SaumDesHimmels



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    Stiles taps on the icon to open up the chat. He needs to write something. Anything. But what?

    What are you wearing? Eh, no.

    So, when the fuck were you going to tell me you’re back in BH? A bit too aggressive.

    Does this mean that my attraction to you in high school was mutual, but you held back on account of me basically being a child and you are now open to exploring the intense, overwhelming feelings I held for you, which I only realized I had the moment I thought I watched you die? Maybe too honest.

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    Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.

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    05 Jan 2018

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    Derek hates people. He hates that they can’t just shut their damned mouths and listen to the music and then quietly depart the festival grounds and get drunk elsewhere. He hates when they block his way to the tour bus and pound on the windows, begging for a wave or a smile like they own part of him, just because they like his music. He hates when they touch him, like they think they get a pound of flesh with every download. They don’t – they get the song, and that should be enough for them.

    In which Derek Hale is the drummer of a reasonably successful rock band who survives epically long summer festival tours by sticking to a routine and keeping to himself. Stiles, the charismatic lead singer of an up-and-coming dancecore pop punk band (whatever that means), is not meant to be part of that routine.

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    05 Jan 2018

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    Stiles has a plan to get Lydia Martin to notice him. Derek is not impressed.

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    05 Jan 2018

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    There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes.

    A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable.

    “Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.”

    Or: A medieval AU that's a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

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    05 Jan 2018

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    “The Hales are dangerous, Lydia,” Jackson butted in, coming to Stiles’ rescue. “Haven't you heard the rumors about how they eat newly turned weres on the night of the full moon?”

    “Wha-” Stiles let out a strangled noise and Jackson patted him in fake sympathy, suppressing his usual cocky smile.

    “Well, haven’t you heard the rumors about how they grow horns and a pointed tail and carry a pitchfork on other nights?” Allison countered, huffing out a soft laugh. “Those rumors are ridiculous,”

    “Can we please stop talking about the Hales?” Stiles pleaded, shivering and tired, rubbing the towel over his flat dripping hair. “...especially Derek, who still scares me,” he swallowed hard.

    [aka, even though Talia Hale’s first and foremost plan on moving to Beacon Hills was to “Clean up the Hale image”, Derek looked far too contented with his “Scaring the shit out of Stiles” plan. Just - he didn’t know Stiles was already of age and maybe transforming into something pretty badass any day]

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    05 Jan 2018

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