it's instinct to want the good things

Stay wild

for @isthatbloodonhisshirt 🖤🖤

derek can manhandle him so easily. when stiles is dilly dallying derek just picks him up and carries him away bridal-style. (bridal-Stiles?)

or throws him over his shoulder, or tugs him close by his hand, or rests a heavy arm around his waist or back. derek is possessive and handsy and relishes in the fact that he gets stiles all to himself. gets to touch him and have him whenever, and stiles lets him, and loves it. he's never felt more adored, and derek's hands are so warm and strong on him, and he feels claimed, and presses back into derek so easily.

A Chinese Water Deer taking a swim with her fawn 

read on ao3

hurt/comfort, anxiety, awkwardness, rated M, 4k

Stiles and Derek have this thing. It didn’t evolve overnight, but steadily, until they started to wonder what their brains were like before they got together at all.

It’s not just the typical thinking about you; though there’s plenty of that going on as well. When Stiles is in class, about fifty percent of his thoughts are on Derek at all times. Maybe fifty five. Sometimes even seventy, or a hundred if he’s bored. A hundred and ten if he’s bored and horny. Sometimes he wishes he weren’t in college at all, just so he has more time to think of Derek and, obviously, be with Derek.

When Derek’s at the shop, he’s the same way. Fixing cars is second nature to him by now, so Stiles takes up about eighty percent of his brain. He can be talking to a customer and thinking of Stiles, speaking to a coworker and thinking of Stiles, buried completely under a car, fixing it and thinking of Stiles.

But it’s the times in between, when they’re not supposed to be thinking of each other, where they’re supposed to be present and working and focusing, that their minds still stray.

It becomes like an earworm, but with words instead of music. One word in particular.

Stiles will speak out in class, and in the rare times that his classmates laugh at him instead of with him, when the cringe and awkwardness overtake him and he rolls his eyes to himself with a sigh, his brain goes, “DerekDerekDerek.” Like a palette cleanser. Like a safe space. Something to snap him out of it and make him come back to himself.

When a customer demands something from Derek or tries to tell him how to do his job properly, and Derek wishes Stiles were here to give a witty response, or bat away the criticism, or when Derek walks away after the interaction, regretting the whole thing, he thinks desperately, automatically, “StilesStilesStiles.” And maybe he can breathe a little easier, after.

Neither of them are aware they’re doing it, until they are. Suddenly they’re reaching for each other’s names in their heads, as a poor replacement for each other’s bodies in front of them. When they’d rather be nestled together in person, the closest thing from far away is their names, so they keep reaching.