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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 · 6 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 · 6 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 · 6 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 · 6 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 · 6 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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bloody-bee-tea · 6 years ago

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Touch Therapy

This is my story for Steter Week Day 4, Touch Starvation. It got slightly out of hand and not in the direction I wanted to, but who even is surprised. It’s over 4k so either watch out for the read more or read it here on AO3.

Stiles marched into the hospital, phone pressed to his ear and rubbing his still stinging forehead. Derek was mean, and he really had no reason to treat Stiles like this. His ruse had gotten them the information they needed, and Derek should be grateful for that.

Stiles peered into the room Peter Hale was supposed to be in, only to find a very empty wheelchair.

“Yeah, well, he’s not here either,” Stiles told Derek through the phone.

“What?” Derek asked, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“He’s not here, he’s gone, Derek,” he said and was met with a few seconds of silence on the other side.

“Stiles, get out of there right now, it’s him, he’s the alpha! Get out!” Derek suddenly yelled at him, and all the pieces fell into place in Stiles’ head.

Of course it was Peter.

He turned around, walking back out of the room, ready to just run away, but Peter was already there, leaning against the wall.

Stiles stared at him while Peter suddenly smiled.

“You must be Stiles,” he said, and what was it with the Hale’s that they were all so soft spoken.

Stiles stumbled a few feet back but when he turned around a nurse was suddenly standing there.

“What are you doing here? Visiting hours are over,” she said and there was something sinister to her voice, a mean edge that even Peter had lacked.

“You,” Stiles said and pointed at her and then turned around to point at Peter. “And him!”

Peter only stared at him and Stiles turned back around to the nurse.

“You’re the one…” he said and trailed off only to turn back around. “Oh my, and he’s the…” alpha, he wanted to say but the words died on his tongue.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die,” Stiles whined, rubbing a hand over his head. “I’m going to die!”

Peter continued to simply stare at him, and Stiles looked back and forth between Peter and the nurse, until suddenly Derek was there.

He knocked her unconscious with one well-placed elbow to the face and stared his uncle down.

“That’s not nice, she is my nurse,” Peter said, almost petulantly.

“She’s a psychotic bitch, helping you kill people,” Derek gave back. “Get out of the way,” he then said to Stiles who stared in shock at him, gears in his head turning.

When Stiles didn’t move Derek growled at him. Stiles turned back to Peter, who was still staring at them with that small smile on his face, as if this was all terribly amusing to him and Stiles made a split-second decision.

It might have been a stupid one, one that could very easily get him eviscerated, but he trusted his gut.

He finally moved, but not out of the way or behind Derek, like he should, he walked right up to Peter.

Peter was watching him carefully, tracking his every movement, but making no move to attack Stiles. Stiles took one last deep breath when he realized that, ignoring Derek’s frantic yelling, and then he just hugged Peter.

He threw his arms around Peter, dragged him close to his own body and then just held Peter there. Peter, to Stiles’ never-ending surprise, hadn’t moved a muscle. He seemed practically frozen in place and Stiles thought that he had been right.

Peter was severely touch starved, hadn’t known a nice, kind touch in years, and Stiles heart hurt even thinking about that.

“You’re hugging Peter,” Derek said from behind them, confusion very obvious in his voice.

“Yep,” Stiles gave back, not moving from his current position, speaking more into Peter’s hair than anything.

“Why are you hugging him?” Derek asked, and Stiles shrugged as best as he could, with his arms still around Peter.

“He just woke up from a coma. I don’t even want to think about how long he went without a hug,” Stiles gave back.

“He’s dangerous,” Derek growled and came into view, obviously ready to tear Stiles away from Peter.

“He might be dangerous because no one hugged him, yet, Derek, you don’t know.”

“You didn’t hug me,” Derek sullenly said, and Stiles sighed against Peter’s neck.

“And look where that got us, you’re all mean and growly and pushing helpless humans into walls and slamming their heads into steering wheels,” Stiles said to him. “Should have hugged you the second I saw you,” he mumbled before he louder said, “I’m trying to do better with your uncle.”

Stiles decided to believe that the vibration he felt under his hands was Peter laughing and not growling, because the latter could mean very bloody things for Stiles.

“I’m right here,” Peter reminded them, as if either of them could have really forgotten that.

“I know,” Stiles snappishly gave back. “But since you’re not hugging me back, my work here is not yet done.”

Stiles was actually startled when arms suddenly encircled him, pulling him close, and so was Derek going by how wide his eyes went.

“See, there you go,” Stiles mumbled, stroking his hands up and down Peter’s back, who was now shuddering under him.

