#peter hale fluff

[samdeancass]

Mate's Pull (18+)

Requested by Anonymous

Pairing: Peter Hale x Female!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Characters: Peter, Y/N

Description: Peter finds out that Y/N is his mate.

Peter Hale prowled the dimly lit streets of Beacon Hills, his senses on high alert after reports of rogue hunters encroaching on pack territory. At 35, he was a survivor - cunning, powerful, with a body honed by years of claw and fang. His blue eyes scanned the shadows, nostrils flaring at every unfamiliar scent. That's when he caught it: a sweet, intoxicating aroma that hit him like a freight train. Jasmine mixed with something uniquely human, warm and fertile, pulling at his wolf like a tether.

You were the source, hurrying home from your late shift at the local library, backpack slung over one shoulder. Unaware of the supernatural world, you'd crossed paths with Peter once before - at a coffee shop where his piercing gaze had lingered a beat too long. Now, as you turned the corner, a hunter's shadow loomed behind you, knife glinting under the streetlamp.

Peter moved like lightning, tackling the intruder before the blade could descend. Claws extended, he ripped through the hunter's defences, ending the threat with a savage growl. Blood sprayed, but his focus snapped to you - wide-eyed, frozen in place. "Run!" he snarled, but you didn't. Instead, you grabbed a loose brick from the sidewalk and swung it at the hunter's backup emerging from the alley, cracking the man's skull.

The fight ended quickly, bodies slumped. Peter straightened, wiping gore from his hands, his chest heaving. Up close, your scent enveloped him, flooding his veins with heat. His wolf howled inside, recognising the impossible: you were his mate. The one soul bound to him across lifetimes, a rarity for a Hale wolf. His eyes flashed beta blue, then settled on you with raw hunger and protectiveness.

"Who... what are you?" you stammered, dropping the brick, heart pounding not just from fear but from the electric pull drawing you toward him. Peter stepped closer, towering over your frame, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The touch sparked fire - visions of tangled sheets, shared breaths, eternal loyalty slashing in his mind.

"Your protector," he murmured, voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. "And more. Come with me. You're safe now." Against all logic, you nodded, letting him guide you to his sleek black Camaro. The drive to his loft was silent, charged with unspoken tension. He stole glances, marvelling at how your presence calmed his restless beast.

Inside the spacious, modern loft - high ceilings, leather furniture, bookshelves lining the walls - Peter poured you a glass of whiskey, his fingers brushing yours deliberately. "That scent... it's you. Driving me insane." You sipped, cheeks flushing. "What do you mean?"

He set his glass down, closing the distance until his body heat seeped into yours. "In my world, mates are fated. One person who completes you, body and soul. I've waited years, thought it a myth. But you... you're mine." His words hung heavy, but instead of fear, a thrill bloomed in your core. You'd felt alone too long; this man, dangerous and magnetic, made you feel seen.

Peter's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss starting soft - fluff of discovery, his hands cradling your face like fragile glass - then deepening with mate's urgency. Tongues tangled, he tasted the whiskey on you, groaning into your mouth. You melted against him, fingers threading though his dark hair, pulling him closer. "Peter," you whispered, the name a plea.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the king-sized bed in the master suite. Laying you down gently, he stripped off his shirt, revealing sculpted abs scarred from battles past. Your eyes roamed hungrily, hands reaching for his belt. "Let me show you," he said, voice husky. Clothes shed in a frenzy - your blouse unbuttoned, skirt hiked up, his pants kicked aside - until skin met skin.

Peter hovered above, kissing a trail from your neck to your breasts, sucking a nipple into his wet mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch. "So responsive," he praised, fluff weaving through the heat as he murmured endearments. "My perfect mate. Been dreaming of this pull." His hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your slick folds, finding your clit with expert circles.

You gasped, hips bucking. "Peter... please." He dipped two fingers inside your pussy, curling them to stroke that inner wall, thumb pressing your nub. Wet sounds filled the room as he pumped steadily, building your arousal. "You're soaking for me already. Feel how you clench? That's the bond." Leaning down, he captured your lips again, swallowing your moans while his free hand pinched your other nipple, rolling it firm.

When you trembled on the edge, he withdrew, earning a whine. "Not yet. Want to taste you first." He shifted down, spreading your legs wide, his broad shoulders settling between them. Tongue flat, he licked from your entrance to clit in one long stroke, savouring your flavour. "Fuck, you taste like heaven." He dove in, sucking your clit while thrusting his tongue inside, lapping at your walls. Fingers re-joined, three now, stretching you as he hummed vibrations against your sensitive flesh.

Your hands fisted the sheets, back bowing. "Oh god, right there - don't stop!" The mate bond amplified everything; pleasure echoed between you, his cock throbbing untouched against the mattress. He ate you out relentlessly, nose bumping your clit, until you shattered - crying his name, pussy pulsing, juices coating his chin.

Peter rose, wiping his mouth with a smirk, eyes glowing faintly. "Beautiful when you cum." He positioned himself at your entrance, thick cockhead nudging your folds. "Ready for me, mate?" You nodded, wrapping your legs around his waist. He pushed in slow, inch by veined inch, groaning at your tight heat. "So full... taking me like you were made for it."

