#Steter Fanfiction

[hedwig221b]

Maybe you can help... I started reading a Steter fic where it's a Dom/Sub au where people have rankings based on their disposition. I remember Derek, Stiles, and Peter being at the loft. Stiles is a low rank sub and as he is arguing with Derek his rank suddenly shifts and a has a major sub drop. Peter steps in and helps him through it.

I don't read steter but perhaps someone else will recognize the fic. If you do, pls let me know 💗

Hey, @lgraewrites, anon says it's this one!

Paradigm by Twisted_Mind

Something like panic wells up in his chest at the thought of having shifted—he can know it’s normal, but that doesn’t matter, not when so much of how he understands himself is based on being dynamically laid back. “I can’t—”

“Easy,” Peter croons, and he’s such a mess of raw nerves that he goes a little limp against all that werewolf bulk even as it feels like minute trembling has started in all his limbs. “Whether or not you’ve rank-shifted can wait. For right now, I need to know if you’d like me to get you through this, or if I need to call your father.”

[takaraphoenix]

Small But Good

Tags: m/m, directly post s2 finale, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, True Mates, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, m/f

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III

@WritersMonth Prompts: running + penthouse

This Fic on AO3 | This Fic on FFNet

Summary: After Gerard is taken down, Stiles finds himself disappointed in Scott and very hurt. He also finds himself alone with Peter. Peter, who is suddenly alive again. Ever since he'd helped kill the Alpha, Stiles had been thinking about Peter a lot, had realized something about Peter's behavior toward him but he thought it wouldn't matter anymore, with Peter's death.

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

--

Today sucked, on nearly every account possible. The only good thing that had happened was scoring the winning goal and hearing his dad's cheers. After that, everything had kind of gone downhill. First he got dragged off and kidnapped by hunters. Then he got mildly electrocuted when he tried to free Boyd and Erica because Boyd and Erica were strung-up in the basement, with electricity running through their bodies, tears running down their faces and—Stiles shook his head violently, trying to shake the image of them off. The beating from grandpa Argent had sure been a highlight. Back home, Stiles had to lie to his dad again and that was its own pain too. And then he had let himself be roped into driving Lydia to an abandoned warehouse just so he could watch her declare her undying love to Jackson in a manner that broke the kanima curse and allowed Jackson to turn into a proper werewolf again. Yet somehow, the biggest blow was the way Scott didn't even ask. Stiles had visible cuts and bruises, his entire face felt like one big bruise, all to send a message to Scott and Scott didn't even ask. No, all Scott was run after Allison, again.

Stiles slumped against his Jeep, all his energy drained as he looked around, looked away from Allison and Scott, and from Lydia and Jackson. Derek and Isaac were leaving, together. Stiles noted, with a hole in his stomach, that Gerard was gone. Closing his eyes, Stiles sank down the side of his Jeep, landing on the ground. He pulled his legs up against his chest, even as that caused the pain in his ribs to jolt through his entire body for a moment. Scrunching his face up, Stiles rested his arms on his knees and leaned forward. He just wanted today to be over. Maybe he should leave, but he just didn't have the energy just yet, he needed only a moment to gather himself. And maybe, just maybe, he hoped that Scott would return to him, would notice, and ask, and care, and…

"There you are. For a moment I thought you'd already left."

Stiles frowned, not lifting his head off his arms. If he didn't look up, he didn't have to confirm that he was absolutely losing his mind because that voice, that voice, it haunted his nightmares. His heart jumped as the guilt overwhelmed him again. He'd killed him, Stiles had killed him, Stiles had—A hand touched his arm, startling him so much he jerked away. Jerking away? Not a good idea with bruised ribs and various other injuries that Stiles hadn't cared to catalog yet. A whimper escaped him as white dots started dancing before his eyes and he curled together more.

"I'm sorry," Peter's voice was filled with regret. "I didn't…"

He trailed off, leaving it up to interpretation what he didn't mean to do. Stiles didn't care to try and guess at the moment, because his whole body was just one big ache right now. Taking slow, deep breath – as deep as his ribs allowed – Stiles leaned his head back against his Jeep's door and tried to reign it in. Opening his eyes, he actually looked at the werewolf.

How was this man that handsome, it was absolutely ridiculous. Like he'd stepped out of one of those underwear catalogs that Stiles definitely didn't keep in the lowest drawer of his nightstand. Those mesmerizing, deep blue eyes, the physique, the pretty face.

Not the time to focus on that. Time to focus on the fact that Peter Hale was somehow alive, even though Stiles had helped kill him. He'd helped… He closed his eyes again, tightly, wondering if Peter would be gone when he opened them once more. Like this was a trick of his mind. After all, today was such a day. He felt like he kept losing, he'd lost Erica and Boyd – Erica and Boyd were still in that basement, were probably still being tortured, he hadn't been able to free them, he had failed them, he had—and judging by the look of utter betrayal on Derek's face and the way Derek and Isaac had just left, Stiles guessed he'd lost the pack, in general, on account of his association with Scott, after what Scott had just pulled, which he also felt like he had lost Scott. Stiles was heavily injured and his best friend not only didn't ask, he also… didn't stick around, to make sure Stiles would be fine, would find home, or anything at all. He'd also lost Lydia, but then he wondered if he ever really had her, because even when she went on dates with him, she wasn't really there and her heart had always belonged to Jackson and… it didn't really hurt. Somewhere along the way of desperately trying to date her, he'd come to terms with the fact that he had made this whole thing up in his head and had romanticized and idealized it to hell and back.

"Stiles," Peter's voice was sharp, urgent.

"Not passed out, just thinking," Stiles grunted, cracking an eye open, because if he could still hear Peter then Peter was probably still there and yep, there he was, all handsome and worried.

Wait. Stiles also opened his other eye, staring at the werewolf. Worried? Why would Peter look worried? Peter should look furious or murderous or betrayed or maybe even heartbroken, after all, Stiles had helped kill him and how could Peter even look at him, he had-

"Stop thinking," Peter growled with a frown. "Because whatever you're thinking, it's spiraling you into a panic attack, darling. Get out of your head. Tell me what's going on in there."

Stiles barked out a dry laugh at that. "Why are you even talking to me."

A look of confusion and hurt – hurt? – flashed over Peter's face as the wolf took a deliberate step back, like he was trying to give Stiles space. Heaving a deep sigh, Stiles ran his fingers through his hair. His head hurt so damn much and this wasn't helping.

"Why are you talking to me?" Stiles asked again, much softer this time. "I helped kill you."

Understanding dawned on Peter, as this put Stiles' words into a wildly different context from whatever Peter had assumed he'd met. Stiles didn't have the brain-power or energy to guess.

"That doesn't matter," Peter whispered.

"It does!" Stiles barked out the words, balling his hands into shaking fists. "I killed you! I'm the one person you should have been able to trust and I killed you! I'm your mate and I killed you!"

His eyes widened and he clasped a hand over his mouth. He really needed to invest in a brain to mouth filter at some point. That shouldn't have been said. It had remained unsaid over the entire stretch that they'd known each other, every interaction, as heavily laced with the evidence as it had been – the way Peter not once laid a hand on him, not when he'd kidnapped Stiles, not when he left Stiles go again, even as he'd mauled Lydia, even as he'd killed his nurse, he'd offered Stiles the bite and had accepted Stiles' refusal, he'd even let Stiles get help for Lydia. It was all there, all glaringly there but Stiles had adamantly refused to see any of it until it was too late, until he threw the Molotov cocktail and felt the bond snap inside his soul.

He expected Peter to lash out, to sneer at him, to leave, anything, but not to… laugh. "So you figured it out on your own. Of course you did, clever boy."

Stiles felt himself flush at the praise. "Why aren't you mad? Or disappointed? Or angry?"

When Peter looked at him, his expression was so soft that it took Stiles' breath away. "Because I wasn't… all there. The fire, the coma, the isolation without a pack, it had left me… feral and insane. I was a threat, to the people you cared about, so you helped take me out. And I can't… blame you. Not you. Besides, I think dying helped. I feel much clearer."

Humming softly, Stiles wrapped his arms around his knees. "Where did you come from?"

