Fiction Recs

Peter/Stiles, Chris/Stiles, Deucalion/Stiles
31665+ words

Stiles Stilinski was making his dreams come true. It didn't matter that he was years behind the curve, that he found his calling too late for proper apprenticeship, or that his skills were inconsistent at best; he was a full fledged Druid, officially approved and everything. He even had an assignment, direct from the Council themselves, straight out of the gate!
If that meant shacking up with three of the most gorgeous and damaged werewolves currently alive, well... he could think of worse things. At least here he was doing some good, and the fringe benefits weren't too bad either.

Peter/Stiles
19,351 words

"Stiles' thumb shook almost imperceptibly when it hovered over the number. His number. Not for the first time, he wished he had other options. The problem was that he'd already called everyone else in the pack. Hell, he’d even called Chris Argent for fucks sake and it was not like he was on the best terms with that guy.

Stiles chewed his lip and sighed before pressing call. He was the last person Stiles wanted to drive him home after getting his wisdom teeth pulled but he was out of options. This was Beacon Hills, and Stiles was probably less likely to be killed by him than he was some rogue supernatural Uber driver.

He swallowed as the call connected "Peter, I need a favor.""

Or the one in which Stiles confesses all of the nasty things he wants Peter to do to him in a post-anesthesia fog and then promptly forgets all about it. Peter...does not.