One buried deep, he stilled, forehead to yours, sharing breaths in fluffy intimacy. "I never thought I'd find you. But here you are - mine to cherish." Then he moved, thrusting shallow at first, building to hard snaps of hips. Your pussy gripped him, walls fluttering with each drag. He hit deep, grinding against your g-spot, sparks flying through the bond.

"Harder," you begged, nails raking his back. Peter obliged, pounding into you, bed creaking under the force. He flipped you onto all fours, re-entering from behind, one hand fisting your hair gently, the other slapping your ass lightly. "Love this view - your ass bouncing on my cock." Each thrust slapped skin on skin, his balls tapping your clit, driving you wild.

The bond sang, sensations doubling; you felt his pleasure too, the way your pussy milked him pushing him closer. "Gonna fill you up," he growled, pace frantic. You came again, screaming as your release squirted around his shaft, soaking the sheets. Peter followed, roaring your name, cock pulsing hot cum deep inside, marking his mate.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, bodies slick and sated. Kisses peppered your shoulder, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Stay with me," he whispered, fluff wrapping you both. "We'll face the world together>" You snuggled closer, the bond sealing with warmth. In Peter's arms, you were home - claimed, loved, eternal.

[thesometimesfanficwriter]

The Anti-Hero? - Peter Hale x Reader

You’d learned long ago that your tears wouldn’t save you. You would still bleed, bruise, and break. Since then, you’d learned to hide them. A tissue, some white eyeliner, and a bottle of eye drops could hide most instances of emotions. Right now, you don’t want to. Everything ached, including your teeth from how hard you’d clenched them in contempt and barely controlled rage. 

You had planned everything perfectly, from your hair down to the color of your toes. Every inch of you is perfectly coordinated perfection. A knock out by most standards, and yet….here you stood in a bathroom not of your choosing, trying to hold it together again. A cracked porcelain sink clutched between your fingers, while rusted hand dryers feebly whisper their harsh words and criticisms back to you. 

Then the blaring sound of a wolf howling caught your attention. “Hello?” You steadied your voice, staring at the ceiling in the hopes of holding back the tears. 

“You have yet to remove that awful alert from me on your phone.” He all but growled out. 

“No, Peter. Wait, how do you know that?” Your fingers are pushing up your lashes to try to prevent the flecks from smearing onto your cheeks. All while errant tears try to escape your notice, creating a line through the middle of your foundation. 

*knock* *knock* *knock-knock*

“You’ve got ta be–” You barged over to the door, pulling it open in agitation, only to find Monica staring back at you. Her long dark hair was styled in a blowout that must have cost a fortune. She sauntered in a leather pencil skirt and bold red lips in a smile that had made you feel about two feet tall. Never mind you had your dream job, own home, and friends who adored you. 

It all disappeared under her Manolo Blahnik stilettos. She smirked in the mirror as she reapplied her flawless lipstick while eyeing your outfit up and down. You responded by gripping your phone until your knuckles turned white. Not one emotion flitted across your face.

“Hmm, same old Y/N. No date, just a better disguise. What did you think would happen? You would show up with your fancy degree, borrowed outfit, and overdone hair, we’d pretend that you weren’t the biggest loser at school.” She laughed at her own cruelty, a high, nasally slash to your confidence. 

“You might have the money to pretend you’re something, but—

*SLAM* *SLAM* *SLAM*

The door fell forward on its hinges with a decided crack right down its center. As the dust from the tiles breaking cleared. The blue-eyed devil himself stood in the clearing. 

“Darling, you forgot your ring.” He’d grown his hair back out, so an inch or two fell across his piercing gaze. There, in between his fingertips, was the largest diamond you had ever seen. More than likely, larger than Monica had imagined. Her own single carat was put to shame. 

“Pe-ter.” You breathed out, moving swiftly towards him. His large arms enwrapping you, sliding the ring onto your finger before he pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss that left Monica gripping the chipped porcelain. 

He smelled like spice and better than skin; you never could tell if it was a wolf thing or just cologne. As your hands moved into his hair, raking across his scalp and earning a growl from between his lips. His palms slid up your waist, and his forearms settled onto your back, making you feel as petite. As you parted, he stared into your eyes like you were the only person in the world. 

You mouthed thank you, slowly coming back to your senses. The two of you walked off as the sound of someone’s tantrum echoed out of the bathroom. 

His grip retained its strength on your waist remained strong as you neared the gymnasium. A deep breath, and you two moved into the musky space. Peter acts as a mosquito deterrent towards the worst entities. The rest flocked to you two in spades, some surprised at the pairing, others clearly trying to gain some footing between the power couple in front of them, while a genuine few were glad to see you. Peter even dared to dance a few numbers with you, all in the name of the act, of course. 

By the end of the night you’d gathered a few numbers, rejected even more, and left feeling like the belle of the ball. In walking out to the car and getting into whatever luxury vehicle Peter had that night, you all but swooned, kicked your feet, and giggled. 

“Did you see her face! Aha, take that, Monica.” You practically glowed.

“Peter, you might just be my hero.” You whispered as he rolled up to your house. 

“No, I just realized we had the same enemy. Trust me. I’m far from altruistic,” his eyes glowing that werewolf blue.

