Can you guys update the barista/bartender tag maybe?This blog is the best 😳😳
this might be a long one
The moment the honey eyed boy set his foot in his & Laura’s shop, Derek’s life turned into a typhoon of rolling eyes and sarcasm.
“One day those eyeballs are going to roll off your skull, sourwolf!”
“Pretty sure, you’ll be there to hold on to them and ransom free coffee from me.”
“You can’t make coffee without your eyes.”
Well, you get the picture?
Stiles isn’t a hooker. He just plays one on TV.
“Stiles?” Derek asks, sticking his head through the door of his office, “You coming to bed yet?”
He looks up, his eyes red from staring at the screen and the floor littered with files and pictures and post-it notes.
“What?” he replies, rubbing his sleepy eyes, “Yeah – just – a bit longer? I’m so close.”
“Okay” he sighs, closing the door behind him. It had gotten worse a few days ago, but he had seen how it started spiraling down almost a month ago when he first got the case.
Stiles gets a new case - and now he has to balance his time between his other cases, Derek, his friends and family - and oh, he also has a wedding to plan.
(Follow up to “Caution, contens may be hot”, but can be read alone.)
Derek always wanted kids. He always thought he would find the perfect man, get married and settled down, then worry about kids.
Now, Omega Derek Hale struggles with the affects of being left pregnant and unmated after a casual relationship with his old boyfriend ends with James dying from a fatal car crash.
Stiles shivered when he felt a rush of cold air. He turned around to see a tall, broad, extremely muscled man in a black leather jacket step in amid a flurry of snowflakes. The man’s stubble and dark hair framed piercing hazel eyes. He held his hands in his pockets, and he glared out from beneath thick, furrowed eyebrows. His eyes landed on Stiles and pierced right through him as though Stiles were the only thing standing in between this man and his coffee, and Stiles gulped and…yep. Knocked over his coffee.
“Can I…Can I help you?” Stiles asked, dropping his textbook on the counter and dabbing at the coffee stains on his flannel.
“Sixteen ounce white chocolate cheesecake mocha,” the man said after glancing at the menu board. His voice was higher than Stiles had expected, and softer. He smiled, and as his eyebrows lifted, Stiles could have sworn he heard a choir of angels burst into song. “Hold the whip, please.”
There is Mr. Broody, Barista Stiles and we got coffee, black without sugar.
After a crowd of unruly teenage girls force heart throb actors, Peter and Derek Hale, into Lydia’s coffee shop the last thing she expects is for Peter to declare himself an employee. And work. For no money.
Did Lydia mention she’s a fan?
Today’s the day. He’s gonna do it. He’s actually going to (as Cora says) “speak words like a normal human and talk” to (as Cora has designated him) Cute Coffee Boy.
- Or he would, if it weren’t for this asshole cutting in line.
Let Me Help You Get Over Your Ex (and Get With Me Instead) by alittleoff (1/1 | 3,575 | R)
Derek is an accidental oblivious jerk.
or the one where Stiles tries to help Derek through his break-ups and even though things don’t go smoothly, they go.
“Oh!” Scott exclaims, making Derek turn around to look at him, “Stiles gave you his number then, huh?” About damn time. Scott’s had to put up with his best friend-slash-room mate go back and forth over his decision to approach Derek. It was nice to see that Stiles had finally made a move. But it didn’t look like it was well received if Derek’s face is anything to go by.
An utterly rubbish bartender au.
Prompt: “yes, i know this is a bar but you’re a rlly hot bartender and i panicked and said “cHOCOLATE MILK” when you asked me what i wanted to drink, now i just want to crawl away and hide forever” sterek au :D
He’s still beautiful.
Extraordinarily, mysteriously so: that guileful kind of beauty that sneaks up on the poor fool lucky enough to recognize it, a peculiar constellation of dazzling features that, once recognized, become the only stars in the night sky.
That’s how it felt to Derek at least, during his fling with Stiles Stilinski, the musician who wandered into his bar late one night while on a break from his first national tour. Derek had no idea that the bewitching man was the next up-and-coming singer-songwriter the entire music industry was buzzing about. All he saw was the perfect storm of cocky, clumsy grace; disheveled hair and pink cupid’s bow lips that made him weak in the knees; bloodshot-but-still-glittering eyes the color of single malt scotch and even more intoxicating.
Just when Stiles is starting to reach panic-attack levels of stress, a leather jacket and firm thigh are pressed right up next to him, and an arm is casually thrown over his shoulder. Stiles looks up to thank this kind person who is saving his life, and suddenly forgets what air is.
Because HOT. DAMN. Call the police and the fire-man, this guy is smoking.
Or the AU where Derek helps save Stiles from an ex, and a steamy BDSM relationship ensues- with feelings all over the place.
Derek’s a bartender who thinks Stiles is worth more than a $7 drink.
“I know I’m not as hot as some people here but you doubt my commitment to the stripper life? I could be a stripper! I’ve seen Magic Mike!”
There’s a new bartender at Stiles’s favourite bar, and Stiles is Not Happy.
Stiles has never been good at flirting. Everything else he can do, but flirting is kind of a no no. Out celebrating his 21st birthday the last thing he ever expected was for the bartender to want to give him flirting lessons. But if he’s offering then why not?
What would happen if Laura never went to Beacon Hills and Stiles came to New York for NYU and got a job at Hale’s Bar.
(Stiles giving Derek heart eyes. And being saved by Derek.)
Prompt from Awful-AUs
“The customer I flipped off earlier tonight for touching my butt turned out to be the son of some high-ranking mafia someone-or-rather, and now he’s back with his posse and you’re the only other person left in the bar so can you PLEASE do something instead of sitting there looking drunk as a skunk?”
Derek sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Can you just get me a beer?”
“I should be getting you to bed,” Stiles says, and his lips twitch the moment he sees Derek’s ears turn a bit red. “But yeah, sure, coming right up.”
Stiles hasn’t seen Derek in 2 years. Now he’s back in town and Laura has engineered a little reunion.
The rules. Stiles knows them well. Has them drilled into his head, repeats them to alphas and betas that conveniently are too drunk to remember them on their own, hears Peter shout them out whenever a rule gets broken, reminding the entire bar that they exist and are (generally) enforced.
Number one – no eye contact.
Number two – no fucking eye contact.
Number three – keep away from the red line.
Number four – no touching.
Number five – if we don’t like it, don’t do it.
This guy is breaking Stiles’ rules…but, man, is he gorgeous…
The one where Stiles is a bartender and Derek is supporting a friend.