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therulerofallpotatos · 1 year ago

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Fic Tag Game

Tagged by: @wincestation, @realisticintentions, @realmermaid333, @cosmic-lullaby, @suchaladyy, @beri-allen

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

149

2. What's your Ao3 word count?

361,707 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Wednesday currently. Teen Wolf for six years. Harry Potter, Hannibal, Thorki, Starker, Twilight (Bella/Carlisle and Bella/Aro), The Umbrella Academy (not that i got very far before getting obsessed with wyler), and Madrigalcest (Primarily Brumira)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Overall?

Fuck It (Steter, Teen Wolf, 3,396)

When it Needs Fixing (Steter, Teen Wolf, 3,339)

Hostile Takeover (Steter, Teen Wolf, 2,781)

Absolution (Steter, Teen Wolf, 2,691)

Wandering in the Dark (Steter, Teen Wolf, 2,250)

In Wednesday?

Her Monster (Wyler, 708)

Hold Me Close (Wyler, 593)

Revelations (Wyler, 499)

Warning, She Bites (Wyler, 464)

Impressing Wednesday Addams (Wyler, 387)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes. I reply when I have something meaningful to add. Otherwise it'd get very repetitive and generic and that kind of soulless connection isn't really the point of this kind of thing. I adore my comments nonetheless and I read them a lot.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hold on. I gotta skim my list.

update: i do not remember some of these fics or what happened in them

Maybe Modi the Brave (MCU, Thorki). This was an angsty fanfic of a fanfic. There was a happy ending in the original fic, The Rescue by madwriter223

I'm not counting Absolution because it was immediately followed by a sequel. But technically, it did get me the most angry sobbing comments which i treasure to this day.

The Final Straw was angsty but it was also dumb and half-cocked and the closest thing to an embarrassment on this account. It was literally just a half-thought half-scene of my 18yo self's emotional state in 2018 that is very evident that I wrote this angrily in study hall. I wrote a lot of fic in that high school during classes. Like a lot. It was my school computer. I got plenty of use out of it. There was no structure or coherent plot. I didn't even hint at anything deeper to be explored in your own minds. I didn't want to look at it long enough or think about it long enough. I just wanted it out of my head. If I didn't have a strict no deleting my works policy, or hiding from my past art policy, I would probably have deleted it within the week of posting. I do not understand how it has the kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks that it has. I guess it resonated. Good for y'all. I mean it.

Literally just the entirety of Tyler's Bad Year is meant to be about a very traumatic time in a young man's life and him surviving it. I'm not going to go through them and try to pick out "the worst" one. That's not really the point and it'd be largely subjective.

I'll Eat You Raw has an angsty ending but angstiest? I'm not sure.

I don't write a lot of bad endings. Open endings? sure. Complicated endings? Absolutely. But unhappy endings? No. I don't often have the desire.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Jesus fuck we want to be here all day? Ok lemme look through shit again.

Wandering in the Dark has a whole story behind it. There was actually two versions. Only one was posted to ao3 and is the "canon" version. I wrote this fic for a high school assignment my senior year. We were assigned to pick a chronic disease out of a literal hat, then write a story around it. We had complete creative control so I took that chance to write teen wolf steter fanfic in class and actually have it be on task for once (I got an A in that class btw). The reason my teacher got a dark ending version is because by the time he got back to me on the maximum word count, I'd already finished the canon version and it was way too long. I couldn't trim the fat, so I wrote a different ending to shorten the story. That version is one of the angstier stories I've written. The one posted and linked above, is the very happy by comparison. This fic is also designed to be read by someone who doesn't know shit about teen wolf.

Through Thick and Thin was also extremely happy. As is Her Monster. Benevolent Gods was meant to be very hopeful. The Hale Pack (Undying) was the end to a series that was my baby for a long time . Like long enough you can see my writing evolve as you go. Part one was one of the first things i ever wrote. Like ever. The last part was years later. Jasper was meant to be a very light-hearted, happy story as well. It's extremely sweet and fluffy. You was also very happy and the epilogue cemented that happiness. Warning: She Bites literally had a happy end that unknowingly prevented a main character committing suicide in the near future. Saving lives by being horny. Wednesday Evening, and every installment in that series, is excessively happy as well.

Alright I ran through my list of fics. These were the ones that stood out. There's too many to really commit to one answer tbh. Especially because the way they're happy varies.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really. Or. Well. I'm sure I do. I block antis on sight and I wholly reject purity culture, and I haven't really been the target of a major attack or anything. I don't get as many hateful comments as one might think, and I don't entertain the ones I do get. I've been accused of vile shit of course because of a fic I wrote. I don't remember what fic or even what ship it was for because I don't dwell on them really at all. Aside from that, I get more entitled but probably ignorant to how they come off as entitled comments that aren't really that big a deal. Just a bit of a peeve sometimes. I honestly think the majority of them truly believe it's a kind gesture when they say it.

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

Yeah. You could say that.

What kind? In a word? Intense. I could make a joke or a long elaboration on my niche in hyde sex and whatnot, but at the end of the day, intense. Even my most laid back, domestic, slice of life fics have a sense of intensity to them because otherwise I get bored and it feels soulless and it's just not my writing style.

10. Do you write cross-overs?

When I feel like it. When I have an idea.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I have a steter fic on a russian fic website that was translated years ago. I have no idea which it was or if it's still there. Wait! I might remember. Yeah no. I don't remember. It wasn't the one I thought of.

12. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No. I've started to outline one before but it went nowhere and we both forgot about it.

13. What WIP you would like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Harry Potter and the Night that Changed Everything.

I had a whole novel basically planned for it. Writing Bellatrix and a Harry who was raised by Bellatrix took a lot out of me emotionally, and I lost steam.

Also, a Bella Swan/Marcus Vulturi fic that i also had a novel length plot planned out, wrote three chapters for, and then lost steam when I left the fandom due to getting the life sucked out of me by a bunch of toxic people in the fandom killing my joy. Those chapters are just collecting dust in my files right now. I'd like to go back to it one day and finish it in some form or another. Maybe it's original enough I could actually just write an original novel out of the scraps I already have. Actually, to be honest, it is probably original enough that I could write it as an original story. There is not a lot of Twilight there that is necessary to the story and can easily be written out. Something to think about maybe. Ironically not the first prompt I thought up initially for Twilight that I then realized nothing about Twilight was necessary for the idea I had, and I just wrote it without Bella entirely. This is how my original zombie novel started and then immediately evolved into an entirely different thing that has nothing to do w Twilight. Like literally nothing. I had to work to put the Twilight into that one. Not the other way around.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

wyler (steter and tomarry honorary).

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and characterization

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

pacing. movement heavy scenes. Longer projects if only because I have less practice at them.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Yeah. If it fits, I'll write it. I won't pretend to be fluent, but I'll do my best. Probably won't do anything too complicated for the sake of realism of my abilities. Especially if it's not Spanish which I at least have spent time trying to learn.

18. First fandom you wrote for?

Teen Wolf

19. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Listen...

We've established how well I am at picking one end all number one.

Fuck ok. back to the list.

Water of the Womb was one I was planning to write for almost a year and it turned out pretty good I think. Actually no.

No. It's not a fic that's been posted yet.

I think the favorite fic I've ever written is I Bit Him So He's Mine. it's my "Wednesday is a Hyde season one rewrite au". It's my first novel that is more than just a future novel. It's hit 40k and I have to start Act 2 still. It's my first proper murder mystery where the mystery is the primary plot equal to the romance. I've had a lot of fun with it, I've put my heart and soul into it, and I really look forward to calling it ready to post. Once it's done, you guys are getting regular updates for a long time.

20. What fic would you want to rewrite one day?

Out of the Fire haunts me. It was a lesson to learn. I had the desire to write a steter/hannigram crossover and zero plan of any kind outside that. It crashed and burned because I only had a first chapter in me. I recently met a local and successful author who recognized my ao3 username because of this fic and remembered me years later enough to compliment my writing (I cannot express how much that meant to me). Wait no that might have been Mark of an Angel which also haunts me, but I didn't have zero plan. I had almost no plan, and lost steam when I hit a creative block at a bad time. Normally, I'd have just sat down and workshopped a starter outline and wrote myself out of that block, but I lost steam so I never did. Different deal. Not as impactful in my creative journey. Out of the Fire, however, was very important to me because of why it failed, and remains very influential with every new project I start. Actually rewriting/finishing that project would be a defining moment for me as a writer, I think. At least to me personally.

Tagging: @duplicitywrites, @dispatchvampire, @dark-visitors, @fiktorsempra, @graciebirdie, @gardenoblues, @grim-reaper-barbie13, @gabelish, @killingdoll, @lavender-lotion, @lovepoison9, @wednesdayandherhyde, @udunie, @itshype, @insomniac1994, @onlyangelxo, @obsidianpen, @ourdramaqueen, @persephoneed, @pororoh, @badmoodbatflowers, @brascu

#wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wyler #my writing #tomarry #wednesday fanfic #teen wolf #steter #hannigram #thorki #harrymort #not all of my teen wolf fics were steter but most were #i am also v proud of my stallison fic #sometimes i just write one fic for a ship i had an idea about but only really had the one passion project for #this also included jasper/bella #and was going to include marcus/bella #i had a Caius/Bella idea as well that I never had the chance to start

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stilesxeveryone · 7 years ago

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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

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gemjam · 7 years ago

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For Day 2 of Steter Week - prompt magical Stiles

Stiles and Peter both gave power to the Nemeton with their sacrifices and it paid them back in kind. Stiles gave his own life in exchange for his father’s. Peter did what no one else would and killed Jennifer Blake, her blood soaking into the Nemeton’s roots.

When Stiles starts having vivid dreams asking him to free Peter from Eichen House, he goes to confront the man, only to learn that neither of them have control over this. They’re linked through the Nemeton and it won’t let either of them be restrained.