You grinned, looking down before you opened your car door, still flouncing from the evening’s bliss.

Before he could pull off into the night and try to pretend like it never happened, you leaned over and through his open window, pressing your lips to his cheek. “Then maybe you can be my Anti-Hero.”

You felt the muscles of his cheek contort under his lips, quickly sliding back into neutral as he reversed out of your driveway. 

[loganwritesprobably]

Now, just you (P.H.)

Date: Shopping date

Synopsis: Peter takes you down to Beacon County for a day to get away from the chaos and enjoy some quiet time Tags/Warnings: Peter/GN!Reader, fluff, established relationship Word Count: 1,041

A blind date for a beautiful anon for this event

AO3 | Masterlist | Req Rules | Trades | Community | WIPs

Getting out of Beacon Hills was like a breath of fresh air. Beacon County wasn’t the most exciting town either, but it was enough. It was different, and you were with Peter, so that added a certain something to the trip as well. The drive in his luxury car made the journey more bearable despite how long a drive it was, but once you’d arrived you were thoroughly ready to get out and get going.

He’d wanted to take you out for the weekend, take you somewhere away from the pack of brats to just enjoy some alone time, a real date like you’d not been able to have in weeks. You couldn’t deny that you were thoroughly looking forward to it. Beacon Hills was relentless in the trouble it got into, so a true break away from everything related to it was direly needed. Naturally, when Peter was involved, so was money so his plan was to take you shopping. Not that you were complaining, far from it.

He seemed to know the Beacon County mall about as well as he knew the back of his own hand, and he guided you around seamlessly with a simple hand on the small of your back, firm and reassuring in a new place crowded with so many people. He never had to say anything to guide you where he needed to, just a slight change in the pressure and you were following his lead wherever it was he was taking you next. He took you between clothing stores to see you parade around in outfits he selected and home stores, suggesting what he thought may look good on your bookshelves or beside your bed. He had a certain eye for design that you’d always appreciated. It took just short of three hours for you to get around the stores he wanted to visit before visiting the food court, where Peter simply handed you his card, explaining he had a digital card on his phone, and sent you to pick something for yourself.

Thankfully, the food court had your favourite so you headed there to get something for yourself, while Peter visited one of the other locations. You met back up at a table, sitting down together to eat and exchange simple chatter. The topic of the supernatural was strictly banned for the entire day, unless an emergency cropped up back home - and it needed to be a world ending emergency for it to have permission to interrupt your date.

“So, are you happy?” Peter asked after a brief lull in the conversation, chin resting in his palm. “Generally, or with today?” “Both, I suppose.” He clarified with a shrug, taking another bite of his food as he waited for you to answer. “Generally? Yes, I’d say so. We have a pretty good life despite everything that happens in Beacon Hills. And with today? Definitely. You always spoil me, and it’s been fun just browsing too. Looking at things, trying things on, just laughing together.” Peter seemed pleased with that, taking another moment to finish the food in his mouth before he replied. “Good. I say we finish up today by visiting that beauty store by the entrance before we head back to the car. But we’re not heading home just yet, I have plans.” “I don’t need anything from the beauty store, Peter.” You replied with a soft laugh. “Well I do, they sell the moisturiser I like.” He replied with a smirk, chin raised. “Primping ass.” “You love my ass.” You laughed together, hands meeting at the middle of the table, fingers lacing together. He wasn’t wrong, you did love his ass.

After your visit to the beauty store, Peter escorted you back to his car and handed you his phone so you could pick the music playing over the speakers in his car. True to his word, he didn’t begin driving in the direction of Beacon Hills, rather going in the exact opposite direction. He drove through city streets, into the suburbs, and then into a more rural area. He drove along streets that felt more like footpaths than roads, and finally pulled up at what was definitely the foot of a trail. “Not a long walk, I promise.” He assured you when you turned to him with a raised brow. You would indulge him, you supposed, he rarely led you wrong.

It was definitely worth it.

It was only around a ten minute walk and it wasn’t a difficult walk by any standard. As you reached the top, you found yourself at a beautiful lookout point, with a view of the horizon as the sun began to set. Peter took your hand gently in his own, lacing your fingers to guide you over to a wooden bench where the two of you could sit. Though, rather than letting you sit beside him, he hauled you straight into his lap, one arm around you and the other still with fingers laced through yours. You simply resigned yourself to it, it wasn’t as if you didn’t enjoy being in his lap, and leaned your head against his.

“This spot is beautiful, I’ve always enjoyed coming here.” Peter murmured, and for a moment your eyes widened only a fraction. He rarely mentioned his life before the coma, if he could help it. “Yeah?” You replied, not wanting to push him, but wanting to show that you were listening, you were always listening when he wanted to talk. “The moment I got my driver’s license I started driving out to County, I needed to get away from my family, they drove me insane. I found this spot and it became my little sanctuary. For all I loved my nieces and nephews, I never brought any of them here. This was just for me.” He revealed softly, followed by a gentle kiss pressed to your jaw. “None of them?” You replied, tongue darting out to wet your lips. Did that mean- “Just you now.”