"Mh," Peter got a far-off look. "It wasn't hell, surprisingly. I think more of a limbo-"

"No, I mean just now," Stiles interrupted him with a grunt. "I am in no shape to even halfway consider the philosophical, theological and… metaphysical, I guess, implications of your resurrection. I mean that I was sitting alone in this creepy ass warehouse and then you showed up."

"Ah," Peter chuckled, and then he flexed his claws and flashed his eyes – red eyes, Alpha eyes, holy shit, more implication that Stiles need to shelf for later. "Something slithered away while nobody was looking. But I could smell him all over you. I… don't need to ask who did this to you. So, I followed him to make sure he never lays a hand on you again, darling."

This time, when Stiles whimpered, it was not a pain reaction. It was something very deep and primal. A weird mix of pleasure, arousal, surprise and feeling protected. He couldn't even feel embarrassed about the noise. Peter had just declared that he'd killed the man who had kidnapped and tortured Stiles, all just to make sure Stiles would be safe. Blinking sluggishly, Stiles regarded the wolf and he could see the restraint in his posture, the tension. Like it took everything he had to hold himself back from something. It took a moment until Stiles' brain caught up.

"I didn't flinch because I'm scared of you or thought you wanted to hurt me," Stiles offered after another moment. "I wasn't really here, in my mind I mean, and you startled me."

Some of the tension drained away from Peter, but there was still reluctance in his eyes. "Can I… touch you, darling?"

Stiles offered a half-shrug, directly followed by a wince. "As long as you don't make it creepy."

The moment Peter's hand grasped his neck, something happened. It felt like the pain decided to just leave his body and Stiles could take his first deep breath in hours. He gasped surprised. There were black veins snaking up Peter's arm as the wolf drained Stiles' pain.

"Thank you," Stiles' voice was a whisper.

"Come on," Peter got up and offered Stiles a hand. "Let's get out of this place."

Stiles hummed but he was reluctant to follow the order. He didn't want to go home. Still, he let himself be nudged toward the passenger seat of the Jeep and when Peter held out his hand, he even handed over the keys. He was so in no shape to drive, it was still a miracle they had somehow made it all the way here in the first place. A mournful sigh escaped Stiles as he regarded Roscoe.

"I am so sorry, baby girl," Stiles gently patted the door. "I so can't afford to fix you this time…"

He could feel Peter's eyes on him, but he was glad the wolf didn't comment on it. Neither on Stiles talking to his Jeep, calling his Jeep 'baby girl', or being too damn broke to repair said Jeep. Closing his eyes, Stiles leaned his head back and tried to relax.

"Why were you still here, Stiles?" Peter asked after a moment.

"Because everybody else already left," Stiles shrugged. "Because I didn't have the energy to drive myself just yet. Because I… didn't want to go home and sit in an empty house."

"Your father-"

"Is out on shift, yeah," Stiles turned his head to look out the window. "Creepy warehouse beat lonely, empty house, I guess. I doubt I'll sleep much tonight anyway."

Stiles frowned when they passed his house. Sure he had said he didn't want to be alone at home but he didn't really know what the alternative was. Finally, he turned to actually look at the wolf again. Peter didn't acknowledge it though, like he wanted Stiles to verbalize what was on his mind and since when was that a thing. People wanted him to talk less, not more.

"Seeing as I have already been kidnapped once today, I'd like to know where we're going."

The noise coming from Peter was somewhere between an angry growl and a snorted out laugh. "I am not kidnapping you, darling. You just said that your house isn't safe, with your father gone and you in... no state to fend off an attacker yourself. We're going to my place."

"You have a place," Stiles blurted it out without meaning to and winced at how it sounded.

"Yes, unlike Derek, I am not too fond of rat infestations," the look on Peter's face was filled with distaste and judgment. "He may be fine sleeping in that... train depot... but I do have standards."

Stiles hummed softly and sank lower in the seat. His eyes trailed back out the window, watching the scenery of night time Beacon Hills pass them. They left the neighborhood and the longer they drove, the bigger and fancier were the houses, until Stiles was fairly sure he'd never actually been in this neighborhood. There was a new and tall building, rich people apartment building to attract a different kind of new people into moving to Beacon Hills. Supposedly, it had a pool on the roof, or so Stiles had heard. He recognized the building when they headed straight for it, and for the underground parking beneath it, where Peter first had to show an ID to even enter.

"Of course do you live in the one apartment complex in all of Beacon Hills with a private pool."

"The pool is only accessible through the penthouse."

Stiles looked at Peter from the corner of his eyes, noting a smug smirk. "And you live in the penthouse. Of course you do."

"What can I say, I am a man of great taste."

He actually winked at Stiles at that. Looked at Stiles and winked. Like he was talking about Stiles. Like he was flirting with Stiles. His heart jumped a little at that because them being mates, being somehow fated to be for reasons beyond Stiles' understanding, was one thing, it was a thing that Peter hadn't chosen for himself. But flirting with Stiles was a choice. A choice that made Stiles' cheeks feel hot with a flush and his heart feel weirdly full, made him feel desired.

Peter parked the Jeep next to what might be the most expensive car Stiles had ever gotten to see up close in real life and something told Stiles this was Peter's. So Stiles opted to not comment on it. Instead, he got out of his car – his dented, damaged, beloved car that miraculously had brought them here while making the most concerning noises Stiles had ever heard a car make – and rounded her to stand next to Peter, his eyes decidedly not on the shiny car next to Roscoe.

"Not to jinx my luck, but... you are being surprisingly... compliant."

Peter raised one eyebrow as he led Stiles into the elevator and used a key to unlock the penthouse button. Stiles slumped against the back wall and closed his eyes again, heaving a deep sigh.

"My dad's at work. Scott just... left," Stiles couldn't help the sneer. "So did Lydia and Jackson, for that matter, but they were too wrapped up in their curse-breaking, all defying Disney-style love story, also I would rather jump off a bridge than let Jackson Whittemore drive me home. Derek left, which, I guess I can't fault him for that, to him Scott and me have always been a package deal, so if Scott betrayed him and left the pack, he most likely assumes I did too."

"Assumes," Peter repeated, tilting his head intrigued. "You're... not? Leaving the pack, I mean. I'm well-aware that whatever this… was… it was Scott's idea and not yours. Your ideas are more… refined and also effective. This one had Scott written all over it."

"Contrary to popular belief are Scott and I actually two separate people," Stiles huffed and opened his eyes to glare at Peter while motioning at his bruised face. "This? This wasn't just because grandpa gets off on torturing teenagers – though he definitely does – this was a message for Scott. I got kidnapped and beaten up and electrocuted and kicked in the ribs to teach Scott a lesson and Scott didn't even fucking ask. He didn't even fucking notice."

Stiles had talked himself into a rage and he hit the elevator wall hard with his fist, clenching his eyes shut to keep from crying. He was not going to cry. He'd gotten through getting tortured without crying, he was absolutely not going to cry out in disappointment just because Scott prioritized his girlfriend over his best friend (again, something that had already nearly gotten Stiles killed twice in the past months because Scott was too wrapped up in Allison to even answer his damn phone), even though the damn girlfriend was the reason why Scott had gotten a "message" to begin with. A gentle hand on his upper arm tore him out of his thoughts and made him look up at Peter. Red eyes and fangs, like the wolf was so close to the surface, to leaving and acting out in revenge. On Stiles' behalf, Stiles realized. Peter was wolved out to go and hunt down Scott.

"Right," Stiles cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Right. So. Yeah. Everybody else had left and you... stayed. For me. Besides, you seem much more... sane. Not less murderous, but more rational. Besides, I know you won't hurt me."

That put a look of genuine surprise on Peter's face. "You do."

"Werewolves can't hurt their mates, lesson I learned from Scott having no problems pushing me around but not even hurt a hair on Allison's head, not even on the full moon," Stiles shrugged, turning his face away a little to hide his returning blush. "That was the main thing that clued me in on... this. You never hurt me. You attacked Scott and turned him, but only after I left. You attacked Derek in the hospital, but didn't even try to attack me, before he came, even though you could have easily killed me if you had wanted to. You mauled Lydia, but didn't lay a hand on me. You killed your nurse after she was no longer useful, but just let me go unharmed. You have attacked or straight-up killed pretty much everyone who interacted with you. Aside from me. Never me."

