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crack_van2013-07-12 11:44 pm
agirlnamedfia.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-07-12 11:44 pm
The Boy and the Beast - Dira Sudis (R)
Fandom: TEEN WOLF
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Length: 116686 words (yes, you read that correctly)
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dsudis
Author Website: AO3
Summary: In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)
Why this must be read: When I got this AO3 notification email, I damn well near hyperventilated. Dira Sudis is one of my favourite authors ever and the fact that she writes Teen Wolf too is a source of everlasting joy for me.
Fair warning: this fic may not be for everyone. For starters, some people don't like epically long stories (or so I hear) and Derek spends approx. three quarters of this fic magically stuck in Alpha form and while there's absolutely no shenanigans of any kind, the jump to xenoporn is not that hard to make in one or two scenes.
But for me this fic is a must-read because it features one of my very favourite things in this fandom: A Derek who actually knows what he's doing, and a Scott who doesn't stubbornly fight him at every turn. Besides that, it also creates such a believable feeling of 'pack' that it's almost like you're a part of it yourself, the pacing and characterisations are perfect and it's just. So great, okay. Why aren't you reading it yet?
Stiles held his head and his left arm as still as he could and reached down his body to his pocket. His right hand was shaking badly and it hurt like hell--he kept making little helpless whining noises that he couldn't control--but he got his fingers to his phone and tugged it out.
Nothing happened when he pushed the power button. He shook the phone a little--half on purpose, half uncontrollable shivering--and shards of plastic fell down on his face.
"No," Stiles repeated, closing his eyes. "No, no, no, shit."
Somebody would find his car in the morning. They would search the woods. They would send out the K-9 units. They would find him sometime tomorrow. But he had to get through the rest of the night, and it was going to be cold, and Stiles was hurt and maybe bleeding. He couldn't even tell how badly he was injured.
And if he was wrong about Laura Hale, then wolves had killed Peter Hale, who probably hadn't been as helpless as Stiles was right now. If the wolves existed they were probably still in the woods somewhere, and Stiles was the definition of easy prey.
"Help," Stiles said, because he couldn't seem to scream. "I'm lost, please, I need help."
Even saying that much was exhausting. He went limp, his shattered phone slipping from his grip.
There was a sound behind him--nothing loud, just moving air or maybe the wind, except he knew that it wasn't. Stiles froze, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against words or pained noises.
The sound came closer. It wasn't a person; a person would have said something by now. Even if they were going to kill him they wouldn't need to sneak up on him. He wasn't going anywhere.
Something made a doglike huffing noise, and Stiles couldn't help letting out a moan and trying to curl up small. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest and he knew he had to run and he knew he couldn't even stand up. He twitched a little and the pain of the involuntary motion was blinding.
"Oh, God, there really are wolves. Fuck. Please don't eat me, okay? Please?"
He flinched, choking back a scream, when something touched the side of his neck, just under his ear. It was cold and damp, like a dog's nose, and it sniffed down his neck and then along the side of his face. Stiles was suddenly aware that he was crying, that he had been for a while and his whole face was wet.
The wolf licked his cheek.
Stiles tried to turn his head to look at it, which hurt worse, but the wolf didn't lick him again. It shifted over him so that he could see its eyes--so that it was looking him in the eye. For just a second the wolf's eyes caught some strange reflection in the moonlight and seemed to glow red, and Stiles dropped his gaze as he flinched away.
The wolf gave another little huffing sound and nosed at his cheek, and when it pulled back again Stiles looked up. This time its eyes were a normal light translucent color, gray like everything in the moonlight. It just stared at him, and Stiles stared back, his panic receding as the wolf totally failed to bare its teeth or growl or make any kind of move toward killing and eating him.
It could be a dog, he thought, except that that was so obviously and totally wrong. It didn't look at him like a dog looked at a person. It didn't want anything, not a treat or a toy and not his tender flesh. It was just studying him, the way a person might study a stranger who'd just said or done something unexpected. The same way Stiles was studying the wolf, in fact, but it was hard to think about what the hell was going on with the wolf when his head and his wrist were nothing but throbbing pain and the cold was creeping into everything else.
Finally the wolf gave a little huff and dropped its head, sniffing at Stiles. It nudged his chest and then his shoulder, and Stiles said, "Oh, sorry, am I in your way?"