You turned slowly in his lap to face him and brought your lips together, hand lifting to tangle your fingers in his hair, keeping him close. He chuckled softly at your reaction, but didn’t comment. He just kept you close.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable @fanaticsnail @mermaniaa @hyperfixationthingss @queenmimi2817 @spinny-bois @villainousace

If you'd like to tip me you can head over to my Kofi

[twjournals]

you tell them you're pregnant / part 2

Isaac Lahey

He doesn't believe his ears. He makes you repeat it because he's not sure he heard you correctly.

"Isaac, I'm pregnant." You repeat.

You had known for a few days now. You were in a world of emotions already between your own emotions and wondering what Isaac would think when he found out.

There was no beating around the bush when you told him.

You weren't that far along to notice. If you hadn't missed your period, you probably would not have suspected anything yourself.

He blinked, turning his head as if he was taking in everything you were saying.

You stood in front of him, your hair still damp from the shower you had just taken.

"And here I thought you were about to tell me about something you were thinking in the shower." He chuckled nervously, feeling his hands starting to get clammy and he rubbed them around his pj bottoms. "Pregnant?"

You just nodded your head.

"Is this why you've been so quiet the past few days?" He met your eyes again.

You weren't sure what to say. You were terrified what was going through his mind.

"I can't say I'm not freaking out a little," He started before rising to his feet to lift your chin to look at him. He couldn't lie. He was freaking out between the trauma he was slowly recovering from with his father and trying to keep it from coming between the two of you. But right now he knew how much he needed you.

You look out the shaky breath you were holding in and he stroked his finger across your cheek. "But I'm here."

He presses a kiss to the side of your head, pulling you into his arms to hold you tight. "I'm here."

Theo Raeken

You knew it wasn't smart to be going behind your brother's back with Theo but you couldn't help yourself. And let's be honest Theo wasn't helping either.

"Theo, I need to tell you something." You mumbled against his lips as he started to pull his jacket down his arm.

It wasn't hard to hide it when everyone hated Theo, including you. You played the role so well.

At least that was the case.

"What is it?" His mouth left yours only to continue working kisses down your jaw and along your neck. You could barely think around him.

Your hands pushed against his chest, leaning away from him to pry his lips from your neck. He held onto your waist as he finally met your eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Liam was going to kill you.

You swallowed hard. Everything. "I'm pregnant, Theo."

You could feel how tense the air had grown around you in just a few second. Neither of you had said a word for a while, but his arms never moved from around you.

You moved to pull the two positive pregnancy tests from your back pocket to show him. His eyes followed your hand.

"I'm sorry. This isn't how I wanted things to go either, but I'm terrified. And Liam- Liam is going to-"

His name was like a trigger for the both of you. Considering Liam was your brother and about the only person who gave Theo any sort of a chance aside from you. "He's gonna have to get over it." He finally spoke.

"I don't want to ruin things for you. I know you've been trying to do better with everyone."

"I'm not worried about that." He admitted as his large hands caressed along your back comfortingly. "This matters more to me than trying to appease them." He nodded his head towards you.

Your cheeks blushed a deep crimson before hiding your face into his chest.

Peter Hale

You were curled up on the couch watching a movie with Peter after a long day of both of you helping Scott's pack.

A blanket was draped across both of you and a bowl of popcorn sitting on his lap.

You had known the exciting news for a week now and you couldn't wait any longer to share it with him.

Not that you had been trying to get pregnant, but it was a topic discussed a few times and you both weren't against being parents. You had been married two years now. It was nothing you were in a hurry to do, but now that it was happening. It felt like it was meant to be.

You reached a hand into the bowl to grab some popcorn, smiling to yourself as you kept your eyes on the tv screen.

"So what if I told you I may or may not be pregnant?" You tossed the popcorn in your mouth.

His fingers tracing against your back stilled and he lifted his head off the couch cushion to look at you.

"Are you?"

You struggled to bite back the grin on your lips, peeking over at find his soft eyes already on you.

"I am."

You watched his lips curl into a smile, knocking over the popcorn over to pull you into his lap. "Oh my god Peter. I was eating that."

His arms wrapped around your body to cuddle you on his lap. "I've been waiting for you to say something. I knew something was off." He kissed the corner of your mouth, glazing a large hand over your stomach.

"You knew? What?"

He taps his ear with a smirk. "You're married to a werewolf, baby. This is old news."

[soulofapatrick]

Under the Mistletoe - Peter Hale x Femae Reader

Summary: Peter has to step outside during christmas celebrations and you follow him

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None, just some pure Christmas fluff

Y/N’s POV 

The Stilinski living room is an embodiment of cozy chaos—warmly lit by twinkling lights and filled with laughter that bounces off the walls. We're all gathered, the whole pack, tightly nestled onto every available surface. Couches are claimed by some, while others opt for the floor, sharing pillows and throws in a haphazard but comfortable manner. It's crowded, but the festive cheer keeps us close, shoulders brushing and smiles exchanged.

From the doorway, Dad, Melissa and Peter stand, observing the scene with amused expressions. Dad’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he leans against the doorframe, a mug of something warm in his hand, as Erica and Liam bicker over who the gift in Malia’s hand is for. Melissa exchanges a fond glance with him, her lips curving into a soft smile, while Peter’s gaze holds a mixture of amusement and something else—a tinge of sadness. 

