#Keep Calm and Read Steter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

serendipitioussurvival · 4 years

Text

Queen and Gentry - Steter

His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.

Oh. Fuck.

It started with small things; brief touches against his arm that could be mistaken for her trying to shoulder check him, or offering him meals and little desserts that she had made. Then she started to show up at his address - how she had gotten it made him proud and annoyed, it was his home dammit - and made sure he came to pack meets. Because she gravitated towards his side during pack meets so did Erica and Vernon until they, too, were scenting him as pack. It was insulting and beautiful at first until he began to feel the pack bonds with them form. Stiles had saved them, they followed her as if she were their alpha, and because she was including him - for whatever reason - he was a part of their small pack.

Because Peter rarely took anything without giving something - though that something was often in the form of scathing replies, sarcastic wit, and dramatic eye rolls - in return, he made sure to start ‘leaving’ books around on magic for the little Spark to read up on. It went from small things to a very real, very important thing the moment she, Erica, and Vernon stood up for him when Scott and Derek found out that he was teaching them how to fight and defend themselves, how to work as a unit. Scott, as expected, was pissed off that they - his pack - were doing something that would promote violence behind his back.

Derek was pissed off that his sired beta’s had not asked him to teach them, especially when he had tried before.

“You tried, sourwolf? I’m fairly certain that what you did was literally throw around three betas without giving them an idea of what they were supposed to do and or focus on, and then - when they were hurt, you broke their bones to get the healing factor to kick in faster!” Stiles raged, standing in front of the three betas with a glare that was equal to that of an Alpha. “Peter told them how to use their senses, how to get their healing to kick in faster without extra pain. He’s been at it longer, he’s been a Beta longer, he knows how to teach other Betas to control their shift and find their anchors.” then, with a fury that made her breathtaking, she rounded on Scott.

“And you! You expect everyone to just lay down and not cause a fight because you’re a fucking ‘True Alpha’?! You’re still a teenager, Scott, people will see that before they see you as the ‘True Alpha’ you’re trying to keep as a claim. What if another Gerard shows up, Scott, huh? What if he takes Erica and Vernon again, what if they decide that they want to shoot up some of our pack after they agree to a peace treaty? Huh? What then?!”

“We still have to give them that option for peace, Stiles!” he urged, confused as to hell why she was so adamant on siding with Peter when she normally was on his side with certain arguments. “Gerard was a mistake, but -”

“Allison was the one who shot them full of arrows!” Stiles was a spastic, energetic, and loud girl. Such was why her calm, curt, still fury was so worrying for those in the room. “Allison, Scott, and I love her like a sister, but it was Ali who shot them full of arrows, repeatedly, because Gerard manipulated her.”

“Gerard was evil-” Scott tried, angry for her bringing up Allison but also sad because she had.

“There are more people like Gerard than you know, Scott.” and maybe it was because his friend, his sister, was looking at him like he was a moron or a child, but it had Scott raging.

“People like Peter?! He killed people too!” and maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say, because now Derek was edging towards Stiles, choking on her anger and wanting her to calm down because Erica and Vernon were tensing for a fight behind her.

“Peter killed guilty people who deserved to fucking die.” Peter had never had anyone he wasn’t openly manipulating angry for him. For Stiles to be so on his side, to agree with what he had done… “Peter didn’t take a human fucking girl from the middle of a Lacrosse win to beat her senseless so she could be made into a message to the Alpha and her werewolf best friend.” and to that the entire room stiffened.”You knew,” she spat, “You just didn’t want to believe it.”

“You-you're lying-” before he could finish the half-hearted attempt to regain control of the situation - his mind, honestly - Erica and Vernon both growled and shifted with intent to hurt him.

“No.” All it took was for Stiles to look at both of them for them to remain where they were and calm down, burning cinnamon cooling down and releasing its grip on the ‘were’s in the room. “Scott, are you ordering us as Alpha to stop these training sessions?” she was furious, but there was a calm acceptance to her that actually scared the ‘were’s. This felt like a charged moment, like whatever Scott said would change everything.

“I -” Scott wanted to say yes, he really did, but he understood the need for everyone to learn how to protect themselves. Ever since that lacrosse game, Stiles had quit and gone to some self-defense classes that a few of her dad’s colleagues were putting her through. Now she was learning how to fight werewolves from Peter and Scott - Scott only saw Peter as using this for an opportunity to turn his friends against him.

“He’s turning you against me, can’t you see that’s what he’s doing?” He tried again, needing his friend, his sister, to see reason.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is that an order, Alpha McCall?” it was in instances like this that Peter saw how truly remarkable of a wolf she would make. Her fury was calculated and directed with a level of intelligence that would make other Alpha’s blush. She knew just what to say to utterly demolish her opponent and she could say it with a ferocity that rivaled a raging Omega.

“No.” Scott bit out, shoving his hands into his hair to try and relieve the pressure that was building there.

“Good, then we’re not going to discuss what I do in my free time with pack members you neglect.” In a movement that could be taken as a challenge to any other Alpha Stiles spun around, openly rubbed her cheek against Erica’s, then Boyd’s, and finally, with a narrowed glare that dared Peter to try and deny her, rubbed the other side of her cheek against his previously scarred one. She smelled of rain when he actually moved his face into the motion, scenting her back despite how stunned he still was. “You are the Alpha, Scotty, but I am the Emissary and this is my pack.”

After that she and Scott got into arguments frequently, most of which devolved into screaming matches that had the other pack members flinching away from the table. Lydia and Allison were, surprisingly enough, on Stiles’s side, despite saying that Scott still had some good points to his arguments. Peter never needed to be dragged to another Pack meet again as he went willingly.

It was a month later that she called a pack meeting, asking for everyone to show up. When everyone - including Chris Argent - was present in the room - including one confused Alan Deaton - Stiles entered the loft smelling of Peppermint and ash.

“I’m adding one more to our pack.” and, as expected, confusion and alarm broke out.

“Who?” Chris asked her, drowning out the questions of ‘What have you done’ and ‘what do you mean?’

“Deucalion.” she stayed standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiant and completely set in her decision despite the two shouts that were immediately aimed at her. Scott being the loudest. “You granted him mercy, but you also made him an Omega. Omega’s go fucking crazy, you really want to deal with a crazy Deucalion?”

“I agreed with her,” Derek told him when he stood by her side, surprising Scott further. “He learned how to fight while he was blind, Scott, he learned how to utilize his senses in a way I’ve never even heard of. Stiles, Erica, Boyd and I already met with him a couple times.”

“You already met him? You already decided on this without asking me, without-”

“It’s what I’m doing now, Scott. Pack meet, pack discuss, pack decide. I started checking on him to make sure he wasn’t losing his sanity, that was three months ago.” and Chris, god bless him, was the voice of reason right alongside his daughter and Lydia.

“Erica, Vernon, you’re okay with him joining the pack?” because he had been the one who had taken them captive and held them captive for months until Stiles had found them.

“He stopped Kali from torturing us,” Erica announced with a shrug from her spot on the spiral staircase beside Peter. “Honestly I think he’s the only reason I’m alive, Kali was especially pissed off that day. He’s… he’s not the same.”

“I think it’s because he got his eyesight back,” Boyd agreed, arm wrapped tight around Erica while she sat between his legs on the staircase, just a few steps below Peter. “If he tries anything, well, we’re a large pack, we can take him.”

“He’s another Alpha!” Scott distressed, “he could just kill me and take over the pack!” Stiles rolled her eyes and looked to Derek, as if asking for him to take over. Peter was too awed at the way Stiles had changed, at the way she seemed to no longer be trying to actively hide her true self from everyone and instead embraced it with conviction that had him hungry for her. When Derek put his hands up in a ‘It’s all on you’ motion she sighed heavily and turned her champagne gold eyes on Scott.

“Scott, no offense bud, but I could kill you, and take the Alpha spot. You don’t come to training, you don’t try to run with the others on the full moon, and you’re actively denying your wolf’s instincts.” of course he had, he never wanted to be a werewolf! “See, that’s exactly my point!” ah, this was the point where it would divulge into a screaming match. “You don’t want it, never wanted it, so you’re denying it while trying to keep the authority of it! You can’t be an absent leader, Scott!”

“You don’t know what it’s like!” it was funny how he became the flailing ones whereas Mieczyslawa was the calm, collected hurricane she was always meant to be.

“Scott, you don’t have Asthma anymore, you’re basically always fucking ripped, you can literally feel familial bonds, you’ve gained more attention from the female Populus in these past two years than you ever had, and you made first line as well as Captain of the Lacrosse team!” her hand slapped harshly into her chest and drew a flinch from those that cared about her. “You could still be asthmatic getting chunky with me on fast food and snacks spending every Friday night binging video games and sitting on the bench during lacrosse games while we lament about how we wish things were different. You found your anchor, your mom literally told you to fucking stick it to someone who could kill her because she believed in you. You’re only problems are because you’re denying that wolf side of you that you keep seeing as a monster!”

“Well why don’t you ask me to bite you then so you can be a wolf!” and there it was, the question Peter had been asking himself ever since she had denied him in the parking garage what felt like an eternity ago.

“Because it would hurt too fucking much to realize you don’t need me as much as I need you.” and that… well, Peter understood that. It brought the whole situation into perspective for him and brought a whole new understanding to her reaction when he had asked her. She didn’t want to be like him, that had been a truth and a lie, because if she turned into a werewolf she would’ve been like him. Bondless, alone and on the road to insanity that most likely would’ve resulted in her death. “Pack vote on Deucalion.” amidst the awkward atmosphere the majority vote was for Deucalion joining, Scott was too stunned to put his own vote in, let alone deny said vote.

Erica and Vernon flanked her when she took her leave, putting all attention on Scott as he stood, flabbergasted, in the same spot he had been in. Few people glanced to Allison, as if to gauge her reaction to hearing that - was it a confession? - declaration from her best friend toward her ex-boyfriend.

“Well, it was about time for that.” Lydia expressed with a dramatic sigh as she pushed away from the table. “It’s not a romantic confession, Scott, so don’t go thinking too highly of yourself. Honestly,” she smacked her lips and eyed the room with a hint of distaste. “I hoped she’s snap sooner or later, called me out at the Homecoming but didn’t care that she was hiding her real personality from everyone.” She sniffed derisively and flicked her hair over her shoulder, glaring at Peter with a tone of acceptance that hadn’t previously been there. “Hm.” and with that high pitched huff of approval and acceptance, she sashayed her way out of the room.

Peter wasn’t sure how he was supposed to actually react to the current scheme of things. Not only had Stiles openly declared that Peter was a part of her pack, but she would also openly fight Scott for his current placement in her scheme of things. Her pack, which consisted of Deucalion, peter, Erica, Vernon, and apparently Lydia. From the look that was shared between Chris and Allison, the two were in favor of what Stiles was saying. It was then that Peter made sense of the little touches she made sure to do to him, the way she made meals or gave him little baked goods. How she was always, always trading sneers with him and openly challenging him. The entire time she had been scenting him, considering him pack, showing him he had a place with her.

He was strangely touched and insulted that a teenage girl thought that she could force a pack bond on him just because she didn’t want to deal with him going omega crazy again. In the same breath he knew that wasn’t why she had done it, she would’ve told him outright if that had been her reasoning, instead she showed up at his house so often that her scent could always be found in some corner of his apartment, left a few of her jackets - there was even a cover she used when she showed up very suddenly declaring that she was going to use his couch to sleep and if he touched her she would wolfsbane mace him. He had been too stunned at her brashness to even react before she was curled up on his couch with a fluffy cover curled around shoulders.

When he had recovered he had wanted to bang his pots together, toss her off the couch, play the T.V at its loudest volume. Instead he found himself walking softly, barely using the oven, let alone the microwave in case the sound was too loud to wake her up, and checked on her frequently to make sure that she was fine.

Little tart took that as permission to do it frequently too. Still, through all this he only knew of Stiles being ‘Stiles’ - he didn’t want to make her presence seem permanent in his life by hiring a P.I to find out her real name (since none of her fucking friends knew it, thank you Scott) - and was utterly floored when it was Deucalion who called her true name out in the middle of a sparring practice.

“You’re doing good, Mieczyslawa, this time focus on the way the air feels against your skin. You’re not a werewolf, but you can feel the change, every human can. You just have to attune yourself to it.” she nodded and vanilla sprouted from her in her pleasure at having her true name called so perfectly. “I’ll go slow and progress the more successful you are.” another nod but neither were ignorant of the stares centered on them. Stiles was not a werewolf but she was doing better than Erica and Vernon when it came to the training Deucalion implemented. She was doing so well, in fact, that it often meant she was doing lessons with him on the side, or during breaks in between their training sessions.

She didn’t dodge the first time Deucalion shoved her though she did follow his movements when he stalked around her. After the first three shoves she managed to dodge or swipe his hand away, then after that she stumbled only twice, managing to keep up pace with him until he started using his werewolf speed.

“Okay,” she sighed heavily and settled into a stance, captivating them all with her pure ozone that leaked from her. “Deuce, try again.” to his credit he did without hesitation. Where she once fumbled she was now sure in her movements, where she was choppy she was now graceful, and the pace with which she moved had increased until both their limbs were nothing but blurs. “I’m fucking NEO!” she shouted in glee after the session, cackling madly with Erica at her side, questioning just how the fuck she had done that.

Peter, however, was trying to remember how Deucalion had pronounced her name, tried to form it without being too obvious. He would never admit, even under the threat of torture, that he was jealous that Deucalion knew what her real name was and, from the way they were talking in another language that sounded harsh and beautiful, could also speak whatever language it was she was fluent in.

“It’s Polish,” Deucalion answered his unasked question when Erica and Vernon left with Stiles hours later. Peter tried not to seem too interested when he looked at Deucalion but felt his eyebrow twitching when the man was wiping his hands on a rag, grinning slightly every time he glanced at Peter as if he were amused. “Her name and the language.” he wondered how he knew but refused to ask it, he didn’t want him to think that Peter owed him for answering simple questions. If he elected to talk without being asked anything then that was his business, Peter was just enjoying his confusing day. “We looked into the human who taught a sireless Beta how to control himself, though we thought she was a Druid at first.” with a shrug Deucalion tossed the rag on his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can imagine our surprise and suspicion when we found she wasn’t a Druid and was purely human.”

