Tag: coffeeshop au
coffeeshop AU
“i’m sorry but no.” Sterek
“I’m sorry, but no.”
Stiles raised an eyebrow at the man who hasn’t even bothered to look up from his book. And, while his dark hair and perfectly sculpted scruff makes him hot as fuck, the guy is, “Pretty presumptuous slash arrogant, aren’t we? Because I’m assuming you’re being an ass because you’re the kind of beautiful that has people’s shoes sloshing with wetness, but I came over here to ask if you’re using that other chair. Now I can see you saved it for your ego, because it’s clearly too inflated to fit there with you.”
Slowly, the man raises his head, eyes wide, jaw slack but not gaping, a bright red flush burning up from under the collar of his shirt, over his jaw to sharp cheeks. When his mouth finally does open, nothing comes out.
“Right.” Stiles says, holding on tight to his bitter evaluation of Handsome Asshole Stranger because if he doesn’t he’ll find that blush adorable and the guy might become Beautiful Blushing Bae, and Stiles will be in danger of becoming a statistic in the numbers of people who have thrown themselves at the guy.
So, instead, he clenches his jaw, straightens from where he’d bent down to grab at the empty chair, and walks away. Focusing on saying, “Yo, Scott, no bueno. Let’s just drink and walk,” and not turning around to get one last look at Handsome Asshole Stranger.
Four days later, after Scott’s left and Stiles is doing Sunday brunch alone, fortifying himself for his return to work after taking the previous week to go around the city with Scott like the filthy tourist he never allowed himself to be, a shadow falls over his table and he moves his coffee mug over to be refilled.
“If you’re offering that to me, you should know it’s empty.”
Brow furrowing, Stiles looks up to find Handsome Asshole Stranger standing at his table. He snorts and pulls his mug closer. “No way. I could probably pay rent for five years with the cash equivalent of all the free shit you’ve gotten over the years.”
“I’m still not sure if I should be flattered or punching you in the face,” the guy says with a smirk.
“Oh look. Those equal out to you leaving me alone.”
Handsome Asshole Stranger smirks… harder, Stiles guesses is the only way to explain it, and takes the empty seat across the table. “Let me buy you coffee.”
“That’s not clever. I clearly already have coffee.”
“Have you paid for it?”
Stiles purses his lips. “Touché. Alright, I’ll allow it. But I’m not buying one for you.”
Handsome Still-Kind-Of-But-Less Asshole Stranger’s smirk curls into a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy my own. I’m Derek,” the guy, Derek, says, and holds out his hand.
Stiles takes a moment to consider the possibilities, decides the worst is that he makes a fool of himself in front of someone he’s already written off, and at best he gets a free coffee. With a sigh, he takes the offered hand and says, “Stiles. Don’t ask.”
Sterek AU | based on the fic It’s been like years since it’s been clear
Summary: It’s six-thirty in the morning, but there are warm lights behind the floor-to-ceiling, de-boarded windows, and the ‘For Sale’ sign on the door has disappeared along with Stiles’ memory of where he’d been headed just moments before. The coffee shop is, apparently, open for business once more.
a thought:
Derek loses a bet with Erica, and so the next time he goes to Starbucks he has to order “one coffee, as black as my soul” with a completely straight face. 3 minutes later the barista hands him a giant latte with extra whipped cream and a marshmallow on top, with a completely straight face.
(Obviously Stiles is the barista, what were you expecting?)
yeah so i ended up writing it here you go
A small bell tinkles above the door when Derek walks into the coffee shop, its sweet ring followed closely by a poorly muffled snort. Derek looks to his left and finds his friends congregated on an overstuffed sofa, because of course they’re here for this. He doesn’t even know how they knew he was doing this now but he strongly suspects Cora’s involvement. She was acting smug this morning. More smug than usual.
Isaac is trying to act nonchalant, like he has no idea Derek is even there, but with half his face stuffed into his scarf and his eyes watering with mirth it’s not exactly an Oscar-winning performance. Boyd… actually looks legitimately disinterested by the whole ordeal, flipping slowly through a textbook with a pen behind his ear. Erica is clutching an iced drink in both hands and staring blatantly at Derek, wiggling her eyebrows. Typical.