"Clever boy," Peter whispered with a pleased look on his face. "When did you figure it out, then?"

Pressing his lips together, Stiles avoided Peter's gaze once more. "After we... killed you. I felt the... I guess I felt the bond snap, it was like something in my soul broke? Took me a couple more weeks to actually... admit that though, to look back at everything and put it into the obvious context."

Peter regarded him with a frown. "I'm sorry you had to feel that."

"What," Stiles sputtered, head snapping up to stare at the wolf incredulously. "I helped kill you and you're apologizing that your death had a negative effect on me? You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm a born werewolf," Peter's voice was gentle but void of emotions. "Mates are… Wolves pride themselves on finding their mates. Yet not every wolf is lucky enough to meet their mate. If a wolf brings their mate into the pack, these mates are… cherished, within the pack. Respected. A wolf would do anything for their mate, it's… not just instinct, it's also a sense of… gratitude. You exist for me and I will do anything in my powers to protect you and be worthy of you."

Peter's gaze on him felt so heavy that Stiles had to swallow hard. Even without werewolfly hearing, Stiles could tell that Peter wasn't lying, that he meant every word. Still, there was something sorrowful in his eyes, he looked guarded as he turned away from Stiles some.

"I haven't been worthy of you, yet. So I can't hold it against you that you played your part in killing me, darling," Peter offered a bitter, twisted smile. "I was feral. My mind was only slowly coming back to me. I turned Scott, because he smelt heavily of you. I attacked Lydia, because your scent was all over her and how dare she try to take what is mine."

A shudder wrecked Stiles at just how forceful and possessive that last word was. He swallowed again, struggling with all the emotions that were going through his head. He shouldn't be turned on by that, he shouldn't feel pleased by that possessiveness, not after everything Peter had done. But he'd never been wanted before. Not by Lydia, whom he loved for so long, not by anybody else. The want was undeniable here, Peter wanted him, wanted Stiles to be his and only his, and the feeling of being wanted to fiercely was exhilarating and dizzying.

Peter cleared his throat. "I'd like to note that this was not a display of relapsing insanity, it's simply an instinctual reaction to an unsealed mate-bond."

"Noted," Stiles blinked at him, not sure what else to say.

The elevator doors opened and Peter gently grasped him by the elbow to guide him in. Stiles' eyes roamed the space, taking in as much of it as he could. It wasn't very personal, but then Stiles supposed that Peter had lost all personal possessions during the fire. It was very fancy and very modern in decor and style. The kind of place that made Stiles not want to touch anything because if be broke something it would probably cost more than a year's worth of his allowance.

"Come," Peter reached for his arm again after locking the door behind them.

Stiles wasn't feeling snarky or defiant, even though all that gentle urging along was kind of frustrating. He felt like a little kid lost at the mall with a kind stranger trying to make him trust them so he could be brought back to his parents. That was just not the vibe he wanted from his mate. His heart jumped at that thought. At thinking about Peter as his mate. So far, he'd only ever thought of himself as Peter's mate, something that felt much more removed from him. It was a wolf-thing. But after putting words to his own experience, to the fact that he had felt the mate-bond snap, it was hard to deny that he also played a part in this, that this was affecting him too.

"I'm not a spooked animal," Stiles pointed out after a moment. "I got the shit kicked out of me but I am not made of glass, okay? You don't need to be this… this careful not to push me."

The ghost of a smile spread over Peter's lips as he nodded. "Fair enough, darling."

Stiles took in the bathroom and he made a soft, high noise. There was a gigantic bathtub at the center of the black-tiled room, easily big enough to fit two people – and Stiles actively tried to not picture himself and Peter in there together, no sir – and a large shower-stall in the corner. Two sinks, Stiles noted curiously. A large shelf filled with towels and bottles of various kind.

"Take off your clothes," Peter prompted, giving Stiles an expectant look.

"Yeah, no," Stiles huffed out a laugh. "I am not getting naked in front of you."

"Fair enough," though as Peter said it, he sounded defeated and a bit… pouty. "I do need you to take off your shirt and pants though. I need to check your injuries, darling."

"Ri—ight. Check my 'injuries', creeperwolf," Stiles muttered teasingly.

He did comply though. He'd done his best to take care of them earlier himself but that only went so far. With a wince did he peel his shirt off over his head, stretching up pulled painfully on his ribs. A hand grabbed his shoulder and the pain was once again replaced by a warm, comfortable feeling. A pleased sigh escaped Stiles as he relaxed in Peter's grasp.

"Thank you," Stiles whispered while unbuttoning his pants.

He kicked them off and found himself down to his boxers and oddly self-conscious. His breath hitched at the sound of a growl. It was filled with rage, the kind that should tell Stiles not to move because there was an angry werewolf in the room. When he looked at Peter, he could see the Alpha all wolved out, snarl on his face, all fangs and glowing red eyes. His hands were balled to fists, blood dripping from them where his claws were digging into his palms. Without even thinking about it, Stiles stepped up and took Peter's hands, startling the wolf into relaxing his grip enough so Stiles could ease his fists open. Stiles frowned down at the claw-marks that were already healing.

"I'm sorry," Peter sighed. "I didn't mean to scare you…"

"You didn't scare me. Come on. Give me a little more credit. I know that little display wasn't aimed at me, it was aimed at Gerard. Yeah, I know it looks… bad, worse than the bit of bruising on my face," Stiles heaved a sigh. "I don't think anything is broken though. Broken ribs feel different. But I do think they're bruised. But I'm okay."

"You are not okay, you are hurt," Peter growled again.

"Yup, uhu, fully aware of that," Stiles looked up at Peter with one raised eyebrow. "But nothing's broken, or torn. I can walk all on my own. I'm okay. Besides, you already killed him, so there's nothing you can do about this with violence and wolfiness right now anyway."

Stiles' heart jumped at the admission that Peter had killed Gerard Argent. Peter had killed Gerard Argent for hurting Stiles. Impulsively, Stiles leaned up and brushed his cheek against Peter's. The wolf went impossibly still at the action, his breath catching in his throat.

"Stiles-" Peter growled, a soft, low warning. "Don't do things you don't understand."

"Don't," Stiles growled back, annoyed. "Don't start underestimating me now, Peter, not after you've been pretty much the only person in this damn town who acknowledges I got a brain."

A flash of surprise and confusion went over Peter's face. Like the wolf had really thought Stiles would do something as weird as rub his cheek against someone else's just for fun. Of course did he know about scent-marking, he'd been reading up on werewolf behavior for long enough at this point and he knew that scenting was important among a pack, among mates even more so.

"You killed him," Stiles said in explanation, offering a half-shrug. "You killed him for me."

Peter huffed out a surprised laugh. "Sweetheart, aren't you perfect for me."

A blush lit Stiles' face up at the compliment. "C'mon, you wanted to inspect my injuries. Because I would actually love to get into that bathtub and soak in it for like an hour."

"That can be arranged," Peter's voice was a purr.

"Alone," Stiles clarified with a sharp glare. "I will be going into that tub alone."

Again with the pouting! A grown-ass man had no right to look that cute while pouting!

"Another time then, darling," Peter winked playfully at him, before turning more serious. "I am going to touch you now though, to check your injuries. Is that okay?"

And oh. Oh, Peter and consent were really fucking hot. A thought that had crossed Stiles' mind already when Peter had toyed with his wrist, offered the bite – and let go as soon as Stiles had declined. So much has been happening to him with no say so on his part that it was just incredibly good to be asked, and for his boundaries and wishes to be respected.

"Yes," Stiles whispered, his voice soft. "That's okay."

Peter's fingers were gentle as they ran over bruises, prodding at places to check if something was broken. Gentle and slow, which only made Stiles hyper-aware of the touch. His heart was hammering in his chest as soft hands wandered over his ribs. Closing his eyes tightly, Stiles tried really had to not get hard. This was not the time or place for it.