Through their shared visions, Peter teaches Stiles about his powers, the powers the Nogitsune harnessed for its own benefit, the powers that Stiles himself can master.

Stiles is reluctant. Peter is where he deserves to be. This bond is more powerful than either of them though and as long as Peter is locked away, Stiles is shackled with him. Besides, it’s exciting, a jailbreak, a chance to test out what he’s truly capable of. And a part of him, a tiny little part, wants to know what happens when Peter is finally in front of him, in the flesh, all of the barriers ripped away.

#steter #steter week #steter week 2018 #placeholder for a fic i don't have time to write #moodboard #stiles stilinski #peter hale #nemeton

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areiton · 7 years ago

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like we’re in a movie

READ ON AO3

“You should talk to him,” Derek says, turning a page.

Peter huffs and glares at the exam in front of him. “I most certainly should not.”

“It’s not like you, to ignore what you want.”

Peter didn’t bother responding to that.

Across the quad, a bright, loud laugh rings out, and Peter glares even harder at the paper he’s grading.

Derek sighs, quietly, at his side.

~*~

“Professor Hale?”

The voice is clear and bright, tinted with surprise and Peter closes his eyes, for a moment. Then he sighs, and smiles, twisting. “Mr. Stilinski, how surprising to see you.”

Stiles gives him an arch eyebrow. “Is it?” he asks, glancing at the marquee. Peter looks at it and laughs, a breathless noise that he almost hates himself for. “Indie movies aren’t featured that often, Prof,” Stiles says lazily.

Peter is all too aware of that. It’s the biggest problem he has with this damn tiny town.

That and the boy in front of him.

The boy who smiles, and scratches at the back of his neck, before grinning. “See you in there.”

Peter sighs and reluctantly gets his popcorn, before slipping into the theatre and giving Stiles an awkward smile.

He spends more of the movie watching the delicate curve of the boy’s neck than he does, watching the movie, and when he gets home, gets off in the dark, picturing the sleepy curl of Stiles’ lips.

~*~

It becomes a thing .

Stiles always seems delighted and a little scandalized to see a professor at the movie theatre at midnight, something Peter finds utterly ridiculous and not at all adorable.

The third time it happens, Stiles drops unceremoniously into the seat next to Peter in the theatre and spends most of the movie whispering his criticism, something that has Peter fighting a smirk almost the whole night.

It’s absurd. He doesn’t tolerate people talking during movies. They’re sacrosanct, the only time snark and commentary are put on hold--but Stiles murmuring in his ear makes him forget all about that.

Derek, when he hears about it, stares at him like Peter’s some exotic, newly discovered creature. “Who the hell are you?” he asks, flatly.

~*~

Stiles sweeping into his office at the end of Friday startles him. “Hey, prof,” he says cheerfully, and Peter bites down on the absurd desire to correct him, to tell him to call him Peter. That isn’t even remotely appropriate.

“Mr. Stilinski,” he says, instead, a frown gathering. “You--you aren’t in any of my classes.”

Stiles flushes, and Peter realizes abruptly that he looks wind tossed, harried and lovely. “Yeah, no--I just. I’m going home, for the weekend. I didn’t want you wondering where I was.”

A slight flush is in the boy’s cheeks, and Peter swallows at the sight of it.

“Oh,” he says, voice almost choked. “Well. That’s--very considerate.”

Stiles nods, shifts and grins. “I’m a considerate sort.”

Peter snorts. “I have watched movies with you, Mr. Stilinski. I’m under no such misconceptions.”

The boy gasps, all mock outrage and twinkling eyes. “Rude.”

Peter arches an eyebrow and Stiles’ smile goes soft and fond. “I gotta go. Um. Bye?”

He’s almost out the door, and Peter knows he should let him go but--

“Mr. Stilinski, perhaps you’d like to watch Amour with me Monday?”

Stiles goes very still, and Peter tries not to let his panic show.

Why, why why would he--

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I’ll. Um. I’ll bring the popcorn.”

~*~

Having Stiles in his apartment is...a revelation.

Derek laughs himself silly, and makes himself scarce and Peter would be more annoyed if he were able to focus on anything other than the fact that Stiles would be here.

He thinks of all the ways it could go wrong, all the things he could say, or Stiles could see if he looked close enough.

Although, inviting the boy into his home is probably not the subtlest way for him to hide his ridiculous infatuation.

Still. Stiles crashes into his apartment with a tub of popcorn and a big grin, and settles next to Peter with his coke and Reese’s Pieces and watches, eyes wide and bright.

It’s...relaxing.

And the way Stiles sprawls at the counter, elbows braced and hands moving in an enticing argument, coffee steaming in front of him while Peter cooked them eggs and bacon, and they debated the cinematic elements and subject matter--that is better by far than any dark movie theatre where they inevitably go their separate ways.

~*~

They meet now, almost without discussion, on Fridays in the dark theatre, and Mondays in Peter’s apartment, and if he shows up for his lectures Tuesday bleary eyed and sleep deprived, he arrives happy.

~*~

The girl startles him.

She’s lovely, a small thing with bright red hair tucked under Stiles arm, her expression fond and indulgent as Stiles chatters a mile a minute, and she looks at him, appraising and cool, as Peter’s steps falter.

Stiles looks up and he grins. “Prof!”

“Mr. Stilinski,” he says, and Stiles’ expression does something he doesn’t want to think about.

“Get your ticket,” he says, happily, and the girl tugs on his sleeve, drawing his gaze. “Oh--right. This is--”

Peter glances at his phone, still clutched in his hand and waves it like a lifeline. “I can’t--my nephew had an emergency. I--I have to go.”

He turns and almost bolts into the night, ignoring Stiles’ shout and the searing gaze of the beautiful girl on his arm.

~*~

He avoids Stiles on Monday, hides at Derek’s house and refuses to admit that’s what he’s doing. On Friday, he goes to the Jungle, and gets mind-numbingly drunk, and then stumbles home and tries not to think about his boy alone in a theatre.

Worse, in their theatre, with that lovely redhead.

He spends Saturday watching trashy movies Stiles would adore, and drags himself to his sister’s on Sunday, where Laura is merciless in her teasing and Cora leans quietly into his side.

It doesn’t make him feel better, not really, but he doesn’t feel worse, either.

Until he exits the elevator and sees Stiles, knees drawn up and head tipped back against the door to his apartment.

They stare for a long moment, and then Peter says, “Mr. Stilinski.”

“You weren’t there, Friday.”

He doesn’t flinch.

Even though Stiles sounds hurt, like Peter did something wrong.

“I had plans.”

Stiles flinches, and Peter sighs. Looks away, because if he doesn’t he’s going to blurt out the truth and he can’t do that. He can’t--this boy, this beautiful infuriating, captivating boy has too much of him, already.

He can’t give him this.

“I thought--”

“What?” Peter says, sharply. “We attend similar movies. We’re not--it’s not--” He huffs, and shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

Stiles makes a wounded noise, and Peter’s head snaps up.

“So,” he says, unsteadily, “you do that with all the nice young psych majors, prof?”

“Don’t,” Peter says, and Stiles laughs.

“You let-- you invited me here. You invited me here and made me dinner, you let me in and made me care about you, made me think you cared. And now you’re acting like I did something wrong but you won’t tell me.”

He freezes, caught up on the words, and Stiles looks so lovely, pale porcelain in the dark of his apartment.

“Just--tell me what I did, I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me,” Stiles almost begs and Peter makes a choked noise.

Stiles brushes a finger over his hand, and when did that happen--when did Stiles take his hand?--and murmurs, “Please, Peter.”

It’s the first time Stiles has called him that.

It’s the first time and it makes him gasp, sway into the boy, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Who was she?”

Stiles goes still, and then he sighs, a sigh that has tension running out of him like water. “My sister. Step-sister. Our parents got married when I was in high school. She wanted to see who I was so hung up on.”

Peter makes a noise, broken and hopeful and Stiles sighs, leaning in.

~*~

His boy kisses him like he’s precious, like he’s something delicate and rare and special , large hands framing his face, licking into his mouth and drinking down Peter’s noises of startled pleasure.

He holds him there, against the wall of the apartment, Peter’s hand wrapped around Stiles’ wrist, the other tugging him closer, and the door hangs open behind him, and Peter, through the haze of pleasure and Stiles’ murmuring, “You beautiful idiot , don’t you know I’m stupid over you?” thinks, this is the kind of love movies are written about.

~*~

They still watch movies. Friday nights are the quiet dark theatre, and their hands threaded together. Mondays Peter picks, and Stiles sprawls across him on the couch, and his eyes are bright and beautiful in the gleam of the TV.

On Saturdays though--Saturday, Stiles chooses, an endless stream of scifi and B-rated ridiculousness that he badgers Peter into watching with greasy pizza and shitty takeout, and if they spend more of it making out and grinding against each other on the couch, Peter thinks it’s a damn good way to watch a movie.

#steter #fluffy steter #steter week 2018 #arei writes fic

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lacrossepapi · 7 years ago

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Curled Up

Thank you so much to the mods for making this banner and running this awesome event! I’m so excited to see everyone else’s works! @steterweek

Day one: Alpha Peter or AND Creature Stiles

Ao3 Link

“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she loudly barged into the once quiet house.

“Ah my favorite niece has returned from prison.” Peter said with faux cheer making Laura elbow him hard in the gut.

“I don’t know why you expected for that to go over well.” Derek chuckled from the dining room table.

“I am your alpha and this is how you treat me? I never!” Peter crooned, a hand placed dramatically over his heart.

