Anonymous said: sterek. game of thrones AU
okay so this has stiles as arya, derek as gendry, and no targaryens. i hope you like it.
Stiles fingers tighten against the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white, body tense with barely restrained anger.
“Oh, you like picking on the lanky ones, do you?”
Stiles doesn’t take offense, instead just watches as the man in front of him bumps into the fat boy that just minutes ago tried to take his steel from him. His lips want to curl up in deep satisfaction at the fear in the boys eyes, even though he doesn’t appreciate someone else coming to his rescue.
The man is only a few inches taller than Stiles but broader, stronger. His skin is grey with dirty, black hair matted to his forehead with sweat, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in a while.
“When I hit steel, it sings,” the man says, eyes flashing. “Are you going to sing when I hit you?”
The fat boy runs.
“That was not necessary,” Stiles looks up at him. “I happen to like killing fat boys.”
The man raises an eyebrow at him, eyes going to Stiles’s sword.
“Castle forged steel. Where did you steal it?”
“It was a gift,” Stiles says, voice somber, mind going to the moment Scott presented him with the sword, a happy smile gracing his face.
The man gives him an unconvinced look.
“It doesn’t matter. Pickpockets, murderers, highwaymen. They’re not going to care about that where we’re going.”
Stiles blinks, tilting his head. “Which one are you?”
The man’s face turns blank and, without saying a word, he gives Stiles his back.
Inspired by this post. Idk what happened. This sucks lol.
"Last question is for Derek," the speaker’s voice says, mic crackling and booming around the edges of the sentence. Derek hates going last.
It’s just that his tact is not exactly what might be called the best. Caitlin, his agent, had once referred to him as “blunt as a dildo up the ass without proper lubrication”. He…wishes he could say he doesn’t understand that simile.
The point is, he always fears being the final speaker in a panel and ending the whole ordeal on a poor note with rough phrasing. Outwardly, though, he smiles graciously. Perhaps not as wide as Stiles or Scott, but a clear deviation from the naturally serious set of his face.
The girl speaking looks nervous, twisting the microphone between undoubtedly slick hands. Derek tries to appear reassuring. He’s not exactly certain how well he succeeds.
"Um," she starts haltingly. "I was wondering…w-what your favorite part of, uh…getting to work with your boyfriend, Stiles, was?"
Derek is a bit taken aback though not entirely surprised. ‘Sterek’—as Stiles claims their coupling has been deemed online—is very popular within the fandom, so it wasn’t unusual for them to receive such questions, for people to request pictures of them together, for groups of fans to squee when the two of them interacted in even the smallest of ways.
Derek had just gotten comfortable is all. Too comfortable. An entire panel and not one question in regards to Sterek. Well…until now of course.
"Oh um," Derek starts, eyes darting upward in thought behind his frames. He pushes down the stinging that’s bubbling somewhere near his throat. "I guess I could say it’s…seeing him everyday.” A chorus of aw’s ripple through the crowd, causing the corner of his lips to twitch upward. "But. Honestly, it’s just that he’s…a good actor. And we work off of each other really well. I think we got really lucky that we have that same chemistry on screen as well.”
"Aw thanks, boo,” Stiles tells him with a wink, his elbows on the table and face fully turned toward Derek as he rests his temple on folded knuckles. It’s so artificial that Derek could choke on it.
"Also the kissing," he adds into the mic suddenly, gaining a chuckle from their audience.
They take a car together once they get back to LA. Stiles sits against one window and Derek against the other, both watching as the scenery passes them by and the remnants of the trip flutter away as quickly as it came.
"You’re really good at this, you know?" Stiles tells Derek suddenly. The other man turns his head toward him, eyebrows arched high on his forehead.