Purely human? Yes, that’s what he had thought at first too.

“Then she trespasses onto our territory, charms Ennis, and takes our hostages before they can even be utilized.” yes, he had been shocked all to hell and back when she showed up at the old Hale House with two twitchy Betas and a ghost. The ghost being his niece whom he thought was dead, another one who had been abandoned like he had. She had recently gone back to South America - Beacon Hills was ‘too cold’ for her - but she and Peter kept in touch through Skype and phone calls.

“Erica says you stopped Kali from torturing them,” to his credit the Alpha sighed heavily and sank into the pillar of the porch. “Why?”

“Because Derek was supposed to kill them, if they perished before they got the chance then that was one less beta who’s abilities he could absorb.” He was honest, at least, so points for him. “Now… now I think it would’ve been a great loss to involve her any more than she had been.” it most definitely would have been, Stiles had the severity of loyalty that made her put her own life in front of those she cared for.

Peter didn’t expect him to be one of those people, especially since he could fucking heal.

“You stupid, idiot girl!” he panicked and clutched her tighter to his chest while Chris drove them to the hospital. “What gave you the right!? I can heal but you can’t you -” her pinched expression turned wry, even though the pain he was trying to drain from her but couldn’t because the little tart was somehow stopping him from doing it. “Let me take your pain!”

“You’re-” she groaned and shut her eyes tight, “So dramatic, it’s just a - just a bullet.” Just a bullet, yeah for him maybe! It had been intended for his heart but she had fucking jumped right in front of it and took it instead. He would kill her, he would save her first and then kill her and then bring her back just to kill her again for causing this pain in his chest. He hadn’t even wanted her fucking pack bond and now he could feel the pain she was denying him from taking through it and he couldn’t- “Peter, breathe.” and with her calm placations he raged. Her, who was currently bleeding profusely into Chris’s back seat, was going to tell him to calm down when she could be dying!?

“Fuck you.” he snapped, then - “Let me take your pain damn you!” her brows furrowed even deeper at that, as if she didn’t know why he couldn’t.

“I’m not - not stopping you from doing it.” and it was hard to tell if she were lying or telling the truth because her hummingbird heartbeat was fucking normal and that did absolutely nothing for his control. “An-anyway, hunting season, I just, rounded a mend when - someone took a shot.” she grimaced and sank into Peter’s hold. “Didn’t - didn’t-”

“My daughter and Isaac stuck around to try and find the Hunter while Peter and I rushed you to the hospital.” Chris finished when she started coughing, jaw tight every time he looked at her through the rearview mirror. “We were tracking the deer when we came around the cliff face overlooking the city when the shot rang out.” she sagged completely against him and nodded briefly, eyelids lowering slowly as the exhaustion set in. “The hunter used a 30.06 and that’s a common hunting rifle caliber. It’ll all be plausible.” Chris was impressed with her ability to come up with an alibi even through her pain, that didn’t mean he was calm. He didn’t have a werewolf’s sensory amplification but he could smell her blood as if it were covering him. The normally fair-skinned girl was now sickly pale with sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and her eyes - which were regularly black - now looked sunken.

“Peter, don’, don’ wolf out, kay?” she breathed, “‘m fine. ‘n don’ wolf out ‘n Scott, either. Chris, don’ le’ em.” she cleared her throat and hissed when Peter jumped out of the car the moment Chris pulled it up in front of the Emergency entrance. “Hi, ‘lissa!” she chirped when several nurses motioned for Peter to put her on a gurney, beaming even though her eyelids were drooping shut again. “Fancy meet’n you here.”

“I just thought I'd stop by.” Melissa offered through the tears that had started to shed at the sight of Stiles covered in blood. Chris was rushing in the exact moment they wheeled her away, leaving two panicking adults while another nurse tried to get answers from them. He took over easily enough, especially when Peter completely froze at the sight of her blood on his hands. Chris could only assume what was going through his head - he was certain that it had to do something with the darkest part of his memories - and didn’t want to push him too far less he snap and wolf out.

It was strangely easy to get Peter to one of the showers in an empty room they’d been led to so that he could wash his arms and hands. Nothing could be done for the shirt, but then again Peter would still be able to smell her blood. Erica and Vernon came later, breathing hard and immediately gravitating near Peter. Jeorek came minutes later and was immediately dragged away by Melissa and a doctor.

Peter was furious, he was sad, he was enraged and he was so fucking confused. He couldn’t take her pain but she wasn’t stopping him from doing it. She had taken a bullet meant for him and he was covered in her fucking life blood and he didn’t like it. She had placated him even though she were in pain and he didn’t fucking know what all of this meant.

He knew his bond that he had with her hurt, that it was aching and dulling the longer time went on - he wasn’t sure if that was because she was dying or because she was sedated, he hoped beyond hope that it was the latter. If it was the former he- well, he wasn’t sure what he would do, or how he would react. He knew, faintly, that his thoughts were calm and hectic, that he had underlying thought processes ranging from several ‘what ifs’ to dozens of ‘but this could happen’, none of it really went focused on for more than a second overtop the large, terrifying thought, of ‘She could die.’

She could die.

She was probably dying.

She was - and it was because of him - maybe not directly but indirectly. She, she forced the bond on him without asking! He had asked her if she wanted the bite and now she was taking him down with her and-

“Peter,” he curled his hands into fists and dug them into his abdomen, not wanting to look at them any longer, not when he could still smell the blood that had once coated them. “She’s going to be okay,” he looked up them, glaring at Chris and his calm freaking demeanor that had him wanting to rip his fucking throat out. “The bullet nicked an artery but she’s okay.”

“It wouldn’t have nicked an artery if she hadn’t jumped in front of me.” he growled, fists pressing tighter into his abdomen so he wouldn’t run them through his hair or into someone elses throat.

“You’re pack, of course she was going to jump in front of you.” Erica growled, pacing in front of Vernon - who was standing by the wall with his arms crossed across his chest.

“I never asked to be pack!”

“You never told her no!” Erica snarled at him, flashing her eyes and challenging him in a way that had his ass slamming right back into his seat before he could flash even a hint of fang. “She claimed you as pack over and over and you ever once told her no!” Peter rose with the calm fury he’d perfected all his life, truly on the edge now that this Beta, this beautifully protective and ignorant beta had tried to challenge him. HIM.

“I don’t want to be part of her pack.” he didn’t, he really fucking didn’t, not when she could get hurt and die at any fucking point, Spark or no. She could heal, she’d heal faster than a regular human, but she couldn't heal a bullet to the heart or head or throat. She was human and he couldn’t deal - he wouldn’t be able to take it if she died. Not when it made him feel every single one of his pack bonds burning all over again as his family died. As they suffered.

“Then tell her.” Jeorek challenged, arms crossed tightly to prevent himself from reaching for his gun to shoot the bastard that would dare leave his daughter now. “You don’t want to be a part of her pack then you tell that to her face and break that bond instead of letting it be drawn out.” how dare them, how dare all of them do this to him, try to keep him in a place he didn’t want to be!

He had stormed out with full intent to come back and tell her that he didn’t want to be a part of her pack.

He never did. Never went back or went to visit her despite every nerve in his body and every urge of his wolf telling him he needed to go see her, to make sure she was okay, to confirm that she was healing. Instead, he focused on researching what he could about the hunters that would dare hunt in Argent territory and avoiding the general populous.

Mieczyslawa, of course, had to take that plan and just fucking wreck it.

“You are the most idiotic mother fucker this side of Beacon hills.” Stiles Stilinski groused, standing in his doorway, looking as emotionally wrecked as she was physically. Damn him he couldn’t actually look at the brace on her arm that kept it slung against her chest. He couldn’t look at the bandages and wound dressing that peaked out from beneath her loose top. “You want to be emotionally stunted for the rest of your life? Fine. You tell me right now you want out of the pack and I’ll leave you alone, forever.”

“Just like that?” he snarked, claws coming out to impale the wall of his door, not that she could see it anyway. “After dragging me to pack meets for months and dragging me into your little group of misfits you’ll let me go, just like that?”

“Yes.” damn him he loved that she could tell the truth and lie all with a single word. He loved and hated that her eyes were like gold, burnt and broken but so defiant that it made him hate her all the more. “I won’t force you to be somewhere you don’t want to be, but only if you really don’t want to be there. I’m not going to take half-assed excuses or reasons, Peter. You’re a grown-ass man, if you give me some bullshit excuse then I’m going to tell you to fuck off until you give me a better one.” who the hell did she think she was. He didn’t need to give her a reason or an excuse. If he said he didn’t want to be in her fucking pack then that was all he had to say!

“I don’t,” he growled out, knuckle deep in his drywall. “Want to be,” cinnamon began melting with brown sugar, gold eyes turning to a dark russet brown in her acceptance and grief. “In your pack.” he expected her to fight, was ready for it, but that cinnamon and brown sugar turned too sweet, too rich for him to take too many deep breaths. She stared at him for a moment, then two until he was finally ready to snap at her.

“Fine.” his heart dropped to his stomach when she turned around and marched away, quickened steps doing nothing to take away her scent from his doorway. He hadn’t been able to bask in her scent for a week, hadn’t been able to see her or appreciate the small things about her habits that actually made him yearn for her. Now, with her scent so potent in his doorway, he found he wanted to just stand there, breathe her in even though it was physically painful to do so. Cinnamon and brown sugar, the too-sweet warmth that made his throat close up and his eyes burn. The scent that had built and built until it was overpowering her natural scent and leaving him with it saturating the area of his apartment.

The smell of her heartbreak.

He didn’t run after her despite every molecule in his body telling him to - if he were being honest it was because his body and wolf were telling him to go after her that he fought it so hard. He got three noise complaints that night and, by the morning, had a new living room table ordered to be shipped to him.

He thought she’d message him at least once within the next week.

She didn’t.

He didn’t hear anything until he dragged his ass with the conviction that he didn’t care, he was just trying to figure out what his Nephew and true Alpha McCall were planning, to the pack meeting.

There was no pack meeting, only Derek and - surprisingly enough - Cora were chilling out in Derek’s loft. They seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Then, then there was anger. Anger from Cora.

“Now you show up.” she stalked towards him with a fury that was both impressive and confusing. Why it was directed at him he had no idea. “After a whole month, Uncle Peter, you are just now showing up?!” and then she was punching him right in his solar plexus, catching him off guard with how fast she went from confrontational to physical.

“Cora, he doesn’t know.” Derek groused, sighing heavily over the dozens of open books laid out on his table. “Stiles isn’t in Beacon Hills.” that, that had taken his breath away far quicker than Cora’s punch had. She wasn’t in beacon hills? Why the fuck wasn’t she in Beacon hills? Where was her father, what was being done, why wasn’t he - why couldn’t he -

Well, he wouldn’t really have to be informed if they weren’t pack, would he? He wouldn’t have been able to feel if she were near, not with the aching chasm that was once the bond between the two of them. Still, he had pack bonds with Erica and Vernon and nothing felt off, they knew where he lived and he hadn’t been told by them that Stiles was gone. He hadn’t seen anything in the news about missing persons and there was no way in hell that Scott wouldn’t be currently lording this over him if something had happened to her. Not when all his theories about Peter being the biggest asshole since fisting became a thing were proven true.

“Where is she?” he didn’t care, he didn’t care he didn’t care.

“France.” Cora bit out, “Chris, Allison, Erica, Vernon, and Isaac all went. You would’ve been with her, would’ve known, if you hadn’t screwed up somehow!” the rest was far too many expletives about his character, personality, and his lack of dedication to things he was attracted to in Portuguese for him to give much thought to.

“Deucalion went too, Peter.” that stung even though it shouldn’t have. He had told her he didn’t want to be a part of her pack, hadn’t visited her while she was in the hospital, hadn’t reached out to her first. Even so, even despite all that, Deucalion had gone and Peter hadn’t, not even to make sure she was safe, not to look over the betas who had become pack to him without even having meant for them to.

“When are they due back?” Cora shut her brother up with a glare when he went to answer Peter.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Uncle Peter? Or are you scared?” the growl he centered on her was worthy of Alpha status. Peter, of course, did not do that. Not until it was nearing the two-month mark and the silence of his apartment was overwhelming. No amount of nights out could fill the silence, running never exhausted him as much as he needed so he could just pass out when he went home. Home that was now empty, home that was no longer home. Home with jackets that weren’t his and a cover that no longer smelled like Stiles, a place that no longer had traces of her or pack, a place that suddenly seemed much too big and much too quiet.

‘You’ve reached the voicemail of ‘Name here’-” he hated that her voice alone made his every limb settle, hated that it filled the ache that had been in his chest. Especially when she was snickering and giggling while trying to remain serious, he could practically see her in front of him making faces while recording the damn voicemail. “If you’ve important business, leave a message, if it’s important call again, hang up, and call again.” so, of course, he did just that, only it wasn’t Stiles that answered.

“I am unsure who this is, as you’re listed as ‘Big Bad’,” Deucalion rumbled, sounding as if he had just been woken up. “What is it?” Peter hung up.

Deucalion had answered Stiles’s phone, Deucalion who sounded as if he had been asleep had answered Stiles’s phone. Deucalion who had to be around Stiles for him to be near her phone, asleep, in Paris, together.

His cell phone vibrated in his hand, he actually hesitated to answer it when ‘Little Spark’ flashed across the screen. “Is everything okay in Beacon Hills?” a very groggy Stiles urged, causing his stomach to hollow immediately. She had been around Deucalion, they had to be in the same room, and they were most definitely sleeping together. But were they sleeping together, or sleeping together? Why did his wolf lament and his heart ache at the possibility?

“Why are you in France?” he countered, refusing to play to her tune and instead demanding she play to his. He heard the shuffling of covers and the creak of a mattress that was obviously of poor quality, and then her heavy sigh that had his anger rising.

“Why do you care?” she sounded so tired and defeated that he almost asked if she were okay. Damn the habits he had developed when she had been present in his life, like a leech or a tumor.