Saturday nights with nieces and nephew around him and a book in his hand was not the way he had envisioned spending his adult life, but Peter wouldn’t trade his boring life for anything. His parents had died when he was twenty-three leaving him an alpha, and his sister a grieving mess. Talia had handled her grief by hitting the road; her husband had left to go find her, yet neither had returned. Laura had been six at the time and the only one that still has memories of Talia and Joseph. Every year the kids got postcards and presents for their birthdays and Christmas, but each year the gifts only seemed to highlight the emotional and physical distance between them and their parents. Peter considered himself a great surrogate father, but those first few years had been incredibly hard. Laura had blamed him for Talia and Joseph’s absence; Derek asked every morning and every evening when his parents were coming home, and Cora had been just a baby at the time. Peter had only thought vaguely about having his own children when he suddenly had three to take care of all on his own.

Looking back now, past all the struggles and hardships, Peter was almost glad Talia and Joseph had left him with the precious gift of their children. These kids had changed him into a much kinder man, one that lived a quiet happy life, and Peter was forever in their debt for the joy they gave him.

“Oh cool a snake!” came Cora’s excited voice from the patio, alerting Peter that he had approximately two seconds before Derek and Laura were going to freak out.

Peter clapped his hands to his ears and shot off the couch in time to miss Derek’s full bodied tackle and Laura’s ear splitting scream as she too launched herself in the direction of where Peter had been sitting.

“Now children! Calm down!” Peter shouted over the yelps of the eldest Hale children as he sent soothing thoughts down their pack bonds.

“Oh shit. Uncle come here! I think it’s hurt!” Cora’s voice was frantic, yet wet like she was already about to cry.

His sweet, kind hearted bad ass niece couldn’t stand when animals were hurt and it made his heart warm and break everytime she cried over an innocent creature. He left the quietly panicking young adults and made his way out to his brave Cora-baby and the wounded snake.

He froze as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that the snake was curled in Cora’s lap and blood was covering her legs where the poor thing was laying.

“I’ll call Deaton. Can you tell what type of snake it is?” Peter said calmly.

“Uncle, I think he’s a shifter.” Cora breathed.

“What do you mean he’s a shifter?” Peter asked as her stepped closer to sniff the air around his niece and the snake.

“He isn’t acting like a normal snake. He let me pick him up and look at his wounds, he came out of the woods and headed directly for me. He hasn’t hissed at me once. And the way he’s looking at you makes me think he knows you’re an alpha.” Cora’s words were calm and her body didn’t move at all just in case she was wrong and really did have a wounded animal in her lap.

Peter yelled for Laura to call Deaton before crouching down to look the snake in the eye, “Can you flash your eyes at me, sweet thing?”

Peter had never met a weresnake before and so he expected either beta orange or the more yellow-orange of the only other shifter he’d met who was a coyote, instead he was greeted with a gold like burnt honey. He gasped in the face of that bright beauty before he collected himself and slowly reached a hand out to touch the snake’s small body. The wounded creature did not move away or try to strike out, but instead slowly, painfully, lifted its head to meet his hand. Such a beautiful, strong little thing. Peter felt himself drawn to the strength and intelligence he saw in the snake’s gaze.

“It’s called hypermelanism.” Cora’s voice jarred Peter from the almost trance like state he’d been.

He made a questioning sound as he finally gently placed his hand on the beautiful scales and started drawing out the poor thing’s pain.

“His scales. I have been searching the internet while you two were communicating or whatever, and I’m pretty sure he’s a chocolate morph California Kingsnake with hypermelanism. The chocolate scales with only a splash of copper on his belly that gives him that metallic look is very distinct so it didn’t take long to figure it out.” Cora explained.

Peter hummed an agreeing sound, too caught up in the tidal waves of pain he was draining to speak.

“I did not scream.” Laura demanded with a childish stomp, “Besides, he’s a person! I’m not scared of a shifter.”

“So you admit you were scared of a snake?” Derek asked with a smirk.

“I remember you jumping around with your underwear in a twist with her nephew dear.” Peter reminded him from the kitchen.

Derek flushed a bright red, mumbling “Well at least I'm not a snake nerd that figured out the breed and morph before the vet even arrived.” before crossing his arms and making his exit.

“Such a spoilsport.” Cora laughed.

Peter hummed in agreement before asking, “Do you still have all the snake stuff from the last time you found one?”

Cora nodded before she ran up to the storage room, that had once been the master bedroom.

“Can you manage to go buy this guy some mice? Deaton said he has to be with an alpha to help the healing, but he’s going to need some food soon. I can’t take him with me to go hunt.” Laura gave him a disgusted face, “Fine. I’ll get your baby sister to do it so she can mock you for being a scaredy wolf again. Your call darling.” Peter knew Laura would fold under the threat of more ridicule, and she did.

“I feel weird about putting him in the tank, he is a person too.” Cora said as she entered the kitchen again.

Peter looked at the sleeping creature in his lap and sighed, “I know baby, but he’s injured and the last thing he needs is to get trampled by one of us because he can’t move fast enough to get out of the way. He blends in with our floors, so we’d never see him and you know that. We don’t have to put the lid on it though since he isn’t a normal snake. We’ll set him up on my desk by my bed so he stays close to an alpha through the night, but other than that we have to treat him like a regular snake until he’s healed or shifts back.”

He reached out a hand and gently rubbed a circle on Cora’s back before continuing, “He’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to him Cora-baby.”

A weird fluttering motion on Peter’s cheek had him cracking open a tired eye to look into the snake’s smiling face. Peter hadn’t even known snake’s could smile, maybe they can’t but it sure did look like a smile.

“Good morning little one.” Peter’s voice was a low grumble and the snake squeezed his arm in greeting.

He had no idea how he hadn’t woken up when the little devil snuck out of his tank and wrapped himself around Peter’s arm.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked knowing the snake couldn’t verbally reply, but hoped it could make some kind of body motion to tell him if the poor thing was still in pain.

The snake squeezed once again, which Peter took to mean he was feeling better. Good.

Peter tapped one thick finger on the snake’s head and said, “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself by sneaking out of the tank you little devil.”

The snake pulled it’s head back and tilted it as if asking “How could you accuse me of that?”

Peter snorted and rolled his eyes, “Come on, I bet you’re hungry.”

“Jesus fucking christ!” Laura shouted, dropping the rag she had been drying her hands on.

“Nope. Just Uncle Peter, but thanks for the warm welcome, Laura-darling.”

“Oh shove it Peter.” Laura grumbled under her breath, earning herself a light punch to the arm as Peter passed her.

Peter grabbed one of the mice from the cage Laura had brought in and placed it in the sink before gently guiding the snake onto the counter.

“Jesus. Fuck. I didn’t need to see that this early.” Derek groaned from the entrance to the kitchen, his hair still standing up ridiculously.

“Contrary to popular belief I’m just your Uncle Peter. Good morning to you too, nephew dear” Peter smiled at his sleepy nephew and offered the boy the mug of coffee he’d poured for Derek.

At the sound of thundering steps coming down the stairs Peter lifted the lunch box, that he packed Cora’s breakfast and lunch into, and the purple thermos full of coffee into the air, only to be snatched out of his hands immediately.

“Thanks! Gotta go! Love you!” Cora called over her shoulder as she raced out of the house, followed by a chorus of “love you too”s.

“Thank god we aren’t in highschool anymore.” Derek sighed, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sleepily ate his pancakes.

“Do either of you work today or are you just going to laze around the house?” Peter asked, one eyebrow raised in judgement.

“We get it Uncle Peter.” Derek sighed.

“Yeah, we know.” Laura frowned, faux irritated.

Brother and sister joined forces to say, “When I was your age I was raising three kids on my own and trying to write a novel!” dramatically and in sync.

Peter just waved away their playful mocking, “If you can repeat that back to me then the meaning should be clear by now. I just want you two to find your passion and run with it. We have the rare privilege of being able to chase our dreams. Don't waste it my loves.”

Almost identical faces nodded solemnly at his words, their minds wandering to questions of the future.

“Well we know what Cora will be doing at least.” Laura said with a fond smile.

“Ah yes. Speaking of our little veterinarian in the making I need to go check on our new friend.” Peter remembered the snake he’d left on the counter to eat his breakfast.

“That's my cue to leave.” Laura said hurriedly as she pushed her chair back and rushed to the door.

“Have a good day Laura-darling. Love you.” Peter called from the sink, Derek yelling something similar.

They heard the faint “love you too" Laura yelled from the driveway before getting in her car.

Peter had been slightly worried that the snake would be too injured to handle live prey, and was relieved to see him curled happily in the corner of the sink, swollen where the mouse was digesting.

“Uncle! I’m home!” Cora sang as she barged into the once peaceful house.

“How was jail?” Peter asked from his place on the couch.

“Hi home, I’m Derek.” Derek called out from the kitchen before giving a loud snort of laughter at his own joke.

“Fucking nerd.” Cora mumbled as she set her bags down by the door.

“It seems our little devil missed you.” Peter said with a smile as the chocolate snake that was curled around his forearm began slithering up his arm and across his shoulders to flick its tongue out in greeting.

“Hey there little guy. How ya feelin’?” Cora murmured to the pleased snake.

The snake slid up onto Cora’s outstretched hand and curled himself around her arm.

“He’s physically healed by now, so when do you think he’ll be okay to shift back?” Laura asked more likely out of a desire to not see a snake every day than concern for the creature’s well being.

“He can shift back whenever he wants. He should’ve finished healing earlier today.” Peter informed with a shrug.

Cora laughed as the little devil let out a quiet hiss in Laura’s direction before moving across her shoulders to watch Laura haughtily.

Peter woke up wrapped too tightly in the blankets and burning up. He cracked his eyes open and was met with messy brown hair and pale skin instead of his navy comforter. His brain was instantly running at normal speed, shaking off sleep quickly. The snake had finally shifted back, but was it on purpose or did he shift back in his sleep? If Peter spooked him he could easily shift back and remain a snake until he was comfortable again.

