spring bakers

The Pastry Trespasser

SWN Spring Fic Exchange gift for @alocalband

Word count: 5373

Tags: bakery AU, baker!Stiles, chef!Derek, fluff

Rating: T (for language)


The last thing Stiles expected when he walked into the back of the café at 5 a.m. was to see someone else already there.

He frowned at the coat already hanging on the rack by the back door and startled at the noise of someone moving around in his pantry. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t his pantry—both Danny and Isaac used it as well—but before 10 a.m., the café was his domain. And Stiles was just a wee bit possessive.

He stomped over to the pantry and opened his mouth to let the trespasser have a piece of his mind, when he caught an actual look at the trespasser and promptly swallowed his tongue.

Standing in the pantry with a yellow notepad in one hand and a pencil in the other was the hottest man Stiles had ever seen in his life. He was roughly Stiles’s height, with dark hair and a beard and black-framed glasses, his maroon sweater stretched over broad shoulders and mouthwatering biceps. And dark jeans covered an ass that should have been illegal, holy shit.

Stiles gaped. He thought he could be forgiven; nobody should be forced to confront such hotness before their first cup of coffee.

Pantry God finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone, and looked over to Stiles, pale eyes widening behind his glasses. “Can I help you?”

The words jerked Stiles out of his stupor, reminding him that Pantry God was actually Pantry Trespasser. “Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my pantry?”

The guy’s frankly impressive eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Your pantry? Are you the owner of this establishment?”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man’s sarcastic tone. Attractive or not, he didn’t need to take this. “No, but I’m the head chef. Well, one of the head chefs. Well, the pastry chef. The point is, I’m responsible for making sure we have all the delicious baked goods and so the pantry is my domain. Ergo, my pantry. What are you doing in it?”

The guy continued to look at Stiles as though he’d lost his mind. Which, unfair, although Stiles was used to it at this point. Scott and Allison gave him that look often.

Pantry Trespasser waved his notepad at the shelves. “So you’re the one responsible for organizing this place?”

“Yeah, and?”

He made a face. “This is a mess! Nothing’s labeled—”

Stiles balked. “Excuse you!”

“—you have your dry goods mixed with your canned goods, lunch items mixed with breakfast items, I have no idea when this produce was purchased—”

“It was just two days ago!” Stiles argued. Probably, anyway. It wasn’t like Danny and Isaac sent him their shopping schedules.

Pantry Trespasser grabbed a potato out of a tub under the shelves and held it out. “Look at this. It’s going soft. How long has it been here?”

That potato was looking pretty gnarly, and he was infuriated that Pantry Trespasser had a point. Stiles stammered. “I don’t…I’m the baker. I buy the flour, not the fucking potatoes!”

“I thought this was your pantry,” Pantry Trespasser said mockingly.

“That I share with two other people,” Stiles reminded him. “And you still haven’t answered my question. Who the hell are you?”

Pantry Trespasser dug a business card out of his pocket and handed it over. “Derek Hale. Peter’s my uncle.”

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HNITS One-Shot: Holy Thursday Redux

And this year, when Hannah presses her naked body to Baker’s naked body, Baker kisses her and whispers that she loves her. 

Hannah x Baker. ~2.5k words. 

Takes place in the spring of 2013, a year after the events of Her Name in the Sky.

They acknowledge it without acknowledging it. Baker brings it up one night in mid-February, during their goodnight phone call.

“What do you want to do for Easter?” she asks, her voice suddenly higher than normal.

The question surprises Hannah. “Oh–I don’t know,” she says, falling back into her desk chair. “Why, what were you thinking?”

“I don’t have class on Good Friday,” Baker says tentatively. “I was thinking maybe I’d fly to Atlanta that Thursday night?”

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anonymous asked:

Hey kelly :) I'm dying for another haker one-shot, I truly miss them...

It’s close to midnight when Hannah parks on the street outside Baker’s house. The air is crisp, clean, still, and it cools Hannah’s cheeks when she gets out of her car, flushed from the heat she had been blasting on the drive over.

Outside, she texts, tiptoeing around to the back of the house.

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