Fiction Recs

Derek/Stiles
47,831 words

Derek met his soulmate Kate Argent when he was 15, and he's tried for years to understand why his soulmate is so cruel to him. Then he meets Stiles Stilinski, who has no soulmate mark, an extremely rare phenomenon. Stiles thinks that he's destined to be alone forever, but apparently fate has other plans...

Derek/Stiles
34,214 words

“Don’t worry about it,” the sheriff said again. “You usually gush about Derek, so why don’t we focus more on that instead?”

Stiles let out a small laugh, shaking his head and taking another bite of his food. He’d been ranting and raving about the noise complaint all day, first to Scott, and now to his father. He supposed it was time to let the topic die and move on to something else.

“I’d love the opportunity to speak to him more often, but he’s always running around doing things, and he’s such a busy guy.” Stiles shrugged. “He’s in charge of four buildings, and with over fifty apartments apiece, I don’t know how he has enough time to stay sane.”

“Even he gets time off,” his dad argued. “If you want to get to know him, just ask him out to coffee.”

“I can’t just ask him out to coffee,” Stiles insisted, appalled. “Do you know what the dating scene is like nowadays? Brutal. Brutal, dad! Remember Lydia?”

“Lydia was out of your league,” his father argued with a small smile.

Derek/Stiles
14,242 words

“What would we call it?” Stiles asked, ignoring Scott. “Like, it’d have to be catchy, it’s gonna be hard to market.”

“Call a Dick,” Jackson said immediately.

“Dude, we can’t market a business with the word ‘dick’ in it, that’s not gonna fly. No one will print that. And what are we gonna do, emblazon the side of the building with a huge penis?” Stiles had to admit, it would be hilarious, but probably taken down by the city relatively quickly.

“It’s clear, it’s concise, it explains exactly what we offer.”

“It can’t have the word dick in it, Jackson,” Stiles insisted with a sigh, leaning back and thinking on it.

Derek/Stiles
53,246 words

“Can you hear me singing in the shower?” Stiles blurted out, because he had to know, now. If one of his neighbors had slid that note under his door, then it meant Parrish as another neighbour could hear him, too! He had to know if this was all a huge joke and one person had walked by and overheard him and decided to fuck with him.

Or if everyone could hear him and he now had to leave the country.

Parrish gave him a weird look at the question, but answered anyway, making Stiles’ plans to leave the country speed up in his mind.

“Of course I can. You’re actually not bad. Though you have been singing a lot of Frozen lately, getting kind of tired of the soundtrack.”

“Oh my God!” Stiles shouted in his face.

Derek/Stiles
91,001 words

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”

Peter/Stiles
49,769 words

Detective Stiles Stilinski doesn't know what he's in for when he meets Peter Hale at a nightclub, other than a great roll in the hay. He didn't sign up for all this family drama, but he's here for it and he might just get everything he's ever wanted out if it.

Chris/Peter/Stiles
22,970 words

Witness protection was a fickle thing, and a tight network. He couldn’t reach out to his dad, or to Scott and his wife Kira, or to Lydia or Jackson or Danny. He was completely alone, in a new state, with a new name, date of birth and backstory.
Gone was Stiles Stilinski, 24 from Beacon Hills, California. Son of the Sheriff Noah Stilinski, best friend of Scott McCall, former lacrosse benchwarmer.
Hello Ellis Kit, 23, from Kensington, Minnesota, quiet kid of a small time farmer.

_____

After Stiles witnesses the brutal murder of a man by his Ex Boyfriend, Theo Raeken, he’s put into witness protection half way across the country, away from all he’s ever known. He gains a job as a ranch-hand under hot as hell co-owners Peter Hale and Chris Argent, a temporary safe haven known for taking in strays.
Happily, he finds himself gaining a family, but quickly realises he could lose so much more.

Derek/Stiles
16,151 words

He’d just set it back down when the door opened, and a shadow appeared in front of him, taking the seat across from him. Jackson’s name was on his lips as he rose his gaze from his drink, but the word stuck in his throat, because it wasn’t Jackson.

“I’m really sorry, can you be my boyfriend?” Derek asked breathlessly, panic on his face and looking seconds away from losing his shit.

Stiles didn’t even have the chance to reply, because the second he saw crazy lady walk into the coffee shop, he just immediately leaned over the table and planted a kiss right on Derek’s lips. The other man seemed startled, but he recovered quickly and brought one hand up to press against Stiles’ cheek.

He made sure to keep the kiss short, and relatively chaste, because this was all for show and he didn’t want to make Derek more uncomfortable than he already was.

Derek/Stiles
51,007 words

Anxiety (/aNGˈzī-itē/):
A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.
~~
"The set was busy; people bustled about with their various jobs. No one seemed to notice, or maybe they just didn’t care, as the gangly boy looked about nervously. He was all skin and bones, a track of moles across his light skin. He carried a bag across his shoulders, a coffee cup in his left hand and a curious look on his face. There was nothing remarkable looking about him at all, and perhaps, that was the most remarkable thing."

Derek/Stiles
11,573 words

“You did a favour for a stranger?” the sheriff asked, surprised. “You won’t even do a favour for me.”

“Your favours involve chocolate and salty snacks, damn straight I won’t do you any favours,” Stiles insisted, pointing an accusatory finger at his dad while leaning back against the counter, taking another large sip of coffee. “Some guy lost his phone and was calling it hoping someone would answer. That someone was me. He said he’d had some drinks and couldn’t come grab it right then, so we agreed to meet at the station this morning. I didn’t realize ‘this morning’ meant the ass crack of dawn.”

“It’s not the ass crack of dawn, that was at five thirty-seven, according to the weather app on my phone.”

Stiles let out a sarcastic laugh and flipped his dad off. The sheriff gave him a look, but he didn’t reprimand him, clearly able to tell Stiles was miserable.

Derek/Stiles
53,977 words

“Who is this? Where’s Erica?”

“Wrong number, asshole!”

“Stop calling me an asshole,” the man on the other end snapped aggressively.

Stiles could understand. He’d be pretty aggressive too if he’d murdered someone and texted a wrong number to ask for help burying the body. This guy obviously failed How To Be a Serial Killer 101.

“What kind of idiot thinks I murdered someone?”

“The kind of idiot who got your text messages, you fucking dumbass!” he retorted hotly. “Maybe double check your contacts before sending a random stranger details on your nefarious plans to dispose of a freshly cut up body!”

“What?!” the guy on the other end demanded, crossed between horrendously confused and livid.