"I'm sorry," Peter frowned and paused. "Am I hurting you?"

"Opposite," Stiles pressed out embarrassed. "C'mon. Use your nose, creeperwolf."

When Peter sniffed the air, the Alpha froze and growled – not threatening, not playful, but a primal, lustful sound and Stiles hadn't known that growling could sound lustful. The hand previously on his ribs was now gripping his hip tightly, not painfully so but possessively so. Stiles couldn't help the small whimper that escaped him. Flushed in embarrassment, he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Peter's chest. Fleetingly, he thought about Scott – which did kill the arousal, thank you very much. But this was what Scott and Allison had experienced. This forceful draw to each other, this feeling of desire and care and safety and love – love, even though they didn't even really know each other. But standing here, in Peter's arms, there was an unwavering certainty that even if he looked in the entire world he would never find anyone who'd love him as deep and fierce as Peter. That didn't make Scott walking out on him sting any less, but it did put things more into context.

"Is it…" Stiles swallowed hard. "Is it always going to be this intense?"

Peter made a small, curious noise, too busy nosing at Stiles' neck. "No. Once a mate-bond is sealed, it… settles. The draw between us is so strong right now because we're not bonded."

That answer satisfied and relaxed Stiles somewhat because how would he ever get anything done again if Peter was close-by? Taking a deep breath, Stiles pushed off Peter some, taking a step back. The wolf actually whined at him, which had no right to be cute.

"Injuries," Stiles reminded him. "Because it is kind of cold standing here in my underwear. Plus… really do not have the energy to stand much longer. I want in that bathtub."

The reminder of his overall state did sober Peter up some. His fingers moved quicker this time around, which indicated that Peter had been savoring the moment before. The thought of that put another blush on Stiles' cheeks, because holy shit Peter really wanted him, huh.

"Nothing broken," Peter whispered. "You're all good."

"I know," Stiles chuckled, raising both eyebrows at the Alpha. "I told you."

Peter grumbled, finally letting go of Stiles so he could instead draw a bath for his mate. "I didn't doubt you. My rational mind knew you had no reason to lie. The wolf, on the other hand, needed for me to make sure you really were okay myself."

"That's okay," Stiles whispered, sitting down on the rim of the bathtub.

He watched the water fill and bubbles forming. Peter had bubble baths. In the quiet of the room, with nothing actively distracting him, like Peter's touch had, his mind wandered back to the basement. To the feeling of electricity running through his body when he'd tried to take of the bindings on Boyd and Erica. To the tear-streaked expressions on both their faces, their muffled cries and pleas behind duct-tape. The way they'd jerked in their bindings, trying to help him while Gerard was kicking him. A hand caressing his cheek brought him out of his thoughts, causing him to flinch. He blinked rapidly, blinking away tears. Damn it.

"He's dead, he can't hurt you anymore, darling."

"It's not about me," Stiles growled frustrated.

"Tell me what it is about then," Peter prompted, looking at him with too much patience.

"He didn't just have me. He had Boyd and Erica too," Stiles averted his eyes. "They took me as a message for Scott, they took Boyd and Erica to find Derek. The fact that they were still being tortured by the time the hunters got me tells me they stayed quiet and protected Derek, but I don't know how long that lasted, I don't know if-"

His breath hitched at that and he found himself unable to finish the sentence. Damn werewolves, always causing Stiles worry and distress. They were absolutely going to be the death of him.

"Would… you like me to go look for your friends?"

"We aren't friends," Stiles huffed out a laugh. "We don't even like each other. Or we didn't. I don't know. But ever since the rave, I just… I feel so protective of them. I mean, Isaac, Erica and me were alone with still-a-kanima-Jackson and I pushed the damn werewolves behind me like I could protect them, I'm a squishy human, they heal! Still baffled that they let that happen, or that they listened to anything I said, honestly. But seeing Erica and Boyd down there, I just… I wanted to rip Gerard's throat out. And now I don't know if they're safe, if they're…"

"Mh," Peter had an amused smile on his lips, which seemed just so inappropriate for the severity of the situation. "It's ironic, that you have stronger pack instincts than Scott."

Stiles' head jerked up to stare at Peter. "What."

"You said earlier, that Scott betrayed Derek and left the pack, and that Derek would assume that meant you'd leave the pack too, which implies that you don't," Peter offered. "You joined the Hale Pack and you are still a member of it. What you're feeling is the pack bond. You are protective of your pack mates. I'm assuming you joined the pack closely before that… rave?"

Stiles blinked slowly, eyes widening. "I… I… Yeah. Yeah. We… the rave, that was the first time we all worked together, as one pack. Derek, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Scott and me. I… oh. I didn't… I didn't even, I mean, I'm not a wolf, I didn't expect that I could feel a pack bond."

"You could feel the mate-bond," Peter pointed out. "Maybe you're not as human as you assume."

Stiles sucked in a breath at that. For some reason, he saw the line of mountain ash he'd drawn that day. Magic. But Deaton had said that was something everybody could do – oh. No. Never mind, never believe anything that lying, secretive man had to say. Damn it, he really should know better.

"I'm magic," Stiles blurted out.

"You sure are," Peter's voice had dropped into a purr again.

"No," Stiles swatted at the wolf's chest in annoyance. "I mean literal magic. That day, at that rave, I performed magic. I created mountain ash out of thin air. I'm magic."

Well, seemed Stiles finally managed to shut Peter up for good. The wolf was staring at him in amazed bafflement, which only made Stiles blush. Again. Ducking his head, Stiles turned to look at the tub again, watch the way the water was slowly rising.

"They left the pack," Peter offered when he noticed Stiles' avoidance and clear desire to change the topic. "They left, running away, presumably before they were captured."

Stiles' attention returned to his mate, a confused frown on his face. "What. But you just said that what I felt was the pack-bond. How could I have a pack-bond with them if they left the pack."

Peter pressed his lips together to a thin line and turned away from Stiles. Mh. Interesting. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles walked around Peter to put himself into the wolf's line of sight.

"Oh no, mister. You know something," Stiles accused him, poking his chest with a finger. "Tell me. I don't really know what this is, or what it's going to be, but it's not going to work if you scheme on your own and not share with me. No lies, no secrets. Got it?"

Peter had the decency to look sheepish. "I don't… know for sure, but I'm… starting to have a theory. No lies, no secrets, but… give me a bit more time to test my theory?"

Stiles wiggles his nose, frowning, but in the end, he nodded. "I just… After the shit Scott pulled today, after the secrets that fucking Deaton keeps having, I don't…"

Peter reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand, darling."

Sighing, Stiles let his hand drop into the water, feeling the temperature. "I think I'll take that bath now. If I'm not out in two hours, you are allowed to knock on the door to check if I drowned. But you're only allowed to enter if I actually don't reply."

Amusement returned to Peter's face at that and he nodded, before looking more serious again. "Do you want me to go and look for them? The wayward pups."

Stiles went still for a long moment. He hadn't even considered that. That he wasn't alone anymore. That Peter was there, with werewolf senses and speed. Stiles' heart jumped.

"Yes," Stiles forced the word out. "Please."

Peter leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head, which had no right to be that comforting. "Anything for you, sweetheart. I hate to leave you alone, but I know you are safe in my den. I'll get our wayward pups back for you."

Our. Something about that made Stiles' heart swell. Our pups. Not Derek's betas. That reminded Stiles that he still needed to ask why or how Peter was an Alpha, if Derek was also an Alpha. Before Peter could leave did Stiles grasp his wrist, stopping him. Peter turned to give him a curious look.

"Be… careful," Stiles didn't look at him. "You may have killed Gerard, but there are still other hunters in Beacon Hills besides the Argents. Be careful, okay?"

The way Peter was practically beaming at him made Stiles' heart beat like crazy. "I will."

With that, the Alpha left the bathroom, leaving Stiles to his bath. Gingerly, he stepped out of his boxers and got out of his socks before slipping into the huge tub. It was perfect. All of him was covered in water. They had a bathtub at home too, but only limited space, so usually he had to pull his legs up to fit in and then his knees were outside the water. But this tub was perfect. Stiles sighed contently, closing his eyes and relaxing for the first time all day. Maybe the first time in weeks.