Peter decided to slowly wake him up and try to keep him as comfortable as possible. The boy was completely wrapped around Peter; one leg hiked high on Peter’s hips, the other was hooked around Peter at their ankles. He had one arm across Peter’s chest, his hand gripping Peter’s collar bone, and one arm curled around Peter’s arm that was between their bodies. The boy’s head was resting on Peter’s chest and tilted away from view, so Peter still had no idea what he looked like or how old he was.

Peter slowly reached with his free hand and started rubbing slow circles up and down the boy’s arm before he mumbled lowly, “Little devil. Wake up my little demon. It’s time to get up honey.”

The most gorgeous boy Peter had ever seen blinked sleepily at him and let out a questioning hiss, giving Peter a wonderful view of the boy’s pouty mouth and sensuous tongue behind pretty teeth.

“You shifted back Little devil. Can you talk yet?” Peter murmured lowly, still rubbing slow circles on the boy’s arm.

The boy blinked again and looked down at his pale arm that still rested on Peter’s bare chest. He slowly looked back up into Peter’s eyes, amber meeting oceanic blue, before letting out a yelp and shooting off the bed.

“Oh god I’m so sorry!” The boy started panicking, his heart beat loud in the once quiet room.

Before Peter could try to calm the boy down his bedroom door burst open and a frantic, half awake Cora was in his doorway shouting, “Is everything okay? Why are both of you freaking out?” a pause as her eyes caught up with her mouth, “You shifted back! Hello! Did Uncle freak you out?”

The boy didn’t even have time to blame Peter before Cora was hitting him on the shoulder with more force than necessary.

“I haven’t done anything. Our guest here has only just realized he shifted back in his sleep.” Peter explained calmly, standing up to put on clothes.

“How did you hear our hearts?” the boy inquired, his panic giving way to curiosity.

“Our Cora-baby here has the best hearing, but she apparently didn't have the frame of mind to recognize that two human hearts were racing.” Peter answered, raising one eyebrow at Cora for not realizing the snake had shifted and that was why he was panicking.

Cora gave a weak, awkward laugh before mumbling, “Well I’ll leave you two alone to talk alpha to snake or whatever.”

Peter smiled at the closing door before tossing the boy a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

“You can put those on if you want.” Peter sat on the bed before continuing, “What’s your name sugar?”

“Stiles.” The boy answered quietly as he pulled the shorts on.

“Hello Stiles. My name is Peter and I am the Hale Alpha. Do you have a pack or family I should contact?” Peter asked, getting the formalities out of the way.

“No.” This reply was quieter.

“Okay, love. How old are you?” Peter asked finally turning to look at the now dressed boy.

“I’m twenty.” Stiles replied, this one at least was a normal response.

“So you’re in between Derek and Cora’s ages. That’s good. Why were you hurt?”

“A werejaguar hunted my family, and I was the only one able to escape.” The words a whisper in the quiet room.

“Why would it do that?”

“My father is a sheriff and had connected her to several homicides. She killed him first. My mother and I were on the run for two years before she found us two towns over. I’m harder to track and fight when I’m shifted so I ran after she-” Stiles broke off as tears began falling down his face harder than before.

Peter approached the boy slowly and pulled him into a tight hug, one hand softly rubbing circles in the boy’s back. He didn’t know who this boy was, who his parents had been, but he was going to end his suffering so that the boy could have peace and justice for his parents.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Peter mumbled into the boy’s hair, gently rocking them side to side.

Stiles slumped further into his arms and sighed “Werewolves are so warm.”

Peter smiled and continued to comfort the boy until he realized the boy in his arms was asleep.

“Well that’s one way to calm down.” Peter chuckled to himself before swaying them over to the bed and laying Stiles down.

“As long as he doesn’t get his weird snake body on me I am happy.”

“Oh shut up. He probably doesn’t even want to touch you to begin with.”

“Children. Please.”

“I’ll be happy to have him Uncle Peter.”

“Thank you nephew dear. Girls?”

“You know I’m in Uncle!”

“Yes Peter.”

“Good. Now if you’re finished listening in, Stiles, please join us.”

Shit. He’d been caught. Of course he’d been caught they were werewolves, and he knew that at least one of them could hear his heartbeat across the house in Peter’s bedroom. Stiles hung his head guiltily as he entered the living room where the four werewolves had been discussing something about him. He hoped they were discussing keeping him, not eating him or something.

“Hi.” was all Stiles could say as he sat down next to Peter in the only available seat.

“Hello Stiles.” Cora chirped with a cheery wave.

He smiled at her before turning to look into Peter’s very handsome face. He tried to push down the memory of Peter’s stirring dick against his thigh when he’d awoken and realized he was naked and sprawled atop Peter’s only slightly more clothed body. When he was shifted he knew he prefered Peter’s heat and arms to Cora’s, but both human and snake had always been a fan of thick meaty arms. It’d been so long since Stiles had been able to actually think about love and sex and ending up in Peter’s lap, literally and metaphorically, had been a blessing because the man checked every single one of Stiles’ boxes.

“I didn’t hear much.” Stiles mumbled, unable to look into Peter’s intense eyes.

“That doesn’t bother me sugar. Listen to anything you want. We hear everything anyways.” Peter used two fingers to lift Stiles’ face to look at him properly before continuing, “I have something to ask you sweet boy.”

Stiles immediately flushed as ideas of things he wished Peter would ask him flashed through his mind.

“Shoot.” was all he could force out without risking saying something embarrassing like “Yes I will go down on you.”

“Would you like to join our pack? We can protect you and I can help you get justice for your parents. I want to help you Stiles, and my pack has agreed that we want you.”

Stiles was speechless. All thoughts of sexy time with Peter were drowned out by the wave of grief he felt at the mention of his parents deaths, but then that too was replaced with bright, shiny hope as he realized just how much protection he could have if he was surrounded by four grown werewolves. Peter was giving him a boon and Stiles was floored by his generosity.

“You don’t have to reply right-”

Stiles cut Peter off by hurriedly saying, “Yes! Yes Alpha Hale please accept me into your pack.”

“With pleasure sweet boy.” Peter’s grin was so blinding in its beauty that Stiles almost didn’t hear the happy words the Hale betas were saying to him.

“Thank you Peter.” Stiles knew it was the fifth time he’d thanked his alpha, but he honestly wasn’t going to be stopping anytime soon so he didn’t feel bad about it.

“Anything for you my sweet boy.” Peter spoke lowly, his voice a rough whisper across Stiles cheek as his hands came up to cup Stiles’ face.

“You’re so good to me.” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes against the intensity of Peter’s gaze.

“You’re good to me too, love. Have been since that first night. I sleep better with you in my bed. I breathe better with you in the room. I am better with you in my life.” Peter’s confession left his lips and wrapped itself tightly around Stiles’ heart much like the many times he had wrapped himself around Peter.

“You’ve saved me.” Stiles breathed out his eyes still shut tight against his and Peter’s feelings.

“I will always make sure you’re safe. You’re mine, little devil” Peter only used the name he’d give Stiles all those months of pining and sexual tension ago when he was just a nameless injured snake that Peter had protected.

“Will you be mine, Alpha?” Stiles asked, finally opening his eyes to look at Peter’s blood smeared body, knowing it matches his own, and his heated gaze.

“Whatever you want my sweet little devil.” Peter whispered before closing the gap and kissing Stiles beside the cooling corpse of his parents’ murderer.

#steter #alpha peter hale #creature stiles #alive hale family #hale family feels #fluff #steter week 2018 #steter ff #snake!stiles #this is so soft #kyla writes

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twothumbsandnostakeincanon · 7 years ago

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Day One of Steter Week, Creature Stiles:

He did not expect for the fox to immediately stop snarling and lunge out from under the tree root, right into his arms. Even more surprising was a moment later, when he was holding an armful of naked preschooler.

“Where’s Mommy?” the kid wailed. “Where’s my mommy?”

“Oh shit,” Peter whispered.

#it's hereeeeee #fox!stiles #werefox stiles #steter week 2018 #steter week #steter #steter fic #this blog needs a tag for my bullshit #baby fox stiles poking his head out of his hidey hole ready to fuck up Peter's shit #steterweek

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morenotles · 6 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Murder Husbands, Corpse Disposal, Cryptids, a garnish of Scott negativity Series: Part 3 of Steter Week 2018 Summary:

Day Three of Steter Week, Murder Husbands:

“You got me a corpse disposal birthday present?”

#steter #Stiles Stilinski #Peter Hale #fanfic #steter week 2018

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whoishisaribi · 7 years ago

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Title: Murder Mate

Relationships: Steter

Additional tags: Murder Husbands, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Platonic Soulmates, Mild Gore, Blood, Blood and Gore, Asexual Stiles Stilinski, Asexual Character

Summary: Peter didn't expect to officially meet his soulmate for the first time when he was bloody and asked to help dispose of the corpse. Not that it made him unhappy.

That’s for Steter week 2018, July 24: Soulmates/Mates AU AND Murder Husbands AU, because I can. Happy Steter week everyone!