Peter let out a long sigh, and he went almost boneless against Stiles, making him stagger when he suddenly had to take Peter’s weight, but he stabilized himself without letting go of Peter.

“Stiles, let go of him,” Derek demanded. “He killed Laura!”

“Who maybe should have hugged him the second she got here,” Stiles gave back, not admitting that Derek might have a point there.

Peter was dangerous, and he had killed people.

But with how he was harshly breathing into Stiles neck, how he was still shivering under his touch, how desperately he was clinging to him, Stiles couldn’t bring himself to step away from Peter. Sometimes all they needed was a bit of kindness and Stiles knew that if he stepped away now, Derek would no doubt attack his uncle.

“Stiles, get away from him,” Derek growled at him, eyes glowing and claws out.

“No,” Stiles gave back and was startled when Peter grumbled the same into his neck.

“No,” Peter repeated louder, arms tightening around Stiles, who just gave in and melted completely against Peter.

This was clearly working.

~*~*~

Stiles was glad he had kept an eye on Allison and Lydia, because even though Scott told him he totally had this, no need for Stiles to stick around, he only had eyes for Allison and totally missed the conspicuous figure lurking in the back of the shop.

Stiles took one deep breath and then he walked right up to Peter, casually standing next to him.

“What are you planning?” he asked, seeing the watchful gaze on Allison with concern.

“My, Stiles, you truly are everywhere, aren’t you?” Peter asked, without taking his eyes off Allison.

“I’m just trying to keep my friends safe,” Stiles gave back, shuffling closer to Peter. “So please tell me you don’t plan any carnage here, in the middle of the mall.”

“Carnage anywhere else would be okay?” Peter asked, eyebrow raised, and finally turning his head to look at Stiles.

“Depending on the people, it just might be,” Stiles lowly gave back, thinking back to the things he had already discovered about the fire and the people Peter had killed.

“She’s an Argent, too,” Peter hissed, and Stiles could see his eyes glow red.

“She’s innocent,” Stiles urgently gave back, hoping Peter would get his eyes under control and not expose the whole supernatural world in a stupid shopping mall. “She doesn’t even know about the supernatural.”

“Yet,” Peter growled. “You can be sure that Kate will drag her right in.”

“Peter,” Stiles said and turned fully to Peter. “Believe me when I say Allison is not going to be a problem for you. I won’t let her be, so you don’t have to hurt her, okay? And the same goes for Scott,” he tacked on.

Peter’s gaze was intent on him, clearly searching for some sign of lie and Stiles reached out to grab the sleeve of Peter’s coat.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, not about this,” he earnestly said, and he felt just as surprised about this as Peter looked.

He didn’t know why Stiles needed Peter so desperately to believe him, to trust him, but he didn’t want to let him down, at all.

“You truly are full of surprises,” Peter said and made an aborted movement like he wanted to pull Stiles in but decided not to in the last second.

Stiles couldn’t let it slide like this. He dragged Peter closer by his sleeve, folding him right into a hug and just like in the hospital Peter melted against him, only this time as soon as they made contact.

“No hurting Allison or Scott,” Stiles whispered in Peter’s hair, and pressed even closer when Peter’s arm wrapped around his waist.

“Fine,” Peter huffed, and Stiles squeezed him. “Now get back to your friends, that idiot beta of mine is starting to realize you’re missing.”

“You’d think with his senses he would know where I am,” Stiles mumbled, and Peter hummed low under his breath.

“I clearly bit the wrong one,” he said with a shrug at Stiles’ questioning gaze. “You would have made a magnificent wolf.”

Stiles was just about to ask why Peter wasn’t offering him the bite then, when Peter suddenly slinked away into the shadows, just as Scott came towards him.

Stiles could only hope Peter would stay true to his promise.

~*~*~

Stiles was racing onto the lacrosse field, heart in his throat when he saw Lydia on the ground and Peter leaning over her.

“What happened?” he yelled, before he skidded to a stop in front of them, falling to his knees. “Is she hurt?” he asked Peter who looked up at him.

“No,” he said and got to his feet. “She fainted when she saw me wolfed out.”

“She fainted?” Stiles asked, looking back down at Lydia, relieved when he couldn’t see any obvious injuries.

“Yes,” Peter said and rolled his eyes. “Not everyone takes the supernatural as well as you do,” he told Stiles who frowned up at him.

“What are you even doing here?” he asked.

“I’m here,” Peter started and extended one clawed finger, pushing it under Stiles’ chin and forcing him to stand up, “to get your help,” he then finished and nosed at Stiles’ cheek.

“And to molest a teenager, clearly,” Stiles whispered, just couldn’t help himself, but Peter only chuckled.