/break\

Stiles wasn't good at sitting still for too long though so after somewhere just under an hour, he got out of the tub again and carefully dried himself off with one of the way too fluffy and soft towels that his fancy wolf owned. He frowned down at his bloodied clothes and then daringly went to the door, cracking it open just a bit while clutching the towel around his waist.

"Peter?" Stiles called out loudly. "Peter, are you back yet? Pe—eter?"

No answer, no werewolf rushing to his side. Okay. Opening the door fully, Stiles stepped out and headed over to what he assumed to be the bedroom – no, that was a… holy shit. Stiles' eyes widened when he took in the shelves lining every wall of the room, two shelves standing in the center of the room back to back. Peter had his own library. Shaking his head, Stiles tore himself away from the temptation of the very old looking books and instead left to check where the bedroom actually was. Heaving a relieved sigh, he headed straight for the closet. And damn. Of course did Peter own expensive, fancy suits, on top of the… way too deeply cut v-necks. These were just obscene, honestly. Huffing to himself, Stiles went further through the closet, knowing the wolf had to own some comfort clothes – and hah! Lo and behold, a black hoodie and sweatpants.

Stiles couldn't help but bury his nose in the hoodie, inhaling the wolf's scent that clung to the clothes. He gave a content, little noise, safe in the knowledge nobody had heard it. His eyes landed on the very large, very inviting bed and he remained strong for about three point two seconds before he allowed himself to collapse on it and oh those sheets were actual heaven.

A blissful sigh escaped his lips as he rolled around on the bed and curled together.

/break\

Peter was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, feeling tense and wired. Partially because he had left his mate unsupervised, alone and vulnerable. Rationally, he knew that Stiles was safe in the penthouse. The wolf inside him wasn't rational though, not with his mate injured, not with the mate-bond still unsealed. His eyes stared into the rear-view mirror, watching the two betas huddled together on his backseat. They looked worse for wear. Not as bad as Stiles, but considering they were werewolves? The fact that there were still unhealed injuries on them was concerning.

"Who are you," the blonde girl asked, staring at him. "Why did we… trust you."

A lazy smile spread over Peter's lips at that. "Because I'm your Alpha."

Both of the teens tensed at that and exchanging a look. His theory had easily proven correct when he had found the two betas – not really knowing them, he hadn't been able to track them by their scent, but Stiles' scent clung onto them enough and the mate-bond was still so open and raw that Peter was overly aware of anything Stiles. He'd found them in the woods and ordered them to come with them, promising them he could bring them to safety and to Stiles.

"How," the boy growled. "Derek was our Alpha, but we left his pack. We didn't actually join any other pack. Allison got us before we had a chance to even leave town."

Allison? Peter raised his eyebrows high. The girl. A sneer found its way onto his face. He'd thought she was different, being a werewolf's mate herself, but it seemed the Argent genes were too strong. Just like Kate, just like Victoria, just like Gerard. Looking down on werewolves, thinking they had a right to kill every wolf they met simply for existing. Who went after innocent teenagers. Kids.

"I'll explain it to you upstairs, with Stiles present."

The two betas still looked doubtful but they didn't argue. At least something. They quietly followed Peter through the garage, up the elevator. He noted the way they held onto each other, trying to shield the other respectively. Mates. It was written all over their behavior. That explained why the two betas had thought they could just run off and would be fine. Not just youthful stupidity, but youthful stupidity fueled by the overwhelming feeling that a new mate-bond gave one. A sense of invincibility and that, as long as one had their mate, they could do anything. Peter had never understood it, until he'd held Stiles earlier and the whole world seemed to slip into place.

"There we are," Peter announced as the elevator door opened into the penthouse. "The living room is over there, take a seat, I'll just go and fetch Stiles."

He headed for the bathroom and knocked, not receiving an answer. Concern colored his features as he knocked again. No answer. When worry took a hold of him, he opened the door, even though he knew that if Stiles was just dozing he would be furious with Peter for entering. Still, he had to make sure his mate hadn't drowned, or slipped on the tiles, or… was simply gone. The frown on Peter's face increased as he noted the distinct lack of Stiles. His dirty clothes were still here, in a pile on the floor where they'd left them earlier, but Stiles was nowhere in sight.

Closing his eyes, Peter took a deep breath, following his nose to find his mate. It led him first to the library, with no Stiles in it either. Only when he reached his bedroom did he finally find his mate. His heart jumped into his throat as he laid eyes on Stiles. The human was curled together small, laying in the center of the bed – Peter's bed, Peter's mate was in his bed – and he was wearing Peter's clothes – surrounded by Peter's scent, soft, good, smelling like mate now.

He approached slow and careful before sitting down on the edge of the bed, running gentle fingers through the no longer very buzzed cut. Still short, but decidedly longer than the last time Peter had seen his boy. It was soft, Peter liked the feeling of it. He wondered what it'd feel like if it were a little longer still. Stiles beneath his touch stirred, those captivating, big, brown eyes staring up at him curiously and sleepily. Stiles stretched in a far too cat-like manner, yawning.

"You're back," Stiles noted, nuzzling into Peter's hand still on his head. "Did you…"

"Yes, I found them," Peter smiled down at his mate. "They're in the living room. Do you-"

-need another moment. The rest of the sentence was lost on Stiles as the human had jumped out of bed and rushed out of the room at a speed that surprised Peter, considering Stiles' earlier exhaustion. Getting up, Peter went to follow his mate, reaching the living room just in time to see Stiles fully launch himself at the two werewolves, who happily caught him between them. They wrapped their arms around each other in a tight hug, the betas burying their faces in either side of Stiles' neck, sobbing out noises of relief. Peter's eyes softened as he watched this clear display of pack. It filled his heart with warmth. This was what pack should be like.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," Stiles gasped out, rubbing his cheeks against both of theirs. "Peter went looking for you but I wasn't sure if he'd find you-"

The girl interrupted him sharply. "Who is he?"

"U—uhm…" Stiles flushed furiously.

And oh, his boy was delectable when he blushed, it was truly a challenge for his wolf to not grab his mate and ravish him on the spot whenever he did that. Stiles pushed off the betas a little and turned his body to look at Peter, to look between the betas and Peter.

"Peter Hale, he is… Derek's uncle and was the Alpha of the Hale Pack before Derek and he's… uh… he's my mate," Stiles' blush deepened. "Peter, these are Boyd and Erica."

Boyd and Erica. Peter stared at the teens intensely. Now that they were his betas, he ought to learn their names. He hadn't bothered before, when he thought they were Derek's. Instinctively, his eyes flashed red. Both betas flashed their eyes golden back at him. Good.

"You said you'd explain," Boyd spoke up after a moment. "What… is this."

"As my mate just told you, I was the Alpha before Derek," Peter motioned at Stiles. "I died, temporarily. It wasn't for me, so I decided to come back. But it appears that my death had a certain… effect, on Stiles."

"The broken mate-bond?" Stiles frowned. "But it like… snapped back into place? Right?"

The way he reached up and rested a hand over his heart made Peter's own heart jump. Stiles really could feel the mate-bond. Humans couldn't. They were more likely to fall in love with a wolf who shared a mate-bond with them, but the intensity, the connection of a mate-bond, it was lost on humans. His boy really wasn't simply human. But then when was anything about Stiles simple?

"No," Peter shook his head and rounded the couch to sit down on his living room table to be right in front of the three teenagers. "I was the Alpha when you and me met, when our bond… first formed. I was the Alpha, and that made you the Alpha mate."

By the way Stiles' eyes widened, these words meant something to him. Peter smirked pleased. His boy was clever. All the research he did, the knowledge he absorbed with so much greed. It was mesmerizing. Knowledge was power, much more so than physical strength. Too many underestimated that. Not Stiles. He wielded that power and that would always appeal much more to Peter than any physical prowess. His mate was clever, brilliant even, a strategist to boot too.

"Traditionally," Peter continued, at the blank looks from the betas – his betas. "A pack is led by an Alpha pair, a pair of mated Alphas. The Alpha, the physical protector, the leader of the pack, and the Alpha mate, the… heart of the pack, the emotional protector. When I died, I was still the Alpha."