Peter’s eyes meet mine across the room, a brief but charged connection that sends an unexpected warmth cascading through me. Caught in the intensity of his gaze, I can’t help but feel my cheeks flush, and I quickly avert my eyes, focusing instead on the gift being launched my way by Scott. 

As I peel away the layers of wrapping paper, a soft chuckle escapes me when I uncover a hoodie. But not just any hoodie—its a simple yet heartwarming statement piece. In bold letters, it reads “Best Pack Mom Ever!” 

The room erupts into laughter and cheers, a chorus of voices expressing their approval and amusement at the gift. I can’t help but grin, feeling a warm rush of gratitude and affection for this pack that feels more and more like family with each passing day. Without a thought I pull it over my head and melt with love as it’s so fluffy and warm and oversized. 

Glancing up again, I catch Peter’s eyes once again, this time softened with a gentle smile that reaches them. There’s a subtle depth in his gaze, a silent understanding that tugs at my heartstrings. His subtle nod and the ghost of a reassuring smile sends a flutter of warmth through me, easing any lingering nervousness. 

Despite the festive cheer enveloping the room, a lingering sense of melancholy in Peter’s eyes doesn’t escape my notice. His smile, though warm, carries a weight that speaks volumes, and I can’t shake the feeling of a hidden sorrow behind it. As the laughter and chatter of the pack fills the air once more, I see Peter swallow hard, a visible lump forming in his throat. Without a word, he turns and quietly slips away, his departure unnoticed amidst the joyful chaos. 

Squashed between Derek and Jordan, I feel a nudge of worry from the latter as I shift to get up. Patting Jordan’s knee with a reassuring smile, I offer a quick “I’ll be right back Jor.” Before making my way out onto the small front porch, where Peter stands, cloaked in shadows. 

The night air is crisp, filled with a serene quiet that contrasts sharply with the festive buzz indoors. Outside, the world feels different—quieter, more contemplative—and it seems to match Peter’s pensive demeanour. 

“Peter?” I call softly, stepping closer, the faint glow of the porch light casting a gentle illumination around us. He turns slightly at the sound of my voice, the moonlight painting his features in soft contrasts. There’s a vulnerability in the way he holds himself, a rawness that I’ve seldom seen, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” I offer, feeling a pang of uncertainty about stepping into his private moment.

His age meets mine a mixture of surprise and something akin to gratitude flickering in those intense blue eyes, “You didn’t,” he assures, his voice carrying a hint of appreciation. 

Feeling the unspoken weight between us, I cautiously move closer until I’m standing at his side. Peter remains still, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his forearms resting against the edge of the porch. Without a word, I lean in, resting my head gently against his shoulder, a silent offering of comfort. 

There’s a momentary pause, a heartbeat of anticipation, before Peter slowly turns his head, his breath brushing against my hair. Without a word, he leans in, burying his face in the soft strands, a subtle but profound gesture of seeking solace in the simple closeness. The wolves of the pack seem to do it a lot, as if they’re memorising my scent. I don’t mind it at this point, quite used to it and just wanting to make Peter smile again. 

His strong arms, once unmoving, now wraps around me, pulling me closer into a gentle embrace. I feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a reassurance admits the silent turmoil within him. 

Gently pulling back after a moment, just enough to meet his gaze, I sense a shift in peter’s demeanour. The shadow of sadness is still present, lingering in the depths of his bright blue eyes, but it’s fading, giving way to something else—something that sends my heart racing and my usually eloquent words scattering like autumn leaves. 

His features, usually etched with an air of intensity and determination, soften in this moment of vulnerability. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws me in, an unspoken understanding that feels like a whispered secret shared between us. 

I find myself entranced by the subtle play of moonlight on his angular features—the chiseled jawline, the faint scars, and those piercing eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. It’s a sight I’ve admired from afar, a magnetic pull that has stirred a quiet longing within me for longer than I can remember. 

My throat feels dry as I wet my sudden parched lips, nerves fluttering like a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Being this close to him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and seeing the vulnerability in his expression, stirs emotions I’ve kept carefully hidden—a rush of affection and an undeniable attraction that refuses to be ignored. 

As the moment lingers, I feel the shift in Peter—a subtle but distinct change in his demeanour. His suave facade seems to resurface, a shield to conceal the vulnerability he had briefly allowed me to see. 

His hand lifts, cupping my cheek in a gesture that sends shivers down my spine. The rough pad of his thumb grazes over my bottom lip, a barely-there touch that ignites a flurry of sensations. I catch the flicker in his bright eyes, the way they linger on my lips before meeting my gaze once more. There’s a hesitation in his expression, a hint of conflict that dances in those intense blue eyes. "I should stop," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and restraint, a self-imposed barrier he seems hesitant to breach.

The words hang between us, heavy with unspoken desires and emotions. My heart races, caught between the yearning to lean into his touch and the fear of misunderstanding his intentions. 

Caught in the charged atmosphere between us, my heart pounds louder in my ears, an erratic rhythm matching the intensity of the moment. With a surge of boldness fuelled by emotions I can no longer suppress, I act on impulse.