#Steter #steter week 2018 #stiles stilinski #Peter Hale

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steterweek · 7 years ago

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Where do I find the theme blurbs and examples? Thanks

Sorry! We actually never posted a list, but here’s something that Mads and I threw together.Alpha!Peter: werewolves, creature Peter, omegaverse, or etc. Whatever kind of Alpha you want him to be.Creature Stiles: were-anything, dragon, fae, angel, etc. As long as Stiles is some kind of creature or descended from one.Magical Stiles: spark training, telekinesis, elemental power—any type and level of magic as it applies to Stiles!Mating Bite: omegaverse, rituals, last resort, accidental—how do you see that affecting Stiles and Peter?Soulmates/Mates: Fandom is full of soulmate and mate tropes. Whether you want first words, names, marks, the person who smells best—it’s up to you!Murder Husbands: No need for actual marriage as long as they have a partnership that includes murder!Sugar Daddy/Baby AU: dire straits, getting off on providing or indulging, contacts, or accidental—there’s something about this trope that keeps us coming back for more. Touch Starvation: Apparently, our fandom loves to make Steter suffer! Maybe no one touches Peter anymore, or everyone seeks comfort from Stiles without thinking to reciprocate. Or even both! We’d love to see what you come up with.Neckz N Throats AU: photoshoots, the werewolf gaze, flirting and maybe jealousy—give us Steter interacting in a soft/hardcore magazine setting!Florist/Tattoo shop AU: flirting with flowers, first tattoos, or trading services—who works where and how do they fit?BAMF!Stiles: Competency. Competency. Competency. Show us a Stiles who always manages to save the day.Time travel: This one is pretty self-explanatory, but anything that involves time shenanigans is fair game. From the horror (or absurdity) of an endless time loop or the drama of someone going back to stop a terrible future, we want it all.Pining: Give us the misery of Stiles thinking that Peter would never want him. Or the lengths Peter would go to have Stiles in his life. If you throw in a happy ending, we’ll forgive any amount of angst ;)Werewolves are known: This theme could happen on any of the other days, and it’s totally okay if it does. Basically, any kind of AU or divergence as long as the world knows that werewolves exist.That’s all, folks! We look forward to seeing your work <3

#steter #steter week #steter week 2018 #themes #replies #Anonymous

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rosepersomnium · 7 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Peter Hale Additional Tags: Established Relationship, but Stiles didn't realize, thinking and talking about cheating, Swearing, asshole!stiles - Freeform, Stiles Has Low Self-Esteem, insecure!Stiles lashes out, emotionally hurt!Peter, another case of not talking enough, (or at least not honestly enough), Stiles is super smart - but not when it comes to relationships, Stiles Stilinski - master of self-deception, Peter is totally the sensible adult in this, what a change, Steter Week 2018, Alpha!Peter, always creepywolf!Peter in the end, Dialogue Heavy Series: Part 7 of Steter Week 2018 Summary:

Stiles and Peter are sleeping together. It doesn't mean anything, though. (Or does it?)

@steterweek

#steter week 2018 #steter #fanfic

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stilesxeveryone · 7 years ago

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Netflix and Chill - Steter Week

~Ta da, Steter Week day 1 with Creature Stiles! It’s been so long since I last posted any writing, jesus! Don’t forget I’m always open to requests for fics, moodboards or art!

You can find it on AO3 here and my account is here!~

Stiles ran. Trees flew past him as he leaped over roots, stones, branches, anything in his way. His paws hit the ground almost silently, light in his small form.

He needed to get away. Just for a day, an afternoon, an hour, any amount of time that he could.

The preserve was still considered too dangerous to enter alone, but he honestly didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him that any number of creatures could be lurking inside. He had been dealing with the fuckers since Scott got bit in sophomore year and hadn’t had a chance to run since then. Well, unless it was for his life.

He just needed to run.

So, he ran, and he ran, and he ran, until he was flying over the edge of a small cliff and tumbling down the other side.

He stopped at the bottom with a jolt, a cry and a resounding snap. He tried to stand up and quickly discovered where the snap originated from. His hind leg.

He let out a whine and his eyes flared orange. He tried to stand again, putting as little pressure on his back leg as possible. Once standing, he realised he wouldn’t actually be able to get back up the cliff.

For once in his life he wished he was a werewolf. Whatever was responsible for werecreatures—evolution, magic or some kind of god—had decided that foxes could skip out on the super healing because speed and extra-extra-heightened senses were more important. He certainly healed faster than an average human, but a broken bone would take at least a few days, rather than seconds.

He swivelled his head, looking left to right, then went over ‘eeny meeny’ in his head. He turned right and started limping his way forwards, hoping the cliff would flatten out enough for him to walk it soon.

Peter was on patrol of the woods alone. Some would say he was mad to go alone, others knew he had no one to go with. Derek was in a bad mood and Stiles wasn’t answering his phone. No one else could tolerate him for long enough to finish the patrol.

Deep into the preserve, his nose and eyebrows scrunched up as he caught the scent of blood and pain. He crept forward silently, following the scent, and stopped just before he could slip down the small cliff. Peering over the edge, his eyes were drawn to the red fox staring up at him. He sniffed at the air, quickly confirming that the pained smell was definitely coming from the fox. Its injury was obvious by the leg being held carefully off the ground and, although Peter was certainly not an expert, the odd angle it bent in.

He searched around for an easier way down to the fox’s level, but the cliff seemed to continue for as far as he could see.

“I’m going to come down to you, little one, don’t be frightened,” he called. Carefully, he slid down the cliff, thankful that it wasn’t a straight drop as him jumping down would surely scare the creature off.

Once at the bottom, he crouched down to the fox’s height. He held out a hand for the fox to sniff, the most unsure of what was proper etiquette he had ever been in his life.

The fox stared at him blankly for a moment, before leaning in to nuzzle at his hand.

“You’re very friendly,” he murmured, moving his hand to scratch its head affectionately. He was hoping that foxes were similar enough to cats and dogs. The fox leaned into the scratching, the scent of comfort seeping passed the pain.

Hesitantly, he drained the pain away and paused in his scratching as the fox watched the black veins flow up his skin.

“Alright, little one, while I don’t usually trust Deaton, I think animals are one thing I can handle going to him for help with,” Peter said and carefully picked up the fox.

He made sure to pay attention to any shift in scent, in case he accidentally hurt the creature. Its fear kicked up a little, but not an alarming amount, and it stayed calm in his arms.

He made his way back up the small cliff, one hand holding the fox steady and the other keeping himself steady on the ground. Once at the top, it was a straightforward and uneventful walk.

“Peter, this is certainly a surprise,” Deaton said as soon as he looked up from where he had been reading.

“I think its leg is broken.” Peter was quick to ignore anything unimportant Deaton was saying.

“Yes, follow me.” Deaton seemed unaffected, as always, as he led Peter to a backroom.

Once the fox was on the table Deaton began examining it.

“Where did you find him?”

The fox was male, useful information.

“He was in the preserve. Looked like he had taken a tumble down a small cliff,” he explained.

Deaton nodded and was silent for awhile as he looked over the fox. He muttered something under his breath and, although he could barely hear it, Peter was sure it was in another language. The fox’s eyes flared a bright orange in response to Deaton’s words.

“Just as I suspected,” Deaton said, most likely talking to himself.

“Do you know what he is?” Peter asked, staring at the fox curiously.

“I’m afraid I don’t, most spells for finding out such a thing are far too elaborate. It just means I can’t call any proper services to look after him—I’ll have to take care of him myself.”

The fox let out a screech in response, something akin to an antagonistic witch being burnt alive.

“Or maybe not.” Deaton frowned, options of what he could do floating about in his head.

“I can take care of him, if that’s a possibility,” Peter said without meaning to at all.

Deaton glanced between the two before speaking, “Well, if he lets you then I guess that would be okay.”

Peter held his hand out to the fox again and, gently, the fox bit at his fingertips.

“I think that’s a yes.”

Stiles soon had his leg fixed up to the best of Deaton’s abilities, and both him and Peter were happy to be leaving the vet/cryptic asshole and his mountain ash-filled building. Unfortunately, they would have to go back in a few days' time to check on his leg.

Stiles was trying to get comfy in Peter’s passenger seat, a difficult task with his leg, and he spent the whole ride shuffling into different positions. Before he knew it, Peter had parked and was carrying him out of the car.

As one of Peter’s neighbours left her house to do some gardening and gave them a strange look, they were both very thankful that Peter had moved out of his apartment and into a proper house. A lot less people to judge.

Once inside, Peter tossed his keys and wallet into the bowl, his phone onto the couch and a look over his shoulder at Stiles as he said, “I need to have a shower. You can explore but try not to break anything or yourself.” He disappeared with an affectionate grin that Stiles didn’t know Peter was capable of.

Stiles quickly scrambled over to Peter’s phone, using his nose to turn it on and type. He guessed the password on the second try, then searched the contacts for his dad. The contact name was a surprisingly boring ‘John Stilinski’, one of the only names that were so formal (though he was too stressed to get a proper look at the others).

Painstakingly slowly, he typed out the message: ‘this is stiles broken leg but okay shifted safe with peter he doesnt know cover for me’. He deleted any evidence of the message from the phone after it was sent.

It wasn’t exactly the first time that Stiles had gotten into a situation where he couldn’t shift back, but it always worried his dad to no end.

He left the phone and looked around the room. It was a living room filled with warm colours and a surprising number of cushions. The TV looked large and expensive, but Stiles expected nothing less from Peter.

The kitchen was connected to the living room, no walls between, and he could see the pristine counter tops and appliances. Again, very expensive looking and very expected.

He limped around the rooms, looking through the books on Peter’s shelf, before heading down the hallway.

None of the doors were open.

Rude.

He huffed and went back to the couch. Staring up at it from the ground wasn’t usually so daunting, but with a broken leg he had no idea how he could get up there. He huffed again, pouted as much as a fox could, and lied down on the floor in front of the couch.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there, but he was dozing off to sleep by the time Peter finished in the shower and dressed.

“Can’t reach the couch, little one?” Peter asked, crouching down.

Stiles raised his head and nodded in confirmation. Peter picked him up and sat down on the couch, laying the fox down on top of him. As Stiles shifted about to get comfortable yet again, Peter turned the TV on and switched to Netflix. The fox let out a bark as he went passed 'The Good Place' and he looked down at the now comfortable creature.

"You wanna watch this?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles barked and nodded again.

"I hope you have good taste in shows," Peter muttered as he clicked to start playing.

'The Good Place' was a brilliant show.

"This is Stiles, I'm either passed out or running for my life-"

Peter clicked out of the call before Stiles' voice could finish whatever it was he had pre-recorded. He let out a sigh and ran a hand over the fox's head, something he had been doing all day.

"What's that boy doing? He's as bad as Scott today," he muttered. He flicked through his contacts and settled on John Stilinski's number, debating for less than a second whether it was worth the hassle. He clicked call.

