Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i figured we would do as the show we obsess over and split the season into an A and a B!
What? There will be daily prompts posted over the span of a week, two alternate prompts offered each day, in case you don't vibe with one of them.
How? You can fill the prompts however you want! Fanfiction, fanart, GIF sets, edits, meta posts, all are welcome as long as they are about Chris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski.
When? Since it's (according to some sources, contradicted by others) Stiles' birthday on April 8th, I've decided we're giving him a birthday week! From April 6th through April 12th!
Where? If you post here on tumblr and @ this blog, I'll reblog all your entries, there is also an AO3 collection.
The Prompts:
Day 1: April 6th
Prompt A: Fae/Fairies
Examples: Is this an AU where one of them (or all of them) are fae/seelies? Are the fairies just the Monster of the Week for the plot? General fae mischief, perhaps?
Prompt B: Preserve
Examples: How do our boys feel about the preserve? Are we having a pack run? Are we building a home in the preserve? Visiting the Nemeton?
Day 2: April 7th
Prompt A: Flowers
Examples: Is it wolfsbane? Flowers left on a grave? A flower shop AU? Sex pollen?
Prompt B: Hale House
Examples: A No Hale Fire AU maybe? Are we rebuilding the Hale House? Or standing in the burned out husk reminiscing?
Day 3: April 8th
Prompt A: Mischief
Examples: Is someone causing mischief, someone from the pack, or an enemy? Or are we talking about Stiles? Will there be Stilinski Family Feels about Claudia here?
Prompt B: Jeep
Examples: Doubling down on the Claudia-related Stilinski Family Feels here? Or is Roscoe just breaking down again? A get-away-vehicle, or a road-trip?
Day 4: April 9th
Prompt A: Heat
Examples: The late spring heat? Are they sharing body heat in the cold? Heated gazes, maybe? Or is this an ABOverse type of heat?
Prompt B: Penthouse
Examples: Is Stiles breaking into Peter's penthouse? Is Peter inviting them into his home for the first time? Are they moving in together? Is Chris getting his own penthouse?
Day 5: April 10th
Prompt A: Storm
Examples: Trapped in a snow-storm? Soaked in rain? Or are we focusing on the Riders of the Storm?
Prompt B: Lake
Examples: Are we at the Martin lake house? Or a different lake? A vacation, a mission, a honeymoon?
Day 6: April 11th
Prompt A: Research
Examples: Chris' bestiaries and hunter knowledge, combined with Peter's knowledge and resources and Stiles' ADHD-fueled research binges always makes for good Stetopher, doesn't it?
Prompt B: Loft
Examples: Is Peter lurking on the staircase? Is Chris threatening the Nogitsune with his gun? Or are we just having a regular pack-night? Or another rave that Derek can't know about?
Day 7: April 12th
Prompt A: Moon
Examples: Are they mooning over each other? Or are we being very literal here with the full moon? Or just a symbolic representation of the moon?
Prompt B: High School
Examples: Truly so, so, so many bad things have happened in canon in this school, pick any one of them, or make something new and awful (or beautiful?) happen there, if you'd like. Or are we doing a same-age high school AU?
Stiles knows supernatural problems in Beacon Hills are never subtle. They leave bodies, break windows, and announce themselves in the worst possible ways.
So when a strange, restless pull leads him into the preserve beneath the moonlight, he knows better than to ignore it. What he does not expect is to find Chris Argent and Peter Hale drawn there too, or to discover that whatever is happening is not only connected to the moon, but to all three of them.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/84267491
💛 Special Thanks A huge thank you to takaraphoenix for organizing Stetopher Week 2026!!
vvv The event prompts are posted on tumbler and linked below vvv
💬 0 🔁 31 ❤️ 37 · Stetopher Week 2026: Spring Edition · Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i f
MIXED PROMPTS
Prompt A: Research Prompt B: Loft The Shape of the Pattern
Stiles hasn’t slept in two days.
The loft is covered in notes, maps, and theories that refuse to stay linear, every connection leading to another until the pattern is almost within reach.
He knows he’s close.
He just has to keep going.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
💛 Special Thanks A huge thank you to takaraphoenix for organizing Stetopher Week 2026!!
vvv The event prompts are posted on tumbler and linked below vvv
💬 0 🔁 31 ❤️ 37 · Stetopher Week 2026: Spring Edition · Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i f
As the final day of the event draws near the end, I would like to remind everyone that if you @ this blog, I'll reblog your contributions! And if you posted your works on AO3, you can add them to the AO3 collection!
And you can do both of that, even if you didn't manage to finish them on their designated day. After all, the whole point of the event is to get more Stetopher - so, if the prompts inspire you even after the event ends, feel free to still write them and to still add them! ;)
Noah Stilinski has seen some shit in his life. He didn't exactly have an uneventful childhood, he worked a job that required patience even when, or especially when dealing with the most harmless pretty offenders, and well. There has been the whole supernatural reveal. He thought ever since Stiles dropped that bomb, not much would surprise him anymore.
That was a foolish and rush thought he has under the influence of shock, and he recognized that, alright? He didn't actually underestimate his son's ability to keep him on his feet, especially now that he had a whole new magical arsenal for it.
Admittedly, the reveal werewolves and monsters were real, even the reveal that Stiles was some kind of magic, it all faded on the shock and emotional impact scale in comparison to learning Claudia had magic, or at the very least knew about it - and thus about Stiles' magical potential, and chose to keep it from him.
He was still processing that. Weekly, with someone Peter Hale of all people recommended, that by now had provided in-the-know therapy for both him and his kid, as well as probably half the Hale pack and adjacent.
The point was, despite the fact maybe he should have, Noah didn't think much of it when he picked up the call from Stiles. After all, out of ten calls his son would give him, nine were usually about groceries, school or fan facts he wanted to share. He never expected the natural or supernatural disaster to be the topic of conversation before it happened.
And yet.
“Hey, daddio-o.” When Stiles drawn out the opening like that? That was usually a signature of that one in ten calls.
“Wait, you're kind of quiet, I need to put my volume up.” He turned to do just that but his phone seemed to already be set to max. Strange.
“Yeah, about that. You can hear me clearly enough though, do you?”
“You're quiet but you're fine. So what's up?”
”So remember when we talked about how crushing on two guys twice my age is probably my worst idea recently?“
”Oh no. I don't like this.“
”Yeah, I definitely topped that. Can you come pick me up from the preserve?“
He looked down at his watch. It was another hour until he was supposed to leave, but an hour wasn't much and he was caught up on his paperwork for once.