“The Pack meant to be protecting Beacon hills just ups and vanishes without finding suitable replacements? Fairly certain I should be aware of that much, at least.” not the wisest thing to say, considering the fact that she was frustrated with him.

“We have suitable replacements. Derek, Cora, Scott, my Dad, and the Police are all protecting Beacon hills.” He really should just leave it at that, lest she think he cares more than he actually did. Or showed that he cared as much as he did? He clearly cared for her, even if he didn’t actually want to. “I’m not - is there anything else?” didn’t have any time for him, did she? Not when she was busy with Deucalion and her pack in France.

“When are you coming back?” it was snapped and curt and definitely dangerous in ways that let on more than he had been comfortable with.

“I don’t know.” she sighed again, “Hopefully before school starts again.” he heard her heartbeat clearer and a muffled ‘Yeah, yeah I know, we’ll be fine. We’ve got time.’ and then another person joined her on the bed, or rejoined her. “Peter, was there something else?” she was dismissing him? As if he didn’t matter?

“Of course,” he purred, “wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with Deucalion.” he heard her intake of breath and felt minute satisfaction with the fact that she seemed so affected by his barb. Then he felt guilt, and not because he was wrong or because he had so obviously hurt Stiles, but because he could feel the protective anger through the bonds he had with Erica and Vernon.

“Too late,” calm, calculated, and with the force of a fucking freight train. “Goodbye, Peter.”

He crushed his phone when he heard the dial tone.

He contemplated flying to France just so he could throttle her and promptly decided against it incase she saw it as him going out of some kind of affection for her. Still, staying in Beacon Hills was out of the question. He needed to go somewhere, needed to get away from every memory that haunted him and the ghost-like laughter that tickled the back of his head. He had a plane ticket to Ohio booked and his bags all packed and ready in under eight hours with only one stop in mind. He just wasn’t expecting Derek and Cora to be skyping Stiles in their dining area.

“-ay, that’s what the Druid’s here are saying. They’re going to give me a sapling from their Nemeton to take to ours, it should purify whatever dark energies are polluting it and give it enough power to start being able to draw on the currents once again.” she sighed and ran a hand over her face, the black sling contrasting ominously against her skin and tank top she wore. “There’s also another Spark here, they’re apparently common, but not whatever I am. If we find out whatever it is that I am I’ll end up coming back once school is over and spend a couple months learning how to do… whatever it is that I do?”

“Stiles,” Derek began, concern clear in his tone and on his features. “You look like shit. Are you sleeping any?”

“Uh, I think we all got like four hours last night?” Erica pushed her way into the screen, glaring darkly at the side of Stiles’s face for even trying to lie.

“Stiles slept an hour and has been taking her Adderall left and right like they’re fucking hard candy.” Peter stepped further into the Loft without much thinking about it, his pesky wolf clearly wanted to see Stiles. “Hello asshole.” Erica greeted with a sniff then, with a level of sass Lydia would approve of, flicked her hair over her shoulder and stalked out of the screen’s frame.

“Yes, well, my shit sleeping habits aside.” Stiles groused, frowning angrily at her arm as she readjusted her sling. “That’s everything that’s happened so far. We’ve got another week or so and then we should be on our way back. I’ll have to plant the new sprout into the current Nemeton and purge whatever is blocking the energy flow before school starts,” she fidgeted a bit with her sling, then glared once Deucalion snapped at her to stop messing with it. In Polish.

Peter did not learn Polish for Stiles, he had learned it so he would know if they were talking about him to his face. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he could now perfectly pronounce her name. Hearing the two of them bicker at one another in Polish had him wanting to put his two cents in just so he could see her reaction.

“Stiles, find you a Euro boyfriend and get fucked.” Derek and Stiles, simultaneously, inhaled their drinks and fucking spat them everywhere.

“Cora!” they spluttered inbetween hacks, glancing at her in abject horror while Erica cackled like a witch in the background. “Not only is that a fucking awful idea, but I actually have to stay a virgin for the ritual I’ve got to do for the Nemeton Sapling.” not sleeping with Deucalion then, interesting - not that he cared either way. “And I’m not going to end up getting anyone in Beacon Hills after either. People aren’t interested in me.” she shuffled a bit in her seat, “None that I’m interested in, anyway.” He almost whined at how sad she sounded and caught himself from correcting her that plenty of people found her attractive. Every time he, Erica, Vernon, and Stiles went out she’d get multiple stares of lust from multiple men.

“Okay, what about Derek?”

“I don’t see him like that and he definitely doesn’t see me like that, even if my age wasn’t a factor in his decision making.” yes, she and Derek had come to a mutual fondness for one another after she rescued his Betas and, as such, were at a mutual understanding of the other. Cora huffed and crossed her arms.

“Well, then I’ll find someone from South America. You should date someone, Stiles, get you someone to temper you out or urge you on. You’re fucking amazing.” Peter wondered briefly if Mieczyslawa Stilinski was like a drug to Hale’s. Derek hadn’t liked her at first and neither had Cora, now both were friends and advocates for her. He loved it and hated it, they were his family and yet they were friendly with the one who had manipulated him into being in a packbond with her when he was fine with his solidarity.

“Am I not an option?” Peter drawled as he rose from his train of thought, having meant it as a teasing remark that came out much too curious for his liking. That had Derek and Cora both turning to look at him despite his attention resting solely in Stiles’s dulled iris’s.

“You’ve already made your choice clear and I’d rather not hear it again.” his choice? About her? Was he missing something? “Der, Cora, I’m heading off. Take care of one another and please watch out for my dad.” she hedged a moment before murmuring a quick goodbye and ended the call, leaving his niece and nephew to stare at him with a level of interest that had him defensive.

“Do you want to be an option for Stiles?” Cora, damn her, inquired with a gleam in her eyes that reminded him far too much of Stiles when she was teasing him. Of course he wanted to be an option, he always wanted to be an option when it counted for things that would give him a leg up in situations. Stiles, however, was like a laser straight through the fog of his bullshit that could cut straight to the heart of things with him. He hated that she had that effect over him, as well as the fact that she seemed to never react the way he wanted her to when he was messing with her.

Still, did he want to be a genuine option for Stiles? His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.

Oh. Fuck.

She anchored him, she anchored him and took the foundation of everything he knew and just wrecked it because she was his anchor.

“Uncle Peter?” She had become his anchor, she had somehow wormed her way into a bond with him and taken his interest in her motives to make him complacent with her plans! The devious little minx! She was his anchor, how the fuck - why was she his anchor? She was like a fucking hurricane, hardly anything about her was stable like an anchor should be! Why - what- “Uncle Peter!” he snapped his jaw and growled, brought back to reality by Cora standing right in front of him. At some point he had dropped his bags and was now breathing hard, heartbeat thundered through his ears and raising his rage.

“I’m leaving!” he snarled, grabbed his bags, and fucking ran. She was his anchor, Mieczyslawa Stilinski was his anchor and he -

Loved it. Hated it. Did she know? Had she intentionally -?!

It had taken him five minutes to get his temper in check and not put his claws through his steering wheel. No, he couldn’t deal with this, he couldn’t - he needed to get away. Time away would help, it’d give him the chance to put his thoughts in order. He needed time away from everything that reminded him of Stiles, he needed time away to try and get her out of his head and to get the festering wound that replaced where her bond once had been healed. Yeah, yeah, he would go to Ohio, he’d take that flight, now he just needed to get there.

He spent all of a month in Ohio before he could no longer take it. Every brunette he saw made him think it was Stiles, every time he heard the audio of any Marvel movies he immediately expected to hear ten facts about the movie from Stiles. Whenever he heard tinkering laughter, or smelled vanilla, he immediately thought of her and he couldn’t take it. His month away forgetting her had been spent in agony remembering every little detail about her. No one had her skin tone, no one looked as good with moles and freckles like she did, no one smelled as honest and sincere as she did.

No one reminded him completely of Stiles but everyone reminded him of the little things about her. He hated it, he saw her in everyone, almost like a ghost he couldn’t escape. It was why he was surprised all to hell that she greeted him at the airport, pale and with blackened eyes but sporting a smile that was absolutely mischievous. He should’ve been angry at seeing her waiting for him or even joy, anything but the sinking feeling that something was wrong, that this wasn’t Stiles. Not his Stiles.

“Peter,” she purred, eyeing him with a hunger that was not what he was used to associating with Stiles. “welcome back home.” he approached her slowly, suspiciously, and then out of a need to control the situation when her sandalwood and vanilla smelled burnt. “I missed you.” that sounded wrong, almost like whatever was in front of her was twisting her around in an attempt to twist him.

“Missed you too.” he drawled, willing to play the game so he could try and catch whatever this was off guard. “When did you get back?”

“Week and a half ago,” her pout was adorably wrong, whatever this thing is was trying too hard to be her. “I missed you.” she went to hug him when her whole body froze, fury and abject horror clashing like tidal waves. “Not him,” she growled, clearer now than earlier, “Not him you fucking -”

“Stiles?” her eyes shot up to look at him, one black and broken while the other was her champagne gold. It was like she was frozen in that moment, half her features contorted in fury while the others were contorted in pain and sorrow. Something was possessing her, clearly, and she was fighting it so valiantly but -

“Yes,” she drawled, black flashing to bleach white as a single tear fell from her eyes, “but none of my loved ones.” his phone rang the same moment the lights to the entire airport shut off, encasing Stiles and the way black bled into her gold as the last image of her he’d see for a while.

“What the hell,” Peter ground out as he answered his phone, lights back on and Stiles nowhere to be seen. “Is going on?”

“I assume you’ve met the Nogitsune, then.” Chris sighed through the phone, “Are you injured?”

“No,” what an insulting thought, “but I do believe that she agreed to a full possession just now.” a very sharp, angry ‘What?’ came from the backseat of whatever vehicle Chris was currently driving. “Nogitsune, then we’ll just need darling Alpha Scott McCall to bite her so we can recapture the Fox.” if only it had been that easy. Stiles, possessed or no, was still Stiles in that she took everything they knew and just flipped it right side down.

“Oh,” the Void Stiles cooed, eyeing Peter with hunger and distaste. “You’re so lucky, little wolf, you have so much anguish and pain that I’d grow fat if I fed off of you.” she sighed, wicked gleam in her eyes glittering roughly against the low light in Derek’s loft. “Not my loved ones,” she mocked, irritation mixing like ash with her scent.

“Which is why you were able to break Noshiko’s tails, but now why you can’t hurt me, Jackson, or the twins.” gold eyes flicked to him at that, surveying his features for some hint of a lie before she broke out in a wide, malicious smile.

“You don’t know. You didn’t leave the pack and Beacon Hills and her, because you didn’t know!” he hated that whatever he had said was the wrong thing, hated that it brought it such glee. “She was so sure! Beautiful, turgid little pieces to my game. Erica, tell him, tell him what little Stiles told you.” it was cooed in a faux sexy sneer with hands that were not supposed to be grabbing at her hips the way they were.

“Stiles doesn’t love with just a little of her heart, she loves with everything she is. When she heard the story of how the twins were abused it reminded her too much of when her mother got sick and she vowed to give them a better chance at life, to show them kindness.” Erica began immediately, smile like poison when Void Stiles seemed to deflate with how easy she began spilling the secret. “She sees what she could’ve ended up as in Jackson, alone and trying hard to be noticed, to do everything perfectly. She hates that she sees that in him and hates that he hates her, but she still wants to show him that he’s enough.” Void actually looked a little angry at how easily these dark secrets were being exposed, even if the reactions of those around them would have normally satisfied it. “You, she would’ve helped you originally with your plan, Peter. She’s said so multiple times to anyone whose cared to listen to her. Then she fell in love with you, and you told her to fuck off.”

Void seemed energized at his reaction to that particular bit of information. When had she told him of her feelings? When had he told her to fuck off with said feelings? Why did his chest feel like it had dropped into his gut and his heart had stopped dead?

“She chose you.” Void cheesed, “She chose you but you didn’t choose her! Oh! She would’ve went insane before I’d even gotten a hold of her if she didn’t have her pack.” disgust was in its tone even as its eyes slipped to the doorway and it began grinning awfully when Noshiko and her daughter appeared. “Now it’s a party! Tell them, Noshiko, how you summoned me and then betrayed me, tell them how this was the necessary outcome!” it threw her arms wide in indication of the scene, it was then that Derek and Scott struck, resulting in Derek being thrown into a pillar and Scott latching onto his friends arm with his teeth.

The oni appeared the moment Stiles’s skin dried up and cracked, advancing immediately on the downed girl before the Nogitsune could leave her.

“No!” Peter roared, launching himself at one of them to buy her time. He didn’t think to do so he just naturally threw himself in front of her, threw himself at the danger so he could give her time. He couldn’t think about her confession, nor his denial of it, nor why he felt so fucking hollow. Chris and Deucalion immediately took up arms to assist while the twins - startled as they were - tried to launch themselves into the foray, slivers of pack bonds shimmering in their chests that felt so sweet they ached.

Try as they might two Oni broke through just in time to place its hand into a fist by her face, catching the escaping Nogitsune Firefly. One Oni stayed behind as the rest converged into one to check Stiles, even as her skin began falling away like a clay outer layer to show a pink-skinned Stiles with frazzled hair and wide, tired gold eyes.

Unlike the rest, however, it drew its knife down the length of Stiles’s bitten arm and promptly disappeared, leaving Stiles to fall to the ground and break the rest of the clay that had been around her body - including the mark that used to be on her arm. Scott’s bite, too, was gone, with no blood as evidence that it had ever been there in the first place.

“Stiles!” Jeorek cried, clutching his daughter to his lap so he could search for a pulse and relaxing only when he found one. “C’mon baby girl, wake up.” he pleaded, tapping his fingers against her cheek a few times to bring the light back to her wide-open eyes. It didn’t sit right with Peter, seeing her looking up with dead eyes as if was a foreshadow into her future. He didn’t care that he was projecting his turbulent feelings to those around him, didn’t care that he knew this feeling as the panic and desperation he felt when his family had burned, knowing he felt no familial ties to the spark.

“H-hey pop,” she greeted, voice raw and barely above a whisper.