"Peter? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, as far as I'm aware, just that I've been trying to contact your son all day and he hasn't responded," Peter explained. He felt the fox underneath his hand tense, but he barely took notice, continuing to run his hand through the fur.

"Oh, he didn't tell you?" the Sheriff asked, his voice rising in his surprise.

"Tell me what?" He tried to keep any strong emotions out of his voice.

"Stiles is visiting his grandmother for a few days. It's very possible that he left his phone behind, I guess. It was all a bit of a rush, we didn't really know he was going until a few days ago."

He felt the fox nuzzle closer onto his stomach.

"Right, well, thank you for telling me. Have a good day, Sheriff."

"You too."

The call ended, and the tension finally left Peter's shoulders as he melted into the couch. He slid to the side, lying down on the couch and pulling the fox up onto his chest. The animal let out a strange squeak, surprised at the sudden movement, but went with it easily.

"That boy is going to be the death of me, I swear," Peter grumbled, "always getting himself into trouble."

Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide, and he let out a soft noise. Neither of them were quite sure what the noise was supposed to mean, so Peter continued talking,

"I mean, it's not always his fault. Honestly, a lot of the time it's the rest of the pack's fault for not picking up when he calls. Because, yeah, Stiles runs off a lot after he works something out, but he usually tries to call Scott or Derek or someone to back him up, but if no one picks up then he's left to do it himself." He huffed and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, the one not still petting the fox. "That was really loaded for a fox who may or may not understand me."

Stiles had no idea how to react to everything that Peter had dumped on him, so he ran with his instincts. He sat up a little, leaned forward and nuzzled at Peter's cheek. The man smiled, leaning into the touch without question. Stiles dropped down a little, pressing flat against Peter with his nose tucked under the man's jaw, and began purring.

"Comfortable?" Peter teased, a fond smile on his face. Stiles didn't bother responding as he started to fall asleep. Peter closed his eyes and rested his head back down on a pillow before joining the fox in purring.

Despite the fact that Peter's bedroom was only a room away, they slept together on the couch.

Peter woke up to the fox standing on his chest and pawing at him. He blinked up at the creature blearily before mumbling, "What do you want?" The pawing wasn't urgent enough for him to be too concerned.

The fox moved downwards, poked his stomach with his nose, then leapt off him to stand in the kitchen.

"Hungry, huh?"

The fox nodded and barked softly. Peter stood up slowly, stretching, and joined the fox in his kitchen.

"Do you have a name? Because so far, I've just been referring to you as 'the fox' in my head," Peter said as he opened the fridge.

Stiles shook his head, you know, like a liar.

"What do you eat?"

He had to think for a moment before he walked up to the fridge and peered inside. After a few moments of looking and smelling, he placed his paws on the bottom of the fridge and pushed up to nose at the small variety of fruit inside.

"Fruit salad for breakfast?" Peter grabbed the fruit, as well as two bowls and a cutting board, despite his question. Once he had washed and cut the fruit, he placed one bowl on the floor for the fox and kept the other, standing as he ate with a fork.

"Is there any way for you to convey what you would prefer I call you?"

Stiles thought for a moment before shaking his head.

"Fox it is, then."

Peter looked like he was about to speak again but 'Toxic' by Britney Spears started blasting from his phone.

"Of course, he would," Peter muttered before moving to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Petey, it's Erica! I need you to cover my shift for patrol of the preserve today," Erica chirped down the line.

"And what's so important that has you ditching your duties?" He waved the fork around as he spoke.

"Boyd, obviously."

Erica could hear the eyeroll.

"And what do I get out of this? I do have important things I could be doing." Such as watching more of 'The Good Place' and cuddling up with a fox.

"I have pictures of Derek in a bunny costume—one that Stiles had managed to get him into during a previous Halloween costume search—that I'm sure will be useful for both entertainment and blackmail."

Peter paused at that. It certainly sounded like a very good deal, but he had to ask, "You're wasting your blackmail on a single shift of patrol?"

"No, I'm wasting two pictures of Derek on getting out of patrol for reservations at an expensive restaurant and amazing sex with my boyfriend. I have several photos from that same day where I managed to convince Stiles into a slutty red riding hood outfit. Those, I'm saving for when I need something important from you."

"That's the little devil I know and love. Okay, I'll cover your shift, if not for the photos then to reward you for your brilliance."

"Wonderful, thanks Peter! I'll send you the photos once your shift is over. Have a great time!" With that, Erica hung up.

Peter put his phone down and picked his food back, smirk planted firmly on his face. Even if he would never be able to see those photos of Stiles, the idea of it would fuel a few fun nights with himself.

He heard a snuffle come from near his feet. He glanced down to find the fox had finished his food and was now waiting patiently, his tail sweeping across the floor quickly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You wanna patrol with me, little one?"

The fox nodded and barked, which seemed to be his favourite way of saying yes. Peter nodded in reply and picked his bowl up from the floor, placing both bowls in the sink for later.

"Alright, just let me get ready and we'll go."

Patrolling with the fox was enjoyable, more so than when he was by himself or with Derek. Every so often the creature would bark and run off, only to come back with a strange smelling flower.

"Do you know what all of these flowers are?" Peter asked, eight different flowers in hand.

The fox barked and nodded.

"Can you try to communicate what type of supernatural creature you are?" he asked a moment later.

The fox didn't reply.

"How long do you think it'll take for your leg to heal up?"

The fox paused at that. His head tilted from left to right as he thought, though Peter wasn't sure if he was thinking about the question or just how to communicate his answer. Finally, he drew a wonky '4' in the dirt.

They started walking again and, after several minutes of wondering whether he should ask the question, Peter spoke up, "Will I see you again once you do heal?"

No response.

The rest of their second day together was spent hunting rabbits, making dinner, and finishing the second season of 'The Good Place'. They both slept on Peter's bed that night.

Their third day together was pretty much the same, minus patrol as no one had decided to bribe Peter again. They had breakfast together, more fruit as well as a couple omelettes for Peter. Then they were on the couch, Stiles barking as Peter went passed 'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency'.

It was peaceful. Peter lying on the couch with the fox in his favourite place: on top of Peter's chest.

Their eyes met. Only for a brief moment. Just while they were waiting for the episode to change over to the next one.

But it was long enough that Peter could notice what he hadn't cared to look at.

Bright, amber eyes.

The same eyes as,

"Stiles," he breathed out.

The fox froze.

"Fucking hell, really?" He suddenly sat up, Stiles yelping and falling into his lap as a result. "Stiles," he stated confidently, moving the fox's face with cupped hands to stare into his eyes.

Stiles' eyes were wide, concern and just a hint of fear drifting off of him.

Peter frowned. "Why don't you smell like a shifter?"

Stiles shrugged, or at least he moved in a way that resembled a shrug.

"Why did your dad say you were at your grandmothers?"

With a guilty smell rolling off of him, Stiles nosed at the phone resting on the coffee table.

"Right, well, I guess we can talk more about this when you've shifted back. For now, shall we get back to Dirk Gently?"

Somehow, the fox looked like he couldn't be happier to do so.

Hesitantly on Stiles' part, they slept on Peter's bed together again.

"It seems like his leg has healed completely by now. Considering I don't know what type of creature he is, the best course of action would probably be to leave him at the edge of the preserve."

"Sounds good."

Peter, of course, didn't take Stiles to the preserve, but instead to his house. Thankfully, the Sheriff was at work.

Stiles nudged Peter into the living room before dashing upstairs. A few minutes later a very human looking Stiles walked back down the stairs, dressed in sweatpants and a soft looking shirt.

"So," Stiles started, sitting down stiffly, "I guess you can ask your questions."

"Why were you in the preserve?" Peter started out simple.

"I just kinda needed to get away for a bit, you know? I mean, before the whole shitstorm of supernatural things happened I used to run in the woods regularly, so." Stiles shrugged.

Peter nodded in understanding, he felt similar urges all the time. "Is your dad the only one who knows you're a fox shifter?"

"Yeah, I'd thought about telling Scott when I was younger but… but mum was always very adamant about keeping it a secret. I guess nowadays it's just easier to keep up the lie than tell him about it."

Peter turned to face him better as he said, "I've never actually heard of a fox shifter before. How exactly does it differ to werewolves, other than the obvious?"

"Um, well, you might've noticed that we take longer to heal," he let out a weak laugh. "We have better senses, if you can believe, and we're generally faster too. We don't have a beta shift, just a full shift. We, uh, don't really have packs, either. Like alphas, betas and omegas aren't really a thing."

"Huh," Peter muttered, sifting through the information and comparing it with what he already knew. He paused for a moment, debating whether he should ask the next question before settling confidently on a yes.

"Can we keep watching shows and cuddling together?"

Before he could blink, Stiles was tackling him back onto the couch. His chin rested on top of the man's chest as he spoke, "There's this one show, 'Santa Clarita Diet', and it's about a family dealing with their mum turning into a zombie so, you know, you should relate."

#steter #steter week #steter week 2018 #teen wolf #my fic #fic #stiles stilinski #peter hale #sheriff stilinski #john stilinski #erica reyes #creature stiles #fox stiles #steterweek

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gemjam · 7 years ago

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Sugar Daddy, Flogging, Lingerie, Dom/sub, Steter Week 2018 Summary:

Peter buys Stiles a gift that mixes his two greatest loves - Star Wars and kink.

For Day 8 of Steter Week - free day

Inspired by the gorgeous moodboard made by @hd-hale which can be found here Thank you so much for letting me run with this and for all your support, it was a lot of fun!

#steter #steter week #steter week 2018

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areiton · 7 years ago

Text

tell me how you really feel

READ ON A03

Steter Week Day 5: Florist/Tattoo Shop AU

tell me how you really feel

He spends maybe a week, watching.