“Sure. I can be there in probably fiffteen minutes to the main parking? Where are you?”
“Yeah, about that.”
“Stiles…”
“Can you track my phone and come to where I am?”
Noah sighed, but he was already putting on his jacket ad grabbing his keys.
“I can, but am I going to get an explanation for why that is?”
“Look, I am kind of. Small.”
Noah stopped in the middle of the pavement where he was on the way to his car.
”What does small mean?“
”Just be careful when you're walking? And hurry up before I get eaten?“
”Stiles!“
The call hung up.
He found his kid on a small clearing they used to come and have pinics at about half an hour later. Eyes glued to the tracking program showing him the phone's position, he carefully walked around, paying attention to where he put his feet, stil unsure what Stiles might have meant.
Until he saw the phone, and it became worryingly obvious that small was quite an apt observation.
”Stiles…“ Stiles was maybe three inches tall, sitting on his phone screen, looking around anxiously. He thanked God that the kid didn't get snatched by a falcon - the worry about being eaten was very real, as he now realized. Stiles got up when he saw him, putting his hands up in a way he hadn't since he turned six. Noah sighed and picked up his little boy (the therapist said humor was actually a pretty good coping mechanism) onto the palm of his hand.
”Can I at least hope this means the crush is no longer a thing?“
Stiles smiled crookedly and shook his head.
”Yeah, I though so. Well, I guess let's get started on this, then, my little guy with big feelings.“
Stiles was, admittedly, quite cute this way.
He was also quieter. Noah did his best not to say it, not after he saw too many people around Stiles already do it and the way he always deflated at being told be quieter when he genuinely didn't have control over his volume when excited, but he also felt it sometimes. Stiles was loud. He was big and a lot and it was in the best way possible, but after a long shift when he already had a headache, Noah sometimes wished Stiles had an inside voice.
Tiny Stiles was like all the enthusiasm and loudness of real Stiles but toned down for tired ears.
And this situation was definitely giving him a headache.
“Okay, run by me again why you thought doing complex magic without much training on your own alone in the woods without even informing anyone ahead of time where to look for your body was a good idea.”
“It seemed like one at the time.”
“Did it?”
“Okay, maybe it seemed like something you'd disapprove of and I knew exactly why and I didn't necessarily want to hid your unspoken warnings.”
Noah raised one eyebrow.
“….and okay maybe the imaginary you I didn't listen to had a point. But what other choice I had?”
“Oh, I don't know. Talk to anyone? Literally just not to do this alone. Look, Stiles, I know this is hard--”
“--no, you don't. I know it's hard for you too, but it's second hand. And like, I get it, that what mom did hurt us both, but it affects me personally and I'm scared of myself and there's like ten people who I could talk about this to and almost none of them would know anything practical. Do know anything practical, I know, I asked. Werewolves just aren't particularly into magic. Chris is well-versed in fighting magic, not embracing it. Peter may know more but Peter is off exploring the world or whatever. And sure, Deaton would probably be my best bet if he wasn't a shady sorry excuse for a man I would not entrust with my trash let alone this.”
Noah sighed.
It wasn't like Stiles was wrong.
“I'm sorry. This is… I know it's…” Noah put his hand on the table next to Stiles, trying to silently offer comfort. Stiles put his hand on his, his hand covering whole one finger. He smiled wetly. “I still can't believe your mom would hide something like this from me. That'd she'd leave you without any guidance.”
“I thought…” Stiles sighed, and sat down cross legged, putting his chin on his hands. “It was supposed to be a ritual. To help me remember anything I may have forgotten, something that I saw or heard when I was younger, something she said or did that maybe we didn't understand back then.”
Noah could understand that. He cerainly wondered the same thing plenty of times.
“So… what went wrong?”
“I…” Even this small, Stiles blushed with his whole face and it was easy to notice. “So, turns out you have to be really careful, with magic. It's pretty precise.”
“Precise how?”
“Well. I didn't exactly use the word younger, perhaps.”
“Oh no.” Noah could guess where this was going.
“I said smaller.”
Yep, that'd do it.
“So what now?”
“I don't know. I can still use my phone so I guess I'm researching real carefully before I try to reverse it so I don't make myself like ten feet tall next and you're writing me a note out of school for the next couple of days.”
“I will…” Noah honestly forgot about it. He'd been in the attic once, after they found out Claudia hid magic from them, to look through her things for anything of help, but he didn't consider where else she could have hidden something, especially if she didn't want him to accidentally stumble upon it. “When we sold the flower shop, we didn't completely clear it out. The buyer didn't mind us leaving it. Maybe they didn't throw it out and it's still stuck in the corner somewhere. I'll ask.”
“Thank you.” Stiles said, in a voice as small as him, and Noah wished more than he thought possible to be able to hug him. Instead he just gently ruffled his hair with one finger and tried to project his support in any way he could.
“I got you kiddo. No matter how big you get, or how small, you'll always be my little boy.”
He knew from a young age that normal people didn't know about the supernatural, didn't worry about life and death as teenagers, didn't constantly look over their shoulder or look for the enemy in the eyes of anyone around them.
He suspected, of course, that the world wasn't as black and white as his father made it out to be, knew firmly, ever since his and Peter's... thing, that werewolves were people just like any other, possibly more normal than his own family, and yet.
Even if he could have imagined, as wild as it would be, throwing his business with a pack of wolves one day, he certainly wouldn't have imagined the complete mess of the entire Hale situation, as he came to think of it.
The Kate of it, the emotional whiplash of losing and regaining and losing Peter again from afar, the insane stupidly brave kids that the new Hale pack consisted of, the supernatural creatures other than werewolves he never knew existed, and the magic of it all.
The magic was possibly the wildest mystery of it all. A spark of something else that manisfested in a boy who seemingly randomly stumbled into that world only for it to come out his mother was a powerful magic user who never shared the truth with her family.
But then again, little could prepare a person for one Stiles Stilinski.
He was stubborn, loud, too smart for his own good and had a knack for throwing himself into other people's business and ruining the best laid plans, even before the magic. And yet Chris found himself absolutely charmed by the annoying little shit.
Still, even after all this time, even knowing Stiles and the mischief that followed him around, Chris had foolishly thought that by now, he's seen it all.
Until the morning Noah Stilinski called him to come over and watch over Stiles.
“Isn't Stiles kind of... too old for babysitting?” A part of him wondered if it was even offensive to ask, but the way Noah made it sound just really came across as... looking after... A sigh came across the phone.