#Steter monthly prompts #September 2019 #September 2019 prompt #steter #female stiles #always a female stiles #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #Angst #lotta angst #Prompt was angst and couldn't refuse #meheh #unresolved feelings #courtship fail?#full hale pack

45 notes · View notes

morenotles · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Some guy named Chad Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Wrong number, Meet-Cute Series: Part 6 of Keep Calm and Read Steter Summary:

Peter stares at the phone in dismay. Shit. “I-“ Peter clears his throat. “Apologies. I appear to have the wrong number.” There’s a chuckle. “No shit, Sherlock. And who the hell doesn’t know what Machu Picchu is?” Peter relaxes somewhat at not getting blasted, and sighs. “My date. He was pretty, but brain-dead.” The voice on the other end make a sympathetic sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

#steter #Peter Hale #Stiles Stilinski #fanfic #bunnywest #recommended author

21 notes · View notes

luulapants · 4 years

Text

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 5

Based on @shey-elizabeth‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

September 2019

“Lady Danu’s is the largest adoption service for non-human children in the state. Which, as you can see, isn’t saying much,” Dot, the facility director, explained. She made a sweeping motion with her hand to indicate the relatively petite size of the facility. It was a large estate house, but certainly not large enough to hold more than a couple dozen children at a time. “Placements, of course, can be tricky for our kind, but we place exclusively with non-human or mixed families, and we have nearly unheard of retention rates for family placement.”

As they made their way through the front hall, Peter peeked into an empty room, which looked to be some sort of study room. There was a chalkboard on one wall, bookshelves on the opposite. The tables and chairs in the middle had bits of paint and marker stains.

Peter thought about all of the obscenely expensive furniture in their home and found himself horrified almost to the point of delight at the thought of little finger paint hand prints marring the wood.

Stiles squeezed his hand as he tugged him along to keep up. “What age ranges do you have?” he asked.

“We have a couple of teenagers at the moment, brother and sister, but that’s not typical,” Dot answered. She started up the wide wooden staircase. Teenage wolves would typically stay with their packs if any remained. Either they weren’t wolves or they had lost absolutely everyone. “They’ve taken over part of the basement so they can have their own space.”

Peter found himself wanting to ask about the teenagers, see if they needed some help. Maybe he could make arrangements for them. But that wasn’t what they were here for. This was the compromise: instead of surrogacy, they could adopt, so long as it was a werewolf baby.

“Eight through twelve are on that end of the hall,” Dot said, pointing toward a large set of French doors. “Four through eight next to them. Babies and toddlers have the largest space, over here.”

Lady Danu’s was partly funded by the druid’s council, Talia had explained as she gave him the pamphlet for the facility, but the majority of their funding came directly from the royal family. Their doors would be open to Peter and Stiles. There would be no wait list, no agony of false hope. One visit, and they could walk out with a bundle of joy that would satisfy both the family and the press.

Well, she hadn’t said it like that, but she may as well have.

----

She had brought up the subject over brunch, just the two of them. Peter had known something unpleasant would come up – the last time they’d had brunch, just the two of them, had been after Stiles’s infamous leather rant.

“I heard you and Stiles have decided not to pursue surrogacy,” Talia had said over the soft scrape of her knife against porcelain. She lifted a bit of egg to her lips, staring him down while she chewed.

Peter nodded, resigned to let this argument happen. He reached for his wolfsbane mimosa, knowing he would need at least a bit of a buzz to get through. “We discussed it and decided it wasn’t for us,” he explained. “It doesn’t seem right, going to all of that trouble and expense to bring a child into the world when there are children already here, needing homes.”

“Adoption, then?”

“That’s the idea.”

She sighed, and Peter felt a vein in his temple throb in irritation.

“I don’t see why it should matter to you or anyone else,” he snapped.

Talia set her fork down and fixed him with a tired expression. “Of course it matters, Peter. Our bloodline -”

Peter barked a laugh. “Our bloodline? Dear sister, I don’t know if you’ve gotten a good look at our family tree lately, but it’s practically overgrown. I’ve lost track of how many nieces and nephews I have these days.”

“You’ll adopt a werewolf, then?” she pressed.

Then it was Peter’s turn to set down his fork, letting it slam noisily against the table. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but my husband is a human. We may very well adopt a human.”

“Peter,” she practically growled.

He raised his voice, couldn’t help it. “How are you talking to me like I’m being unreasonable when you’ve practically ordered me, as my alpha, to acquire a baby by any means necessary?”

Talia, stubbornly, infuriatingly, kept her voice calm, though condescending. “I know you’ve made it your personal brand to challenge tradition at every turn. And might I remind you, I have been extremely accommodating to it thus far -”

Peter flashed his eyes at her. “Oh, yes,” he shouted, “you didn’t excommunicate me from the family for marrying a man! Have they put you up for sainthood yet, Your Majesty?”

She stood abruptly, her chair clattering to the ground as her eyes flared bright red.

As he felt himself involuntarily cower in response, Peter felt his rage boil down into a quiet resentment. Talia was his alpha and his monarch, but she was supposed to be his sister first. That she would pull this sort of tactic on him stung in a way he hadn’t been prepared for. “Really?” he asked, voice softer than he wanted it to be. “Over how Stiles and I start a family? That’s what you pull rank for?”

Talia softened, her eyes fading back to human. A servant hurried in and righted her chair for her. She sat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It should just be about you and Stiles – I know that – but it’s not. This world we live in, our position is more tentative than it seems. Peter, our traditions are more than media grabs and money. Humans fear us, instinctively. We are predators. We are stronger than them. We’re a threat.” Her words came gently. Practiced, but honest. “By all logical strategy, they should hunt us, eradicate us, as they did for centuries.”

“Like they still do in many parts of the world,” Peter conceded.

“Exactly.” She offered a weak smile. “And do you know why they don’t, here in this country?” He did, but ducked his head, signaling for her to continue. “Because our structure of monarchy gives us an appearance of structure, of stability. It makes our kind seem integrated and like less of a threat. We let them see into every corner of our lives, poke and prod and evaluate. We show them that we have nothing to hide, and they transfer that sense of trust to every member of our species.”

Peter had received lectures of similar flavor from their parents, but they hadn’t been so brutally honest. He lifted his eyes to meet Talia’s. “And you think that the species of mine and Stiles’s child will make so much difference to that balance?”

“No,” Talia admitted. She reached for her coffee. “But a member of the royal family that challenges our traditions at every turn? That might.”

----

So he and Stiles found themselves in the babies and toddlers wing of Lady Danu’s Home for Children. A caretaker sat in a rocking chair in the corner, bottle feeding an infant. Another stood by the cribs, a baby in each arm, rocking and humming. It felt strange to Peter – no, downright bizarre – to come here and pick out a baby like one picked out a pair of shoes at a clothing store.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss for a little while,” Dot said. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ll be just down the hall – anyone here can come fetch me for you.”

Once she was out of the room, Stiles stepped in front of Peter with a slightly panicked expression. “I have no idea how to do this,” he whispered.

“Do I look like I know?”

“Are we just supposed to… pick one? It feels weird.”

One of the caretakers glanced up at them, clearly listening in, and Peter huffed a sigh, glancing around the room. “Let’s just… try to settle in for a few minutes?”

This wing of the home was rather large. They had come into the section for the youngest babies. Another set of doors lead through to a play room for the toddlers where a handful of drooling, chubby little were-tots sat around a kitchen play set, gnawing at plastic fake fruit and miming cooking with a sauce pan.

Peter wandered over to them, giving a wave. One little boy stared up at him with wide eyes, most of his own fist crammed into his mouth. It was refreshing, at least, to not be greeted with a bow.

He glanced around to see where Stiles had ended up and found him sitting on a play mat where an older girl with poorly brushed hair sat with a baby girl, maybe a year old, propped up on a pillow. The older one wore overalls and had a toy dinosaur in her hand. “Who?” she asked Stiles, a bit rudely.

“I’m Stiles. Is it okay if I sit with you?” Stiles had already sat down, but seemed to be second-guessing it under the girl’s intense scrutiny. When she didn’t answer, Stiles asked, “What’s your name?”

She turned back to the baby, ignoring Stiles. “So T-Rex can eat this guy,” she explained to the baby, holding up a smaller dinosaur toy, “but dog is too big.” Peter’s eyes settled on a big stuffed dog next to her and smiled.

“That’s Malia.”

Peter jumped a little, not having noticed the caretaker coming up behind him. He turned and smiled at her. “Isn’t she a little old to be in here?”

“She’s five,” the woman agreed, “but she’s been having some trouble fitting in with the kids in her age group. She’s great with the babies, though.”

“Rawr! I am hungry!” Malia said, rocking the T-Rex back and forth.

Stiles stretched and grabbed another toy off the floor and offered it up. “Can he eat this?”

Malia stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then broke into a bright smile. “Yeah!” She snatched the toy out of his hand and fed it to the tyrannosaurus with delighted violence.

Laughing softly, Peter watched as she slowly accepted Stiles into her game. “How long has she been here?”

“A couple of months.” The caretaker hesitated. “She’s not a wolf,” she told him. “She’s a were-coyote. There were some… safety concerns. With the mother. She was removed from her custody.”

The mother-child dynamic for coyotes was a troubled one, Peter knew. Their powers were passed down during pregnancy. He frowned. “Thank you for explaining,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Tracy. And I know who you are, of course.”

Peter ducked his head and smiled. “Of course.”

He made his way over to Stiles, watching the way his face lit up as Malia’s game devolved into a toy massacre. The baby seemed just as fascinated with her, taking toys as Malia handed them to her, then sucking on them.

Talia would think this was just more of his defiance, more of his stubborn desire to fight tradition. But maybe this could be a compromise on a compromise. Not a baby, no, but young enough. Not a werewolf, no, but not human.

Peter crouched besides Stiles and nudged his shoulder. “What do you think?”

Stiles glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?” He glanced at Malia, then back to Peter. “She’s not...” Not a baby, he meant. He didn’t even know about her being a were-coyote.

“I don’t care,” Peter assured him.

Stiles reached over and brushed his fingers against the nape of Peter’s neck, scenting him. He bit his lip, then turned back to the Malia. “This is my husband Peter,” he told her. “Can he play, too?”

Peter waved at her. “Hi, Malia.”

Malia sniffed at him very obviously, her little nose scrunching as she did so. “You have to bring a food for T-Rex,” she told him, her brow furrowing and eyes flashing blue. He knew already that she would be an absolute terror. Forget finger paint on the nice furniture – she would rip it to shreds.

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

----

In one of her less thoughtful attempts at reassuring Peter and Stiles about fatherhood, Laura had told them, “You know, a lot of what people talk about when they talk about being ‘ready’ for parenthood, it just doesn’t apply in our world.”

They had been playing bocce in Laura’s garden, Marco lining up his bowl.

Stiles huffed a laugh. “Why, because we don’t have a choice?”

“No, you absolutely have a choice,” Laura said, and Peter had wondered if she really believed it. “But a lot of the things new parents struggle with – the late nights, the feedings, the expense – we don’t have to worry about that. You would have a wet nurse and a couple of nannies. You already have staff for meals and laundry.”

Peter knew she didn’t mean it to sound as callous as she did. As much as she had inherited her mother’s leadership skills, her poise and ferocity, she had inherited that emotionally tone-deaf streak as well.

Stiles had watched Marco bowl his shot and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That doesn’t sound much like parenting to me,” he had admitted.

A few short months later found Stiles in their daughter’s room, calling for their morning nanny, yelling, “Oh my god, where is Hayden?” while Malia wailed like an air raid siren, shrill and with a truly spectacular lung span.

Peter rushed down the hall to find Stiles kneeling in front of their daughter, frantically trying to extricate a hair brush from the back of her head while she writhed and screamed.

“Malia, please hold still!” he pleaded. “Pulling is just going to make it hurt more!”

“HURTS!” she shrieked.

“I know, I know, I just -”

“We gave Hayden the day off, remember?” Peter knelt down on the other side of Malia. He reached for her and, though she flinched back at first, managed to press his fingers to her cheek. One tiny, barely-there tendril of black crept up his fingertip. “Now, Malia, that barely hurts at all,” Peter chided. “What are you throwing a fuss about?”

She sobbed loudly and thrashed away from them both. Stiles finally gave up and let go, letting her run away with the hairbrush dangling from the back of her head. Malia threw herself onto her bed to sob into her arms like a distressed Jane Austin heroin.

Stiles held his hands out helplessly, looking to Peter for confirmation that, yes, this was the most absurd show of melodrama this house had ever seen. It was saying something, seeing as Stiles lived there.

They both got up and approached the bed. Peter sat on the edge, not reaching for her just yet, since she was still heaving angry sobs against her comforter. “Malia, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You’ve gotten yourself all worked up. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

It took a moment, but she sucked in one long, shuddering breath. Peter smiled and reached over to rub a hand over her back. Instead of settling, though, she fucking growled at him.

“Malia,” Stiles started to chide, because they had talked about the growling.

But then her whole body started to tremble uncontrollably. In a blink, Peter found a coyote pup curled up on the bed where his daughter had been, her dress pooled around her. The hairbrush, liberated for lack of hair, fell off to the side.

Peter looked up at Stiles and smirked, shaking his head. She did have quite the flair for the dramatic. “That bad, hm?” he asked, teasing a little.

She growled again.

They were supposed to take her to Talia’s today. His sister had come over to meet Malia a few days after she moved in, but the poor girl had still been reeling from the change, too shy, and they let her retreat up to her room to play before more than a few minutes had passed.

Today, she would finally be meeting the rest of the family.

Peter slid down the zip on the back of the dress, and Malia immediately began to wriggle free of it. Her little dress shoes had dropped to the floor at the edge of the bed. He had to help tug her hind legs free of the tights, though. “Alright, come on, then,” he said, scooping her up off the bed. She growled again and he pressed a finger to the top of her nose. “None of that, now.”

Her eyes shone blue at him, but she settled. Peter passed her off to Stiles, who carefully folded her tail down to hold her against his chest with her front paws curled over his shoulder. “You know, you’re much more snuggly like this,” Stiles commented. “We’ll just have to work on human cuddles, okay?”