The Boy and the Beast
Pairing: Derek/Stiles
Length: 116686 words (yes, you read that correctly)
Author on LJ:
dsudisAuthor Website: AO3
Summary: In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)
Why this must be read: When I got this AO3 notification email, I damn well near hyperventilated. Dira Sudis is one of my favourite authors ever and the fact that she writes Teen Wolf too is a source of everlasting joy for me.
Fair warning: this fic may not be for everyone. For starters, some people don't like epically long stories (or so I hear) and Derek spends approx. three quarters of this fic magically stuck in Alpha form and while there's absolutely no shenanigans of any kind, the jump to xenoporn is not that hard to make in one or two scenes.
But for me this fic is a must-read because it features one of my very favourite things in this fandom: A Derek who actually knows what he's doing, and a Scott who doesn't stubbornly fight him at every turn. Besides that, it also creates such a believable feeling of 'pack' that it's almost like you're a part of it yourself, the pacing and characterisations are perfect and it's just. So great, okay. Why aren't you reading it yet?
Stiles held his head and his left arm as still as he could and reached down his body to his pocket. His right hand was shaking badly and it hurt like hell--he kept making little helpless whining noises that he couldn't control--but he got his fingers to his phone and tugged it out.
Nothing happened when he pushed the power button. He shook the phone a little--half on purpose, half uncontrollable shivering--and shards of plastic fell down on his face.
"No," Stiles repeated, closing his eyes. "No, no, no, shit."
Somebody would find his car in the morning. They would search the woods. They would send out the K-9 units. They would find him sometime tomorrow. But he had to get through the rest of the night, and it was going to be cold, and Stiles was hurt and maybe bleeding. He couldn't even tell how badly he was injured.
And if he was wrong about Laura Hale, then wolves had killed Peter Hale, who probably hadn't been as helpless as Stiles was right now. If the wolves existed they were probably still in the woods somewhere, and Stiles was the definition of easy prey.
"Help," Stiles said, because he couldn't seem to scream. "I'm lost, please, I need help."
Even saying that much was exhausting. He went limp, his shattered phone slipping from his grip.
There was a sound behind him--nothing loud, just moving air or maybe the wind, except he knew that it wasn't. Stiles froze, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth against words or pained noises.
The sound came closer. It wasn't a person; a person would have said something by now. Even if they were going to kill him they wouldn't need to sneak up on him. He wasn't going anywhere.
Something made a doglike huffing noise, and Stiles couldn't help letting out a moan and trying to curl up small. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest and he knew he had to run and he knew he couldn't even stand up. He twitched a little and the pain of the involuntary motion was blinding.
"Oh, God, there really are wolves. Fuck. Please don't eat me, okay? Please?"
He flinched, choking back a scream, when something touched the side of his neck, just under his ear. It was cold and damp, like a dog's nose, and it sniffed down his neck and then along the side of his face. Stiles was suddenly aware that he was crying, that he had been for a while and his whole face was wet.
The wolf licked his cheek.
Stiles tried to turn his head to look at it, which hurt worse, but the wolf didn't lick him again. It shifted over him so that he could see its eyes--so that it was looking him in the eye. For just a second the wolf's eyes caught some strange reflection in the moonlight and seemed to glow red, and Stiles dropped his gaze as he flinched away.
The wolf gave another little huffing sound and nosed at his cheek, and when it pulled back again Stiles looked up. This time its eyes were a normal light translucent color, gray like everything in the moonlight. It just stared at him, and Stiles stared back, his panic receding as the wolf totally failed to bare its teeth or growl or make any kind of move toward killing and eating him.
It could be a dog, he thought, except that that was so obviously and totally wrong. It didn't look at him like a dog looked at a person. It didn't want anything, not a treat or a toy and not his tender flesh. It was just studying him, the way a person might study a stranger who'd just said or done something unexpected. The same way Stiles was studying the wolf, in fact, but it was hard to think about what the hell was going on with the wolf when his head and his wrist were nothing but throbbing pain and the cold was creeping into everything else.
Finally the wolf gave a little huff and dropped its head, sniffing at Stiles. It nudged his chest and then his shoulder, and Stiles said, "Oh, sorry, am I in your way?"
The Boy and the Beast
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