Christy Corr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
christycorr) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2012-11-17 11:28 pm
christycorr) wrote in crack_van2012-11-17 11:28 pm
Calling Home by alchemy (PG-13)
Fandom: TEEN WOLF
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Length: 5,654 words
Author on LJ:alchemy
Author Website: AO3 profile
Why this must be read:
You know how every fandom has a handful of short and poignant fics that break your heart into a thousand little pieces and then heartlessly stomp on them? This is very much one of those fics, the oh-God-it-hurts-but-it-hurts-so-good ones.
It starts off fluffy enough, and it's so, so real; Derek and Stiles feel very much like people you could know, with complex issues and a carefully built relationship in a pretty hostile environment.
And then. Oh God. Just. Read it.
(For extra angst, I recommend—well, I don't, because that's what killed me dead when I read this the first time—listening to Space Oddity while reading. There's also an actual soundtrack.)
Calling Home
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Length: 5,654 words
Author on LJ:
alchemyAuthor Website: AO3 profile
Why this must be read:
You know how every fandom has a handful of short and poignant fics that break your heart into a thousand little pieces and then heartlessly stomp on them? This is very much one of those fics, the oh-God-it-hurts-but-it-hurts-so-good ones.
It starts off fluffy enough, and it's so, so real; Derek and Stiles feel very much like people you could know, with complex issues and a carefully built relationship in a pretty hostile environment.
And then. Oh God. Just. Read it.
(For extra angst, I recommend—well, I don't, because that's what killed me dead when I read this the first time—listening to Space Oddity while reading. There's also an actual soundtrack.)
“Look,” Derek says with sudden and childlike urgency, and Stiles follows the quick upward jab of his finger just in time to see the last hot flash of a shooting star.
“They’re not actually stars,” Stiles muses, and reaches for the big silver buckle of Derek’s belt. “They’re meteoroids, burning up in the atmosphere. But you should already know that, Mr. Astronaut.”
Derek hums in reply and leans in to pepper kisses over Stiles’ mouth, his chin, his drowsy eyelids. “That one was my promise,” he murmurs, hips already sketching out a rhythm against Stiles’ hands. “Written across the sky. I’m coming home.”
Calling Home