“What are the chances we convince her to shift back before we have to leave?” Peter asked doubtfully.

Stiles shook his head. “Hey, if anyone can appreciate a full shift, it’s Talia, right?”

----

“Princess Malia Bit The Queen!”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The tablet was balanced on his knees. Beneath the headline, a photo of Malia waving at the camera. Beside it, a stock photo of a coyote. A real coyote. An animal.

“Who leaked this?” he growled.

Stiles shifted closer to him on the bed, nudging their shoulders together. “Come on, Peter. She’s five – who’s actually going to care? It’s a little funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Peter gritted out. His mind flashed back to the talk Talia had given him before they went to the children’s home, about the games of public perception they were playing. He sighed and looked over at Stiles. “Malia’s species is nearly extinct outside of Mexico, and they’re still hunted like animals in parts of Mexico. Most humans in the US and Canada have never met a were-coyote.” He tapped the screen. “This is the impression they’ll form of them. That they’re wild, violent, dangerous. Uncivilized. They’ll take this one little girl, and they’ll extrapolate it to every were-coyote. Or they’ll say that clearly she was abused – that were-coyotes must be unfit parents.”

Horror overtook Stiles’s expression, his eyes moving back to the article as if seeing it for the first time. “Fuck. They can’t – she’s a little kid. They can’t put that on her.”

“They will.” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck. He felt wrung-out. It was only ten o’clock. He and Stiles had been getting to bed earlier, so they would have time to start their day before Malia woke up. “God, what were we thinking?” he muttered.

Stiles slipped his hand up the back of Peter’s neck, fingers sliding through the curls on the back of his head to scratch his scalp. “We had no way of knowing it would get leaked,” he reassured. “It happened in Talia’s house, for god’s sake.”

“Not that,” Peter sighed, leaning into the touch. “I mean, what were we thinking, bringing a child into this life at all?”

The scratches stopped. “Peter,” Stiles breathed. “You’re not saying...”

Oh, god. Peter pulled away so he could look Stiles in the eye, wanting to be very clear on this. “No,” he said firmly. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t even think about...” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t say, returning her, like Malia was an ill-fitting jacket and not their family.

“Okay, good,” Stiles said, still looking panicked by the idea.

“But I still wonder,” Peter explained, “what gave us the right, you know? To put her in all of this mess? She never asked for any of this. She never asked to grow up endlessly scrutinized by these vultures.”

Stiles’s expression softened. He reached out and cupped Peter’s cheek. “Neither did you.”

“It’s different,” Peter insisted.

“Why, because you’re Hale blood?” Stiles challenged, though his tone stayed gentle. “Because you’re over it? You’re clearly not.”

His husband’s ability to call him on his bullshit was one of the reasons Peter had fallen in love with him. It was also deeply, deeply annoying. “I just...” He closed his eyes, trying to get his anxieties into some form coherent enough to be voiced. He settled on: “I don’t want her to grow up resenting me for bringing her into this world.”

“Don’t you mean ‘resenting us’?” Stiles cocked his head to the side.

“I brought you into it, too.”

Stiles glared at him. “Peter Hale,” he scolded.

“I know, I know, you chose this,” Peter agreed.

“And, again, I’m the only one in this household that did,” Stiles reminded him. With a sigh, Stiles caught him around the shoulders and reeled him in until Peter was snuggled against his side, head on Stiles’s shoulder. He was quiet a moment before he asked, “Did you resent your parents?”

Peter didn’t talk much about them, and Stiles respected that, understood that Peter had never felt close with them, that they hadn’t been warm people. The press brought them up sometimes, usually around the anniversary of the accident. A helicopter crash in the Rockies. Conspiracy theories had flown about for months, most insisting that militant anti-were hunters had shot the helicopter down. When they finally found the black box, it revealed nothing but a simple engine malfunction.

Peter had been just shy of his thirteenth birthday. He remembered how numb he felt, walking down the street in the funeral procession with a stiff expression as the public wailed in mourning around him. He remembered thinking that these people, these strangers, had been allowed more emotional closeness with his parents than he had. They had owned his parents in a way Peter had never been allowed.

“I did,” Peter admitted quietly. “Sometimes I think I still do.”

Stiles pressed two fingers under his chin to tip his head up, and kissed his lips, soft. “We’ll protect her, okay?” he said. “Whatever it takes. We’ll make sure it isn’t so bad for her.”

Letting out a breath, Peter leaned up and kissed him again, then again until he was pressed flat on his back on the bed. Hovering over him, Peter took in the soft flush on Stiles’s cheeks, the sweet adoration in his eyes, the gentle curve of his mouth. “I love you,” he murmured. “More than I can ever say.”

#hale royal family au #royals au #tumblr fic #Steter #stiles stilinski #Peter Hale #talia hale #malia hale #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf au #part 5 of 6 #because I have no self control #I wrote this really fast because BABY MALIA #the angstiest lil coyote

28 notes · View notes

stetervault · 5 years

Note

Has there been a "Stiles rescues Peter" rec list yet? I'm looking for anything from monster of the week to Eichen House to the Wild Hunt. The idea that I've already read them all is too terrible to contemplate. (Thanks for running an amazing blog!

Not specifically as far as I can remember. But it’s always a genre I can get behind :) Here are some I think fit that category, either as the whole fic or part of it. And thanks for following my blog!

A Moment, Then Silence by Therapeutic_Steter

anonymous asked: Stiles takes care of a heavy injured Peter, who has permanent damage since then. The pack doesn’t care, but Derek and Cora realise that he is family.

Scale Tales by Therapeutic_Steter

Connected drabbles revolving around Dragon!Stiles and his werewolf Mate, Peter.

Rhythm of the War Drums by HyperLittleNori (Shiguresan) (this one’s more them taking care of each other and saving each other)

The foreboding song of the drums rumbled through the stands above, made his heart, his blood pound with their increasing rhythm. He’d seen this so many times now, heard the sickening, morbid excitement of the rabble. He readied himself for the carnage, but even nearly a year after he’d first stood in this spot, it still filled him with dread.

As always, he watched the sandy arena through the barred steel gates. They vibrated with the movement, with the almost deafening sounds of the crowd and the drums. A sea of guards stood at his back, but they were not there for him…

Hooverville by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)

Town to town, train to train, tent to tent.

By 1932, the dust had begun to blow and the jobs were gone.

Anonymity was a byproduct of looking for work, which made it both necessary and convenient.

Stiles had enough secrets of his own to know to look the other way when he saw something that shouldn’t be possible.

The ghost of a tail giving enough balance to disembark a moving train.

Near silent Latin whispered on the edge of a tent encampment.

A flash of burning eyes.

He had more than enough to worry about without adding the oddities of others, and besides- having unusually sharp teeth certainly didn’t make a man worse than the ones running from the wife and kids they couldn’t feed.

So Stiles kept his observations to himself. He kept his everything to himself.

Until he met a man. One with eyes so blue they seemed to glow- and then they did.

Stiles tried to look away, but for the first time he was stopped.

“Don’t be like that sweetheart. Aren’t you curious?”

If I Could Kiss You Again by Triangulum

“Summer plans?” Peter asks, eyes on where Isaac is now trying to inch along the ceiling beam toward the wall where he can slide down a pipe.

“Leaving for Stanford in September. Saving the world and working in between now and then,” Stiles says. “Why, gonna miss me?”

“Considering I’ll be left alone with Derek? Yes,” Peter says.

“You’ll have Cora,” Stiles says. “And Isaac will be here to make up a few high school credits.”

There’s a shriek and a thud as Isaac loses his grip, falling on top of Erica and Boyd, sending them all to the ground in a heap.

“Yes,” Peter says flatly. “Thank god for that.”

Five times Stiles kisses Peter and one time Peter kisses him.

Stravinsky by rightsidethru

Duke Orsino:If music be the food of love, play on,Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,The appetite may sicken, and so die.

Twelfth Night; Act 1, scene 1, 1–3

Wolf Within by wynnebat

Instead of convincing Scott to regain his humanity by killing the Alpha, Derek offers another possible solution.

Fashion. Police. by Bunnywest

In which Stiles is a cop with an interest in menswear, Peter’s the owner of a menswear store with a definite interest in Stiles, and why is there always some maniac running around throwing tins of red paint and making death threats?

Fashion, baby.

Under the Songbird’s Wing by mia6363

Captivity easily destroys the will of escape. It can break the fiercest of animal. It can strip the most regal man and woman down to nothing but animal needs.

Captivity can, if met with unwavering determination, shape a person into something unimaginable.

Stiles is sixteen when he’s captured. Stiles’s first thought is, “I won’t die here.”

The Promises Of Yesterday, The Pledges Of Tomorrow by ShippersList

Stiles is a kid with serious concentration issues and definitely not a guide—let alone a guide strong enough to calm down a feral Sentinel wolf. It’s just not possible.

Keep You (Safe) Within my Shadow by lavenderlotion

Stiles has never been scared of the dark. The shadows are his friends.

Dance Under the Moonlight by Therapeutic_Steter

Anonymous asked: Fae!Stiles saving Peter from Pack’s stupidity and washing his hands of them. Please?

Through Space and Time by MaroonDragon

When Stiles pulls the body of Peter Hale into his ship, he doesn’t expect him to be alive. He also doesn’t realise he might have gotten more than he bargained for.

Promises We Never Made by Green

Peter runs off to wreak havoc without telling Stiles where he’s going. Then Stiles has to rescue him.

Rainwater, Morning Dew, Ozone. by lavenderlotion

When Peter is kidnapped, Stiles is left to come to the rescue.

Peter ends up hard.

Fear (Doesn’t Mean I Can’t Fight) by azerblazer

Peter is the damsel in distress, the Sheriff is the hostage, random unnamed hunters are the bad guys.

Stiles has a bat, a hoodie and a willingness to do anything to protect those he’s loyal to.

Bring it on.

Bone Rot by neglectedtuesday

Stiles watches Peter from across the room, although he feels like he shouldn’t. Like he shouldn’t try to insert himself, even by proxy, into the moments Peter is experiencing. Autumn spills into the living room through the open doors, lighting Peter from behind. He is bathed in soft light and Stiles lingers in the shadows, ignoring the symbolism of that. He’s bored of all the different metaphors for longing.

Slice by syriala

Blood magic was dangerous magic, but Stiles’ teacher was one of the best, and Stiles wasn’t too worried that it wouldn’t work out. It would cost him, dearly even if his teacher was to be believed, but Stiles had learned all about the sacrifices for this and he couldn’t care less.

Not This Again by RebaK1tten

There’s a rumor that the last episode of the show will have Peter getting killed, again. Perhaps to give him a redemption arc or something.

So this is a fix it fic. I decided Stiles has finished one year of college. And Peter’s back again!

Cleanse My Soul by Mysenia

cywscross asked: “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” + Steter? Thanks:)

Call My Name by KouriArashi

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.

Shelter by ShippersList (more hurt/comfort than straight-up saving Peter)

A magical attack leaves Peter vulnerable and in agony, and it reminds him way too much of his time in a coma.

love me lights out by veterization

Stiles and Peter get snowed in together. (Or: what happens when you accept phone calls from people you haven’t spoken to in over five years.)

labyrinth by sinequanon

Stiles prefers goblins to werewolves. Except maybe Peter.

Til Death by Bunnywest

“How long do we have to find him someone?” Stiles asks.“Two weeks,” says Derek, eyebrows pulling down even further. The fierceness of his expression tells Stiles just how concerned he is.“He marries, or he goes to the camps. And you know what your father told us,” Scott reminds her.The camps……aren’t camps.Peter either finds a wife, or he dies.

Bigfoot Told Me You Were Coming by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids) (Stetopher)

Peter and Chris are on the run when they stumble across Stiles’ home in the woods.

You Got Me Now by syriala

Stiles stormed into the warehouse, eyes roaming around, desperate to find Peter. The pack was close behind Stiles, but he didn’t pay them any mind when his eyes fell on Peter.

He was on the floor, not even shackled, like someone had just discarded him without a second thought.

Peter was naked except for his pants, and Stiles could see the wounds that marred his skin. He decided not to think about why they weren’t healed.

Bittersweet Creek by Guede

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 Alpha by Therapeutic_Steter

An Alpha always protects what’s theirs.

…..

“Has anyone seen Peter?” Stiles asked at the next Pack meeting, trying to play his concern off as his typical curiosity. It wasn’t like he and Peter had been trying to keep…whatever it was that was developing between them a secret, but most of the Pack was notoriously self-absorbed and hadn’t noticed yet. As it stood, Stiles was only sure that Lydia and Derek knew about it; Lydia because she put it together and warned Peter off hurting Stiles and Derek because he came back to the loft to find them snuggled on the couch looking through an old tome and he’d also warned Peter about hurting Stiles.

Why did they not think Stiles could hurt Peter? Stiles could totally hurt him. If he wanted. Which he didn’t, but that was beside the point.

Let Me Run Away With You by Whispering_Sumire (Steterek)

“So,” Peter says, after an hour or so of driving in tense silence, “I assume we’re going back to your beloved Beacon Hills?”

“No,” Stiles tells him, without even looking up from the restorative paste he’s administering to Derek’s wounds. And isn’t that surprising?

“No?”

“I took the GPS out of Roscoe and I hacked into some of your accounts to get him travel-ready. I don’t care where we go Peter, but I don’t want to go back to Beacon Hills,” there’s a desperation in his voice that makes Peter’s skin crawl, though he has no idea why, “please.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees softly.

[Or: The one where Stiles is in a very bad place, and Peter and Derek manage to unwittingly save him from himself while he saves them from themselves.]

Hostile Takeover by kiranightshade

Alternate season 4 where Peter gains a new roommate in Eichen…for about five minutes. Then all hell breaks loose.

For Great Justice! by Green

Stiles is a vengeance demon, drawn to Peter just as he’s waking from his catatonia.

“Whoever did this? We will make those fuckers suffer. I promise you.”

Enemy Action by pprfaith

Once is chance, twice is coincidence and three times is far too many bodies on the ground.

Whiskey is My Kind of Lullaby by taylorpotato

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.