“It's not that he needs-- look, we have a bit of a. Situation. He can't go to school, I'd rather not leave him alone--“
”Is he sick?“
”Well, no, not exactly. Look, believe me. You're not my first choice. Or even second. But you're the only person I can think of it who's free and knows about this magical bullshit. “
Oh.
”So it's... that kind of situation.“
”Yeah. Yeah, it's that kind of a situation.“
And oh boy, was it a situation.
”Don't laugh.“
”I'm not laughing. I'm mostly... perplexed. How did this happen?“
”Well, I'm definitely magical, because I did this to myself.“
Yeah. Yeah, that sounded very magical.
”You're cute.“
Jesus Christ, hadn't Chris grown past his lack of filter two decades ago?
Apparently now.
”Well, that's certainly not the context I wanted to hear you saying that in.“
”You wanted me to-- No, nevermind, this is not the time.“
”No, this is exactly the time! Finish your goddamn sentence!“
Stiles looked very adorable and very intimidating at his maybe two inches tall with his hands on his hips.
”I... I think you're cute even when you're not this small?“
It was kind of hard to decipher Stiles' expression at this size, but he didn't think it was bad.
”We are absolutely returning to this conversation when I'm right-sized again.“
”I... wouldn't mind that. So what do you want me to do in the meantime? Is there any way I can help you figure this out? I assume since you have magic and you're also well, at fault, for no other way to put it—“
”Oh no, don't worry, I own that. This is totally my own fault.“
”Okay, great. Then do you have an idea how to reverse it?“
Okay. Some expressions spoke loudly enough even in tiny silence.
”Okay, yeah, I gathered, if it was that simple you probably wouldn't still be small. What do you need from me then?“
They spent the day looking through the already quite sizeable collection of magic books Stiles ammassed, and analyzed the different parts he drew from when creating his ill-fated ritual, in hopes they'd find a clue as to how to avoid the same mistakes again.
By the time afternoon colored the kitchen a softer orange, they didn't exactly get far, but the idea that Stiles may want him to call him cute successfully sprouted and overgrown Chris' entire brain.
Not particlarly helpful.
But how wonderful.
It's been so long since Chris felt this kind of hopeful giddiness, this innocent excitement. He decided to let himself feel it, relish in it and ignore all the arguments against it for now.
He was rereading the same page for the fifth time, trying not to sneak glances at the tiny Stiles perched atop a book he was reading, moving down the page with his whole body every couple of lines, when the door burst open.
”I was pretty sure that was locked.“
”There's a key under the fake rock, I think pretty much everyone in the pack knows. I guess I prefer that to them breaking in through the window? The neighbors give us weird looks for having bootprints on our roof.”
“The sheriff has a key under a fake rock?”
Stiles sighed and jumped off his book.
”Yeah, I know. But we're both forgettable people, okay? We lose our keys a lot!“
That was when Isaac and Jackson of all people burst through the door.
”Allison said you got shrank, Stilinski! Is that-- whooa. It's true.” Jackson leaned in over the table, studying Stiles like a bug. Up close he had a perfect view of the unimpressed eyebrow.
“Yeah, it's true. And Allison is a tattletale and Chris shouldn't have fucking told her. Oh no. Wait. Chris, you didn't send her fucking pictures, did you?”
Chris smiled politely and decided he needed to use the bathroom. He hoped the boys would distract Stiles enough for him not to dig in too deeply into what photos Chris sneaked in when he wasn't looking. And he really needed to talk to Allison about knowing who to trust to keep a secret.
Not that he thought the entire little Stiles situation would have stayed under wraps for long, after he didn't show up at school and avoided them all.
Wolves were going to descent upon the Stilinski household one way or another eventually, and so far it didn't look like Stiles was going to figure out an undo button on time before it happened.
Although he didn't exactly expect Jackson and Isaac to be the first. He thought they'd be at lacrosse practice, Allison usually was at this time to cheer on her boyfriend (that's what he called it for a father's peace of mind, even if it was probably closer to “ogle”) but he supposed Jackson probably did something to get himself suspended from practice again and Isaac didn't play.
He did actually end up using the batthroom, and after he felt like he left Stiles with his friends long enough to escape interrogation, he washed his hands and made his way back to the kitchen.
....just in time to grab the tupperware container in Isaac's hand and stop the scene unfolding in front of him before disaster strike.
“I just--”
“You were going to shake it.”
“I wasn't going to shake it.”
“I don't need to be a werewolf to hear that lie.”
“....maybe I was going to shake it.”
“You know, I would have expected this kind of behaviour from Jackson, but not from you.”
Isaac dropped his hand from the tupperware and shrank away in shame. Chris sighed. The two boys stood before him like children in the principal's office. He ignored them for a second and put the tupperware holding Stiles down and unlocked the lid. He noticed that at least the boys picked a container with little vent so he had access to air. When he lifted it, the tiny boy glared at him with his arms crossed.
“I would have been fine.”
Chris put his face in his hands.
They may have been legally adults by now and about to graduate, but he forgot at times that these kids were sometimes just so much... still kids.
Although he had to admit, god help him, because it didn't make him love him any less... he had no hopes of Stiles growing out of it.
“Look. I know this probably seemed like some sort of fun extreme sport or whatever. But this tupperware is about an avarage room size for you right now. This would be like being flung across your kitchen at full speed without any protective gear. At best you'd have gotten a concussion.
Stiles opened his mouth as if ready to argue, but then seemed to reconsider.
“You... may have a point.”
“I usually do. Okay, new rule, at least one person with an objectively reasonable amount of common sense must be in the presence of small and fragile tiny spark at all times. And until the sheriff gets back I guess that's going to be me. Why isn't Lydia with you anyway?”
“She's at math club preparing for some inter-school championships.”
“Well, then until the sheriff gets back, or Lydia or possibly Boyd arrive I am in charge. Grab a book and get on finding out how to unshrink Stiles instead of being menaces.”
Stiles ended up making himself cozy in his box anyway. They kept the lid off but put a small folded dishcloth in there for him and it turned out the walls were perfect for propping up the books to make it easier for him to read on his own.
Isaac even cut him up some strawberries to apologize and put them inside the tupperware on small jar lid.
Chris snuck another photo when Stiles wasn't looking.
Things were getting quite heated up in the Stilinski household as Stiles argued in favour of breaking into Peter's penthouse under the man's absence.
It turned out one giant disadvantage of being tiny was the inability to ignore everyone's (often reasonable) protests and just proceed with his impulsive ideas on his own.
Stiles aboslutely would have just gone to Peter's on his own, if he could. As it was, he needed to rely on Chris - since it would be pointless even asking his father, and the only other person he was allowed to be alone around was Lydia, who didn't have a car or any will to come anywhere near anything related to Peter.