Without a second thought, I rise onto my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. My hands find their place on his shoulders, seeking support and anchoring myself as our lips finally meet. There’s a tender urgency in the kiss, a mingling of hesitance and longing, a culmination of unspoken emotions and desires. 

Peter’s arms, strong and reassuring, wrap around me in response—one securely around my waist, drawing me closer, while the other cradles my head, holding me gently but firmly. 

The touch of our lips sparks an electric current that courses through me, sending tingles down my spine and causing my entire being to tremble. His lips are soft against mine, a perfect harmony of warmth and reassurance, igniting a fire that spreads through every fibre of my being.

In that moment, there's a convergence of emotions—a sense of familiarity mingled with the exhilaration of something new and exhilarating. The kiss feels like coming home, yet exploring uncharted territory, a blend of comfort and passion that leaves me breathless. 

I feel the tension in Peter's embrace ease, a silent affirmation of reciprocation. His kiss holds a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent confession of emotions that words fail to express. It's a moment suspended in time, a revelation of desires and an acknowledgment of a connection that had silently thrived between us.

With a gentle breath against my lips, Peter murmurs, his voice barely audible yet carrying a weight of amusement, "There's mistletoe above us.”

A soft chuckle escapes me, muffled against the warmth of our lingering kiss. It's a rare sight, seeing a genuine smile grace Peter's lips, a fleeting but captivating moment that feels like a precious gift. 

Breaking the kiss, we share a brief, lighthearted glance upward, confirming the small sprig of mistletoe hanging just overhead. It's an almost serendipitous detail, adding a whimsical touch to this unexpected but undeniably cherished moment. Our gazes meet again, and the air between us crackles with a newfound energy, a playful warmth contrasting the depth of emotions we've just shared. There's a silent understanding, an unspoken agreement to cherish this rare moment of vulnerability and connection.

Peter's thumb brushes over my cheek, a tender gesture that holds a promise of more unspoken conversations yet to come. His gaze lingers on mine, a silent reassurance in those intense blue eyes.

"I didn't expect this," he admits softly, a trace of vulnerability coloruing his tone, a rare glimpse of the man behind the walls he usually upholds, “I didn’t expect you to want me back, to feel the same way with our age gap.” 

“I don’t care about that Creeperwolf,” I reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips, feeling the weight of the unspoken but shared sentiment between us, “Now come back inside and celebrate with me.” 

“The others…” 

“Peter Angus Hale, when have you cared what others think of you?” 

“Alright Love, lead the way.” 

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[starshipsofstarlord]

Little Rascal

The pack discovers that Peter has a life that he cares about hidden in Beacon Hills. A wife and a son that they have never before met (1.4k)

Warnings - fluff, pet names, dad!Peter, brief mention of murder and sex, Peter’s secret little life, threats, season 4 based yet loosely different with how Peter goes about working with Scott, deadpool

peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf

To say that Peter was glad to be home, away from all of the chaos that he contributed within the McCall pack, was a dangerous understatement. He hates being away from his own little world, for he cared for those he had in it, and he was a whole different person whilst he was there.

Home, it was the first time in a long duration of such where he felt as though he could call a place that. But it wasn’t just the environment, it was also those that lived in it alongside him, he loved the mundane aspects, how he could relax on the sofa and not have to worry about the ghosts that were in his scorned past.

“Honey Bee.” Peter called out to his sentimental lover; the only one he could love other than his troublesome young son. The dismissive clatter of dishes reached his ears as they were placed in the kitchen basin, and his love came to stand before him as he was seated on the couch, a tiny monster of his own creation clasped with his arms around his mothers legs.

“Yes darling?” She spoke softly to him, combing through her son’s dark locks with her maternal fingers, and the sight made the big bad wolf smile a real smile, one of happy content. Y/N’s head was cocked to the side as she enquired on why he called for her presence, and the man stood, untangling his child from around his wife’s legs and brought him up into his arms.

Taryn was weightless, yet he weighed down Peter’s heart heavy with loving adoration. He could not wait until he and Y/N procreated another little critter that would run around their home just the same as the one he held did. It was the best thing to ever happen to him, being a father.

He had not watched Malia grow up, and that was nothing short of a shame, but now he had the chance to do better and be there as he was more than well aware of the ever encompassing presence of his youngest child.

“I-“ before he could speak on what he had planned, there was an ever so stiff knock rattling on the front door to his secret haven. A derelict sigh made the man roll his tortured eyes as he steadied Taryn more securely upon his hip, pressing a firm peck to his wife’s temple before stepping towards the entrance to their home and unlocking the barrier that protected all that he cared for to onlooking eyes.

And there on the other side was formidably confused pack members, of which he occasionally aided, his only surviving nephew included. His arm propped more securely around his son as he glared with lack of impression, bemused about his unexpected visitors.

They shouldn’t have been here, he hadn’t even let them know the whereabouts of his address, and thus they must have tracked his scent to here. “Can I help you?” The old alpha scowled, his expression creasing even more when Derek dared to take a step closer. “That’s your son.” His raven haired nephew stated, picking up on the boy’s familiar scent.

“You have a kid, other than Malia?” Stiles retorted, feeling rather glad that his werecoyote girlfriend had not accompanied them to their destination. Scott too was rather surprised, he had expected that Peter had nothing driving his life other than a blood lust for power, however it appeared that they had all been wrong. There was a piece of him that was surprisingly human, and it was something that none of them had ever expected to uncover.