Boyd takes the deliveries once a day--roses and lilies, and peonies, and once, tulips. And every day, he comes back with a new order.

It’d be romantic, if Peter wasn’t so painfully aware of what the flowers meant.

The first day Boyd delivered a dozen red roses and he came back with an order of buttercups for the sender.

The lilies were answered with yellow carnations.

The peonies were answered with cyclamen, something that made Peter raise his eyebrows.

“Interesting,” he hums, and Boyd snorts.

Tulips were the fourth day and Peter waits, almost impatiently, for Boyd’s return, and he comes back with a slip of pink paper and a smirk. “Petunias,” he says and Peter laughs, delighted.

He selects them personally, arranges the bouquet with delicate care while Erica watches and sends Boyd back out.

The white roses are classic and so virginal it makes Peter snort--but the response. The response is columbine and meadowsweet, and Peter laughs himself sick.

“Do you think they’re going to get tired of this?” Erica asks, watching as Peter carefully selects the flowers.

“Probably,” he says, trimming the meadowsweet. “But until then, you have to admit it’s fun.”

“He’s sending an epic letter of hate and disdain,” Erica says, slowly, a smile on her lips and Peter smirks.

“And isn’t it eloquent,” Peter murmurs.

Erica cackles and kisses his cheek. “Boss, you’re amazing.”

He hums agreeably and finishes the bouquet.

~*~

Boyd is frowning when he enters, and Peter straightens. “What’s wrong?”

“He ordered aconite,” Boyd says softly, and the joke comes to a crashing halt.

~*~

Peter slips into Stilish Inks. There’s a familiar bouquet on the counter, and a pretty dark haired girl standing at the counter. Tattoos snake up her arm, arrows and primrose, a mandala that catches his gaze and scrawling French. Delicate lacework trails down her fingers. “Welcome to Stilish. Do you have an appointment?”

Peter smiles and shakes his head. Taps the vase. “I’m here to see the owner of these.”

Her goodwill falls away like a chalkboard wiped clean. “Are you sending them?”

“I’m the florist,” Peter says, and isn’t that interesting. “And I have a question concerning an order he made.”

She huffs and twists. “Stiles!”

Two heads pop up. One is dark and scruffy, with crooked jaw and narrow eyes, and a lip ring that flashes when he frowns.

The other--

Peter’s breath catches. He’s pale, with dark messy hair, a silver hoop in his eyebrow and lip, and sharp, cleer golden eyes. Tattoos curl down his long pale throat and vanish into his shirt, and Peter wants to trace them with his claws and tongue.

A wolf is snarling on the forearm braced on the wall, the colors spilling and bleeding into each other like watercolor.

He’s gorgeous.

“What’s up, Allycat?”

She nods at Peter. “Flower boy wants you.”

Stiles’ gaze narrows, but he nods, and ambles forward. “You aren’t my dickbag ex, so what can I do for you, flower man?”

Peter bristles at the casually dismissive name, and then remembers why he’s here. “I don’t sell aconite.”

Sharply intelligent eyes narrow. “Because you’re a werewolf. Right. Well, I’m running out of ways to tell the dickbag I’m not going back to his cheating ass.”

A smirk curled the edges of Stiles lips, and he wants to lick it. Wants to bite at the long line of his throat. It belongs in a goddamn Neckz magazine, Peter thinks.

Clears his throat.

“A bouquet of butterfly weed, burdock, and bellwort. With candytuft and furze. And perhaps,” Peter smiles, and slips a slim copy of The Language of Flowers across the counter. “A clue.”

Stiles grins. “Do you think it’d help?”

“If it doesn’t, you can beat him over the head with it,” Peter says, and Stiles laughs, a long bright noise that makes his heart jerk.

“If you want to send a clearer message, you could always date someone else,” Peter says, and Stiles’ eyes go lazy and warm.

“You offerin’, flower man?”

Peter nods, his mouth dry. “Yes.”

~*~

On their first date, Peter gives Stiles a sprig of crocus and hawthorn and Stiles went visibly soft, a fond warmth in his eyes that Peter didn’t think he’d ever get tired of.

Six months later, he left a cluster of ipomoea and honeysuckle on Stiles’ pillow.

A month later, he peels Stiles henley off and finds a spray of lavender and mallow tattooed around his wolf’s paws, and he tackles the boy to his bed and breathes against his mouth, “Marry me.”

Stiles smiles, bright and blinding.

The night before the wedding, Peter lays down for Stiles, and Stiles’ eyes shine as he tattoos heliotrope around the fox running down Peter’s ribs.

#steter week 2018 #steter fic #florist peter #tattooed stiles #arei writes fic

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lacrossepapi · 7 years ago

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Regrowth

Thanks again to our wonderful mods at @steterweek for putting all of this together!

Day two: Mating Bite or AND Magical Stiles

Ao3: Link

“What’s wrong little guy?” Stiles cooed at the wilting rose bush.

“It’s been on the edge of death for weeks. Please tell me you can save it!” Mrs. Jones pleaded behind him.

“I can help you, but it’s going to have to wait for the waning gibbous moon in two days.” Before Stiles could continue his explanation Mrs. Jones threw herself into his chest.

“Mrs.Jones, I’m happy to be of assistance, but we need to figure out why someone has been wanting your roses dead so that I don’t have to cleanse them every month.” Stiles laughed pleasantly as he gently removed the elderly lady from his body and said, “Not that I wouldn’t like to see you that often.”

He sent her a wink for extra measure.

Mrs.Jones giggled, “Oh you little minx! You’re too sweet to this old lady.”, her smile dropped as she thought for a moment, “I bet it’s that darn Peggy Clifton down the street! My rose bush beat hers for Most Vibrant Bloom and she’s been down right hateful since!”

“I think you should go over and see if a nice homemade pie might soothe her ire. Compliment her hydrangeas or something. Make her regret being so rude to such a nice young lady,” another wink, “and maybe she’ll stop killing your roses.” Stiles knew he was flirting with this woman, but old ladies always had the prettiest flora and if he could get in her good graces long term he might be able to spend time in her lovely garden surrounded by her happy plants.

“Yes my sweet I think that’s exactly what I’ll do! Like my nana always said ‘Kill them with kindness and if that don’t work a good stabbing will!’ Hopefully I won’t need to get out ol’ Richard.” Mrs.Jones let out a pretty laugh when she saw Stiles’ face.

“Nana named that knife after her first husband, you know they never did figure out where he ran off to.” Mrs.Jones sent him a wink of her own before linking elbows with Stiles and bringing him inside.

Three days later, under the gibbous moon Stiles said a quick incantation to bless the small cloth bag he’d put: clove, wormwood, holly, motherwort, lavender, and vervain in for purification, healing, and protection. Unless Mrs.Clifton decided to get really nasty Mrs.Jones’ roses were going to be perfectly healthy.

Mrs.Jones had sent him off with a pan of brownies and a teary hug goodbye. He really did adore the sweet older ladies in Beacon Hills. They always had such happy plants, and were always willing to have a chat.

The light of the large gibbous moon lit his way through the preserve, a path he’d taken so often he could walk it backwards and with his eyes closed.

Tonight something was different Something was calling him.

Stiles pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand as he went deeper into the relative darkness of the forest. The tugging sensation was getting stronger the further he went, but this was his quickest way home and Stiles wasn’t going to show weakness by turning around. The air around him danced quickly across his chilled skin leaving the impression of little feet racing down his spine. He tried to block out the smell of wet decay as he moved quickly down the path. The tugging sensation was strongest as he approached the trail to the old root cellar his mom used to go to. His steps sounded hurried and panicked even to his own ears as he raced out of the forest and into the orange glow of the streetlights.

Stiles avoided the path through the preserve until the day of the dark moon. He’d told his father where he was going to be for the night in case anything happened and headed out into the forest before the sun had fully set. Stiles wasn’t a fan of being caught out in the dark again, but tonight would be a good night for divination and he wanted to find out if the thing calling him that night had malicious intent or did genuinely need his help.

He downed the last of his rosemary tea, which he’d brewed specifically for courage, and stepped onto the path to the old root cellar he’d only ever heard stories about. Stiles immediately started hearing cries in the wind. Something was out here hurting, maybe even dying; unless he was being baited into a trap. He pulled his favorite hoodie tighter around himself, the red color soothing in its familiarity, not to fight the chill but to fight his sense of dread as he searched through the ever dimming light of the setting sun. His mother had told him that sitting in the root cellar that resided underneath a great elder tree would help him focus his energy, but he still hadn’t seen any trees he would describe as “great” or one of the elder trees.

When he finally did find the doors to the root cellar they were not at the base of a great elder tree, but at the base of the largest stump Stiles had ever seen. The soft cries on the wind had grown louder with each step towards that massive stump, but with the rosemary running through him and his belief in himself strong Stiles persisted. The wind whipped through the trees as if a tornado was only seconds away or perhaps already upon him. The branches of trees groaned under the pressure, the animals silent save for the screams. The entire forest was telling him to run, and yet Stiles still felt the tugging of a life in pain seeking help. Stiles whispered a quick prayer to Medeina, the slavic she-wolf goddess of the forest and its creatures, in hopes that she’d see that he was only here to help a tree under her protection.

Stiles moved away from the doors to the cellar and closer to the stump. Stiles could feel the ley lines that intersect in the base of the tree, which explained why his mother would come here for divination and other magics that needed extra power. There were two large wounds on the tree’s interior. The first was connected to the northern line that headed out of Beacon Hills, and was a massive dark ink blot like stain. The second, smaller but still significantly sized injury to the great tree was a large burn mark that was connected to the eastern line and if Stiles remembered correctly it continued through the preserve, past the old Hale house, and exited the town through the main road.

“Note to self: Check out where the ley lines run through town” Stiles mumbled, knowing he’d remember because he spoke it out loud and his need to know everything often helped him remember things like this.