Which, valid.
But problematic.
”Look. It's not my fault he chose to fuck off and not leave a number. I would call and ask him if I can come around if I could—“ He absolutely wouldn't. ”—but I can't, and I have the key anyway, so it's not breaking in.“
”And how did you acquire that key? Peter gave it to you?“
”That's not important.“
Apparently it was important. Chris didn't seem too impressed when he eventually gave in and Stiles had no choice other to tell him where to find the key.
Which just so happened to be where all his other keys were.
”Why does this look like my housekey?“
”Plenty of keys look similiar.“
”Sure. And if I took it home with me and tried it?“
Stiles valiantly attempted to push the drawer closed from his perch in Chris' hoodie pocket.
“Don't do that?”
Chris gave a sigh that Stiles chose to intepret as his victory. Whatever. It wasn't like he was using those keys for any nefarious reasons.
…usually.
The drive over to Peter was… not fun. Turns out being small gave you motion sickness. Stiles didn't have to deal with it since he turned ten and he was quite ready to not do it again.
However.
Peter's penthouse was probably their next best bet on finding some new source on the topic of magic. That and the Hale vault were just about the only other places Stiles could think of, and they couldn't really access the vault at the moment of the account of being a bit Hale-less (Derek, too, fucked off to discover himself, and probably get therapy - good for him, but incovenien) so the penthouse it was.
But whatever respervations Chris may have had about using the key, they really needn't have worried.
“Christopher. I didn't expect the welcome comittee quite so early, especially since I haven't sent the memo. How did you even know I'm home, did you miss me that much?“
”I didn't.“
”I didn't either.“
Stiles said, peeking out from Chris' jacket, and he had to admit he quite enjoyed Peter's startled expression. He was happy to see Peter too. Not only would the wolf be helpful, but even if he would absolutely not admit that, he did miss him.
”That is just adorable.“
”Say that again and you'll meet my adorable fist.“
Peter's grin said he really wanted to, and Stiles was fully aware he could at most bite Peter's pinky right now, but size wasn't going to stop him from talking back.
As Peter invited them in and led them to the kitchen (Peter smitted to Stiles once, when they were both very tired and he was probably not fully aware of what he was saying, that his mother always received guests in the kitchen, because it felt more intimate and homely than the living room), Chris' warmth all around him and Peter's melodic tones in his ears, Stiles felt something strange settle in his chest.
Something bigger than his current predicament.
Something like hope.
@stetopher-weeks Day 7 Prompts: Moon + High School
Summary: Soul-marks manifested upon first physical contact. Stiles’ completes on the day he gets shoved around by both Chris and Peter. Triads were so rare, it doesn’t even cross Stiles’ mind that he could have two soulmates and met them the same day – so it hurts all the more when he realizes Chris and Peter are together, because one of them should be his.
Wolf Under a Silver Moon
Stetopher Week 2026
Chris met his soulmate for the first time in high school. It was ironic, Chris hadn’t even wanted to go to the stupid basketball game, he didn’t care for the sport. But his best and only friend Anita Milton dragged him along, because she had recently found her soulmate, Verne Boyd, the vice-captain. Even during the game, before knowing who he was or that he was Chris’ soulmate, Chris couldn’t tear his eyes away from Peter. Tall, lanky but in an athletic way, pretty, vicious and the MVP of the game. After the game, when Verne introduced Chris and Anita to the team.
In many cultures, touching upon first meeting a person was a big taboo, because the belief was that two people ought to get to know each other first, before finding out whether or not they were soulmates. In the US, shaking hands when first meeting was the norm, to know right away whether or not the other person was a potential soulmate. So Chris and Peter shook hands after the game.
Just underneath Chris’ elbow, on the inside of his arm, sat a silver moon. He’d always wondered why his personal mark was a moon – his mother’s had been a silver fleur des lis, the elegance and importance of the Argent name, his father’s a tall broad sword, the proud fighter and defender of the family, his sister’s a silver dagger, small but swift and deadly. Only many years later would Chris come to understand that he was the silver moon, protecting and watching his wolves from above.
“You are…” Chris trailed off, too stunned to even have words in that moment.
“Yours,” Peter whispered, voice filled with awe. “And you are mine.”
Beautiful baby-blue eyes stared at him like he was the most precious thing in the world. Even if Chris hadn’t felt the connection spark between them, he got to watch in real time how the silver moon appeared on Peter’s bare underarm, like it was rising in the night sky. Right above a pitch-black wolf with bright-blue eyes. The wolf’s head was tilted back as though it was howling right at the moon. Suddenly, Chris’ mark made much more sense – and so did Peter’s, probably, because before that, the wolf had simply been howling at his elbow.
There was a strange empty space between the two though. Usually, soulmate marks were closer together. For years to come, Chris and Peter would naively find comfort in the distance. Would interpret it to mean patience. You’re meant to be together, you’re soulmates, but things are keeping you apart. Be patient and you will be together. When Gerard and life tore them away from each other, when Chris found himself forced into an arranged marriage with a matchless woman from a highly respected hunter family, after Gerard caused the death of Peter’s father and aunt.
The mark on Chris’ skin would keep him going. And then he got Allison and she became the light in his life, the one good thing to come out of it. Late at night, when Victoria was asleep, he would stare at his soulmark and think of Peter, think of being reunited with his soulmate, raising Allison together and being… being happy, being a family. Patience, the soul-mark whispered.
Patience was both punished and then rewarded when Chris and Peter were reunited years later. Peter was a feral Alpha when they met again, having been abandoned by his pack, killed his niece in a feral rage and was rampaging through town, leaving a trail of bodies behind. Chris braced himself, ready to put down his own soulmate because this… this wasn’t Peter anymore, his beautiful, fierce wolf didn’t deserve this. If needed, Chris was going to end this himself.
Chris met his second soulmate for the first time in a hospital. His mind was steeled to protect the town from Peter, protect Allison and her very human friends from the dangers of this world. Stiles Stilinski was one of those human friends. A stunningly beautiful, recklessly brave and ruthlessly vicious boy, who walked into danger with his head held high. Chris grabbed the boy without even thinking, hauling him into an empty room, pinning him to the wall and trying to intimidate him into turning his back on all of this. A safe, normal life. Something in Chris desperately wanted that for Stiles, was suddenly overcome with the urge to protect the boy.
