au!sterek:
in the heat of battle and thinking it's their last moments on earth.
derek kisses stiles. they beat the big bad and in the afterglow
of the win, stiles can't not press the issue about what it
means that kissing him is the last thing derek wanted to
do before they could have died.
the compression feels good and makes him feel held
he needs the support. emotionally but also like a bra
less fabric in the way if he has to run from something
someone told him he has to dress sexy and hot
reasons why stiles buys him oversized shirts and he learns to love them:
comfy.
nonrestrictive
feels like a hug
more fabric means cozy and the running-away thoughts are less prominent in his brain. he doesn't feel like he has to be as on-guard in them
stiles bought them for him so they smell good and stiles borrows them too (and they smell even better)
stiles still thinks he looks hot in them and they're extra good for cuddling. they're soft and loose and warm and he can move more easily. they're not restrictive like before. they mean safety
on that note, despite derek kind of hating himself in season one specifically, at least he wore soft henleys. like yeah the leather jacket did not seem cozy, and stiles likes to buy him fleece and warm sweaters later on, but derek could've been wearing itchy or stiff or plastic-y shirts. instead they were soft and worn and the fabric was gentle and that's something at least. the man just wants to feel cozy and it's nice that he let himself at least partially.
too bad stiles shrunk all his shirts accidentally in the wash and had to replace them all with a larger size. it was the only size in stock, sorry! major oopsie moment 🙈
hi, friend!!! i wanna ask about /all/ your WIPs but i'll limit myself to three! tell us about recluse derek, sterek buddyfucking (OBVIOUSLY I WANNA KNOW ABOUT THIS ONE MOST), and lonely stiles!!! <3 <3 <3
eeeep thanks so much for your interest!! i wrote a lot so i'll put it under the cut.
recluse derek is a fic in which laura hires stiles to keep derek some company as he's gone full hermit after the loss of their family. he basically hasn't left the house since the fire, though he is in the process of rebuilding it, and it requires some elbow grease for stiles to get him to even let him through the front door.
Stiles had barely left the hospital after his Thursday performance when the fender bender occurred. He was sitting at the red light on Thirteenth, trying to grab a protein bar from his backpack in the backseat; his arm was contorted at an awkward angle, but he almost had it, he could feel the ridged edge of the Clif bar's packaging slip under his index finger, and then the driver behind him decided to use Stiles's car to come to a stop instead of her brakes. Momentum hurled them both a few feet into oncoming traffic, intercepting a slow-moving sedan that clipped the front of Stiles's jeep. Later—much, much later—Stiles would have the perspective to understand this could all have been a lot worse. But it seemed fucking bad enough at the time, as he stood there with two crying, arguing drivers and what was definitely a broken arm, staring at the front of his jeep, which was crushed like a tin can and smoking ominously.
The cops who arrived on the scene a few minutes later weren't any of his dad's officers. They took his accident report and he dutifully exchanged contact information with the other two, feeling like an adult in the worst way. He tried not to wince watching his jeep get towed away. He didn't know what he was going to do without it, but that was unfortunately not his most pressing concern at the moment. He hoisted both his backpack and his guitar case onto his good shoulder and forlornly trudged the quarter-mile back to Beacon Hills Memorial.
sterek buddyfucking! one of my favorite wips though i have absolutely no idea where it's headed at the moment but i know it starts out with lowkey bad sex, which i LOVED writing! in lieu of more details i'll give you a slightly longer excerpt:
Stiles found him standing alone at the far edge of Lydia's pool, holding a still-full cup and watching Allison and Isaac splash around and play chicken with some guy from the cross country team and his girlfriend. He had a weird look on his face, like he wanted to pretend to be having fun but had forgotten how.
That, Stiles initially thought, was probably why he looked a little relieved when Stiles walked up and knocked their cups together. "What do you say?" Stiles asked, nodding toward the pool. "One last dip, for old time's sake?"
Derek shook his head. He was getting worse and worse at hiding it when Stiles successfully made him smile. "If I had a dollar for every time you bring that up."
"It's one of the crowning achievements of my scrawny life, holding your brick shithouse of a body up for that many hours straight. Not sure I could actually even do it again, but hey, I'll try my best if you give me a chance."
Credit where credit was due, Derek barely blinked at the blatant flirting these days. Maybe he had decided it was better to let Stiles tire himself out, but the thing was: Stiles had been drinking steadily since four p.m., he was moving to the other side of the country in less than three months, and Derek looked so good, it made this soft little pain flare up in the side of Stiles's torso. It might, he reasoned with himself, actually cause him physical damage not to hit on Derek. Not to try, to give it one more really good shot before he left.
i had this idea for an au where werewolves are known and stiles is trying to convince scott to take the bite for his health, and scott resists for a long time but eventually gives in, and becoming part of a pack puts distance between him and stiles. derek is something of a pariah in this one, but he and stiles start to connect, and stiles realizes his initial assessments of derek were off-base
Scott pushed it back, his expression as sour as it could get on a face ordinarily so sweet. "I don't want to be a werewolf, Stiles."
"What're you gonna do if you have an attack in the middle of a game, huh? You gonna stop the clock so you can grab your inhaler from the bench?"
Scott drained his chocolate milk. "Thanks for not assuming I'll be a benchwarmer all season," he said.
"Yeah," Stiles muttered, "that makes one of us."
i need to know what "historically hottest people in the world no matter how hot they actually are" is 🙏💕
omg haha everyone wants to know about this one! it's inspired by this post, which, when i read it, caused me to go into a sterek-induced avatar state. i don't have a ton of it written yet, but i think it'll be four separate ficlets for each of the archetypes. (as a skateboarding enthusiast i'm particularly excited about the last one!)
a tiny snippet below the cut:
Cora was still clinging to the bear when Derek and Jennifer climbed onto the platform and joined the queue for the ride. The two employees were leaning against the control box, chatting casually while the riders in the group ahead disembarked. They both went to Derek's school: Stiles Stilinski, who was in Laura's year, and Erica Reyes, who was in Derek's.
Derek watched as a little boy fumbled getting out of the car. Stiles, who had been listening to Erica intently, reached over and offered the boy his arm, his biceps flexing as the boy leaned all his weight onto him and clambered out. His focus on Erica never wavered; Derek was impressed.
He and Jennifer climbed into one of the cars as Stiles and Erica went down the line, checking that the seatbelts and handlebars were securely fastened. He swallowed when Stiles walked up to their car and pulled roughly on the steel bar. The sleeves of his carnival employee t-shirt, a really ugly canary yellow, were rolled slightly up to bare his arms. They were slightly tanned and wiry, corded with muscle. Derek tried not to stare, but he wasn't sure how good of a job he was doing, because Stiles glanced up at him and winked.
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