#teen wolf #steter #fanfic rec #bamf stiles #hurt peter #awyeahitssam #ask #rec list

143 notes · View notes

mirrorthoughts · 2 years

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

oooh, opportunity for shameless self-promotion without feeling weird! Thanks @midmorning-bomb ! 💕

Well then... In no particular order!

More than Coffee (TW, Steter, AU, Meet-Cute)

Stiles has a magical coffee shop and one of his regulars is rather insistent on flirting with him.

(based on the Prompt "You run the only, and most successful magic potion shop in Brooklyn, NY. Not a single grievance or complaint from customers. The potions can temporarily energize the user, fix back problems, simulate catnip, etc. You have no idea what you're throwing together")

Not afraid (TW, pre-Steter, Canon-Divergence, Bamf-ish Stiles)

Stiles means it, when he shouts "I'm not afraid" at the Alpha when Scott and him are getting chased through the school at night. A what if Stiles reacted different story, leading to a more hopeful outlook to Alpha!Peter's pack.

Intruder (TW, Steter-ish, Fox!Stiles)

Peter's healed enough to smell a fox shifter in his hospital room though he still can't move. Turns out the stranger knows him and other than Peter's old pack came back for him.

Blue Moon (TW, Steter)

Sadly nothing to read for other's yet, but it's still one of my favorites and hopefully will soon get edited and posted :3 I wrote this for a friend of mine as an advent calendar gift last year. It's another magical Coffee-Shop-AU-ish kind of story with Stiles having a Night-Café based on the great Visual Novel Game "Coffee Talk" (really, if you like that kind of game or just want a calm, great story with fun characters, check that game out!) I love the atmosphere I was able to create in that story, so keep an eye out for it ;3

Imaginary (TW. Steter-ish, BAMF!Stiles, temporarily Imaginary Friend!Peter)

Peter was Stiles's imaginary friend since his childhood. As the Alpha starts terrorizing Beacon Hills it turns out Peter has more helpful informations and knowledge as a figment of Stiles's imagination should be able to have.

#sei's writing #seikaze #ask game answers #midmorning bomb #thanks for the ask <3

2 notes · View notes

itsme-basil · 2 years

Text

Impact - read on ao3

Tags: steter, BDSM, Dom/sub

Part 1 of 3

Tagging: @therogueheart

Stiles swallowed thickly at the wall of terrifying looking instruments. He feels his skin crawl with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. The room is dark, with deep maroon walls and black ceiling. The floor is a dark hardwood. It reminds Stiles of the play room in 50 Shades of Grey, except there isn't a bed, or racks of sexual torture tools. Or really anything, but Stiles doesn't have a lot of media to go off of.

His feet are bare -per the Dom's orders- and they pad softly against the floor as he slowly made his way inside. His throat closed up, peering around the room.

There's a bench, a cross, a small hammock hanging from the ceiling. Other things Stiles is curious about but not sure what they are.

The Dom had told him to wait for him, to kneel on the pillow on the floor and keep his head down. Stiles eyes the floor, noting the dark square pillow. He walked over to it, settling down until his knees were cushioned on the memory foam. He doesn't know where to put his hands. He could put them in his lap, or behind his back. The Dom had given him the option.

He felt more naked than ever, kneeling in just his jeans. His shoes and socks had been left at the door, and his shirt was folded on the small table by the door. Goosebumps littered his skin, drawing it tight.

Stiles took a deep, slow breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. The Dom knew this was his first time sceneing (Stiles made sure to tell him) and the Dom -Peter- had been super great during Stiles' intake process. He was sweet, and very understanding of Stiles' reservations and nerves.

Stiles had tried a couple other Dom's before Peter. Most didn't want to pop Stiles' BDSM cherry, and others were so off-putting that Stiles hadn't returned. Sure, he liked someone who could take charge, but a couple of the Doms he interviewed with made Stiles anxious.

One of them even mentioned not using safe words. Stiles might be new to this, but he'd done his research. He knew the safe, sane and consentual rule.

Peter had been a surprise. He'd bumped into Stiles in a club, and didn't mention his deer-in-the-headlights newness that many other Doms had jumped at. No, Peter had talked to him, showed him around. Treated him like normal.

That's why Stiles had agreed to interview with him at the end of the night, when the Dom had asked. They interviewed over coffee late the following morning. They had a lot in common. Peter was pretty experienced in every field, and Stiles only had a couple kinks he wouldn't even think about trying.

Tonight was their first scene. Both had already agreed to Stiles staying the night, and since Stiles didn't have work until later in the afternoon, it was an easy decision. Stiles didn't think he'd want to drive home after anyway.

They'd agreed on starting off slow, and working their way up.

Stiles knelt for what felt like hours before the Dom walked in, shutting the door with a soft snick. Stiles had to remind himself not to look up at Peter. They were in a scene now. That meant Stiles couldn't treat Peter like Peter. The soft man who wore v-neck Henley's and smirked and paid for his coffee.

He forced himself to take another breath, fingers twitching in his lap as Peter stepped further into the room.

"Stand up for me, sweetheart."

It took Stiles a second to process, but he got his feet under him and stood up, keeping his eyes glued to the pillow in front of him. His hands were at his sides, and he forced them still.

"Very good," Peter hummed from behind him. "Did exactly as I asked."

Stiles blushed under the praise. He didn't even know he had a praise kink. He was so bad at taking compliments, he'd been worried being complimented in a scene (much like any other time he was complimented in bed) would end in Stiles scoffing and rolling his eyes.

But Peter had complimented him in the club that night not long ago. Had set a hand at the small of Stiles' back and had murmured into his ear something that had made his cheeks burn. It had made Peter smirk that dazzling smirk of his that seemed to brighten his ice blue eyes.

"I want you to undress," the Dom continued. "Color?"

Stiles had learned about the color system during the interview. He knew about safe words -everyone did, whether in the BDSM scene or not- but the color system was new to him. He liked them.

"G-green," he managed.

"Want to try that again, sweetheart?"

Stiles felt his cheeks tinge darker, his chin fucking a fraction further.

"Green," he repeated, more sure.

"Good boy," Peter praised. "Get to it."

Stiles did as he was told, managing to pop the bottom on his jeans and pull the zipper down. Peter hadn't told him how to undress. If he wanted Stiles to go one layer at a time, or both at once. He hesitated only a second before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, fingers curling around his jeans before shoving them down.

He was no virgin. Stiles had his fair share of sexual pleasure. He had partners through college. He wasn't throwing himself into the BDSM scene without experience -even if it was fairly vanilla.

He enjoyed sex. Most of it had been with women, where he had been the more assertive of the two. He didn't have much experience with men aside from a couple club bathroom hand jobs and dry humping.

He was fine being the top during sex, but the need to be submissive had gotten so great Stiles hadn't been able to think of much else.

So he wasn't new to the feeling of nakedness around another. He knew what he looked like. Pale, finely toned, littered with moles. His coarse dark hair trailing from his belly button to his cock had been very popular with the ladies. He wasn't conventionally attractive by any means. He couldn't compete with the likes of Paul Rudd or People's Hottest, but he had an attractiveness that most people didn't notice until a second glance.

And Stiles knew exactly how to use his looks to get what he wanted. A bright smirk, a wink, a raised eyebrow and a gentle roll of his hips on the dance floor had resulted in many a night leaving with a woman on his arm.

But this was different. Peter didn't want Stiles to seduce him into taking him home. He wanted Stiles to submit to him. To be still and take orders. To stand naked and be stared at.

It wasn't as bad as the high school locker rooms, but Stiles still felt that all too familiar tingle of insecurity at his spine. But he held still, kept his fingers from beating a familiar tattoo against his bare thighs.

Peter walked around to face him. He was still wearing his clothes. Jeans and a loose v-neck. His feet were bare, and Stiles couldn't help but focus on that part of him. The part void of armor. The part that made the Dom in front of him soft. Approachable.

Stiles felt his shoulders slump on a soft exhale.

"What a beautiful boy you are," Peter murmured, a finger catching under Stiles' chin and forcing him to finally look up. Stiles met Peter's eyes and felt dizzyingly pliant. It should freak Stiles out how easily Stiles was giving up his control, but it didn't. He felt relieved if anything.

Peter's other hand reached down low and curled around Stiles' cock, squeezing it firmly. Stiles winced a little, sucking in air between his teeth.

"This is mine," Peter said, voice stern. "You don't get to touch it or cum without my permission, understand?"

Stiles shivered at the pleasure in his gut from those words alone. "Yes, sir," he breathed, nodding against the Dom's finger under his chin.

"If you can't help yourself, I'll lock it away. Though I don't think you'll need that, will you, sweetheart."

Stiles shook his head nearly frantically. He had told Peter he was willing to try quite a bit on the kink list, and cock cages had been one of them. Stiles didn't think he could handle not being able to get hard past the restrictions of the cage. "No, sir."

Peter smiled that brilliant smile and let go of his cock. It bobbed in the air. "Good. I want you on the bench tonight."

Stiles glanced over to the bench and swallowed thickly. They'd already talked about what the scene would be tonight. They'd gone over everything. Stiles knew what was going to happen. But it was one thing to talk about it and other thing entirely to actually do it.

Stiles walked over to the bench and set his knees on the lower tears. The higher, broader one was for his chest, and two more braced his arms comfortably.

He gripped the edges tightly as Peter walked closer, trailing his fingers over Stiles' sides. "Comfortable?"

Stiles shifted a little, pushing himself up until the edge of the bench pressed into the bend of his hips. "Yes, sir," he nodded.

Peter looped leather straps over the backs of Stiles' calves, and over his arms, pinning him to the bench. Another went over the small of his back, cinched down just tight enough that Stiles wouldn't be able to move.

"How do those feel?" Peter asked, kneeling in front of Stiles. He couldn't really lift up enough to look at Peter comfortably. His neck bent at a near painful angle in order to get a look at the Dom.

"They too tight?"

"No, sir," Stiles managed, pulling at the restraints around his arms. They tightened when he did, but loosened the instant he relaxed. Peter still double checked them, slipping a finger between the leather and Stiles' skin.

"Tell me your colors."

Stiles recited what each color meant, bringing a smile to Peter's face. He leaned forward, his lips pillowing against Stiles'. Stiles kissed him back, feeling the left over anxiety slip away as Peter moved their mouths together, licking and nipping at his lower lip.

All too soon, he pulled away and Stiles dropped his head onto the bench, letting out a breath. He couldn't see Peter from this angle. It didn't take long before he felt the long, thin pressure of a cane against his right ass cheek.

Stiles tensed, heartbeat racing.

"We'll start out with ten," Peter said evenly, voice firm. Like the Dom he was. It sent a shiver down Stiles' spine. Stiles could do ten. He'd been spanked as a kid before.

He got into plenty of trouble growing up, and there wasn't a spatula in the Stilinski family kitchen that hadn't gotten very familiar with Stiles' ass. Ten was chump change compared.

"I want you to count out loud. If you lose count I'm going to add five more, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Stiles nodded, his cheek pressing into the vinyl. The cane was pulled back. The first smack caught him off guard. He shot forward as far as the restraints let him and he yelped.

It took him a second to remember he was told to count. "One," he said, breathlessly. His ass cheek tingled and he shifted on the bench.

Another swat, in the same spot. Stiles whimpered, stuttering out a "two" before a third and fourth landed in the exact same place.

Stiles felt tears prickling at his eyes, his body trembling with a strange mix of humiliation, arousal and pain. This was nothing like the spankings he got from his dad when he got into trouble.

By the fifth hit, Stiles was close to wailing. He couldn't control his breathing, or the way his cock leaked precum. His ass burned hot and painful. He didn't think he could do another five.

Peter had stopped hitting him, his cool palm kneading Stiles' cheek gently. It helped. All too soon, the hand was removed and the cane swatted down on the opposite cheek. At least it wasn't the same one.

Stiles still cried out.

Once both cheeks were matching in redness and heat, Peter walked to the front of the bench and knelt down again. Stiles lifted his head, cheeks damp with tears.

"You did so well, sweetheart," Peter praised. Stiles soaked it up. "Twenty more. Can you do that for me?"

Stiles desperately wanted to say no. He didn't realize how intense this actually was. He didn't know if he could handle more of it.

But the idea of stopping early had something ugly tighten in his stomach. He licked his lips, tasting the salt from his tears.

"Ye-yes, sir," Stiles said, voice raw from the noises Peter swatted out of him. Peter smiled at him, pleased. It uncoiled Stiles' stomach to see it.

If he thought the first ten were bad, the next were even worse. His ass felt like it was bleeding. Brushed black and blue. Every hit was like a million pricks into his skin. Stiles tried desperately to get away from the cane.

If his arms weren't pinned down, Stiles would've used his hands as a shield. His toes curled and he shouted with each point of contact. He couldn't see past the tears in his eyes, and at some point he lost track of where he was. He sobbed openly against the vinyl, ass on fire and cock still frustratingly hard.

He knew he wouldn't be able to cum like this. Sure, the pleasure was there, but it was so mingled with pain that Stiles couldn't do more than leak against the bench.

He didn't even know they'd reached twenty until Peter was in front of him, cupping both cheeks in his hands and using his thumbs to smear tears across Stiles' face.

"Such a good boy," Peter murmured, kissing his wet lips. Stiles kissed him back lethargically, trying hard to keep from crying into the Dom's mouth. "Five more."

Stiles let out a pathetic noise. "No," he whined, blinking through more tears. Peter nodded, pressing another soothing kiss to Stiles' mouth.

"You lost count," Peter reminded him. Stiles whined knowing he had. "Do you want some water before we finish?"

Stiles nodded, sniffling. "Yes, please," he whimpered. Peter got up and left, returning a moment later with a glass in hand. Stiles gratefully wrapped his lips around the straw Peter held out for him. He drank enough to wet his throat before Peter pulled back and ran soft fingers through his hair.

Stiles dropped his head back to the bench, breath hitching with his tears.

"Five more, sweetheart," Peter repeated. "Count these ones out, and then we'll be done."

Stiles nodded, mumbling a barely coherent "yes, sir" between panted breaths.

The last five were the worst. They hurt the worst, and seemed to go on for longer than the twenty before. But Stiles counted them out, and once he called out the fifth swat, he dropped boneless against the bench, his muscles finally uncoiling.