After all he had done, perhaps he had committed his wrong doings for another reason than vengeance; he was protecting his own little pack. “Peter, we need your help.” Scott stated with his soft alpha demeanour, understanding if he were unwilling to give his aid at this particular time. He had never been a fan of Peter, not after changing him to be a werewolf against his will, and especially not after threatening the lives of those he cared about, but he had to admit, he conditioned a heart felt feeling for the man. It wasn’t quite happiness, but it wasn’t not happiness either.

“I guess you’ve caught me in a good mood.” It was something the pack members had rarely witnessed, Peter was hardly generous, but he wanted to try and be a good example for his son. “Come on in - but don’t make yourselves at home. I’d prefer for this to not take too long.”

At least his blunt honesty wasn’t peculiar behaviour, and thus with wary footsteps Stiles was forced by Scott’s hand upon the back of his shoulder to enter the home of Peter Hale. “What’s your kid’s name?” Derek asked, curious about his newly discovered cousin. The kid shyly bowed his head, his locks falling before his eyes as Peter placed him like a feather on the floor.

Taryn was preferable to remain in Peter’s shadow. Tucking his hands around his father’s legs as he adapted to the strangers that his father had invited inside. Without hesitancy, despite the company he had, Peter crouch’s down and comforted his son. “It’s okay, you can introduce yourself. These are… some friends of mine.” He’d have rather proclaimed them as acquaintances however that would unsettle Taryn, and it wasn’t exactly the truth.

“My name is Taryn.” The spawn of Scott’s first enemy quietly spoke, making his father proud for doing so. “Why don’t you go to your room son, I’ll be right in after talking to my friends.” The boy needn’t be told twice, he was shy, especially around the rare amount of strangers he had met, and so he gladly trotted off down the hallway, giddy for his ‘daddy’s friends’ leave.

Peter stood up straighter and cleared his throat. “What is it that you needed from me?” His stoic demeanour returned as he expectedly awaited an answer to those that brought constant chaos into his now calm life. “Perhaps to know who would have a child with you, the mass murderer that went around the town killing only for it all to be blamed on a mountain lion.” Stiles scoffed, shocked that someone would willingly procreate with such a monster.

“That would be me.” A voice startled the sarcastic boy, one of feminine grace and beauty which astounded Stiles whom was gasping at the sight of the goddess like creature that stalked in the room before them. “Do we have a problem here darling, or do I need to rip a tongue or two out to bring some quiet back to our home?” Her eyebrows raised as she glowered upon the folk that were crowded in the entryway, looking to her husband for confirmation.

“It’s fine Y/N.” It wasn’t very often that Peter called her by her name, however he was on edge for the seriousness that was contorting the faces of the pack members. “But what I am wanting to know is what isn’t fine, since I assume that’s what you lot were going to tell me.” Derek inhaled through his nose as Scott stepped closer, understanding that the threat was far larger to Peter than he had earlier anticipated.

“There’s a dead pool for supernatural creatures. They are going to try and kill us for money, your money in fact. And I’m willing to bet your family are on the other parts of the list; so, are you willing to help us protect our kind, or will you run, like you always do? I’d understand if you did the latter, I never knew you had a son and a…”

“Wife.” Y/N finished the sentence for Scott, crossing her arms as she stood closer to her husband. “If you need help, you have mine, I will do anything to protect my son.” It was unexpected however Derek nodded in appreciation for her words. Peter weaved his fingers through hers as he ogled worryingly at his beauty, and he was the beast, a beast that was to be hunted and fighting for the life of his family.

“Our son.” He spoke humbly, becoming protective as he thought of all he had to lose. “Just tell us what you want us to do Scott, but remember, our priority is Taryn, his life is more important than any other to us. I will not save a life if it means risking his, but we will do our best.”

“I understand.” Scott said harmlessly, for the first time gracing his maker with a smile. None of this would have tied the alpha up in this mess if Peter had never bitten him, however there was nothing for him to do that would erase that past. “And thank you, I’m glad that we’re on the same side when it comes to this.”

[averagewriter-inthedark]

My Little Tech Wiz 🛠 | Peter Hale Headcanon

Link to my Teen Wolf Masterlist

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

This going slightly off of canon because I’m erasing the fact Peter teamed up with Kate in S4. Basically imagine he forgone those plans because he realized you were worth more than petty vengence.

Being Stiles’ genius cousin who likes to invent gadgets and is romantically involved with Peter would look like:

Picture this: you’re Stiles’s older cousin and like he is an excellent detective, you are a genius inventor. Ever since you could pick things up with your hands you’ve been drawn to creating new things. Play-do, Legos, craft materials. That’s all you wanted to play with as a child because you could build and create different things from them. As you got older you had a keen for math and physics to the point where teachers were telling your parents to have you IQ tested. When you eventually did do the test, it came back you were a literal genius. Shortly after your parents built you a workshop in the storage shed they never used—you basically lived in your backyard because you were there every moment of free time you had. Only downside is your parents forbid you from putting a bed, kitchenette, and installing a bathroom—because then you would actually move out there.

