Can you please recommend me some really long fics? Thank you💕
Sure! Just in time for SCAWeek too :) I’ll list these by writer, and most of them will be Steter but a few will also be polyamory and I’ll specify those.
Stiles opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out as he feels tears welling up again. He takes a deep, shaky breath, exhales slowly to calm himself enough to do this.
Peter waits, brows furrowed in worry as he watches Stiles.
“I think I’m pregnant,” he finally says, “And I don’t know what to do.”
Or the one where Stiles is a human incubator and Peter is not the baby daddy (until he is).
Stiles is a bit of an anomaly among the Omegas he knows, or everyone on the spectrum really.
For him, heats are about comfort and safety, and not at all about sex.
When Stiles finally steps off the westward trail to California, he’s the last of his pack. He starts building a den, but then he finds a dying man next to a burnt-down house and it turns out he’s not really much of a settler, after all.
The story that was supposed to be about time-travel, but is really a stealth AU of the first two seasons where Talia’s a struggling single mom, Peter’s the eponymous teen wolf, and Stiles, Scott and Lydia…are time travelers (so that part’s not totally inaccurate).
The Sphinx of Beacon Hills (Stetopher)
Stiles is a sphinx, and he’s winging his way to visit his buddy Scott when a storm drops him in Beacon Hills, the craziest, crankiest, coldest place ever. And somehow, he ends up with a bunch of werewolves.
Dead Men Tell No Tales (Steterek)
Sociopathic mercenaries Stiles and Lydia pick up some Hales in the middle of killing Kate Argent. They’re not rescuers.
Movement in Alpha Major (Stetopher)
Peter Hale, thirty-four, shady but successful human lawyer, knocks on his nephew Derek’s door one night because he’s just been bitten by a werewolf. Somehow, this ends up being a lot more awkward than one would expect.
Stiles wakes up a werewolf, with no memory of how it happened. Understandably, he panics.
“He wasn’t supposed to come home,” Stiles whispers. He knows Peter can hear him even with the shower running. “He woke me up and I remembered and I panicked…”
“Your father,” Peter says, and it’s not a question.
Stiles gets a job as a hospital orderly and finds himself becoming strangely attached to the catatonic man on the long-term care ward, and finds out that there’s a lot more to Peter Hale than there seems…
Stiles hates being left behind with Peter while the pack is fighting monsters, because he never knows exactly what Peter will get up to.
Peter’s heard people talk about what it felt like when they saw their mate for the first time, from those who actually believe in the mystical bullshit. Like a magnet, like gravity. Peter just feels… sharply curious.
After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.
Peter is the Alpha.
He’s nobody’s savior.
Not his pack’s. Not his town’s. And not that kid’s.
But sometimes salvation goes both ways.
Stiles needs Peter’s expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills.
And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.
The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.
It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.
What the heck is FetLife?
Stiles is too curious for his own good, and he can’t help himself, so he joins a website advertising to be a good place for “kinksters.” He just wants to be nosy and see what total strangers are up to. Then he meets Peter, who wants to be called Daddy.
Could Stiles be his baby boy?
“One–” He stabbed the needle right through skin and cartilage, pulling a loud squawk out of Stiles.
Stiles sucked in a few quick breaths then started to laugh. “You son of a bitch,” he snorted. “You said on three.”
“I lied,” Peter replied, smiling down at him.
Stiles can’t really talk anymore but, with Peter, he realizes he doesn’t have to. Even if their spoken communication consists of one swear word and stuttered syllables, they understand each other. And that’s what counts.
Commander Stilinski looked like he fell out of a propaganda video, his armor still smoking as he pulled off his helmet and handed it off to First Officer Argent. He had a few bruises down his neck but his smile was bright.
“Glad to see you safe and sound, Mr. Hale. I’d hate for Derek to lose a member of his family.”
“I told you,” Derek snapped at his superior, “he’s not worth this, Commander.”
After being abandoned by Scott, Stiles feels empty and tired. Sick of life. Until Peter re-enters his life and makes him want to live again.
All of a sudden he’s not so alone anymore…and neither is Peter.
In the beginning, there are three absolutes.
One. Stiles is a god, forged of starlight and collapsing galaxies and he is eternal.
Two. Peter is human, fragile bone and viscous blood and he is temporary.
Three. Stiles and Peter are in love; love that claws its way inside one’s heart like fish hooks; all encompassing love that is beautiful but dangerous.
Stiles is a god. Peter is human. They love each other.
Stiles doesn’t mean to sneak into the Hale wedding, and he certainly doesn’t mean to have cliche coat-room sex with the bride’s uncle, but what had happened, happened, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. At least, not until he got to have some of that cake.
Stiles is happy with his store, his hobbies, his friends. Peter’s just trying to figure out how to raise his nieces and nephew without fucking them up too badly.
Enough is enough. Stiles is tired of being always a last choice when he always tries to do his best for his precious people, so they better get their act together or face being left behind.
The things in the Argent’s basement get nearly fatal, the Sheriff finds about the supernatural, Allison can have a wicked, wicked mind and Peter Hale appears to be everywhere.
Oh, and Stiles can’t seem to stop breaking the laws of physics with his magic.
When the dead rise, and the world comes to an end, the McCall Pack must learn to live in this new world, or die in the attempt. This is the story of the end, and of the year that follows.
At the end of a strained relationship, crime novelist Stiles chooses to hide from the world inside a bar with far too many motorcycles outside it for comfort. Here he’ll meet the man of his dreams, eat food and propose marriage, all within the first five minutes.
Peter doesn’t know who this kid is, but he’s cute and looks like he could use a break. So he feeds him. He’s not expecting a marriage proposal, but with what comes after, he doesn’t really mind.
This is the story of how Peter gets married without technically dating anyone.
“You can bring your boyfriend with you,” Talia says.
Peter stops giving Henry more bits of dried fruit to stare at his sister “Boyfriend?”
“Of course!” Talia gestures at Stiles who looks around behind him with wide eyes. “I’m sure the whole family would be interested in meeting your young man.”
Stiles shows up at Peter’s apartment, drunk and horny. Peter almost does the right thing—before it all deteriorates into a voyeuristic power game and Stiles has a mind-shattering orgasm. Things snowball from there.
Peter is a simple saloon owner on one of the outer planets between the Aaru Belt and the Olympus Galaxy. He’s done with trouble. Done with adventure. So fucking done with rustlers. That is, until a cute young outlaw named Stiles wanders into his bar. Peter has this problem where he can’t seem to resist charming narcissists (perhaps because they remind him of himself). And when said narcissists turn his life upside-down, the worst part is he’s not even that upset about it.
Neither of them is aware of it, but Peter and Stiles play the same MMORPG. After Stiles moves away from Beacon Hills and goes to college, he and Peter start raiding together by accident.
“Dear god,” Peter snorts. “Alphas and their obsession with bodily fluids. Do you really find the narration of biological processes arousing?”
“You mean you’re not into the idea of smelling like me for days after this?” Stiles grins.
“I don’t know about days. I’m sure the birth control hormones will flush it out after about twenty-four hours.”
“You—what—I thought it suppresses your heats how are you—?”
“I like sex. So I take the pill that gives me shorter pseudo-heats. I’m still infertile. You gonna cry about it?”
(Or the one where Peter is a strong, independent Omega who don’t need no Alpha, but maybe he starts to like having Stiles around anyway).