"Died," Boyd repeated, grabbing Erica's hand more tightly.

"Yes" Peter waved a dismissive hand. "Not the point of the story. I died, Stiles didn't. And when Stiles, together with Scott, officially joined the Hale Pack, Stiles… was still the Alpha mate, due to the fact that Derek doesn't have a mate. The role wasn't filled, but Stiles had a mate-bond with a Hale Alpha, so he… filled it. From what he told me. Protecting you and… Isaac, was it, at that rave, trying to free the two of you, feeling protective of you betas, feeling that pull toward you. I'm assuming you feel the same. The bond between betas and the Alpha mate is a strong one, often times even stronger than their bond to their Alpha, because it is… more emotional."

Both betas turned to look at Stiles wondrously, but it was Erica who spoke up. "Yeah I thought it was weird that I felt so… protective… of Stiles, all of a sudden. I mean, I always liked him, even before I got turned into a wolf, but I had no problem threatening him when Derek told me to-"

Peter interrupted her with a loud, deep growl at the thought of Derek threatening his mate. He knew he was flashing his eyes, judging by the way the betas whined. Stiles heaved a sigh.

"Yeah, he does that, a lot, it's okay," Stiles waved a dismissive hand. "It's like, our thing. He threatens me, but in the end, when I actually need him, he always comes. He saved my life more than once. I saved his at least as often. Maybe at least one time more."

The growl turned into a grumble, still not pleased with the situation but appeased for now. "Yes. So, even without a mate-bond to the Alpha who turned you, Stiles still filled the role of the Alpha mate for you. You formed a bond with him. And then I was brought back from the dead. I… don't think I would still be an Alpha if Stiles hadn't joined the Hale Pack, but since you were part of the Hale Pack when I was brought back, you kept my connection to the Alpha spark alive. It's like a feedback loop. You became Alpha mate because of our mate-bond to me, the Alpha. I became Alpha again because of my mate-bond to you, as the Alpha mate."

"Okay," Stiles frowned, but Peter could tell that he was keeping up.

"But what does that mean for us," Erica argued.

"It means that you may have turned your back on Derek, but you didn't turn your back on Stiles – and by the time you left Derek's pack, I was already alive again," Peter replied. "Stiles is my mate. If Stiles has your loyalty, your wolves recognize me as your Alpha."

Boyd grunted, frowning as he looked from Stiles to Peter. "Is that… okay?"

Stiles rested a hand in Boyd's neck, calming the beta instinctively. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay. We're pack. That feels… right, right? And if it feels right, it has to be okay."

Erica whined as she nuzzled into Stiles, curling around him. "So it's just… us?"

"A small pack," Peter conceded, but when he saw the protective and comforting way by which the three teens on his couch were entangled, he wasn't worried. "Small but good."

Stiles made a soft noise, burying his nose in Erica's hair "C'mere, Alpha. Bond with your pack."

He grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him close enough to press the softest kiss against Peter's lips, sending a jolt of joy and love and belonging through Peter. Small but good. Besides, who knew. A pack traditionally had two Alphas, Stiles was human, he couldn't be Alpha. Maybe, just maybe, Derek and Peter could work together. But that was a matter for later. Right now, all that mattered was right here, on his couch, in his den. Safe from any danger and all his.

~*~ The End ~*~

[voidboymads]

Y’all I’m reviving an old Steter fic from ‘22 so take a look at the new chapter out now! :3

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/39342444/chapters/141703306

[slimypaws]

💍Steter Collage💍

(Click for better quality)

The Fanfiction in question:

[RATED: EXPLICIT]❗️

[ash-mcj]

hi! for the new prompt list you posted, could you do either 6 or 7 (kisses) with steter? thank youuu <3

A KISS OF RELIEF ♥ (sorry for writing this a over a year later, anon)

"when life gives you a monday, kiss a werewolf (or however the saying goes)" | STETER | A03

Despite half of the pack being reluctantly civil with Peter at best, the entire room seemed to hold a collective breath as Deaton poured the liquid over the deep gashes in his chest and abdomen—where they had literally had to hold his organs in his body as they sped to the clinic in Theo’s truck. Finally, slowly, Peter’s wounds began to stitch themselves back together—and Stiles saw his vision blur with unshed tears before he even registered the urge to cry.

It felt like far too long, but eventually, Peter’s eyes snapped open with strangled gasp—and the pack sagged in relief. If Peter was conscious, he’d be okay. He was a survivor, after all.

“Gods, I hate Mondays,” Peter said hoarsely.

“You bastard,” Stiles chuckled, or maybe sobbed—it was hard to tell.

[or: peter almost dies, stiles is sick of waiting for the right moment, and they share their first kiss in front of the (disgusted) pack]

[voidstilesplease]

swearing is basic. at this point in my life, only a few things faze me anymore. "I hope that 200k, 55 chapters ongoing fic on AO3 that you're religiously waiting to update weekly gets abandoned by the author." LE GASP. you sorry exCUSE of a CUNT—

[plotbunnybreeder]

Emergency Contact

Scott bails on Stiles in an emergency, yet again, and Stiles finally admits he should probably start calling someone else instead.

(My brain has this as two entirely different genres depending on the pairing:)

Sterek: Rom-Com

Stiles changes his emergency contact without telling Derek, said 'emergencies' including everything from running out of snacks to an actual monster attack. Stiles uses an app that automatically sends an SOS if you press the volume button a certain number of times in a row. Derek always picks up when Stiles' name pops up on his phone despite grumbling about it every time.

Steter: Angst w/a Happy Ending

"An emergency contact? I'm touched, Stiles."

"Don't read into it, Creeper Wolf, I just needed to put someone who would actually pick up."

Stiles' words caught in his throat as he heard what he said but it was already too late.

Peter hummed questioningly, a smirk growing on his face.

"What's this? Did you just call me reliable, darling?"

[cgsf]

Fics based on a tag:

Creature!Stiles

••••••

Werewolf

"best case scenario" (T) by verity | Derek/Stiles | 13,152

"Throw Me to the Wolves" (T) by skoosiepants | Derek/Stiles | 13,493

"It Was a Wednesday" (M) by isthatbloodonhisshirt | Derek/Stiles | 80,129

"Bars of Bone and Fragile Humanity" (E) by tsukinofaerii | Derek/Stiles | 80,138

"The Secret in His Eyes" 🔒 (T) by cywscross | Derek/Stiles | 5,901

"Muscles Better and Nerves More" (E) by Triangulum | Peter/Stiles | 8,238

"nips and nibbles" (T) by Potrix | Peter/Stiles | 3,828

"I like it here, can I stay." (M) by predictaslash | Peter/Stiles | 10,683

"You Could Try" 🔒 (T) by luulapants | Peter/Stiles | 4,894

"Anchors" (E) by TriDom | Chris/Peter/Stiles | 115,736

"Keep My Heart Beating" (E) by shadeblue | Derek/Scott/Stiles | 7,251

Vampire

"Strange Days" (T) by entanglednow | No Pairing | 3,918

"Equilibrium" (T) by entanglednow | No Pairing | 3,023

"Wake Up Dead" 🔒 (E) by bloodwrites | Derek/Stiles | 12,453

"they call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone" (M) by standinginanicedress | Derek/Stiles | 20,506

"Invited Inside" 🔒 (E) by blacktofade | Derek/Stiles | 14,134

"Red" (M) by ZainClaw | Derek/Stiles | 4,371

"The (Horizontal) Monster Mash" 🔒 (E) by taylorpotato | Peter/Stiles | 17,350

"A Matter of Choice" (E) by Twisted_Mind | Peter/Stiles | 14,823

"Feels Better Biting Down" 🔒 (E) by callunavulgari | Derek/Lydia/Stiles | 9,739

Werefox

"Little pitchers have big ears!" (G) by wanderseeing | No Pairing | 1,474

"Shifted" (T) by Wolfspurr | Derek/Stiles | 25,074

"Wolves and Foxes Don’t Get Along" (G) by Lissadiane | Derek/Stiles | 14,557

"Evenly Matched" (M) by alocalband | Derek/Stiles | 3,144

"The Bite" (M) by LeeHan | Derek/Stiles | 6,601

Wolf

"Red" (T) by Udunie | Peter/Stiles | 14,736

"A (Sort of) Fairytale" (M) by briecheesie | Derek/Stiles | 25,800

"Man's Best Friend (is Not Always a Dog)" 🔒 (T) by cywscross | Peter & Stiles | 9,500