Only later that night would Chris realize why he had felt that way. When he sat down heavily on his bed with a glass of whiskey, mourning the death of his soulmate. He rolled his sleeve up to look at his wolf. He stared in surprise at the tree that had grown in the space between the wolf and the moon. Its roots twisted into Celtic knots beneath the wolf’s paws and its branches reached out to gently cradle the moon. They had a third. The space between them had always been meant to be filled – by Stiles. It wasn’t hard to figure that out, Stiles was the only person Chris had touched for the first time that day. He had touched his soulmate for the first time, to shove him around.
Chris sat heavy that night and drank until the pain dulled. He had lost Peter and he had no idea how to even approach Stiles. The boy was less than half his age, was younger than Chris’ daughter, and Chris had only just tried to intimidate him into not being involved in their world…
Stiles sat in the clearing in the preserve where the Hale Pack Alphas beseeched the Moon Goddess to pick their mate. Derek was going first as the youngest Alpha. It was very rare that someone so young would have their prays answered. Stiles held hope though that the Goddess would bless the two of them. They had... something. It wasn't the perfect relationship he'd always pictured, but they were there for each other.
Stiles as a human offered into the Hale Pack was to remain pure until the Goddess picked him for a wolf or he aged out of the ceremonies. Although the age was very arbitrary, supposedly the Goddess just kicked you out of the clearing and stopped shinning on you.
Derek recited the ceremonial words that Stiles would hear too many times that night. He held his breath. The moon's light narrowed so only Derek was illuminated and then a second beam. But Stiles wasn't the recipient. Instead it was a woman newer to the pack than Stiles, Brandon. She'd worked along side the pack for years before accepting a place among them.
Stiles was disappointed of course, but at the same time he was happy for his friend.
Stiles wasn't close with the rest of the Alpha's presenting themselves. The only other one he was familiar with was Derek's favorite Uncle, Peter. He was the oldest Alpha there at thirty-five. Almost twenty years older than Stiles.
Stiles had been the one to help rehabilitate his daughter who had been stolen by a lone wolf when she was born. Malia hadn't understood pack dynamics or what it meant to be an Alpha. Stiles was the only one patient enough to take the time to explain thing to her.
Knowledge was Stiles' kyponite and Peter, as the left hand of the pack, was always in and out of the library. Peter sometimes acknowledged him. It wasn't much just a small nod. Probably just knowing him as Derek's friend or the human that helped his daughter. But sometimes Stiles thought he could feel the man's eyes on him.
Occasionally Chris Argent would join Peter. Chris had asked the Hale Pack for shelter for him and his daughter, Allison. They were from a hunting family and the training head of the family had given Allison was so brutal that she walked with a limp. It was after that that they sought aid from the Hale Pack.
Stiles assumed they were discussing attack strategies. Chris had insider knowledge on how to best defend their pack. He sometimes eavesdropped on their conversations. But never learned anything.
The two were so charismatic and magnetic. Stiles didn’t understand how other couldn't see it. There was just something about them.
Then finally it was Peter's turn. He, like all the Alpha's before him spoke the sacred words.
The clearing went dark. A light on Peter; another light on Chris. It figured the two seemed to fit together so perfectly it made sense they were destined by the Moon Goddess. But then a third light shone, right on Stiles.
It wasn't uncommon for triads to be blessed. It made sense why Peter had to wait so long. But two men who already had children and a young man their daughters' age. That was uncommon.
There was a small window of time before the mating run. It was for the blessed to meet and get to know each other. In actually it was to make sure that there was enough space in the forest for all the couples to run without Alpha's having a territory clash.
Stiles stood before the older men shifting from foot to foot. He felt almost unworthy to be mated to the left hand and renowned hunter. Obviously the Moon Goddess saw he belong with these two men.
"Stiles-" Peter began.
Stiles looked up, "You know my name."
"I, yes? You almost single handly rehabilitated my daughter and you're Derek's best friend. Why wouldn't I know your name. You're extremely intelligent if you were a wolf you'd a candidate to be my apprentice." Peter told him bluntly.
"Obviously I know Chris very well. I know of you, but do you and Chris know each other?" Peter asked.
"I know Stiles. He shared classes with Allison and she spoke of his intelligence as well as his stubborn nature." Chris explained, althoughthere was the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"I know Chris." Stiles stated, not will to expound on how much he knew about him.
"You both know what to expect from our Mating run, correct?" Peter asked after scanning the dwindling Mated Pairs.
"I know what to expect with a couple, not a triad." Stiles said.
"Like are you... knotting both of us. That seems like it would take a while. Are you just biting both of us? Are Chris and I also mating each other or is it just you?" Stiles asked, mouth running faster than his brain.
Both men blinked at him. Chris looked him up and down then gave him a smirk.
"Peter you're needed." A voice called out.
The men were separated before Stiles could have his questions answered. Peter to the Alpha's section and Stiles and Chris to the mate's section.
Chris leaned down to Stiles' ear, "You know, Peter's had a bit of a crush on you, baby. Everytime he sees you in the library you're all he can talk about."
Stiles flushed bright red, "But I thought he was interested in you. I mean, the way you look at each other..."
Chris coughed, "Its really not like that."
Stiles looked at the older man closely, "But you want it to be."
Chris smiled softly, "Yeah. And it will be, especiallywith you, baby. "
Peter darted through the woods in his full shift. He followed the two scent trails deeper and deeper into the woods. At a certain point they branched off going in two different directions. He liked that. His clever mates were making him work for it. Peter decided to go after Chris first. They'd work together to intercept Stiles.
Peter was well aware how the man had a crush on the little human. Chris searched for him in every room. Peter just wondered where he fit in between them.
Chris had zigzaged through the trees in a densely wooded area. He thought it would imped Peter due to his size. It didn’t. Peter tackled then man flattening him in the leaf litter.
"Ughh... I'm too old for you to be doing that to me Peter." Chris groaned from under Peter's paw.
Peter huffed and let Chris get up. Once the other man was standing, he ran his muzzle along his neck, scenting him.
"Yeah, yeah, as if you don't do that enough." Chris shoved the oversized snout away.
Chris brushed off the debris, "Well, let's go get our boy."
Peter crouched down to allow Chris to hop on. He followed the scent Stiles left behind. It brought him to a clearing with tall trees surrounding it. The trail went dead. Peter snuffled the ground trying to pick the scent back up. Chris slid off Peter and examined his surroundings.
Stiles hadn't noticeably kicked up anything. There were no broken branches. No drag marks like he'd tripped.
Peter let out a low whine. He could smell his youngest mate. He knew he was in the clearing. But there were no hidden burrows for him to duck into. No splintered trees to tuck into.
"Peter." Chris called.
