Fic Recs & MoonWolfBlues' Fics
(A Master List of Master Lists) - Updated Regularly
🪼

⁂
will byers stan first human second
One Nice Bug Per Day
Misplaced Lens Cap

#extradirty

ellievsbear
Xuebing Du

Andulka
trying on a metaphor
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
$LAYYYTER
Mike Driver
hello vonnie
Keni
Show & Tell
i don't do bad sauce passes
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
taylor price

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from South Korea

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from France

seen from United Kingdom
seen from India
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
@moonwolfblues
Fic Recs & MoonWolfBlues' Fics
(A Master List of Master Lists) - Updated Regularly
literally all I could think about while shane and yuna were having their Moment
Imagine Stiles accidentally sends a booty pic to Derek
Reblog if you will never. Ever. Use AI in your writing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Rafael McCall Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Student Stiles Stilinski, FBI Agent Derek Hale, Getting to Know Each Other, Time Travel, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alpha Derek Hale, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Don’t copy to another site Summary:
“What day is it?” Derek demanded.
“What?”
“The day! What day is today?!” Derek let Stiles go, but only so he could reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He tapped at the home screen, and then went so perfectly still that Stiles was pretty sure this guy wasn’t human. No human could stand that still.
When it was clear Derek wasn’t going to move again without some prompting, Stiles said, “It’s Wednesday.”
“That’s impossible,” Derek whispered.
“Not really, it comes around every seven days.”
“This is impossible,” Derek said again, looking around himself, as if he was searching for something.
me to all the fanfic writers who write so many words:
where. are. you. getting. your. juice?!?!?
This is your semi frequent reminder that there is no official AO3 app
All those are unofficial and available on the Google play store as of August 13th 2025. They mirror AO3's content and insert ads, for which the developer gets paid by page impression (that's every time the ad appears in the fic you're reading) not just clicks.
No money goes to AO3, nor to the fic writer. It goes to the person who did the bare minimum.
Many of these apps have poorly worded or non existent privacy policies, so they may also be mining as much data as possible and selling that on to unknown third parties.
Please, just use the official AO3 site and the browser.
WIP? More like ‘Work In Procrastination,’ because apparently my brain is on a strict oneshot-only diet:
It started as most things in Derek Hale’s life had lately, with a simple, irritated thought.
He should really shut the hell up.
Stiles had been talking for nine minutes straight. Derek knew, because he’d been counting. Not consciously at first, but somewhere around minute three, something inside him began to twist.
He braced himself against the kitchen counter, fingers gripping the edge, his lips pressing into a hard line as he stared at the way Stiles’ mouth moved like it didn’t know how to stop.
Stiles wasn’t making sense anymore; his words tumbled faster and louder, piling into a frantic rush.
Half of it was sarcasm, the rest wild theories thrown out just to fill the air. It was like he was building something out of noise alone—layer after layer of nonsense—as if talking enough would keep everything else from caving in.
Derek could have made him stop.
He imagined pushing Stiles back, his hand locking at the nape of his neck, feeling the skin warm and tense under his palm. He could almost feel the slight hitch in Stiles’ breath as he stumbled, just enough to throw him off balance. Derek would growl, the sound thick in the air, sinking straight into his spine.
The thought kept repeating, over and over, threading deeper into him every time Stiles threw out another word. Another smartass jab. Another deflection disguised as brilliance.
That mouth. That fucking mouth.
Derek’s wolf stirred, restless under his skin. Not out of anger—not really. This was something darker. He wanted to command him. Pin him. He wanted to see that mouth go slack with submission. Wanted the silence that came not from fear, but from surrender.
Something thick coiled in Derek’s chest, tension winding tighter with every second. He drew a shallow breath through his nose, though it barely felt like air.
Stiles’ scent hit him hard, sharp with adrenaline and tinged with nervous energy, always carrying that constant, subtle edge of arousal that never faded.
The human spun around, hands gesturing wildly, frustration rising in his voice as his eyes darted around the room. “I mean, it’s not like anyone ever listens to me anyway,” he said, unaware of the weight behind Derek’s silence.
“But this time, I have actual logic on my side. Not that logic matters when you have werewolf instincts and, like, alpha growly brain or whatever. Which, by the way, is so not helpful when I’m trying to have a conversation like a normal person. But no, it’s always—‘Stiles, shut up,’ or ‘Stiles, stay in the car,’ or—”
Derek cut him off, snapping, “Do you ever shut up?” His eyes flared bright red, fierce and blazing in the dim light.
Stiles flinched, surprise flickering in his amber eyes. His scent grew stronger, carrying a heat that filled the space between them, impossible to ignore. Derek could hear his heartbeat spike, a frantic rhythm that hammered against his ribs.
“Um, rude. You were clearly one of the people I was talking about.”
Stiles crossed his arms, not backing down in the slightest. His mouth pressed into a stubborn line, but his eyes were bright with challenge, daring Derek to say something else. He tipped his chin up, jaw set at that smug angle he wore like armor—as if he knew exactly how unbearable he could be and leaned into it anyway.