“You started the hugging, I take no responsibility for that,” Peter gave back and then just reeled Stiles in for another hug.

Stiles sighed, like this was the worst thing that could happen to him, even though he couldn’t help but melt against Peter.

The man gave good hugs.

“What do you need my help with?” he asked, whispering the words into Peter’s neck, and Peter rubbed his cheek over Stiles’ head, clearly scent marking him.

“Finding Derek,” Peter replied and let go of Stiles. “I think the Argents took him and I need you to find him for me.”

“And why would I be able to do what you with your wolfy senses can’t?” Stiles asked.

“You’re the clever one, aren’t you?” Peter gave back, and Stiles preened just a little bit under that praise, but his mind was already whirring.

“What?” Peter asked after a minute of silence, clearly reading the expression on Stiles’ face.

“I think,” Stiles thoughtfully started. “I think Derek might have known he would be taken. When they were shot at, him and Scott, I think Derek took his phone.”

“Why?” Peter wanted to know, and Stiles just barely refrained from rolling his eyes, remembering that Peter had been in a coma for six years.

“They all have GPS now. If it’s still on, you can find him with that.”

“You can find him with that,” Peter corrected, and Stiles nodded thoughtfully.

“I need a laptop, though, so we have to get back to my place first” he told Peter, who carefully led him off the lacrosse field, hand at the small of his back.

“I am in no real rush,” he reassured him, and Stiles just couldn’t help but lean into the contact.

~*~*~

Stiles was still reeling from his confrontation with Chris Argent when he and Jackson pulled up to the destroyed Hale house, but he was quick to take in the situation. Peter was in his alpha shift, Allison kneeling besides an unconscious Chris and Scott was crouched low, ready for an attack.

This was not what Peter had promised Stiles.

“Peter,” Stiles called out, as he was getting out of the car.

His frantic call put a stop to every immediate action and even Peter was looking at him, lowered to all fours and eyes glowing red.

“Peter, you promised me. You said you wouldn’t hurt Allison, or Scott,” Stiles reminded him, hoping that maybe he could get through to Peter.

But Peter simply growled at him, eyes flaring even brighter and Stiles realized that this wouldn’t work. Peter was too far gone in his rage right now to really process human words. So Stiles carefully walked up to Peter, ignoring Scott’s scared yell and Jacksons warily muttered “Stiles”. His eyes were only fixed on Peter, who was tracking his advance avidly.

“Come on, Peter,” Stiles whispered, low and soothing, and Peter suddenly whined high in his throat, giving Stiles the confidence to just step in and hug his hulking alpha form.

It was kind of awkward, with Peter looming over him like this, but Stiles still slid his hand into the curt hair on his neck, pulling Peter close. Stiles could hear Scott make a distressed noise when Peter’s muzzle came really close to his neck, close enough that Stiles could feel every breath Peter took, but he didn’t hurt him.

Instead Peter shuddered and suddenly shrunk back to human form, naked and obviously weak, and Stiles was ready to just step back when Peter tightened his arms around Stiles.

“You could have gotten hurt,” Peter hoarsely said, and Stiles couldn’t believe that this was his life right now.

“Nah,” he easily gave back, with more confidence than he previously had. “You like me too much to hurt me, even feral you knows that.”

Peter only squeezed him in response, but Stiles was certain that he was right. Otherwise he would be a mauled corpse on the floor right now.

“Now come on,” Stiles eventually said, when Peter made no move to extract himself from Stiles and instead started to nuzzle his neck. “We need some clothes for you and then we’ll get you home.”

Peter tensed at that, but Stiles was quick to shush him.

“My home. I’ll need you to explain the werewolf thing to my father, and then you’ll stay with us,” Stiles decisively said.

“Stiles, you can’t tell your dad,” Scott suddenly said from behind him. “And we need to deal with Peter. I need to become human again and he’s the cure.”

“My dad’s the Sheriff,” Stiles said with emphasis and pulled away from Peter, just far enough to look at Scott. “He needs to know this shit. He already got hurt once. I won’t allow it again.”

“The Sheriff usually knows,” Peter suddenly said, voice still rough. “But no one was here to tell him when he got elected.”

Stiles couldn’t even say he was surprised to hear that. It had seemed really stupid that the local Sheriff didn’t know.

“And I’m sorry to inform you that there is no cure, actually,” Peter said with a toothy grin to Scott. “I don’t know who told you that, but they were lying to you.”

“What? Derek wouldn’t lie,” Scott spluttered out and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Of course Derek would lie if it meant getting Scott’s help.

