaac, a fellow Chem professor, and the person Derek’s shared an office with for the last two years, when he spots the new guy coming towards them. He has a couple of binders tucked under one arm, a cup of coffee in the other, and he’s talking animatedly to Lydia Martin, math genius and all round terrifying human being. The fact the guy’s hands are full isn’t preventing his usual conversational flailing, and as Derek watches him he manages to slop coffee all down his own shirt.
“Who is that guy?” Derek mumbles, shaking his head.
Isaac follows his gaze. “The new Physics professor. Something Stilinski, don’t know his first name, but everyone calls him Stiles. He was some kind of child prodigy apparently. Super smart. A real innovator in his field. The dean loves him. He got Chris Argent’s old office.”
“Argent’s office? With the view of– but–how is that fair? I’ve been here ten years and he just turns up and bags Argent’s old office” Derek sputters. He glares in Stiles’ direction. The guy is standing under a tree a ways off, still chatting animatedly with Professor Martin, while she dabs at his ruined shirt with a tissue, a begrudging smile on her face. Something twists in Derek’s gut. “He’s basically a fetus.”
“He’s thirty, apparently,” Isaac says, “He just looks young. And I told you. The dean loves him. Says he’s gonna bring in a lot of money with his exciting new research on–” He waves a hand airily. “Something or other.”
Well that’s just great. That’s just fucking aces. It’s another thing to add to the growing list Derek’s compiling of reasons he hates this guy. This Stiles. Stiles, Derek sneers to himself, that’s not even a name, and he walks in and takes the best office? And gets the dean to love him. And somehow makes Lydia Martin, a woman so innately terrifying that Derek has spent five years avoiding her at all costs, smile?
Ugh. Who the hell does this guy think he is? With his stupid hands. And that mouth. And–
As Derek glares intently, Stiles looks up, catches his eye. He looks around in confusion and then, when he decides that no, Derek is actually looking at him, he flushes and tentatively lifts a hand and waves.
Derek’s jaw clenches. He blinks twice. Then he turns back to Isaac who’s watching him, one eyebrow raised.
“What?” Derek asks.
“Nothing.” Isaac smirks. Then says, “Thirsty, huh?”
“Yeah,” Derek mutters. “Let’s go get a drink.”
“That’s not– never mind.” Isaac trails after him to their favorite campus coffee shop.
–
Unrequited
~4k •
laura/braeden, background sterek •
roommates, human au, fake dating
Braeden froze.
Agree to pretend-date her best friend? What a stupid idea. Even though their
late-night conversations included the fact that neither of them were straight, Laura
had never shown interest. Which sucked since Braeden had been head over heels
for three goddamn years.
“Okay, I know we were essentially raised by wolves, but climbing inside someone’s window is not an appropriate method of entry.”
“Laura—”
“Ah-t, eh-t, mmm, zip. Not ever. Try again.”
···
“We’re leather-jacket twins.”
“…”
“Stop making that face, you love it and you know it.”
···
“What d’you need, little brother? Water? Food? Is it too hot, need me to turn the AC on? Are you bored? Is that it?”
Nods plaintively.
“Okay, just give me a minute and we can go to the library.”
(Stiles, off in the background :: “I hope you know you’re the entire reason why he’s monosyllabic. I hope you know how much I hate you.”
“Oh, I know, babe. It helps me sleep at night.”)
and we’ll be flying through the streets with the people underneath and they’re running, running, running.
I’m new to the fandom and I ship Sterek so hard! Can you link me to some of your favourite Fics?
Hey, nonnie. Sorry for taking a while to get back to you. I am terrible for bookmarking fics but here is an amazing list of Sterek for you that I hope you will enjoy!
Sterek. Cotton candy. Also I’m sorry you’re sad and frustrated 😔
Thanks. It’s okay. It happens.
Anyway, here’s cotton candy for Sterek! ~1300 words.
{{ on ao3: Not On The First Date }}
Stiles takes Derek to the amusement park because it’s just about the cheesiest date he can think of and if Derek isn’t serious, he’ll bail.
It may sound like a strange plan, but when Derek had agreed to go out with him, Stiles had been ninety percent sure he was joking and Stiles is not about to let other people make him look the fool. He does that well enough on his own, thanks.
But Derek had let Stiles come pick him up in the Jeep and had given him a Look when Stiles told him where they were going…but he had still gone. He hadn’t even complained. Which is maybe even more suspicious, but Stiles buys their tickets anyway.
They wander the park for about twenty minutes and Stiles rambles about how all the games are rigged because he doesn’t know what else to do, but then Derek takes his hand as they’re walking and he stops mid-sentence. Mid-step.
Derek raises a questioning eyebrow at him.
Oh. So that’s how they were playing it. Yeah. It’s fine. He’s got this.
Derek points to one of the old-fashioned games where you have to knock down the bottles. “That one.”
“What?” Stiles turns, his mind briefly setting off alarm bells when he feels the tug of Derek’s hand in his own.
“Let’s go do that one.”
“Were you not listening to a word I said?” Stiles whines, but then he’s met with an incredulous look.
“I’m a werewolf,” Derek deadpans and Stiles swallows.
It isn’t like Stiles had forgotten, but he hadn’t exactly put two and two together. He gestures Derek toward the rip-off with surprisingly high expectations, super strength in mind, and Derek pulls him along until Stiles syncs up their steps. It’s oddly gratifying.
When the kid working the booth tells them it’ll be five bucks, Derek looks to Stiles, who rolls his eyes.
“Aren’t you rich?” he mutters, but he shells out the cash anyway.
theproblemwithstardust 