It made Derek want to bite him. Or kiss him breathless. Maybe tear him apart completely.
“But hey,” Stiles continued, mock innocence curling his words, “if you wanted me quiet, you could’ve just kissed me. Worked for some people in high school.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
Silence fell instantly. He didn’t move or blink—just stared, unreadable and intense, like he was seeing through the joke, through the bravado, straight into the pulse flickering beneath Stiles’ skin.
Stiles shifted, his smirk faltering. He licked his lips, suddenly unsure, and the tilt of his head softened—no longer defiant, just vulnerable.
“I—I was joking,” he stammered, his confidence slipping away. “Obviously.”
Derek didn’t want to joke. He didn’t want to trade snark or keep pretending this was anything less than what it was.
He wanted Stiles to shut up.
Not to be fully silent. No, he still wanted to hear him. He wanted the catch of breath that came when words ran dry. The desperate, shaky moans that tore from deep inside Stiles’ chest when Derek’s hands clenched onto hips and pulled him close, teeth grazing the curve of his jaw.
But the talking? The endless stream of sarcasm and deflection, the way Stiles built walls out of noise just to keep people from getting too close?
Derek wanted that to stop.
He wanted to take him apart until there was nothing left to say.
Stiles’ tongue darted out, wetting his lips in a quick, anxious gesture. “Say something, dude. You’re making me nervous.”
Derek’s claws itched beneath his skin, a low burn crawling up his arms as the wolf surged just under the surface—wild, hungry, and done waiting.
His pulse drummed heavy in his ears, and when he stepped forward, it was with the slow precision of a predator that already knew it had won, every movement deliberate, meant to press the weight of each inch closed between them.
He knew Stiles felt it too—saw it in the hitch of his breath, the quick rise of his chest, the way his pupils went wide with anticipation.
Derek’s hand shot out, rough fingers tangling in Stiles’ thick brown hair, gripping firmly at the crown and yanking his head back. The sharp motion pulled a gasp from Stiles’ lips.
The wolf growled its approval.
Derek didn’t pause. He crowded in close, pushing Stiles’ body until the cold edge of the kitchen counter dug into his back. His hips pressed forward with a force that left no room for doubt, no space to breathe. Nothing but pressure, heat, and the fact he wasn’t letting go now.
Stiles shuddered against him, full-body and uncontrollable. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling, and his mouth parted on a soft, broken moan, pulled straight from his throat like he didn’t know how to hold it in.
Derek’s hand tightened in Stiles’ hair, fingers threading through the strands like a claim. His hot breath brushed against Stiles’ skin as he whispered, “That’s exactly what I want to hear.”
time to lock tf in *opens wip and proceeds to zone tf out*
may all your favorite fanfic writers never lose their hyperfixation and love for your blorbos so they keep writing fanfics about your blorbos forever
the way that when a fic describes a character dragging their nose across someone else's skin has me by a chokehold (also the vulnerability of baring your throat *bites fist*)
crops of the parts that (as always) ended up being my favorite: ✨the hands✨
i keep spotting things i want to completely redo so it's time to let go before i scrap it completely ✌️
brb gonna daydream about writing fanfiction for several hours without actually writing a single word
Searching for a lost fic: Stiles and Derek seperately attend a convention/conference for werewolves/supernatural beings. They don't know each other before this. Derek is there as part of Scotts pack. Scott gets jealous of the attention on Derek as a Hale (I think) and loses his temper, kicking Derek out of the pack in front of a bunch of other packs. Also later the Hotel gets attacked and a group of vampires helps
Hi anon! @cinematicnomad says it's this one.
The First Annual North American Pack Convention by Immortalpancake
(15/15 I 146,205 I Mature I Sterek)
Otherwise known as the one where Derek and Stiles pretend (but it's not really pretend)
In which Scott, Malia, Lydia, Jordan, Stiles, and Derek attend the very first annual North American Pack Convention in Florida, and it isn't long before things start taking a downward spiral. Scott's acting odd, and it didn't help that Deaton told them that Derek and Stiles would most likely be approached by romantic suitors, all in the name of creating alliances.
Can the pack survive the two weeks? Or will rising tensions threaten to tear them apart?
i specifically think it's this fic despite the fact that they're in the same pack bc the other alpha's keep referring to derek as alpha hale and not acknowledging scott as the pack alpha. derek's standing in the pack is already strained bc of scott's feelings towards him and this makes it worse. the hotel they're staying at is attacked and a coven of vampires helps them during the scape. so everything fits except for the fact they're in the same pack but:
it's possible the asker is also thinking of Defying Convention by rororowyourboat which DOES have stiles and derek attending a convention separately. in this one stiles is a new spark and all the packs are vying for him as their new emissary. scott is mentioned as wanting stiles as his emissary but not present in the fic, and stiles makes it clear he doesn't think he and scott would be a good fit.
Spoiler: 70% of the time, it is not :(
n͉̠̙͉̗̺̋̔ͧ̊e̮̟͈̣̖̰̩̹͈̾ͨ̑͑v̪̩̜̜̙̜ͨ̽̄e̮̟͈̣̖̰̩̹͈̾ͨ̑͑r̼̯̤̗̲̞̥̈ͭ̃ͨ̆ t̘̟̼̉̈́͐͋͌̊r̼̯̤̗̲̞̥̈ͭ̃ͨ̆u̟͎̲͉̲ͮͫͭ̋ͭ͛ͣ̈s̪̭̱̼̼̉̈́ͪ͋̽̚t̘̟̼̉̈́͐͋͌̊ a̘̫͈̭͌͛͌̇̇̍ f̳͉̼͉̙͔͈͕̂̉̇o̜̓̇ͫ̉͊ͨx̥͕̮̠̦͉̑̉̄̀̚
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Complete - 9,151 words
Jackson deletes all of Stiles contacts from his phone and when Stiles texts him, threatening bodily harm, he texts the wrong number. Enter Deputy Stranger Danger.
This is one of my backlog words from summer of 2023, I heavily edited but here it is!