ext_44831 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
agirlnamedfia.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2013-07-24 11:38 am
agirlnamedfia.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-07-24 11:38 am
inside these arms - rufflefeather (R)
Fandom: TEEN WOLF
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Length: 17917 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rufflefeather
Author Website: AO3
Summary: Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening.
Why this must be read: This series is going to break your heart a little, I'm just gonna say it outright. If you don't like angst with a happy ending, this may not be for you, but if you don't mind a little sadness, this series is a-ma-zing. The sheer scope of emotions that Stiles and Derek go through is stunning, and it's a really original take on a Groudhog Day AU too.
It's written as a series, but really the two fics belong together. Stiles and Derek are affected by the same spell, and you get to see it from both sides, which creates very interesting comparisons between their personalities and how they deal with the problem.
Plus, the end makes up for EVERYTHING.
Stiles sits up, clutching the covers and blinking at the world as if that’d force it to make sense again. “Derek,” he says, voice sleepy-hoarse. “Um.”
Derek’s sprawled in a really old chair, the leather soft and worn, cracked and discolored with age. If Stiles wasn’t having a freak-out of the silent kind, he’d have a look around and see that Derek’s bedroom is a cacophony of probably every piece of furniture he managed to salvage.
There’s a desk, well-loved and polished to a shine over years of use, the top blistered black in one corner. It has a laptop on it and tomorrow that’ll remind Stiles of how Derek wasn’t raised in a cave by wolves. So to speak. There’s a Jeep office chair with a soft orange throw on the floor beside it, as if it’d slipped down the last time Derek had sat behind his computer at a late, chilly night. If Stiles was looking, he’d see a walk-in wardrobe slightly ajar and filled with clothes, an old lacrosse uniform, and oddly, a woman’s coat. He’d see that the bed’s an antique, with a headboard that would make the owner of the Brocante store on Main Street –– just second hand crap, mostly –– drool.
Stiles doesn’t see any of that now, but he will. At this particular moment in time, he’s too busy staring rabbit-eyed at Derek on his ancient leather sofa, eyes dark and unreadable as always, staring at Stiles as if he’d just sleepwalked into his bedroom. Which, um.
“Did I sleepwalk into your bedroom?” Stiles asks because take the bull by the horns and all that shit. At least it’s Saturday and his dad has the weekend shift, so he doesn’t need to worry about that.
“You tell me,” Derek says. “One minute I’m asleep, the next I wake up and there you are. Which is impossible because I should’ve heard you coming a mile away. No one sneaks up on me. Especially you.”
inside these arms
Pairing: Stiles/Derek
Length: 17917 words
Author on LJ:
rufflefeatherAuthor Website: AO3
Summary: Stiles is having the worst day of his life and it keeps happening.
Why this must be read: This series is going to break your heart a little, I'm just gonna say it outright. If you don't like angst with a happy ending, this may not be for you, but if you don't mind a little sadness, this series is a-ma-zing. The sheer scope of emotions that Stiles and Derek go through is stunning, and it's a really original take on a Groudhog Day AU too.
It's written as a series, but really the two fics belong together. Stiles and Derek are affected by the same spell, and you get to see it from both sides, which creates very interesting comparisons between their personalities and how they deal with the problem.
Plus, the end makes up for EVERYTHING.
Stiles sits up, clutching the covers and blinking at the world as if that’d force it to make sense again. “Derek,” he says, voice sleepy-hoarse. “Um.”
Derek’s sprawled in a really old chair, the leather soft and worn, cracked and discolored with age. If Stiles wasn’t having a freak-out of the silent kind, he’d have a look around and see that Derek’s bedroom is a cacophony of probably every piece of furniture he managed to salvage.
There’s a desk, well-loved and polished to a shine over years of use, the top blistered black in one corner. It has a laptop on it and tomorrow that’ll remind Stiles of how Derek wasn’t raised in a cave by wolves. So to speak. There’s a Jeep office chair with a soft orange throw on the floor beside it, as if it’d slipped down the last time Derek had sat behind his computer at a late, chilly night. If Stiles was looking, he’d see a walk-in wardrobe slightly ajar and filled with clothes, an old lacrosse uniform, and oddly, a woman’s coat. He’d see that the bed’s an antique, with a headboard that would make the owner of the Brocante store on Main Street –– just second hand crap, mostly –– drool.
Stiles doesn’t see any of that now, but he will. At this particular moment in time, he’s too busy staring rabbit-eyed at Derek on his ancient leather sofa, eyes dark and unreadable as always, staring at Stiles as if he’d just sleepwalked into his bedroom. Which, um.
“Did I sleepwalk into your bedroom?” Stiles asks because take the bull by the horns and all that shit. At least it’s Saturday and his dad has the weekend shift, so he doesn’t need to worry about that.
“You tell me,” Derek says. “One minute I’m asleep, the next I wake up and there you are. Which is impossible because I should’ve heard you coming a mile away. No one sneaks up on me. Especially you.”
inside these arms