Nogitsune

"You Got My Mind To Follow" (M) by plume_bob | Derek/Stiles | 3,009

"take in the extent of my sin" (T) by Nokomis | Derek/Stiles | 2,138

"Tell Me Another Beautiful Lie" (T) by whentheywrite | Derek/Stiles | 2,213

"i wear your ache inside my heart" (T) by creationmyth | Derek/Stiles | 2,400

"echo in the echoing wood" (T) by Kirinin | Derek/Stiles | 20,619

"I'll Bleed, Babe" (E) by Whispering_Merely | Derek/Stiles | 15,250

"Pinch Me" (E) by Wolftraps | Derek/Stiles | 12,157

"here we are (the place where i get to beg for it)" (NR) by creationmyth | Derek/Stiles | 5,020

Werejaguar

"smells like love" 🔒 (M) by Areiton | Chris/Peter/Stiles | 2,419

••••••

More to be added.

[thatqueerfangirl02]

Please tell me I’m not the only one who gets obsessed over Fanfic authors.

Like I’ll read a fic that’s just amazing, and I need more so I go to the author’s profile. I always start with the same Fandom/Ship/Trope of the first fic (it depends on how many works they have). Eventually, when I’ve read all of those, I’ll move on to other fandoms that I’m in and they write for. Sometimes I’ll even go into their bookmarks, because they clearly have fantastic taste. I even keep the profile open in it’s own tab just so I can check for new content every few days.

Just, you know, fangirling over fanfic authors.

[cywscross]

My gift for @meggie-stardust for @stetersecretsanta2023 this year! I'm so sorry it's late, I hope you like it anyway. Merry belated Christmas!

Title: In Full Bloom

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Character/Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Isaac Lahey, Alpha Pack

Rating: T

Summary: After the ridiculously dramatic hunter-werewolf-kanima showdown is over - after Derek and Isaac have disappeared into the shadows, after Lydia has bundled herself and Jackson into the back of the Argents' car, after Allison has climbed in as well and Chris has driven them off, after Scott has run after the vehicle like a panting dog - Stiles stares after the trail of black goo Gerard has left in his wake and thinks, only idiots leave loose ends untied.

That's where it starts, for him.

(It started much earlier for Peter, and now he has the pleasure of watching Stiles grow into his own in much the same way. Of course, he hadn't expected to end up fixating on the boy quite so much, but then, what's life without a few surprises?)

Tags: Canon Divergence AU, Post-Season 2, Murder, Developing Relationship, Spark Stiles, Magical Stiles, Bad Friend Scott, Past Child Abuse

[in-over-my-head]

I Got a Good Idea

Stetopher / Explicit

Summary:

“I’m bored,” Stiles whined, throwing himself down on Peter’s couch.

The wolf glanced up, looking from the door Stiles had just come through without knocking, to the couch he was currently sprawled across.  Lifting an eyebrow, he let his eyes sweep over the boy before speaking.  “Please, come in.  Make yourself at home.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Stiles’ smile split his face as he stretched to lie down, tucking his hands behind his head.  “I’m still bored.”

“And what would you like me to do about it?” Peter asked, slipping his bookmark into his book and setting it on the table in front of him.

“I don’t know,” Stiles waved his hand, huffing a breath.  “Give me something to do.”

“Careful what you ask for,” Peter smirked, settling back in his chair and letting his knees fall wide in clear invitation.

“Why’s that, Creeperwolf?” Stiles laughed, eyes shooting to Peter’s lap before rubbing his hands over his face.  “You gonna ask me to do something dirty?”

“That depends on what you consider dirty,” the wolf replied with a lifted eyebrow, noting the direction of Stiles’ eyes and the spike in his scent.

Slowly sitting up, Stiles watched Peter with wide eyes. “What’d you mean?”

[takaraphoenix]

The Clever One

(this is a sneak peek for the Steter fic I'm currently working on, where Stiles realizes in season 1 that Peter's canon behavior toward him is strange, how he never hurts Stiles, never tries to kill him, offers Stiles a choice. He comes to the conclusion that he's Peter's mate. So he sets conditions for Peter, leading to a season 2 rewrite with Alpha Peter. and Alpha Mate Stiles, rebuilding the Hale Pack together.)

--

Stiles walked into the broken, burned out husk of the Hale House like he owned the place. Just to be stopped by a hand on his chest and blue eyes flashing at him from Derek’s annoyed face.

“What are you doing here, Stiles,” Derek growled.

“I’m here to talk to your glorious Alpha,” Stiles tilted his head with an uncaring air.

He was not going to let Derek threaten him. Sure, in the past his heart would jump and he would be afraid, even if he still helped Derek out. Right now, Stiles was fully confident in his own safety. Derek narrowed his eyes in irritation, smelling or hearing that Stiles wasn’t intimidated.

“You fought him, in the hospital. You fought him to protect me,” Stiles argued with a frown. “He killed your sister, Derek. Why did you join him?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Derek was close to snarling.

“Try me,” Stiles threw up his hands. “I understand a lot more than you think.”

This time, Derek did snarl. Just to receive a warning growl from upstairs. A cocky grin spread over Stiles’ lips. He’d known the Alpha was here too. He’d known that as long as Peter was close by, Derek wouldn’t get to do any threatening or bodily harm. The beta ground his teeth and stepped back. Hah. Oh, Stiles was absolutely going to revel in the fact that he now outranked Derek. Alpha Mate beat out the Alpha’s right-hand. His grin turned a note of shit-eating.

“He was in a coma for six years. Slowly healing. Aware of everything around him. You couldn’t understand what that is like for a wolf, especially…” Derek swallowed hard, looking away. “Everyone was dead, me and Laura were gone. He was alone with it all.”

“He went insane,” Stiles nodded. “I feel like we established the insanity part in the hospital. You fought him in the hospital. I want to know what changed since then.”

“He’s still healing,” Derek’s voice dropped even more. “He wasn’t fully healed when he killed Laura, he was… feral. Acting on instincts. Seeking to get better. Becoming Alpha… did that.”

Stiles could hear it. He could hear the despair in Derek’s voice. Stiles closed his eyes and heaved a soft sigh. Asking Derek was useless, Derek desperately wanted to believe this. Because what was the other option? That his only living family had willingly, or even joyfully, murdered Derek’s sister? No. Of course did Derek cling onto the hope that things could get better now.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “You can go now, Derek.”

The beta stared at him incredulously. “You don’t tell me what to do, Stiles. Werewolf, human. We established this. Why do you think you can tell me what to do, in my own home.”

With all the confidence he could muster did Stiles raise his head, not cowering, holding Derek’s gaze with a calm pulse. “Because Alpha Mate outranks right-hand.”

And oh this felt good. Stiles smirked cockily. Even as a not werewolf, he could feel the tension in the air. The shocked look on Derek’s face – genuine shock, meaning Derek hadn’t put it together yet and Peter hadn’t told him, oh damn, Derek hadn’t even known. A laugh barked out from upstairs.

“I knew you would figure it out on your own. I didn’t think so soon though,” Peter sounded both amused and nearly fond. “Leave us, Derek.”

Grounding his teeth together, Derek shot his uncle one last look before he headed out. Peter only walked into view at the top of the stairs after they could hear the Camaro roar to life and drive off.

“Tell me that he’s right,” Stiles ordered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me that you are still healing. Getting better. Because, you know, the bit where you mauled one of my best friends-”

“She was all over you,” Peter growled, his eyes flashing red. “You were all over her.”