Derek huffs a breath through his nose and approaches the counter.
“Hi, how can I help you?” the redhead manning the cash register asks, her nails tapping a sharp beat against the touchscreen.
Derek scowls and replies, “One coffee, as black as my soul.”
Giggles erupt behind him.
The redhead raises an eyebrow. Judges him. So hard.
There’s an amused sounding ‘what the hell’ and then a boy with messy hair and big, brown eyes sticks his head out from behind the coffee machine. He looks Derek up and down, slowly, the grin on his face getting wider and wider, then glances at the redhead, says “you heard the man, Lyds”, and ducks back behind the coffee machine.
Derek feels his ears burning as ‘Lyds’ rings him up, accepts his cash, and directs him towards the far end of the counter with a lazy flick of her fingers.
Derek mouths ‘I hate you so much’ at Erica as he walks over. She blows him kisses.
It’s mid-morning, time sandwiched between the breakfast and lunch rushes, so it doesn’t take long for Derek’s order to be up. To his complete mortification, the boy from before calls out “one coffee, as black as your soul!” He’s really good at projecting his voice. He’s evil.
Derek pulls his eyebrows so far down he can barely see through them and glares daggers at him. The guy calmly hands over his order, face straight and smile pleasant.
Derek looks down and his black coffee is huge. And decidedly not black. And there’s a mound of whipped cream roughly as big as his own face squeezed on top, all fluffy and white. And nestled among this small nation of cream is a single marshmallow. A pink one.
“Um,” Derek says.
“A coffee, just a black as your soul is,” the barista replies.
Derek looks back up at him and sees his mask of polite professionalism cracking, his mouth twitching at the corners. His really lush, soft-looking mouth. Pink as the marshmallow. Pink as Derek’s ears, probably, at this point.
“Dude, I’m friends with Scott McCall,” he says.
This means absolutely nothing to Derek.
“Scott?” the guy continues. “Who works at Dr. Deaton’s clinic?”
Derek’s eyes go wide without his permission and he can feel the heat spreading from his ears all the way down the back of his neck.
“Yeah,” the guy says with a smirk. “I know who you are. I know you brought in that litter of abandoned kittens last week.” He leans his upper body all the way over the counter and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I know you named them after the Golden Girls.”
“They, uh, they were very vocal,” Derek mumbles. “They had attitudes.”
The guy laughs delightedly, his head leaned backed, gazing at Derek through feathery eyelashes. “My point exactly. I know just how dark your soul is.”
Then he scoops up some of Derek’s whipped cream on his pinkie finger and sticks it into his mouth. He pulls it out slowly, shoots Derek a wink, and then saunters back toward the register, his ass swaying underneath his apron.
When Derek manages to regain control of his body and turn around he finds his friends staring at him. Even Boyd.
“I am going to rip you throat out. With my teeth,” he hisses at Erica.
“You’re going to buy me a fucking Cake Pop bouquet, is what you’re going to do,” she replies, stirring her slushy drink with her straw.
He probably will.
ALL STIRRED UP
Author: jsea & marguerite_26
Summary: Derek’s first duty as a new deputy is the early morning coffee run to The Leaky Carafe,
and it’s not long before he discovers that the quirky barista has a
knack for making the perfect drink. Every time. Even before you order.But is it intuition, luck or magic that has all Stiles’ customers leaving happy?
Info: 49k | Explicit | Coffee Shop!AU; Magic!Stiles; Deputy!Derek
Notes: It is fun with a Coffee Shop AU where magic is thrown into the mix. And I like the fact that the Sheriff knows of werewolves at first, but Stiles don’t 😛 –M
Sneak Peek:
Derek shook off his daze to see Parrish standing at his desk, arms crossed and an amused look on his face.
“Can’t
say I understand how he does it,” Parrish said. “But Stiles has a knack
for getting it right. He knows everyone’s favorite drink, every time,
like magic.”Derek thought back to the not-so-subtle Harry Potter themes of The Leaky Carafe and wondered if they were meant to be ironic. “Crazier things have happened in Beacon Hills.”
Parrish laughed outright at that. “You have no idea.”