Peter unbuckled the restraints around his legs and arms. The one around his middle is last, and the Dom helps him to his feet. His legs feel like jelly, and he feels congested from the tears and snot and laying on his stomach for who knows how long.

But he can't help but feel incredible. His mind and body are soft, pliant. His ass hurts, and his cock is almost red with the need to cum, but he feels so good, he doesn't even have a need to wrap his fingers around himself.

Peter smiles at him, pulling Stiles in close and kissing him softly. "You did so well, Stiles," Peter hummed against his mouth before pulling away. "Look at you. You drop so beautifully."

Some distant part of Stiles knows Peter's referring to Stiles slipping into a submissive headspace. But it's hard to focus much on anything but what's happening right now, in this room.

"Let's get you taken care of, hmm?"

Stiles nodded softly, leaning into Peter's hold, making the Dom chuckle. Stiles didn't fight when the Dom lifted him off his feet. Stiles didn't think he'd be able to walk straight anyway. Peter kissed his cheek as he headed for the door. Stiles closed his eyes, body still trembling slightly.

#teen wolf #steter #kinktober #my writing

2 notes · View notes

areiton · 6 years

Note

(1)Cause you're (rightfully) grumpy about people's purity wank I've got a question that might distract you and which I desperately hope you have an answer to: I mostly read steter fic so far. Now i wanted to get into sterek but ... I seem to be too picky?? I'd like to read sth not totally au (Erica and Boyd being alive is fine for example), with not too much ooc-ness, with Peter NOT being the villain and with Derek's abusive past 'relationships' and Stiles self-destructiveness actually adressed

(2) and I can’t seem to find sth that really … catches me. There are so many amazing steter fics out there (yes, I very definetely talking about your fics too) and I’m sure there are equally amazing sterek fics, but …. yeah. I’m obviously not able to find them. So - help??? Please??

~*~

Oh, friend. You are my favorite. This is the kind of ask Iadooooore. Ok, you ready? Cuz this list is LOOOOONG. (big thanks to@bloody-bee-tee for helping me find fics for this list.) Not everything fitsall your criteria, but all of them fit some.

**Are especially good for dealing with Derek and/or Stiles healing.

Patterns of Intention by drunktuesdays:

Derek looked likethe stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had hishands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—hiseyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—

“No,” Stiles said,blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to bewrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”

Paper Skin and Glass Bones byhushlittlewolf:

Derek can’t takethis. He can’t take this joking, concerned boy that has the evidence of Derek’sshortcomings carved into his skin.

The one where Dereknever paid attention to how much Stiles got hurt…until he sees Stilesshirtless and notices all the scars.

**Carry You Home byCastielific:

“Derek letshimself fall on his back, breath short, heart beating fast. He can feel theWolf in him, purring in satisfaction and contentment. Asking for more. It wantshim to turn and touch, to never stop touching. Instead, Derek squeezes hishands into fists and closes his eyes, trying to push it back, this need, thisinstinct screaming for his mate. For Stiles.”

Title inspired bythis Firefly quote: “When you can’t run anymore, you crawl, and when you can’tcrawl, when you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you”

Trust Fall byStoney:

Stiles is fairlycertain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming backto Peter Hale. This time it’s pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated byswapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. Thatmakes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thingwhere his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek isactually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait…does this mean he’s the Alpha until they figurethis out? Holy. Shit.****

Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a fewminutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loudmouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going tokill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him againjust to kill him all over.

They were going to have to play this cool. They would have tostay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into thissituation with someone who physically couldn’t be calm and focused.

Of course.

Stilinski’s Home for WaywardWolves by owlpostagain:

“At least yourpuppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them tobe well-mannered.”   

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.   

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges,abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up andall but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, andsure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock ducttaped to the vinyl siding:   

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

—

Or, in which StilesStilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school andaccidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

How Derek Met His Smallest Fan by purleduvet:

Derek is standing inthe fruits and vegetables aisle, trying to decide between two very nice lookingwatermelons, when someone small crashes into his legs.

Derek comes back toBeacon Hills after years of being gone and meets Stiles and his kid at thesupermarket.

Make it Feel Like Home by redeyedwrath:

Maybe it would’vebeen different if things had never happened. Maybe it would’ve been different ifhe hadn’t persuaded Scott to go search in the woods. Maybe it would’ve beendifferent if he hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe it would’ve been different if heand Scott had never met.

Maybe it would’ve been different, would’ve beenbetter, if he hadn’t been born in the first place.

He tightens his fingers on the steering wheel untilthey turn an ugly, bloodless color. The only good thing, in his opinion, that’dcome out of all of this, had been meeting Derek. Derek, who’d been an assholebut turned out to be the most loyal, kindest person Stiles knows.

He resists the urge to drive off the road and screaminto his palms. Beause Derek had left, and now he’s alone.

Or, an AU where Stiles runs away to find himself but finds Derekinstead.

Misfire bymothlights, unpossible: (this one has less than fantastic Peter, buthe isn’t actively bad, and it’s amazing)

“The debt must berepaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. Thewords resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of hisjaw, and Stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because shedraws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILFnow there is Galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a Presence of unmistakablepower in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-Thai-takeout hallway.

“Oh shit,” Stilessays.

And You Say You’re Alone by taelynhawker:

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter’suntimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derektry to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles dealswith the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he andScott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, andthat includes Stiles.

The Art of Dying Well by kinneas:

Yousaid we’re friends.“

"Whoa, way to holdwhat a guy says in the heat of the moment against him,” Stiles repliesautomatically, but… that’s not what he wants to say, not at all, not to thequiet contemplation that is Derek Hale on his living room sofa. So he adds,“I guess, yeah.”

Derek doesn’t speak fora long moment. “Then it’s inevitable.”

“Wow,”Stiles whistles, “you are the biggest downer.”

Gracious in Defeatby yodasyoyo:

Stiles needs to getaway from Beacon Hills after the end of his senior year. Derek offers to lethim stay with him in São Paulo, and they finally act on the tension that hasalways simmered between them.

The thing is, whenit’s time to go home- Stiles doesn’t want to leave.

Crash Landers by gyzym:

In which Stiles learns to Stalk That Stalk.(Or, how to accidentally woo your unfriendly neighborhood alpha in roughly fivehundred handwritten steps.)

**Not Quite Lost (Not QuiteFound) by alocalband:

A year after thenogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above asmall town in Colorado.

Then Stiles showsup.

The Darkness Inside by isthatbloodonhisshirt:

The sheriff watchedhim for a moment, then he sighed and turned slightly. He reached out to open acabinet door beside him, and pulled out a shelf. It was on a track, so itrolled out of the cabinet fairly easily, and held a small CCTV. Derek frownedand inched his chair to the side a little bit so he could get a better angle.

He was looking at a teenager, or someone at least young enoughto be the same age as Scott. He was sitting on a bed in what looked to be alarger room, the area he was in surrounded by four glass walls, with his legscrossed and head tilted.

He was also staring directly into the camera, as if he knewsomeone was watching. A creepy smile slowly slid onto the teen’s face, and heheld up one hand, wiggling his fingers in a slow, eery wave.

Derek felt his mouth run dry. He didn’t know who this kid was,but he didn’t like him.

“Who is that?” he asked quietly.

“That,” said thesheriff, “is my son.”

***Bravery is a Loaded Gun byLiviKate:

“No, I’m notasexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly.

The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy andhis neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection.

“So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable togive voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew betweenthem, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stilescouldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream ofuseless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry youdon’t find me attractive?’

In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totallydifferent conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they loveeach other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Warm shadows bystilinskisparkles:

“Fine,” Stiles spitsback, “We’ll die together, it’ll be dandy.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Derek snaps, “I’ll get some peaceand quiet for once.”

Stiles grinssuddenly, blindingly. There’s blood on his teeth, and his eyes are dark anddesperate as he looks up at Derek, but he’s never looked more stupidly,infuriatingly beautiful.

Give Me Back My Bones (maybe thenwe’ll talk) by kariye:

Derek meets Stiles on a Wednesday. He comes infor his usual cup of coffee and somehow walks out with hot chocolate, cinnamonon the top, and no idea what just happened there.

Romancing the Sourwolf. (OrStiles Stilinski’s Foolproof Guide to Getting Your Man) by lucyinthesoupwithcrutons:

The 15 year plan for Lydia was clearly thewrong way to go; Stiles won’t be making the same mistake with Derek. He decidesto do his homework this time.

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants:

He feels thephysical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mindstruggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shudderingbreath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish waythey’re weakly healing.

There is nothing, nothing he wants more than tohave Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known,though, that something like that would never happen to him.

OR -

Stiles accidentallygets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

***SharingFood by aussiebee:

“Sharing foodwith another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged inlightly.” ― M.F.K. Fisher

Derek is pretty muchabsorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

Derek Hale’s No-Good, Very BadDay by Mackem:

Derek hides from his day.

***Start Small, Like Oak Treesby SmallBirds:

The months following Allison’s death havepassed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem tolose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts.Eventually, he thinks, he’ll just fade away. He isn’t sure anyone would notice.Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Haleattempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory theworld doesn’t seem so awful.He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when he eventuallyconvinces Derek to move into the Stilinski’s spare bedroom, but a newfoundpassion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn’t it.

A Quiet Night (Not in theCards) by Delightful_I_Am:

“Derek fucking Hale!”

The shout rang through the bar and for a long moment nobodymoved. It was like something out of a movie. Everything just stopped; the musiccut off; one of the servers had frozen mid-pour. Grady would have laughed if heweren’t holding his breath. The kid straightened his shirt, a glimpse ofstomach showing the curling edges of a tattoo on his hip, and strode towardwhere Hale was sitting in the dark corner. As one, every supe in the placeturned to see Hale’s reaction; the last person to try to confront Hale in herehad left with a broken hand and a whispered threat that the next time Halewould rip their throat out. With his teeth.Unsurprisingly, Hale’s face was set in its usual glower, although it seemed abit softer around the eyes. It took Grady a second to realise Hale knew the kid.

The blood blooms clean in you,ruby by m_leigh:

“You don’tremember, anymore, where exactly you were when you found out that she was dead.You remember almost everything else about her dying, though.”

Stiles Stilinski hasalways been the person who will do what other people don’t want to. It’s hard,though, when your friends keep trying to protect you. Post-S2.

***Tide pullsfrom the moon by paintedrecs:

When Derek leftBeacon Hills, finally ripping the tether free and remembering how to breathe,how to live again, it was Stiles who came after him. Stiles, who showed up athis door with blazing eyes, looking like he wanted to punch him in the face,but wrapping his arms around him instead, making him grunt in surprise at theraw strength of his embrace.

“You asshole,”Stiles said, slapping him heartily on the back as he extricated himself, hisvoice rough under his bright smile. “You couldn’t have made yourself harder tofind, could you?”

Homing Mechanisms by SmallBirds:

Magnetoreception:The sense which allows an organism to detect a magnetic field to perceivedirection, altitude or location. How birds find their way home.

–

Stiles returns toBeacon Hills after four years at Stanford, only to find out that Derek hasmoved back into town. He brings him a housewarming gift. Derek makes food.Things escalate from there.

Parallax by uraneia:

Parallax: noun. Theeffect whereby the position or direction of an object appears to differ whenviewed from different positions, e.g., through the viewfinder and the lens of acamera.

With the pack (and Stiles) starting college, Derek is bored. Heneeds a hobby–or a job. Which is how he comes to model for Alpha Studios.

He just neverthought Stiles would end up working there too.

Occam’s Razorby MissAnnThropic:

When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s ajunior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four andmarried to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break.

Readalso: Stepping Off the Razor’sEdge which is a lot of healing for both our boys and beautiful.

The Truth Is by BulletBlaze:

“Well, you should get going then-”“You could come around some time-”A pause.“Wait, what?”A blush bloomed across Derek’s cheeks, barely visible overthe top of his beard. He shrugged again.“If you wanted to. You could stop by while I’m fixing it up.Help me with some things. If you wanted to.”“You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled indisbelief.Derek’s blush grew a shade darker.

There’s a martyr in my bedtonight but it’s alright by crossroadwrite:

It’s a beautiful afternoon, and Derek is standing at a dusty gasstation, staring helplessly at the destroyed remains of the last thing hissister left him.

(OR: In which Derekexpects nothing from life, but with a little help from the Stilinskis getseverything.)

#ask arei #arei answers #vive-lanuit #arei reads too much #sterek fic recs

284 notes · View notes

mia6363 · 6 years

Note

kirstock and steter olympics au has been in my mind for so long. kira a prodigy being trained/coached by former idol peter. stiles is a gymnastics kid who hired his childhood coach finstock. finstock as foul mouthed as ever

OKAY NO JOKE i might have to make it into a proper one-shot later. Because I have been toying with Olympic fencer Kira for a long time. This is beautiful and you should know that you have a beautiful brain for thinking of it.

-- Kira was one of those kids who just… clicked when it came to fencing. She was average at school, at singing, at band, but fencing Kira was like a duck in water. It doesn’t take long for Kira to start winning state championships before moving to a national audience.

-- She’s not very competitive as a kid, she fences because she enjoys it. Noshiko tries to get her to be more aggressive, but it’s simply not Kira’s style. By the time she’s sixteen, Peter Hale, American Olympic champion with four olympic gold medals under his belt, approaches Noshiko to see if he could mentor Kira.

-- Stiles… is not like Kira.

-- Stiles was hyperactive and Noah didn’t know what to do with him. Stiles loves school, he’s not so great with team sports, so Noah just signs him up for a gymnastics class when Stiles is eight and landed himself his fourth detention for interrupting class. He just tells the instructor to wear Stiles out.

-- Turns out, Stiles is actually really fucking good at gymnastics. His first and only Coach, Bobby Finstock, was an alcoholic, former athlete who always knew how to make Stiles shriek with laughter while also pushing the kid’s limits as to what he could do in a single run.