Stiles swallowed, the cockiness cracking some. Not because the growling and red eyes intimidated him, but because of how much they turned him on. No one had ever been possessive over him. Heck, no one had ever been interested in him. Sure, Lydia had gone to Homecoming with him in the end, but that had been more coercion from Allison and pity than Lydia actually wanting him. Lydia still wanted Jackson. Still loved Jackson. Might always love Jackson.

Peter cleared his throat, all calm and professional again. “I am still healing. The outside heals the fastest, it’s… the inside that needs more time, even with wolf-healing. A large part of me is still very… feral and reduced to base instincts. I attacked her because my inner wolf felt threatened by her, threatened by the way she was making advances on my mate.”

Stiles’ heart jumped a little at that. So he had figured it out, but actually hearing himself referred to as Peter’s mate was something else entirely than figuring it out on his own, for himself. Stiles bit down on his cheek, his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest. Part of him was grateful Peter was still at the top of the stairs. Physical distance between them. This whole conversation was a lot. Though Stiles had come to the realization that he was Peter’s mate, he had not fully come to terms with that fact. He didn’t know what to do with it, or what it could or should or would mean.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Peter’s voice was soft, which might be the weirdest part of this entire conversation. “Or with you. Not yet. You’re more child than man, Stiles. But I can already tell why my wolf chose you as my mate. You are clever. Brilliant. Tricky. Manipulative. Cunning. Quick-witted. All the qualities I cherish the most.”

Stiles couldn’t help but flush at that. “Yeah, well, don’t make it sound like that’s your grand gesture there, I am not exactly tripping over myself trying to get into your pants either. You turned my best friend into a werewolf, without his consent – even though you proved that you are capable of asking for it when you asked me if I wanted the bite – and you mauled Lydia. I’m not considering you Prince Charming. And from what my research showed, a werewolf mate-bond is something that strengthens and grows over time. So, I guess, you still have time to prove yourself.”

Peter quirked his lips, looking absolutely amused by him. “Prove myself, mh?”

“Again. Maiming and mauling of people I love,” Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You say you don’t want anything romantic or sexual with me yet, but this mate-bond thing is a life-long bond. At one point, you will. Because you’re the wolf here. You can feel it. So, if you want me to be on the same page by then, you better prove yourself to me.”

The grin on Peter’s lips looked near amazed or excited and Stiles didn’t know what to do with that. It was like the Alpha enjoyed being challenged, enjoyed that Stiles wasn’t just swooning at the prospect of having a soulmate, but gave Peter conditions to earn it. Weird.

“You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” and it was clearly implied here that Peter didn’t just speak of his werewolf abilities but morally, the depth of the things he was willing to do. “So tell me then, what do you think you can demand of me?”

“What I think I can demand of you? Pretty much anything, as long as it’s about me,” Stiles huffed amused, cocking his head. “You can’t hurt me. I mean, physically can’t. And I think that… even emotionally, you couldn’t, not intentionally. Heck, part of me thinks that you turning Scotty was for me, in a twisted, weird way, because your wolf could smell me all over him, thought it would appeal to me if you had my best friend in your pack. And Lydia. You attacked her irrationally, feral and threatened, but when I asked you to let someone come and help her, you agreed. Because you saw how much her condition was getting to me. I think I can ask pretty much anything of you.”

“Manipulative,” Peter pointed out, and he sounded proud and impressed and pleased. “Well, then.”

“You will never lay a hand on anyone I love again,” Stiles eyes were hard and his voice was cold, his body-language conveying how serious he was. “Not my dad, not Scott, not Scott’s mom, not Lydia. Reign your possessive wolf instincts in. She’s not interested in me anyway. If you ever hurt any of them again, I will put a wolfsbane bullet in you myself.”

“Threatening,” Peter smirked. “Cute.”

“I’m not joking,” Stiles frowned annoyed. “I’m the sheriff’s son. I know how to use a gun. And I know where to get wolfsbane bullets from.”

The playfulness left Peter when he realized that Stiles needed to be taken seriously here. “Okay. Noted down. I don’t plan on hurting my pack anyway. Of which Scott is a part of now, whether he likes it or not. And Lydia, well, the cuts were deep so who knows if she will end up joining my pack too. Your father is safe, I promise you that.”

There was still quip and snark in his voice, but that last sentence was spoken with sincerity and Stiles nodded pleased. “No more turning anyone without their consent. Scott hates this, hates being a werewolf, if he’d had a choice he would have said no. I get that a pack of three isn’t going to do you much good, I know you’re going to turn more people, strengthen the pack. But everyone you bite will first be informed of both the good and the bad, they will be given a choice, and that choice is going to be respected by you. The way you gave me a choice, and respected it.”

“I have no problem with that condition,” Peter waved a dismissive hand. “Scott is more trouble than he is gain to me, as is. A beta who doesn’t want to be a werewolf is not an asset to the pack. Betas who are loyal to their Alpha, who will be willing to listen to their inner wolves, will be assets. I only turned him out of instinct, the need to strengthen my pack while not being… mentally there enough to actually think things through. Believe me, I will plan out my pack in the future.”

“Our,” Stiles corrected unflinchingly. “Alpha Mate. Makes this my pack too, doesn’t it?”

The look on Peter’s face was nearly smug with delight. “Our pack.”

[mastercherry]

Is there anything worse than being at WORK when you know you have a steamy fanfic tab opened on your phone but you can't READ it cuz you're at WORK and you have a JOB to do? 😒

Yes, obviously there's a lot worse than that but you know what I mean.

*precedes to open Google Chrome randomly throughout the day at work and read a steamy hot fanfic and puts my phone down anytime I hear footsteps down the hall or get to a scene that makes me fangirl too hard*

[slimypaws]

🌲 Twilight x Teen Wolf Collage 🌲

(Click for better quality)

The Fanfiction Series in question:

[RATED: EXPLICIT]❗️

[bloodtiesstilllives]

Hey Fic Writers Out There, Let Me Tell You About An Underrated, Underused Character.

I have officially been in the Blood Ties (2007) fandom since March of 2024 and it's comatose, if not dead. I can admit that wholeheartedly. And the show is full of amazing characters. The main protagonist is a badass woman named Vicki, and if you have the time you should totally check the show and novels out.

Good I got that out of the way. That is not what this post is about. No, this post is about the character of the show that puts the "Blood" in Blood Ties.

Henry Fitzroy

He is the fictionalized version of a real historical person. He happens to be the first born son of King Henry VIII.

This guy is a full package. He's attractive, he's charming, he's smart, he's funny, and he is creative. Seriously this guy is an artist.

He currently spends his time writing and drawing graphic novels.

Here is are samples of his work.

I want to do anything I can to make sure that Henry doesn't just fall into the abyss of cancelled TV shows. And that is the purpose of this post. I want to introduce you all to a character that has been woefully underutilized.

He was born in 1519. Imagine what you could do with a character who was born in 1519. Want to do a time travel fic? Interested in Victorian Era? Steampunk? The 70s, 80s, 90s? One of the great wars? He has been around for it all. Oh and guess what?

When he bites, as long as the person is alive, the bites disappear! You want to take him to space? He can survive it undetected, because his thrall skills are amazing.

He is not an indiscriminate killer. And he is old enough and disciplined enough not to just drain someone to death.

Oh and he has been through enough things to be patient and serious.

He is a good listener and gives sage advice.

Oh and he is bisexual. And a tad possessive. Just laying that out there for anyone to take it.

So...

If you get interested in using this amazing, underused character in your work, please do! And please tag it. And also notify me @bloodtiesstilllives so that I can reblog it!

Thanks for your time and your attention.

[plotbunnybreeder]

One for the History Books

For generations there were rumors about where Alpha sparks came from, how a family line began if the spark passed on one-to-one through death or tragedy. True Alphas were rare enough many believed there was another way, another method.

In werewolf folklore, there were whispers that soulbonding with a Spark could strengthen an Alpha spark or create one in a Beta, a creation of a pack through love not death. These whispers were brushed off as wishful thinking for a less cruel world than one ruled by luck or pain.

Stiles is already halfway through the courtship process with a prominent member of the famous Hale pack when he awakens as a Spark, and some people are less surprised about his awakening than is comforting. Old and new suitors vy for his hand --his soul, really-- to bond with, and Stiles has to make a choice.