Only, he really did.
spice up those coffee shop AUs
- sure, i used to be a regular, but i literally haven’t been to this coffee shop in two years. how do you still remember my order??
- you wrote my name down wrong the first time i came here and i didn’t correct you, but you’re really sweet and now i don’t know how to tell you you’ve been calling me by the wrong name for the past month.
- i’m the manager and one of the other employees keeps drawing amazing art on the chalkboards, but i can’t figure out who it is?? i’ve been keeping a meticulous schedule to figure out whose shift it appears during
- i work opening shift, but whenever i get there at 5:30 somehow you’re always already there, looking flawlessly put together. you haven’t even had your coffee yet. tell me your secrets.
- we’re coworkers but we work different shifts and communicate exclusively through post-it notes. maybe i should just give you my phone number already so you can tell me more about the lady who ordered a latte for her ten year old.
- you and your friend always sit at the table a couple down from mine and gossip in [insert language here], which happens to be a language i’m currently learning. i’ve been eavesdropping to try and improve my listening comprehension and oh my god are you actually talking about how hot i am???
- i love hot chocolate So Much but it’s embarrassing to be the adult ordering hot chocolate at a coffee shop, so do you think you could announce that it’s a different drink when you’re giving it to me??
- at the local coffee shop, there’s a chess set set up in one corner of the shop and every morning i move one piece. later in the day, someone else always moves a piece too. i’m dying to know who i’m playing against.
- i’m a new hire and you’re trying to show me how to use the espresso machine. i actually already know how to use it, but i’m pretending to be incompetent so that you’ll keep talking to me. please don’t fire me.
Merry Christmas, @mad-madam-m!
For mad-madam-m, who enjoys fluff and Bakery AUs. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays!
If You Liked It Then You Should’ve Put A Ring On It
Dedicated to that moment when you see someone cute… and then see that they’re wearing a wedding ring.
Derek might hate his job. He hates making coffees, hates how the coffee shop smell lingers in his clothes for days afterwards, and hates how early he has to wake up to open the shop every single morning. But what he hates the most is the way the moms who come into the shop are constantly flirting with him, keeping him from the one perk of his job: Talking to Stiles.
Stiles comes in every weekday, during his lunch break, at 1pm. Most people come by for coffee in the morning, but Stiles has always said that he’s too tired to have coffee before noon (a logic that has always baffled Derek), so he ambles in at 1pm with bleary, sleep-deprived eyes. Somehow the sight of them always makes Derek’s stomach lurch.
The problem is that the Moms Club comes in at 12:30. Yes, an actual Moms Club. They even have the t-shirts to prove it. They crowd around the counter ordering complicated drink after complicated drink, all while complimenting Derek’s outfit (despite the fact that he wears the same damn uniform every day), and asking him prying questions about his personal life. Derek doesn’t know what it is about him that makes mom’s so interested, but whatever it is, he doesn’t like it.
It’s Friday, and Derek has barely gotten to talk to Stiles all week, thanks to the Moms. When Derek sees him come in, he instantly excuses him and moves away from the Moms (currently asking him about his workout routine), and over to the cash register so he can take Stiles’ order.
“Hey,” Stiles says easily, blinding Derek with a huge smile.
Derek tries very hard not to get caught up in Stiles’ eyes. “Hi,” he responds, “The usual?”
Stiles grins even broader. “You know me,” he says simply.
Derek’s heart beats a little bit faster. The thing is, he does know Stiles. They’ve exchanged many words over the last few months; he knows Stiles works at the local police station, knows that he loves asparagus but hates bacon, knows that he wants two kids. They’ve talked about a lot. But every time they start to really get into a conversation, they’re interrupted.
Which is exactly what happens now.
“So, any plans for the weekend?” Stiles asks as Derek adds a heaping of whipped cream to his drink.
Derek fumbles. All he wants to say is something dumb like, “No, do you want to make some together?” or “Actually I was hoping that maybe we could have plans,” or anything that will somehow take his and Stiles’ rushed coffee shop conversations out into the real world. But that’s just not his luck.
“Derek, dear, can I have a refill of my latte please?” one of the mom’s asks as she approaches the counter. “And while you’re at it, I was wondering if you could tell me about the pros and cons of soy milk. Because my friend Jenny says that soy is bad for you, but she’s one of those health nuts, so…”
Derek tries very hard not to roll his eyes as he hands Stiles his drink and shrugs in apology.