Peter looked to his already found mate. He was pointing up toward the highter branches of a large Oak tree. There was something in there. Stiles had been wearing a dark purple zip-up, in the low light of the preserve he blended into the sky.
But there was their prize, a pretty little mate waiting to be claimed. Peter started to claw his way up the tree. It quickly became clear that it wasn't going to work. His full shift was simply too big. Instead Chris clambored up the tree. Peter caught snippets of a their conversation.
"You don't need me."
"---Moon Blessed---"
"--Get in the way."
"--Not like that."
Until finally Chris had had enough.
"For Goddess's sake! Mieczysław Gemin Stilinski Gajos we are both in love with you. We've been in love with you for well over a year. You think Peter doesn't have an office he could have been reading in. That we could have been meeting in. Instead we camped out in the pack library just in case you came happened to show up. We were so scared the the Goddess would pick you for Derek. Just let us be happy together."
A few minutes later both men came down the tree; Stikes looking thoroughly chastised and Chris smug.
"Peter. You are going to take us to the mating cave. You will assume human form so I can fuck you while you fuck Stiles. Then we're all going to bite each other. Understand?" Chris spoke harshly.
Once they were safely tucked away in the cave Peter shifted. He was bare as the day he was born. Chris, stil slightly agitated striped quickly and efficiently as Peter got to work undressing Stiles.
Soon all three men were naked. Chris and Peter gently ran their hands along Stiles' body. Not only to relax him, but also because it was new to them. They'd explored each other thoroughly; in every position and configuration. Stiles was new, untouched, although educated. He'd never laid with another as was expected of him.
Peter brought him closer for a kiss. Then gave Chris a turn. They passed Stiles back and forth until their boy was a panting drooling mess. Peter had Chris easily maneuvered Stiles toward the pile of blankets and bottle of lube that had been stocked before they were even sent out.
Chris lightly pushed Stiles; he got the hint sprawling out on the plush surface.
"I'm going to open you up for Peter, Baby." Chris said grabbing the bottle of lube.
Chris lube up two fingers and started to pet Stiles hole. He jolted at the first touch, but quickly relaxed.
"Can I..." Stiles hesitated.
"Sweetheart, whatever is making you smell like that, you can have." Peter promised.
"Canisuckyourdick!" Stiles spewed out.
Chris snorted as he stretched Stiles with two fingers, "Alpha, our boy wants to choke on your cock."
"Flip him over. I don't want to smother him." Peter demanded.
Chris did so. Peter kneeled by Stiles head pre-cum dragging on his cheek. Stiles opened wide saliva pooling on his tongue. Peter just rested the tip there. Stiles immediately did his best to swallow Peter.
"Fu---ck. So good" Peter moaned.
Chris added another finger as Stiles focused on Peter. The noise the two were making had Chris gripping the base of his dick with his other hand. After a few minutes of listening to Stiles to his best to permanently lodge Peter cock down his throat, Chris spoke.
"Stiles is ready." Chris stated, pulling the youngest head up by his hair.
Both let out whines of disappointment.
"What about Peter?" Stiles gasped, as he flipped on to his back again.
Chris smirked, "I fucked Peter right before the ceremony. He should still be stretched enough for me. I think he likes the burn."
Peter slipped in between the two other men, lined himself up and sunk into Stiles. Chris waiting until Peter was fulling in before starting to push into Peter. He'd definitely tightened up and it took longer than he would have liked even after adding more lube.
Peter was obviously in bliss, involuntary thrusting in short little bursts. Rocking back onto Chris and then forward into Stiles. He couldn't control his Beta shift eyes glowing red as he gnashed his fangs and dug his claws into the stone.
"Doesn't that feel so good, sweet Alpha. Taking care of our boy. I take care of you, don't I. You look so good like this barely able to contain yourself." Chris whispered in their wolf's sensitive ears.
Stiles seemed to catch on, "Alpha, you're fucking me so good. You look so powerful. Making sure we both get what we need."
It didn't take long for Peter to cum, Stiles following soon after. Chris fucked into their pliant bodies.
"When I cum, Stiles and I are going to bite you. You're going to bite Stiles. Then Stiles and I will bite each other while you bite me, just like we hoped." Chris ordered.
As Chris moaned he sunk his teeth into Peter's left shoulder. Stiles bit Peter right. Peter fangs pierced Stiles'. Stiles and Chris did the same to each other. While Peter latched onto Chris. As the bond started to form moonlight illuminated the cave
Peter watched as Stiles eyes dipped lower and lower each time he blinked. There were suposed to be researching whatever had been leaving dead bodies on the bank on the lake hidden in the preserve. Peter was pretty confident that in was a pack of grindylows that had migrated through the multitude of streams. He hadn't told the pack that. He and Chris had locked eyes and come to the same conclusion. That they needed to spend more time with Stiles.
He and Chris weren't together, not officially. They knew without a third they just couldn't work. They both had the need to to take care of their partner.
To Peter, Chris care felt condescending. And to Chris, Peter's care felt suffocating. They hadn't meant to fall for the same person it just happened.Peter admitted that hed been obsessed with Stiles since hed taunted in the school. Chris's interest started not long after.
It was why even though they both knew what it was in the preserve they pretended not to. They just wanted more time with him.
That's why Stiles was falling asleep over a ancient book. He was exhausted. Chris and Peter gave a slight nod to each other.
Chris started to clean up the mess of papers surrounded them as Peter made finger foods. As of to prove how tired he was Stiles didn't even seem to notice what was going on around him. Peter finished making a platter with cut up fruit, cheeses, and meat.
Peter and Chris bracketed Stiles in on the sofa hed been spread out on.
"Huh? Whaz'at" Stiles blinked slowly.
Peter held up a small slice of peeled peach to Stiles' lips. He bit down without thinking about it and juice dribbled down hus chin. Chris wiped it away with him thumb then licked it away. Peter plyed Stiles with food as he and Chris ate between the youngest man's bites. Soon the Platter was empty and Stiles's belly was full. It satisfied Peter in a purely primal way.
"Stiles, let's go lay down." Chris whispered in his ear.
"That's okay baby. I have you." Chris murmured, scooping Stiles up in his arms.
He carried him down the hallway into Peter's bedroom. Where a California King piled with blankets and pillows was waiting. Peter quickly arranged the papers Chris and cleaned up so the information on Grindylows was on top then followed them into his room.
Stiles had been coaxed into changing into sleep pants and a pullover. He waa curled up in the middle of the bed under the covers. Chris and Peter quickly changed and slipped into bed with him.