Just as he was thinking it Derek tried to melt into the shadows, trying to creep back into the house but Stiles had had enough with this. He clearly had messed Derek up when he hadn’t hugged him that very first time and he was ready to right his wrong.

“You!” he called out and pointed at Derek, finally entangling himself from Peter and walking up to Derek.

Derek shrunk under his gaze, looking a little bit like a deer caught in headlights, but Stiles wasn’t deterred by that.

“Get over here,” he demanded, waiting with a few feet distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said, not moving towards Stiles at all. “I needed his help and he wouldn’t otherwise,” he explained, and Stiles just barely didn’t roll his eyes again.

“I know. Now get the hell over here,” he demanded again, and Derek seemed to steel himself, straightening up and squaring his shoulders before he did.

Something in Stiles ached, seeing how clearly Derek was prepared for another fight, was ready to be hurt again, and Stiles couldn’t even wait until Derek reached him. He crossed the last few steps himself and roughly pulled Derek into a hug.

Derek was stiff against him, and it was really uncomfortable for about half a minute. But Stiles wasn’t a quitter and he wouldn’t let go of Derek until he finally relaxed even the slightest bit.

“I’m sorry I didn’t hug you when we first met, or even in the hospital,” Stiles whispered against Derek’s cheek and he could feel the finest of tremors start under his hands.

It still took Derek almost another minute until he finally just gave in with a sigh and wrapped his arms around Stiles, leaning into the contact. He rubbed his cheek all over Stiles’ hair, just as he rubbed his hands over his back and Stiles couldn’t help the small chuckle at that.

Werewolves and their scent-marking.

Eventually Derek pulled away, trailing his hand over Stiles’ arm as he did so, and Stiles briefly squeezed his hand before Derek took a step back.

“You can’t hug everyone and hope for the best, sweetheart,” Peter suddenly said from behind him, rubbing his hand over Stiles’ back once, clearly covering his nephew’s scent on him.

“You just watch me,” Stiles gave back and turned around. “So far it’s working really well, after all.”

“But some day someone is going to tear your throat out for it,” Peter told him, and Stiles scoffed.

“As if you would let them hurt me,” he said, and Peter stared at him in wonder.

“Oh, I do like you, darling,” Peter purred and briefly rubbed their cheeks together.

“Alright, enough of that now,” Stiles grumbled and pushed Peter’s head away, not bothered in the slightest when his eyes flared red for a brief moment. “Go find some clothes, not everyone wants to see what you’re packing.”

“I should have some clothes that fit,” Derek softly said and nodded towards the burnt-out house.

Right. Derek was still living here. That would have to be rectified as soon as possible.

“You’re coming with us, too,” Stiles said and pointed at Derek. “So no vanishing act.”

Derek nodded once before he led his uncle into the house and Stiles turned around to face Scott, Jackson, Allison and Chris.

Scott seemed still angry, while Jackson, Allison and Chris mostly seemed confused.

“You hugged an out of control Alpha,” Chris said accusingly, though he mostly seemed to have difficulties processing that.

“Yeah, I did.”

“But…,” Chris went on but didn’t seem to find the words.

“What, you want one too?” Stiles asked and opened his arms as if he was ready to just go down there and lay one on Chris too.

Chris actually took a step back, before the loud growl reached them from inside the house and Stiles dropped his arm.

“Oh my god, get your instincts under control,” he called back to Peter, and Stiles suddenly had a moment where he wondered when the shock of all of this would suddenly set in.

This was no way to speak to a murdering lunatic after all.

“No hugging the hunters,” Peter said as he walked back out of the house, finally dressed again, and his voice was stern and didn’t allow any argument.

“He doesn’t seem like he would appreciate it anyway,” Stiles said with a nod towards Chris, who had pulled Allison and Jackson close.

“We’ll be by shortly to discuss terms of a treaty,” Peter let them know and Chris’ face hardened.

“You just killed my sister, there will be no treaty.”

“After she burned his whole family down, and tried to kill at least three more people, one of whom is a very innocent Scott. I think you don’t get to judge,” Stiles immediately shot back and watched Chris clench his jaw.

He knew Chris would eventually come around. The revelation that it had been Kate who killed the Hale’s was too fresh right now, he needed time to process that, but he would either make a treaty, or leave. Stiles would make sure of that.

Chris threw him a look that stated very clearly he knew that as well, before he walked towards the Porsche, gesturing for Jackson and Allison to get in as he held out his hand to demand the keys. It looked like he planned on leaving the corpse of his sister and Allison’s aunt behind.

Might as well, Stiles wouldn’t give them a chance to bury her. He wasn’t sure how she had died yet, but all his research stated that people could be turned by claws too, and he wasn’t going to take that risk. They would burn her and be done with it.

