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okay so tori asked me for some of my favorite soulmate/soul bond fics and now here we are (i think this is most of them but i got a little lazy tbh)

hopefully this will inspire ppl to write more soulmate or soul bond AUs

Safety in Silence by Survivah [Mature, 66K]

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

(Once in a) Blue Moon* by clarkoholic, skywardsmiles [Explicit, 60k]

Stiles and Derek are getting along, but they’re not a family, and they’re sure as hell not mates. Christ, they’re basically just two stupid guys who happened to get pregnant because of a full moon and sheer dumb luck.

[* also an mpreg fic]

That Thing Which You Cannot Undo by uraneia [Explicit, 28K]

By twenty-eight, Stiles has resigned himself to a quiet life of working in his magic shop, selling Jackson Whittemore fart-inducing tea, and looking after his goddaughter. (Or: the Practical Magic AU nobody asked for.)

Electricity In the Contact by ladyblahblah [Explicit, 27K]

In which Derek has been invited to the Greater Pacific Northwest Alpha Symposium (that’s not what it’s called, Stiles, stop saying that), and showing up unattached would mean an arranged marriage.

Nothing Short Of Perfect by GotTheSilver [Explicit, 27K]

In which Derek and Stiles are made aware of their potential and have to make a choice about what their relationship will be.

Now Until the End by Dira Sudis (dsudis) [Mature, 17K]

"Why the hell did you do that?" Derek demanded. "Why would you bond with me? You were going to leave me for dead, you didn’t want anything to do with helping me."

"Okay, first of all, that was like two hours ago and I’ve grown a lot as a person since then," Stiles said.

Aether by hoars [NR, 17K]

Tall, dark and menacing — Derek — doesn’t do anything except for inch a little closer to Stiles. 

Safe at Anchor by Jerakeen [T+, 11K]

All hail Stiles, the Fixer of Wolves.

Unmapped by Jerakeen [Explicit, 11K]

Stiles can never leave a good mystery alone.

soulmates, tbh (series) by bleep0bleep [T+, 8K — WIP]

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Everything’s Made to be Broken by weathervaanes [Mature, 7K]

Everybody gets a name, inscribed in a color over the left side of their chest. It seems like a good system, guaranteeing that there will be someone who loves you, who you will get to love in return for years to come. The only problem is that that’s not actually how it always works out.

Soul Strong by macabreflorence [T+, 6K]

"To put it simply," Deaton said, "you have a soulmate."

Derek wanted to slam his head against the wall and just black out.

Mix and Match by Jerakeen [Explicit, 6K]

Stiles walks into the Beacon Hills alpha-omega mixer with a smile on his face and three condoms in his wallet.

Your Mark on my Skin by afullrevolution [T+, 5K]

Everyone had a mark scrawled somewhere across their body. A name, usually a signature to represent their soul mate, their one and only true love. Stiles has known who his mark belonged to since the third grade. He doesn’t understand how Derek can be so oblivious.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlocks [T+, 4K]

Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they’re temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it’s his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.


I’ve suddenly realized two things:

  1. I’ve never participated in Pink Undies Sunday
  2. I’ve never blogged in a laundromat before.


It takes five weeks, three pep talks from Scott and a near-dangerous amount of caffeine for Stiles to finally initiate a conversation with Hot Laundromat Guy Who Actually Irons His Suits Oh My God.

"Nice pleats," he says, casually leaning against the machine next to ironing board. "I mean, that’s not a euphemism, or anything. I was just."

The guy’s lips curve up, his eyes still focused on his suit pants, and Stiles swears that nobody’s ever looked so beautiful under greenish florescent lights. “I didn’t think it was a euphemism. What would that even be a euphemism for?” 

"Use your imagination," Stiles says boldly, wiggling his eyebrows. Hot Laundromat Guy slips and burns the tip of his finger. "Oh my god, are you okay?"

"Ugh, stop, I’m fine." The guy is glaring at the iron like it just betrayed him. "Maybe I should just… finish up at home."

Stiles panics. “My name is Stiles!” (It’s a non sequitur, admittedly, but anything to keep the guy from walking out and taking his amazing forearms with him.)

"Derek," says the guy, looking at him curiously from under his ludicrous mascara-commercial eyelashes. "I’ve seen you before. I’m always here on Sundays, too."

"I know, dude. You’re hard to miss," Stiles says, grinning when Derek squirms and bites his lip. Aww. "When you finish up with the pressing and the pleating and all that impressively fancy laundry stuff you do, can I buy you a burger? If you eat burgers. You look kind of like you subsist on kale and gravel."

"I like burgers," Derek says, rolling his eyes as he digs through his laundry basket. "I’m ambivalent on gravel, though."

"Ha, ha," Stiles says, completely delighted. "So I know this great place… oh."

Derek has just placed a pair of gorgeous, expensive-looking pink silk panties on the board. He’s handling them carefully, lovingly, and Stiles’ heart plummets.

"Those are nice," he says, trying to smile like a normal person. "It’s nice of you to take care of those. For your… wife?"

Derek frowns, smoothing out the wrinkles with one of his huge hands. “I’m not married.”

"Girlfriend, then?" Stiles doesn’t know why he keeps going. His throat is burning a little bit with the effort of not showing how suddenly crushed he feels.

"No, I’m not—they’re mine," Derek says. Matter-of-fact, easy, like he didn’t just restore all of Stiles’ hopes and blow his freaking mind in a single sentence. 

"Oh," he breathes, and Derek sighs, looking up at him

"If you want to reconsider that burger—"

"Careful!" Stiles yelps, and moves the iron away from where it’s resting on the corner of the panties’ lace trim. "Oh, good. They’re not burnt."

"Thanks," Derek says, his hand sliding into a fist against the ironing board.

"You can thank me once I’ve bought you the best burger you’ve ever had," Stiles says, and slides his fingers gently over Derek’s wrist. "Finish up first, though. Silk wrinkles like crazy."

"I’ve got it under control," Derek says, sighing grumpily even as he flips his hand over and brushes their palms together.



Clinging haphazardly to the jagged sides of the Drakensberg escarpment, the South African Institute for Witches and Wizards is an impressive conglomeration of architectural wonder and eccentric contraptions that keep the sprawling institute welded to the steep slopes of the mountains. Many say roaming the institute is an arduous test of one’s stamina as the primarily vertical layout of the institute relies on a plethora of stairs to navigate (luckily it has gotten better after the restriction on the indoor use of broomsticks was lifted). Over centuries, many pockets of shallow caves have been dug out and furnished by students who like to spend their free time observing the vast landscape before them from high up in the mountainside. The student population supplies much of the profits for Mava’s Zoomtastic Glasses, which is a popular accessory for observing the abundance of wildlife that roam the lands.


there’s a tradition where if you step on the campus seal in the middle of the quad you won’t graduate in 4 years unless you touch a statue of our school mascot (a goat that’s is like 60 feet away across an open field) within 10 seconds and I just watched a senior accidentally step on it, holler “SHIT” at the top of his lungs, drop his bags, and break into a dead sprint across the lawn. I love college

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