“Another time,” Stiles says, giving him a small smile.
Derek watches Stiles’ back as he walks away from him and out of the shop.
Sighing, he turns back to the mom, plastering a fake grin to his face. “You were saying?”
When he gets home that night, Derek decides that he’s had enough. He’s sick of having mom’s hit on him all the time, sick of the way they are always taking his time away from valuable customers-okay, from Stiles-and he’s going to do something about it.
It’s not until he’s watching TV later that night and a Zales commercial comes on that he gets at idea.
On Monday, Derek goes to work sporting a brand new wedding band. Well, a fake wedding band. It was $15 at Target. He walks into the shop hoping it will keep all of the moms at bay, and by the time the morning is over he feels like he’s succeeded.
He flashes it around a lot, casually bringing up a hand to scratch his face when one of the moms talks to him, watching their faces falter slightly before they back away while looking a little bit confused.
By the time lunchtime rolls around, Derek is on cloud nine. He’s had more alone time today that he’s had in months and no one has asked him whether he waxes or shaves all day. He’s in such a good mood when he sees Stiles come in that he jumps up and immediately smiles at him.
“Hey Stiles,” he grins excitedly.
“Woah,” Stiles responds as he walks over. “You’re enthusiastic. Are you feeling okay?”
“Never better,” Derek says. “You want the same as always?”
Stiles nods, “You bet.”
Derek sets about making his drink, taking a deep breath before attempting to have a real, more than 30-seconds long conversation with Stiles.
“So,” he begins, “How was your weekend? Do anything fun?” he asks as he stirs up the liquid.
Stiles brightens. “Yeah! I actually went to this really cool art show downtown. It was called Lunar Art and it’s just all these shots taken in the moonlight. I don’t know if you’re into art or anything, but-“
Derek hands him his drink and Stiles suddenly trails off, staring down at where Derek is holding it in his left hand. “Uh,” Stiles says. “What was I saying?”
“You were asking if I’m into art,” Derek says slowly.
Stiles looks a little bit pale all of a sudden as he takes the drink from Derek. “Right. Well, actually, I’ve just realized that I-I have somewhere to be. So I have to go. But. Yeah. Bye,” he says, fumbling his drink in his hands before turning and walking quickly out the door.
Derek stares after him. The one time he actually gets a chance to talk to him, and Stiles flees out the door. It seems totally weird to Derek, but maybe his excuse was legitimate. He inhales deeply, calming himself. He can talk to Stiles about it tomorrow.
Except, it turns out that he can’t. Because Stiles doesn’t show up.
Derek tries to brush it off but Stiles’ absence feels like gaping a hole in his chest. He walks around the rest of the day only half-alert, replaying the previous day over and over in his head.
Stiles had been asking him if he’d been into art, suggesting something, even. Maybe he’d thought he was coming too close to flirting, and had decided to shut it down. Derek was sure they’d been flirting in the past, but maybe they’d just been flirting casually –maybe Stiles was okay with flirting in 30 second increments, but a real conversation was too far. Maybe he wasn’t interested in Derek at all.
Derek spends the rest of the week sulking. A week in which Stiles does not show up again. On Thursday, Derek removes the wedding ring, flinging it across his apartment angrily. The Moms seem to have gotten over the fact that he’s taken and have begun flocking around him again, so it’s really doing him no good now.
He wakes up on Friday to a cloudy sky. By the time he gets to the coffee shop, a light rain has started, and by the time the shop opens, it’s pouring outside.
Derek watches the weather get worse and worse outside, until it turns into a full-blown lightning storm. The shop is mostly empty save for a few Moms; customers kept away by the weather, so Derek takes the lull as an opportunity to clean the place.
He’s cleaning the window display case when he sees a figure huddled outside under the awning. He peers a little closer-it looks a lot like Stiles. The figure shivers and Derek can see it in his movements-it is Stiles.
Derek puts his rag down on the counter and opens the front door.
“Stiles?” he calls. Stiles turns around, shivering and dripping wet.
