I don’t even know. I was taking a walk today and this idea popped into my head. I swear I’m still writing the bookstore AU, too. Also, *pops confetti*, I hit 2k followers today! Who ARE all you guys? Anyway, this fluff/ridiculousness is for you. ~1.6k words, rated G. Sterek, of course.
The whole thing starts with Stiles really, really craving a meatball sub from the place across the street.
“God, someone shut him up,” Erica groans. They’re all kind of at their breaking point by now; they’ve been camped out in this meeting room all day, brainstorming. “He’s been talking about the same goddamn sandwich for seven and a half minutes now, and it’s making me hungry.”
“If only our ad campaign were about sandwiches, Stilinski would have it in the bag and we could all go home,” Isaac sighs.
From across the table, Derek rises abruptly to his feet and storms out. (Or maybe it’s just that Stiles always interprets everything Derek does as stormy. With those eyebrows, it’s hard not to.)
Stiles assumes he’s just gotten so fed up with them all that it’s either storm out or kill someone, and he’s just grateful Derek chose Door Number 1. It’s a good day not to get killed by Derek Hale.
Only, fifteen minutes later he comes back in. With a paper bag from the deli.
As soon as he gets within grabbing distance, Stiles practically collapses across the table in his haste to reach for it. “Oh my god, is that what I think it is?”
Derek holds it up over his head. “Who says this is for you? Maybe all your talk inspired me to go get a meatball sub of my own.”
“Oh, please. Like anyone with your abs eats meatball subs.” Stiles leaps to his feet on his swivel chair—because screw safety, Derek will catch him if he starts to topple over—and snatches the bag out of Derek’s grip. Derek doesn’t fight him for it very hard.
“Why don’t I get a meatball sub?” Erica whines, thumping her head down on her notebook. “Doesn’t anyone love me?”
Derek shrugs and takes his seat again. “You didn’t ask.”
“You just like Stilinski better,” she grumbles, and Derek just shrugs again.
Meanwhile, Stiles rips into the bag and takes a huge bite out of the gloriousness that is this sandwich. He can’t help throwing in a few theatrical moans just to taunt Erica, and she suitably rewards him with a glare of death across the table.
“Mmm,” Stiles says. “Derek, I love you so much, dude. Marry me.”
Instead of the grumpy eyebrows he expects, Derek meets his eye, leans back smugly in his chair, and says, “Okay.”
…well, that escalated quickly. I posted it way back at the end of 2014, it got reblogged by several BNFs in quick succession yesterday, and then it proceeded to rack up like 2,000 notes in one day, so apparently it still needs to be said:
Yes, you are allowed.
You are allowed to write the fic you want, rather than the fic you feel obligated to write. You’re allowed to write crack, crazy realism-defying stunts, self-indulgent trope fic, fucked-up fic about problematic people doing unhealthy things. Fic that doesn’t go through the pre-flight safety check for every swordfight and every BDSM scene, fic that glosses over the ugly real-life fallout of psychological trauma and/or jumping out of a quinjet without a parachute. Or, hey, if that’s your thing, fic that dwells on psychological trauma in loving, messy detail and has at least three punchlines about characters not being able to defy the laws of physics. Any of those things! All those things! We contain multitudes!
Any fic you write is probably going to be a net positive for fandom. The people who were looking for something in your niche get it, the people who didn’t know they wanted something in your niche discover a new thing they like, the people who don’t like it click the back button, the people who really really hate that entire genre of fic get to stroke their hateboners and get high off their own self-righteousness.
If it upsets people? The back button is a failsafe and instantaneous safeword. If it’s not as ~quality~ as other people’s fic? Don’t make me break out that “holy shit! TWO cakes!” comic. If someone takes away a disturbing, unhealthy, or otherwise less-than-wholesome message from your fic? You are not responsible for their failures of critical thinking or reading comprehension, to say nothing of those reading with outright malice looking for something to pounce on after interpreting it as uncharitably as humanly possible. Jesus fucking christ, it’s fanfiction, if people legit want sex ed they should be on Scarleteen. It’s not your job to educate them, certainly not with your fic. It’s not. It’s not. Fic serves so many other purposes. You are allowed to write what you want.