Stiles woke up feeling better rested than he had in days. He was comfy, warm, and there was a pleasant weight on his chest, his head was pillowed on something firm with a slight give. He smacked his lips and tried to grip his weighted blanket to turn over. It wouldn't budge. He huffed giving another tug on the fabric. Nothing. He finally opened his eyes and found himslef face to face with a sleeping Peter Hale who was sprawled all over him.
Stiles pinched himself making sure he was awake. He was. He turned his head and stared at a nipple. That nipple was attached to Chris Argent. Stiles nodded his head trying to figure out what exactly had happened the night before.
He remembered researching, getting tired, something sweet and juicy being pressed against his lips, the feeling of weightlessness, being cold and putting on clothes, then nothing.
Someone feed him and put him to bed, like a child. And yet, he felt so cared for. Stiles decided to just enjoy being sandwiched between his two DILF crushes.
A few minutes later Peter stared to stir. His eyelashes fluttered, "Mmhh, my favorite dream."
Peter nuzzled into Stiles' bare neck. He paused and looked at Stiles who was already looking at him.
"Not a dream?"
"Nope." Stiles shook his head.
Peter closed his eyes, "Right... I'll just-" he started to lift himself off Stiles.
"Shuddup. We're sleeping in." Chris growled as he wrapped his arms around the two of them and grabbed onto Peter's sleep pants.
Stiles held on as well. He looked at Peter with big brown eyes, "A little longer wouldn't hurt, right."
Summary: It all started at the loft, when Stiles was first stuck doing research with Chris and Peter. Over the months, Stiles notices the tension between the two and he thinks he knows exactly what it is. Sexual tension. He’s not wrong, but he’s missing one big part of the equation: Himself.
--
“Christopher,” Peter’s voice was a barely contained growl.
“Peter,” Chris’ finger twitched like he wanted to reach for his gun.
“Stiles!” Stiles yelped annoyed and waved his arms, startling both men out of their glaring contest. “Now that we finished roll-call, can we move on to the research?”
Peter’s lip curled to show some fang as he stared at Stiles. “There is a hunter in the den.”
Blinking slowly, Stiles looked from Peter, still standing on the spiral staircase, to Chris, still standing in the open door. “Wow. Nothing gets past those keen werewolf senses, does it?”
It earned him a low warning growl that, half a year ago, would have filled Stiles with dread, anxiety and the urge to flail and run. Since then, Stiles had faced the then feral Alpha multiple times, aided in killing him, had faced hunters, gotten kidnapped and tortured by said hunters, and dealt with a killer lizard. So Stiles was kind of over it. Peter Hale did not intimidate him anymore, they’d long since moved on from that first meeting in the hospital that had left Stiles with his heart in his throat.
“I know there is a hunter in the den, I let him in,” Stiles grabbed Chris by the wrist and actually pulled him into the loft, startling the hunter and earning another growl from Peter.
“Why would you do that,” Peter asked, voice sharper than his teeth.
Stiles closed the door. “Because Derek, our Alpha if I need to remind you, invited him.”
“And why would he do that,” Peter asked next. “And why would I not know about that.”
Stiles gave his most unimpressed deadpan. “Probably because of this exact reaction. Derek knew you would take this poorly and decided to not deal with that and leave it up to me. I don’t know at which point the pack collectively decided I’m the designated Peter wrangler, but here we are.”
That earned him a surprised snort of a laugh from Chris and a narrow-eyed, offended glare from Peter. Well, the wolf could just suck it up because it was true. Sure, there were multiple members of the pack who got along with Peter to varying degrees – Erica was a big fan of him, Peter and Jackson had some kind of fashion and judgment bonding going on, Cora and Peter had a moderately functional relationStetopher (for two Hales, anyway…) – but when it came to needing to making sure Peter actually did what he was supposed to, everyone was suddenly looking elsewhere and Stiles got stuck on Peter sitting duty (mh, he wouldn’t mind sitting on Peter. Either on the man’s face, or his dick, Stiles wasn’t picky on that. Hey! That man was fine as hell, no shame in having two eyes and being able to admit that, especially now that he was no longer a feral murderous threat to everyone Stiles loved and instead was on their side. He could enjoy the view).
“Stiles,” Chris snapped his fingers in front of Stiles’ face, startling him. “You spaced out.”
“I’d love to know where your mind went there,” Peter cocked one eyebrow.
There was a leer on Peter’s face. Right. Werewolf senses. Stiles flushed and hoped his scent hadn’t given away too much. Glaring at the wolf, Stiles gave him a shove and headed to the couch.
“Research,” Stiles pointed at the stacks of books on the table. “Since we hit a dead end with the books from the Hale Vault, I suggested we tap into the hunter knowledge. Argent bestiary, hunter experience, new perspective. Derek brooded, eyebrowed and then growled his agreement.”
“And why would he agree to that?” Peter asked, shooting Chris a look at ‘he’.
“Oh my god, he is literally in the room and you could ask him yourself! We are not in first grade anymore and I am not passing on messages!” Stiles groaned and flopped down on the couch.
However, Peter seemed to not be the only uncooperative party involved. Chris still stood exactly where Stiles had put him before closing the door and he didn’t seem willing to answer either. This was great. Amazing. Derek owed him so hard for this one.
“Because our resident Argents agreed on a treaty with the Hale Pack,” Stiles looked from Chris to Peter, raising his own eyebrows. “As Derek’s newly appointed Emissary, I helped him negotiate it. One of the conditions both sides agreed on was to share knowledge and resources. We all have the same goal. Protect Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. This, surprisingly enough, works so much better when we actually work together instead of against each other.”
The sneer returned to Peter’s face and Stiles was honestly five seconds from throwing mountain ash in his face or something. Derek was so going to buy him the new Call of Duty for this shit. When Stiles had agreed to become Derek’s Emissary, after he figured out that his ‘Spark’ meant he had actual real literal magic, he had somehow imagined that to be more badass witch fights and less playing mediator between two stubborn, deadly, hot old men who clearly had personal history. Stiles just wasn’t entirely sure what it was; just the general hatred between hunters and werewolves, the overall bad blood between Hales and Argents, the indirect ‘your sister killed my family’ and ‘you killed my sister and my father, and your nephew killed my wife’ type, or if it was something more personal, if the two of them had tried to kill each other in the past.
“Just sit down, both of you,” Stiles ordered annoyed. “The sooner we start, the sooner all of us can go back home and not be here and not do this.”
Summary: Stiles and Kira move to Silver Lake for college and their new neighbors lend them a hand during the move. When a big storm hits the town, Stiles seeks shelter with them.