-- Stiles wasn’t pressing for the Olympics. But then he qualified. Finstock assumed that Stiles would shop around for a proper Coach. After all, Finstock was a functioning alcoholic who laughed too loud and basically had a tumbling class for kids. He only started getting new equipment because Stiles clearly needed something better, and even that was shady back deals and just annoying sellers into lowering their prices.

-- So when Stiles shows up on Finstock’s doorstep and looks genuinely shocked that Finstock wasn’t expecting to follow him to the Olympics, Finstock might cry a little.

-- “Why would I want some stranger with me? That’s dumb.” They hug. It’s emotional.

-- Stiles doesn’t win the first time he makes it to the Olympics. He’s 17 but it’s still thrilling. They keep training, and like Stiles gets sponsorships and basically splits it with Finstock so they can just train solo and get a better gym.

-- Kira is all about finesse and perfecting footwork. She studies fencing theory and just throws herself into it headfirst. Peter is sometimes able to encourage her to go out some nights, he’ll treat her to dinner or even just a few hours at a bookstore. He often is at the Yukimura’s house, either joining them for dinner or just spending time.

-- The first Olympics Kira goes to, she’s 18, and she wins silver.

-- Peter is twirling her around and Kira is crying, harder than she should be. “Next time,” she sobs, “I’ll get gold next time, I promise.”

-- He knew Noshiko was rough on her since fencing was just a sport and “not a stable career path,” but he didn’t realize it was so bad.

-- He adjusts his training regime to include meditation. At first Kira thinks it’s a waste of time because if she’s not moving, she’s not improving, but Peter convinces her to try it.

-- The next time they’re both at the Olympics, their paths cross.

-- It’s common for the countries to stick together, especially newer participants. Once a few Olympic Games are under their belts, then folks will start to shout on over to their competitors and eat together. But typically, it was easier to stay within your own country.

-- Peter came from money and dressed well, and him and Kira had matching jackets as they hung out in the quad. Meditation had helped Kira, she embraced stillness and approached her matches with a calmness that often threw off her opponent. She was still calm when she nudged Peter’s side.

-- “Who is that?” That being a wild-haired man in a neon yellow jacket with pink letters across the back read ASSHOLE. He had his arm slung around a young man, definitely the athlete of the two. Kira had never seen anyone like the coach before. “Not sure,” Peter snorted, “he’s a bit of an eyesore.”

-- She wasn’t sure if it was out of spite or just a moment of whimsy, but Kira stood up, her hand on Peter’s shoulder as she waved to the eyesore. She caught his eye, his athlete’s too, and smiled. The athlete pulled his coach towards them, while the older man kept looking behind him, like maybe Kira had been waving to someone else.

-- The two Coaches couldn’t be more different, Peter sitting tall and refined as Finstock slouched and cursed with Shakespearean eloquence that had Kira grinning. Stiles kept pushing Peter’s buttons, all in an attempt for the pretentious asshole to show a little personality.

-- “We should celebrate after our events,” Kira suggested, eager and hopeful in a way that Peter hadn’t seen in years. Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s make it a real reward. If we both get gold, we meet up. If not, better luck until next Olympics.”

-- Peter worries for a moment, thinking that the suggestion will unleash Noshiko’s pressures that he’d been doing his best to get Kira to cut out of her. Instead, he hears her inhale, her grin wide and crooked. Her posture slouches, just a little bit and Peter realizes that this isn’t about Stiles. It’s about his Coach.

-- “Deal.”

-- They both win gold that year.

#steter #bobby finstock #kira yukimura #kirkstock #flashing-stark

166 notes · View notes

stilesxeveryone · 6 years

Text

Antemortem - Steter Week

~It’s the free day! Day 8! This was kicking about in my drafts for several weeks, so I wrote an extra thousand to get chapter 1 done! Enjoy!

You can also read it on AO3 and anything on my account, and don’t forget my inbox is always open to prompts!~

"If you wish to give in to your wolf's urges then perhaps you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side!" the witch yelled, spit flying from her mouth.

She raised a swirling blue and green hand, a flash of light bursting out of her fingertips and slicing into Peter like a knife. There was no blood for she had cursed him, not killed him, but his face changed, shifted into beta shape without his consent.

Before anyone in the clearing could blink, Peter had clawed out her stomach like she had done to so many others.

"Peter!" Scott roared, alpha power thundering through his voice.

The beta growled, crouching into a defensive position. His claws, soaked in blood, were held firm in front of him. He looked ready to pounce.

"Scott, calm down, the witch just cursed him," Derek said, keeping his eyes focused on Peter.

"That doesn't make killing her okay," Scott replied around fangs.

"Seriously, Scott, not important right now," Derek growled, glaring at him, "I think we should go to Deaton and find out what exactly that curse did to him."

Derek took a step towards Peter. He froze in his steps as Peter started to growl louder, and he quickly raised his hands in a placating manner. "It's alright, Peter. No one's going to hurt you, no one's threatening you, we're pack."

Peter stopped growling, but his claws and fangs didn't retract. His defensive stance didn't change.

"Maybe we should call Stiles and get him over here to calm Peter down?" Erica spoke up, a questioning lilt to her voice.

"Why Stiles?" Scott asked, even as he pulled out his phone.

Erica rolled her eyes. "Peter likes Stiles, obviously. His wolf probably likes him, too."

Scott looked incredibly offended by the statement but told Stiles to come anyway.

After twenty minutes of trying to calm Peter down, Stiles finally arrived.

"So, I'm not allowed to come fight the bad guy, but I have to deal with- oof!"

Stiles let out a groan as the cursed beta latched onto him, wolfed out face pressing into his neck.

"Well, that worked fast," Derek spoke with surprised eyebrows.

"Can anyone tell me why a shifted Peter is attacking my neck?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between each of them.

"The witch cursed him," Isaac shrugged.

"Can you tell her to un-curse him?"

Peter stiffened the tiniest bit in his arms as Isaac, Derek and Erica pointed to a shredded body.

"Do you guys know what the curse is?"

"The witch said something before she cursed him. Something like 'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.'"

"So, what you're saying is that Peter's only listening to his wolf?"

Peter snuffled into his neck and Stiles sighed.

"Great." Stiles wrapped an arm around Peter's waist, the other moving to his neck, and started walking them back to his jeep. "Alright, let's get him to Deaton."

Carefully, Stiles detached the arms that circled him, pushing Peter into his jeep.

"Are you human enough to do your own seatbelt?"

Peter grinned up at him with fangs, "No."

"I hate you," Stiles grumbled. Even though it was a blatant lie, he still leant over the werewolf to buckle him in.

Peter quickly took advantage of the situation, licking a stripe of saliva across the human's neck as he leaned back.

"Jesus Christ, you're gross," Stiles yelped, moving to wipe away the spit.

Peter gripped his wrist tight, eyes flashing blue. "Leave it."

Stiles huffed, "Fine."

Peter let go and Stiles shut the door. He rounded the hood of his jeep, buckled himself in and started the car.

"So, exactly how in control are you?" he asked as he drove down the forest path. He could see the other cars up ahead and followed them.

"Well, I can speak, I haven't ripped out Scott's throat yet and I haven't bitten you yet," Peter drawled back around fanged teeth.

"But you can't shift back and it's a lot harder to stop yourself from doing those things. Wait, bite me?" Stiles' eyebrows scrunched together, and he glanced at the wolf.

Peter grinned, "Yes, bite you."

Stiles trained his eyes onto the road and tried not to show any outer emotions, keeping his heartbeat and breathing steady. He couldn't control how he smelled, however, as he spoke, "Does this mean you're like how you were before you died?"

The wolf snapped his head towards him with wide eyes before his expression twisted into a smirk, "I guess it does. Is that a problem?" He sniffed at the air and took in the worry that rolled off of Stiles in waves, and the tinge of underlying fear.

"I mean, you did kill your niece and several other people, ripped up Lydia and you turned Scott. I guess you could say I'm a little concerned," Stiles shrugged.

"And you're concerned about me killing someone else?" he asked, though he knew that the boy wasn't.

"Yeah, what else would I be worried about?" he replied, though the tone in his voice conveyed how he felt about the question.

Peter's smirk turned into something a little more devious, a little more lecherous and a little more real. "Oh, I think we both know what else you're worried about."

"I'm not sure I do," Stiles lied.

"I think you're concerned about a repeat of what happened in that parking garage the night I died," he said, with just enough control to not lean over and grab Stiles' wrist.

"Why would I be concerned about you slamming my face into a car or destroying my keys?" he asked innocently.

Peter leaned in a little but managed not to grab onto him as he focused on his words, "Are you really forgetting my favourite part of that night, when I-"

"Careful, you don't know who might be listening," Stiles quickly interrupted, nodding towards the cars in front of them. It looked like they were getting close to Deaton's.

The werewolf chuckled, "It sounds like only Derek is listening, although it's possible he's only silent so he can brood. Now, where was I?"

"You were at the bit where you tell me why you seem to be so in control, even though you were just cursed to be out of control," the boy cut in again, jaw clenched just a little.

"It's taking a lot of control and concentration to not reach over and grab you, but I'm sure I'll give in once we're no longer in the car."

“Oh, joy,” Stiles responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Before Peter could say anything else, Stiles had started talking again, “What exactly does it feel like? I mean, to be more out of control and all that.”

Peter leaned back in his seat by a fraction. “It's like there's a devil on my shoulder, trying to convince me to follow my instincts without thought. Sometimes I don't even know what I'm doing until after I've done it. It's always there but I guess the curse has made it stronger, though I think the witch dying made the curse weaker than intended.”

“What's your little wolf devil telling you to do right now?” Stiles asked, curiosity peaked.

“It wants me to pull you closer and scent every part of your body. And every part really does mean every part,” Peter explained, placing a hand on Stiles' thigh.

The human jumped and twisted his body, trying his best to move his leg away from Peter without making it dangerous to drive. He couldn't hide the smell of arousal, though.

“And I repeat: oh, joy.”

A moment later, Stiles pulled into the parking lot of the vet clinic alongside the others. As soon as the two were out of the car, Peter had wrapped an arm around the boy's waist.

Stiles huffed but made no move to get away from the arm. He knew it would end in disaster if he did.

Erica and Boyd tried to get closer to them, no doubt wanting to help Stiles as they seemed to be fond of him, but backed off as soon as Peter flashed blue eyes and sharp fang at them.

“Mine,” he growled out, nosing at Stiles' temple to continue to scent him.

“Not yours, but okay,” came Stiles' response.

Peter huffed, the hot air fanning across Stiles' face. It was a weird sensation.

Stiles glanced around at everyone to find an angry and concerned looking Scott, wary Boyd and Erica, suspicious Allison and Lydia, unconcerned Isaac and a disgruntled Derek. So, the usual.

As they approached the building, Peter’s grip on his waist grew tighter.

“Hey, Peter, it’s okay. I won’t let Deaton hurt you,” Stiles murmured, turning his head to look Peter in the eyes.

The wolf nodded before nuzzling closer even as they kept walking.

“And what has brought you all to my doorstep this time?” Deaton asked as soon as they were all inside.

“The witch we were fighting cursed Peter. Then he killed her,” Derek seemed to tack on the last bit, not sure if it was important information or not.

Deaton frowned and made to move closer. He paused though when Peter tensed up and growled, baring his teeth.

Stiles couldn’t really blame the wolf for the seemingly over the top response.

“Did the witch say anything when she cursed him?” Deaton was seemingly unconcerned by the display as he asked the question.

“'If you're going to listen to your wolf then maybe you shouldn't be able to listen to your human side.’” Derek paraphrased.

“I see,” Deaton murmured. “And his actions after the curse was cast?”

"He wouldn't calm down and none of us could get closer to him without him growling."

"Well, it was more like one continuous growl that just got louder when we moved," Erica interjected. "He stopped once Stiles got here, though."

"My guess is that killing the witch has made the curse less effective and being around his anchor has lessened the effectiveness even more," Deaton supplied.

"Anchor?" Scott growled out, flashing his eyes and fangs at the cursed beta. Peter only responded with his own bared fangs.

Stiles sighed. "So, Doc, how long 'til the curse wears off?"

"Well, I can't give you any exact numbers-"

"Obviously."

"-but it will probably only last for a few days, if even that," Deaton said, ignoring Stiles' interruption.

Stiles sighed again before muttering, "At least it's not permanent or some bullshit." He turned around and left the building before anyone could convince him otherwise and was impressed when Peter managed to keep hold of him without tripping him up.

He heard several pack members call out for him, but he didn't stop until he was leaning against his jeep. He really didn't like Deaton, or anything associated with the man.

"Stiles, are you really going to just… hang out with Peter until the curse wears off?" Scott asked, eyebrows scrunched and raised to create a weird, concerned puppy dog look.

"I mean, yeah? Like I don't really want to, but also there are worse things I could be doing, and I don't have all that much choice." Stiles shrugged, ignoring how the movement made his arm rub against Peter's chest.

"I'm sure we can think of a less dangerous option," Scott tried.

"Any other option will lead to your throat being ripped out," Peter snarled.

Scott's eyes flashed in response to the threat and he took a step forward, trying to challenge the beta.

"Scott, stop," Stiles said, hard glare in his eyes. He quickly continued before his friend could interrupt, "You just have to leave it alone, alright? It'll only be for a few days, and it's not like I haven't spent the same amount of time hanging out with Peter before. It'll just be like a sleepover."

Scott looked like he was going to protest again, but Derek stepped in. God bless him.

"Scott, he's right. I don't trust a cursed Peter, but I trust Stiles to be able to handle it. You should too."

Derek then grabbed onto Scott's arm and forcibly removed him from the premise.

"Good luck, Batman," Erica called as she, Boyd and Isaac left as well.

"You will be okay, right?" Allison asked, glancing at Peter when he snarled.

"Yeah, don't worry. If I can survive a psychotic, crazy, murderous, alpha Peter then I can survive a cursed, feral Peter." Stiles grinned.

Allison and Lydia nodded their goodbyes with a flash of smiles, before they were gone too.

Stiles opened Peter's door and shoved him in before Peter could do anything.

"I'm not buckling your seatbelt again," he said before slamming the door shut.

#steter #steterweek #steter week 2018 #teen wolf #fic #my fic #stiles stilinski #peter hale #feral peter #curses

196 notes · View notes