“Stiles,” Scott suddenly said, and Stiles had to admit he had temporarily forgotten about him.

“What?” Stiles asked, already ushering Peter and Derek away from the house.

He was mournfully staring after Jackson and the only car and steeled himself for a track home.

“You can’t mean what you just said,” he said accusingly. “You can’t trust them! And how do you even know about all of this?”

“I pieced it together myself, not that you were big on sharing anything,” Stiles gave back and took the wind right out of Scott’s sails. “I tried telling you, I warned you, but you just didn’t listen.”

“But Peter…”

“Promised me not to hurt you and Allison and he didn’t, did he,” Stiles interrupted Scott who was scowling at him.

“He was about to!” Scott tried again but Stiles was a little bit distracted by the hand that came to rest on the small of his back.

“I momentarily forgot, but I would never consciously break a promise I made to Stiles,” Peter said, and Scott gawked at him.

“And I totally pulled him back, so I don’t know what your problem is,” Stiles added.

“But that’s not going to work all the time!”

“Seeing as it was already like the third time this worked, I’d say you’re wrong there,” Stiles gave back and willingly tilted his head back when Peter leaned in to nuzzle his neck.

Scott was staring at them, something like horror on his face, but Stiles couldn’t care less. Stiles was a perfectly awesome werewolf tamer and Scott would come around eventually.

“Now, if I remember correctly a talk with your father is in need?” Peter asked, pleasant as anything and while Stiles dreaded explaining everything to his dad, he nodded.

“We have a guest room, you can share,” Stiles decisively said to Peter and Derek and turned around, ready to get this part of the night over with.

He ushered Derek and Peter towards his home, already thinking about how to break the supernatural news to his dad when suddenly a hand came to rest on his neck. Stiles glance over and saw Peter staring at him with concern but Stiles was already relaxing under the heavy, warm hand on his neck.

Peter seemed to realize that as well, because he threw a small smile at Stiles and then kept his hand where it was for the rest of the way. Not only werewolves benefited from touch apparently, and Stiles was far from complaining.

When Derek lightly encircled Stiles’ wrist, not holding him, just keeping contact Stiles sighed slightly. If this was what pack was about, he was all for it.

#bt writes #steter drabble #steterweek2018 #steter week 2018 #steter week day 4 #touch starvation #pre-relationship

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whoishisaribi · 6 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 · 6 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

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

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rosepersomnium · 6 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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expurgatedversion · 6 years ago

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Cold Feet

Steter Week: Murder Husbands

*** Cold Feet by Malapropian ***

Peter winced at the thud and slam from the garage. Two days before the wedding, and of course Stiles had brought home party favors... despite their agreement to practice some restraint.

“Honey, I’m home!” Stiles sang out, an unconscious man draped over his shoulder. Peter narrowed his eyes at the man. There was something about the long body and messy brown hair that made him pause. He gave an exploratory sniff and frowned. When he sniffed again, deeper this time, his mouth fell open.

He stalked across the room in three precise steps.

“Stiles,” he breathed. “You didn’t.”

His dear brat just smirked at him under the weight of his own doppelganger. “Told you I could do it.”

“He smells just like you.” Peter hummed in appreciation, drinking in the sight of his almost-husband’s unconscious copy. He reached out to stroke the familiar curve of spine, exposed by the fallen shirt hem. Every mole was exactly where it should be. He was flawless.

“Amazing.”

“I know, right?” Stiles shifted the dead weight on his shoulder and winked. “And don’t think I left you out of this, babe! Yours is in the Jeep. After all, we’re getting married on Tuesday, so we couldn’t not have the matched set.” “Oh of course,” Peter agreed. “It would be terrible luck.”

“Great!” Stiles patted his double on the ass and squeezed. “Now why don’t you go and grab yourself, so we can get this party started.”

Singing snatches of Pink, Stiles unlocked the red basement door and clomped downstairs, leaving Peter alone in the living room. There were times when he was reminded of just how lucky he was. To escape the fire and recover from his coma. To become an alpha. To find someone with the same niche interest in bloodletting and murder.

But this was going above and beyond all of that. Peter grinned and flexed his hands, werewolf claws snapping out in an instant.

Like people said, “the couple who kills together stays together”, but the husband who magics up your own doppelgangers for a spot of pre-wedding fun and games?

Now that was a husband worthy of forever.

#steter #steter week 2018 #murder husbands #blood #flash fic #moodboard #mal does moodboards #lapsus calami

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stilesxeveryone · 6 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 · 6 years ago

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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 · 6 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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