--
“This is going to be great,” Stiles declared with unsettling optimism. “A fresh start. Just you, me, college. New town, new people, new… New everything.”
He was smiling broadly and it was only half-forced, because he actually did mean every word. High school had been hell – more literal than it should be. Between hunters, Darachs, Alphas, a possession and just so much other bullshit, hell may actually be a walk in the park for them at this point. Stiles and Kira had both signed up for Silver Lake University and decided to move in together there, get a fresh start together. Build something new, maybe find a new pack.
Things in Beacon Hills had cracked and fallen apart for them both, Scott had shown them both that he didn’t trust them when Kira lost control of her fox and he didn’t tell her and when Scott chose to believe Theo over Stiles about Donovan’s death. Kira had left Beacon Hills to learn to control her fox. Stiles… Well, Stiles made due, as he always did. Powered through, grit his teeth.
But now he was graduated and could leave it all behind. Not too far behind, mind you. Silver Lake was still in Beacon County and Stiles would be in Beacon Hills in two hours if needed by his dad or the pups, who still went to high school. Scott, Lydia, Ethan and Danny had all left for college, moving to different towns, different states. The McCall Pack had essentially come apart, even though that was the one thing Stiles had been scared of, that Stiles had worried about during the summer before senior year, tried to tell Scott, to plan for them all to stick together.
Now it didn’t matter anymore, he supposed. He’d left the pack when he saw his Alpha didn’t believe him and as painful as the following few months leading up to graduation had been, things would be different now. Fresh start. Maybe even a new pack; Stiles knew there was a pack in Silver Lake and he hoped the Alpha would not just be accepting of Stiles and Kira but also provide Liam and Hayden with what they needed not go feral while Scott was off at college.
“I’m dead,” Stiles groaned and sank down next to the Jeep.
“Stiles, we only carried like three boxes in,” Kira pointed out amused.
“Heavy boxes! Filled with precious books!” Stiles argued, gesturing widely.
“We have… a whole trailer full of stuff, including furniture,” Kira pointed at the trailer.
The house they were renting came with basic furniture but there were some things they had brought themselves. Stiles groaned at the thought of having to carry all of that, tilting his head back.
“Changed my mind. We’re good, we don’t need anything else.”
“Stiles,” Kira giggled a little. “Your bed is in there.”
“Mh. Problem for future Stiles. Present Stiles is fine sleeping right here, on the sidewalk.”
“Hello there, new neighbors. You look like you could… use a hand.”
Stiles cracked one eye open and then stared in surprise, gaping just a little because the two men in front of him looked like they had stepped out of one of his fantasies. A gorgeous man with a teasing smirk and a goatee, wearing a v-neck that was just obscenely low-cut, and next to him a slightly older silver fox, gray in his beard and the henley he was wearing was hugging his his chest just right and showing off some tattoos down his arm. Both had very intense blue eyes and Stiles’ mouth went dry just from looking at them for too long.
“Stiles,” Kira hissed and kicked him lightly. “You are two seconds from drooling.”
“Huh? Oh. Uhm,” Stiles’ eyes widened and he jumped up, acutely aware of both hot older men staring at him curiously. “Sorry about that, my brain might have gone offline for a moment, in my defense, you two are really hot, individually speaking, but in combination? That’s a lot to put out there for a poor, unsuspecting single gay guy.”
Kira heaved a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Before you start reading them your Grindr profile – yes, I know about your Grindr profile, I also know Danny set it up for you – yes, we would very much like the help, thank you very much.”
At the last part of her rant, Kira had turned to the two hot DILFs, offering them one of her hundred watt smiles that was so disarming and deceptive. This sunshine cupcake of a person was a dangerous and fierce kitsune, after all. The hot men exchanged an amused look.
“I’m Chris, this is my husband Peter,” Chris offered, holding out a hand.
Aw, there went Stiles’ chance at seducing one of their hot neighbors. Still, he took the offered hand.
“Stiles, this is my platonic better half Kira. We just moved here. Which… you know, because of the moving trailer,” Stiles closed his eyes and winced. “I promise I am usually smarter than this, can we please blame it on exhaustion. It was a three hour drive and we’ve been doing this carrying-heavy-shit thing for what feels like six hours.”
“He is smarter usually,” Kira assured them, resting her hands on his shoulders. “But he does always ramble that much and say anything that crosses his mind, which is a lot.”
“I hate you,” Stiles shot her a deadpan look.
“You love me,” Kira countered, putting that sweet smile back on.
Peter cleared his throat and when Stiles looked over, he could see the very attractive laugh-lines on Chris’ face prominent with his smile. A blush rose to his cheeks regardless and he ducked his head.
“We’ll be happy to help you,” Peter offered with a charming smile.
And then Stiles was treated to two hours of watching hot men carry heavy stuff, muscles bulging even as neither of them showed that it took any effort at all. It was highly inspiring, Stiles could just imagine being pinned against a wall or lifted up and thrown onto a bed—which were all bad thoughts that he was most definitely not having about his married neighbors!
Stiles has been running for most of his life.
From foster homes that never lasted, from people who wanted something from him, from the strange, volatile magic under his skin that no one ever taught him how to control.
By seventeen, he knows enough to call it a spark.
He also knows enough to follow the dreams.
They lead him to Beacon Hills.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
💛 Special Thanks A huge thank you to takaraphoenix for organizing Stetopher Week 2026!!
💬 0 🔁 31 ❤️ 37 · Stetopher Week 2026: Spring Edition · Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i f
Instead, he ends up on a five-hour road trip with Peter Hale, Chris Argent, and enough unresolved tension to qualify as hazardous cargo. The mission is simple: acquire a Hale-linked artifact tied to emissary magic before it falls into the wrong hands.
The reality is anything but.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
💛 Special Thanks A huge thank you to takaraphoenix for organizing Stetopher Week 2026!!
vvv The event prompts are posted on tumbler and linked below vvv
💬 0 🔁 31 ❤️ 37 · Stetopher Week 2026: Spring Edition · Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i f
After the Nogitsune, after Allison, after the station, after everything, there are no safe places left. Not his house. Not Scott’s. Not anywhere filled with people watching him too closely, waiting for him to break.
So he finds somewhere no one would ever think to look.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
💛 Special Thanks A huge thank you to takaraphoenix for organizing Stetopher Week 2026!!
vvv The event prompts are posted on tumbler and linked below vvv
💬 0 🔁 31 ❤️ 37 · Stetopher Week 2026: Spring Edition · Since people seemed torn about when Stetopher Week should take place this year, i f