Stiles raised the velvet sack of herbs in his pocket up to his lips for good luck before stepping up to the closest wound and lifting his empty hand over the burned scar to divine its origin.

Wolves howling in pain

Cackling laughter

Muffled screams

Human blood spilled

Vengeance

Balance

He stepped back and shook the phantom pain from his hand. This injury was old and while not forgotten it was obviously healed over. The great tree had made peace with what had caused this wound, had found balance with the events that surrounded the burn. Stiles vaguely remembered the arson case his father had worked on six years ago. There’d been six deaths and three survivors. Stiles remembered something about an uncle getting custody of the two Hale kids he went to school with even though the uncle was young. Stiles remembers thinking about how lonely and distraught his classmate and her brother must have been, the death of his mother fresh in his ten year old mind. Stiles shook off the heavy emotions of both the tree’s and his own remembered pain as he took a moment to catch his breath.

Stiles clutched his spell bag as he slowly walked toward the massive ink stain in an effort to keep his nerves from over taking him. He sent a quiet prayer to Gulbis the guardian angel and protector of human spirits, hopefully if something did go wrong tonight he’d get to see his father one more time.

Stiles sensed the presence of a lurking were just as he took one more calming breath and finally put his hand over the wound.

War

Death

Chaos

Destruction

Human blood spilled

Supernatural blood spilled

Stiles broke the connection, stumbling back with from the strength of the pull he now felt from the tree. He drew in quick shuddering breaths as he tried to further himself from the stain. He scrambled across the leaf covered ground before emotions exploded from the tree.

HATE

JOY

CHAOS

GLEE

STRIFE

Stiles was hyperventilating. He couldn’t breathe with the speed of his thoughts and it was causing his chest to contract, his vision going blurry. His world was closing in on him and he knew he was on the edge of blacking out; his brain kept reminding him that whatever was sealed in the tree was going to get him if he passed out, but he couldn’t fight the increasing panic.

A wet nose shocked him out of his thoughts and brought him gasping back into the world. A wolf was gently prodding him in the side as if trying to get him further away from the demon trapped in the great elder tree. That’s what it is, what it has to be; a demon. How was Stiles gonna defeat a demon?

The wolf whined efficiently stopping him from panicking again. The wolf was right, Stiles needed to get the hell out of there. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed a hold of the wolf’s fur so that it could lead him down the now pitch dark path. Stiles took a soothing breath as he blindly followed the wolf in the darkness before closing his eyes to focus his energy. He gripped his divination spell bag once as he slowly opened his eyes to a dark world exploding with color. The dark moon was so good for soul searching and divination that Stiles could see the auras of every living creature around, including the wolf he was following.

The wolf’s aura was intriguing to watch. The shades of yellow mixing with shades of blue and gold; lemon swirling around navy, gold intertwining with cerulean, pale yellow twisting through burnt amber. Stiles watched as the colors danced and began drawing his conclusions about his mysterious savior. His wolf was intelligent, creative, driven, but the specific mix of shades is what caught Stiles’ attention. He looked at where his aura met the wolf’s and noticed how similar they were. Medeina had sent him a savior who suited Stiles’ own personality and soul.

Stiles sent her a prayer of thanks before releasing his view of the spirits around him. He was immediately surrounded by darkness again, his only grip on the world around him was the soft fur under his palm and the sound of his stumbling footsteps. Once the wolf had guided him out of the preserve Stiles collapsed onto the sidewalk in relief and closed his eyes while he focused on his breathing.

Stiles heard his companion huff a mocking breath.

“If you were in my place you’d be relieved too you ass.” Stiles said with his middle finger in the direction he thought the werewolf was.

After a few moments of silence he looked around only to find out he was now alone.

Stiles had gone to the cafe next to the herbal shop he frequented to to read over the new banishing books he’d just bought. Unfortunately for him the cafe was busy and he kept being distracted by the bells that twinkled every few seconds as a customer opened the door. Being constantly distracted in a warm room with good lighting and just the right amount of anxiety to keep him awake was definitely better than reading alone in his apartment where he’d either go on a random research binge or would accidently fall asleep.

He glanced up as the bells twinkled and made instant eye contact with a gorgeous older man with blazing blue eyes and a charming half smile. Stiles was practically panting despite the knee-jerk reaction of awkwardly looking back down at his coffee when he realized they were holding eye contact for an unusually long amount of time.

“Way to go you useless twink. How are you ever supposed to get someone to actually date your bi ass if you panic after making eye contact with a fine ass man you don’t even know?” Stiles whispered to himself kicking himself for his lack of confidence.

Stiles’ head shot up when he heard a soft rumbling laugh from the direction of the register. The man was laughing, but was still alone in the line. Stiles’ life was ruined. He was a deadman.

“You’re a were aren’t you?” He whispered testing out his theory, this time watching the man for his reaction.

The man nodded and flashed him a dazzling, yet cocky smile that just so happened to also have a bit of fang to it.

Stiles knew his face was bright red as he stared into that self-assured beauty and remember the embarrassing way he’d responded to the man he had yet to actually say a formal word to. He dropped his head to the table with a dull thud and sent a quick prayer to Pilvytė for luck and focused his energy. When he lifted his head he could see the auras of the people around him, but not as vibrant as a couple weeks ago when he’d seen the whole forest alight with the colors of every living creature’s aura. He needed to make sure the mystery man didn’t have nefarious intentions as he approached Stiles’ table, but was shocked to not only find him pure of intent but also find out he was the wolf that had saved him.

Wasn’t that interesting?

“May I join you?” The man asked, his eyes twinkling with the secret upperhand he thought he had.

Stiles blinked away the Sight as he nodded.

They sat in silence as both men read the books they had brought. Stiles would have felt uncomfortable if he had truly not known the man, but this werewolf had saved him. Stiles was, perhaps foolishly, more comfortable with the man’s presence and soon found himself yawning as the task of focusing on the book in front of him grew tedious and exhausting.

“I’m Stiles. What’s your name?” he had planned on being smoother, but the man was truly gorgeous and had already saved his life so it was hard not to be weird.

“Thank you for sharing your table with me and gracing me with such lovely reading company, Stiles. My name is Peter.” Oh he was smooth, and charming, and gorgeous, and stunning, and Stiles’ kryptonite apparently.

“It’s been a pleasure Peter.” Stiles closed his book and put it back in the bag it’d came in with a grace he did not realize he possessed in the presence of this handsome of a man, “Nice to see you on two feet this time.”

Stiles did a mental fist bump as he heard Peter’s surprised intake of breath as he passed him and continued on to the exit.

Stiles wanted to never return to that wounded great elder tree, but he knew he had to. He had to help that poor ancient tree; it shouldn’t have to contain that monster that so obviously was hurting it.

He cursed himself and his stupid bleeding heart the entire walk to the nemeton. The only thing that ended his long litany of admonishments was the appearance of Peter, who had brought along a cup of coffee for him too.

“You intrigue me.” Peter’s voice was, unfortunately for him, as smooth and charming as Stiles remembered.

Stiles just hummed in response, a small smirk finding its home on his lips.

They spent the evening like that, Peter making flattering and imploring comments and Stiles replying with smirks and noncommental noises. The longer he spent in Peter’s presence the more Stiles felt grounded, and it helped him probe the spell containing the demon. The mechanics of the spell were incredibly complicated and Stiles groaned audibly in annoyance when he realized just how long it was going to take him to figure out how to re-enforce the containment and make it so the demon couldn’t hurt the great elder tree anymore. Stiles wished he could kill it, but he had no idea if it even could be killed. All Stiles could do is bind it more and monitor the spell until he found a better solution or died, whichever came first.

Stiles sighed and started gathering his things back into his bag, “Alright handsome, that’s it for today.”

“What have you found out, darling witch?” He turned to see Peter smirking up at him from his place against a boulder.

“Well, first of all don’t call me a witch. It has a lot of negative history and pain for my people attached to it. We prefer Gifted. Secondly, I’ve figured out I can’t kill the demon the tree holds, but I might be able to seal it better so it doesn’t leak out and hurt the elder tree anymore.” Stiles explained as they made their way out of the clearing and back into the preserve.

“Well that’s a bummer.”

Stiles barked a laugh at Peter’s lame response, and found the burden of saving the nemeton a little lighter with Peter by his side.

They spent the cool autumn days that way, bantering to distract Stiles from the demon inside the tree and the crushing weight of responsibility and researching in the cafe they’d first met in. Peter was a charming whirlwind that Stiles had no defenses against, and he soon found himself madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with Peter. They spent so much time together Stiles found it impossible to resist the man or his feelings.

Luckily for Stiles, Peter was just as enamored as he was. You could almost say Stiles had bewitched the werewolf with his wit and humor.

They spent the winter wrapped in each other’s embrace. Together they sealed the demon inside the nemeton so tight it could never hurt the elder tree again.

Fireworks sparkled above them as they finished the final ritual and Stiles found himself happier than he had ever been in his adult life. Here he was on a beautiful night, under dazzling fireworks, and beside the love of his life sent to him from the gods when he needed him most, and Stiles felt like he could fly.

“Come here darling boy.” Peter voice was a honeyed rumble as he held a hand out to Stiles.

His own joy plus the relief of the nemeton and the magic of new years eve had Stiles twirling happily into his lover’s arms and leaning against his strong chest.

“I want you to bite me.” Stiles sighed out in a dream like state high on the glee inside him.

Peter gently swayed them both, humming a tune Stiles didn’t recognize.

“I want to give you the mating bite too my love. Tonight, under these stars, we dance. In the morning you’re mine forever.” Peter’s words floated on the breeze, gently wrapping themselves around the couple.

“In the morning you’re mine forever.” Stiles whispered the words back to him, clutching Peter closer.

#steter #peter hale #stiles stilinski #peter/stiles #magical stiles #mating bite #fluff #steter ff #teen wolf ff #steter week 2018 #the steter network #kyla writes #kyla creates

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