“Come inside, you’re getting soaked,” Derek says, trying not to sound as angry and hurt as he feels.
“I’m fine out here,” Stiles responds.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Derek says. “There are flash flood warnings all over the radio, and the news has been playing nonstop footage of downed trees and power lines. Come in.”
Stiles hesitates for a moment before walking inside, past where Derek is holding the door open for him. He stands there, wet and dripping, as Derek follows him.
“Stay there,” Derek says, gesturing to the welcome mat in front of the door.
He walks into the back room to get some dish towels and bring them back out for Stiles to use to dry off.
Derek’s mouth goes a little dry at the sight of Stiles, standing at the front door, soaked through, wet clothes clinging to his lithe body.
“Here,” he says, thrusting the towels at Stiles with his left hand.
Stiles doesn’t take them.
“For dying off,” Derek explains, shaking the towels a bit. Stiles is staring down at the towels, but still not taking them.
Suddenly, his gaze snaps up to Derek.
“What is your deal?” he seethes.
Derek takes a step back. “My what?”
Stiles shakes his head, pointing at the towels before snapping angrily. “You can’t just wear your ring whenever you please, it’s not fair.”
Derek looks down at the towels. And to where his hand is, ringless.
Derek goes over a thousand different scenarios in his head and comes up with no explanation other than the fact that Stiles is mad at him, and it has something to do with the fact that he’s not wearing his fake wedding ring.
Now Derek is mad, too. “What do you mean it’s not fair? Who is it not fair to?” he asks gruffly.
“To unsuspecting strangers, to me, to your husband or your wife,” Stiles seethes.
Derek pauses. “My-Stiles, are you kidding?”
“NO!” Stiles seems even madder now. “You can’t just take your ring off whenever you want, leaving people-people like me- to think you’re available when you’re clearly not. That’s false advertising.”
Derek suddenly has the urge to fight back a laugh, but he’s also still very confused.
“Wait, Stiles, you think I’m married? You’ve known me for how many months and you think that that wouldn’t have come up in conversation?”
Stiles is starting to look sheepish, but he’s still yelling. “I-wait-so you’re not married?”
“NO.” Derek huffs out a laugh. “I only bought this ring to keep those ridiculous Moms away so I could talk to you more, but then you disappeared.”
Stiles rolls his eyes as well as his entire body. “Well I wasn’t gonna flirt with a guy that’s married.”
Derek sighs heavily, pinning Stiles with a look. “Well, I’m not married. So flirt with me.”
Stiles blinks at him, suddenly pulled out from his angry reverie.
“What?” he says.
Derek hesitates. “Unless you don’t want-“
Stiles jumps forward immediately, placing a hand on Derek’s arm. “No, I want. I want I want to flirt with you so hard dude, you have no idea.”
At that moment, a Mom comes sauntering over from her table. “Derek, I have a question about-“
Stiles puts up a hand, looking Derek straight in the eyes. “He’s busy now. You’ll have to come back later.”
“But-“
Stiles quiets her again. “He’ll get back to you later,” he repeats.
The woman stares at them for a moment, before huffing and walking away.
“You’re going to scare off my customers,” Derek says.
Stiles smiles at him, sliding a hand into one of Derek’s. “Good.”
Stiles makes Derek a button to wear on his uniform. It says in large, capital letters, “TAKEN. DO NOT FLIRT WITH ME.” He lets Derek take it off when Derek finally gets a new ring, a real ring, which Stiles gave to him when he asked if he’d like to flirt with him forever.
This has been in my drafts since January? So uh, yeah, I’m totally a motivated writer *coughs*
Title: Stirring Me Up
Coffee, Stiles
decides, is the best thing to have been invented in the history of – well,
everything really. Usually, he’d say it’s something like modern technology, but
seeing as that isn’t what gets him through rough mornings, he decides that
coffee is a pretty decent substitute.The best thing about
the coffee in the Big Apple is definitely the place he buys it at: a secluded
café with ugly brown wallpaper and horrible reggae music, but hey, the chairs
are comfortable and the coffee is black and caffeinated and that’s all Stiles
can ask for with his measly student income. All the eye candy that regularly
comes in to grab some coffee before a busy day at work is just an added bonus.
shealwaysreads 