While Beacon Hills was your home, you couldn’t say no to the opportunity of a lifetime when MIT offered you a full ride to their program. Double majoring in Physics & Mechanical Engineering, you graduated MIT at 21 years old, and went on to complete your Master’s and PhD just after you’re 25th birthday. The next six years you stayed on the east coast dedicated to scientific research and creating your own inventions while also teaching at MIT.

Quickly you became known in the field—considering you developed an Artificial intelligence robot named Pluto as part of your dissertation who operated on its own and looked like a real-life version of WALL-E. He was your little buddy and helped you in the workshop and office. “Y—Y/n…” “Yes you’re right—there’s something missing in the equation.”

What brought you back to Beacon Hills was a frantic call from Stiles’ father, your uncle, Noah. Though you & Stiles had quite the age gap between you—roughly fifteen years—he was always looked up to you and was fascinated by your inventions. He was only a small child when you left for college, but when his family would visit yours he was like your little shadow. Always asking questions and wanting to help you. So when Noah calls in evident distress saying Stiles was admitted to the Eichen House and he may have FTD you were on the first plane out to California. When you arrived Noah brought you back to the house and briefly explained to you the situation—leaving out the tiny fact it was possibly a dark fox spirit possessing the teenager.

You were pretty oblivious to a lot of weird things in Beacon Hills, however, you always had that deep intuition that something was going on. As long as it didn’t directly affect you, you tended to turn a blind eye to stuff that looked odd or didn’t have a clear explanation for why it happened. So when Stiles was void and interacted with you there was nothing that made you assume it wasn’t him. You literally went about your conversations with him like it was any other day. It wasn’t until you witnessed the Nogitsune split from Stiles in Scott’s living room that you audibly yelled, “What the fuck?!” Which had everyone, especially Stiles, shitting themselves because 1: most of them had no idea you were there, 2: most didn’t know who you were, and 3: you just saw something you shouldn’t have and they couldn’t lie about it.

That was where you first met Peter. In the middle of Scott’s living room as he held down Stiles, who was covered head-to-toe in gauze, on the couch. With your jaw dropped and staring wide eyed like you just witnessed the second coming of Jesus. You couldn’t even appreciate the hunk openly checking you out because you were too flabbergasted with what had happened. “I knew this town had weird shit going on—b-but my cousin throwing up himself was not what I had in mind!” Melissa was quick to usher everyone out while Stiles—the real one—and Scott did their best to explain in less than two minutes before they had to haul ass to find Lydia and Void Stiles.

When everything calms down and seems to be going back to normal, you end up deciding to move back to Beacon Hills. You’re research was independent so there was no need to stay at MIT for funding—plus you made enough throughout the year by doing seminars and being a field expert that you could make do with setting up shop back home and focus on your inventions. Purchasing your own two-story loft penthouse, the first floor was the actual living space whereas the entire second floor was your workshop. Stiles loved visiting you, and whenever he needed to hide something from his dad you were the first person he went to.

One day you were working on your newest project, mask on and blowtorch in hand, when the pack (plus Peter) walked in. All of them were pretty much in awe of your workshop—in disbelief by the holograms and robots around them. Little Pluto scurried past them on a mission to retrieve a part you needed, everyone minus Stiles watching in wonder. Their arrival surprised you, a audible yelp leaving your mouth when Stiles came up behind you—only for him to yelp as well when you nearly took his face off with the blowtorch. “Hey! Hey! Watch it!” “You know better than to sneak up on me like that Stiles! You remember what happened to Uncle Larry when he did?” The pack stated their business, which was the Deadpool situation and wanted to know if you could potentially trace the location given your system was very advanced.

After telling them it may take a while with the little information they currently had (and they were going to be late for class since it was their lunch hour they had used to come see you) everyone except Peter and Derek left with the two Hale’s saying they’d wait in case something were to pop up. It gave Peter the perfect excuse to try and talk to you—-and if we’re being honest it was likely for malicious intents in the beginning. Mostly it was to see what benefits you’d bring him by befriending you and how your creations could be used against the pack.

So yeah, Peter didn’t have the best intentions when he first started talking to you, but that disappeared within the first day of knowing you. It started when he felt a tug on his plant leg, glancing down to see Pluto gazing up at him. “Peteeeer.” “Uhhh—.” “He’s asking if you’d like something to drink.” “Him? You…you can understand him?” “Of course I can. He’s my child.” That sparked a conversation lasting several hours to the point he forget why he was even there in the first place. Also he couldn’t help but find it attractive when you corrected him after he addressed you as Mr./Ms. Stilinksi in a playful manner and you went, “Uh it’s Doctor to you, buddy.”

When y’all officially started dating the pack was not happy about it—especially your uncle and Stiles. The rest of the pack had taken a liking to you rather quickly and they knew how Peter was, so you can imagine they were worried. “He has literally murdered people, Y/n. Not by accident—premeditated murder.” “Did they deserve it?” “I-Uh I guess—in his eyes yes. Some of it was because they started something with him.” “Then I don’t see the issue then—.” “Are you serious?!”

As an official member of the pack, you design and create gadgets, weapons, and tools for them. For example, you’re the one who created Kira’s retractable Katana belt. She was in absolute awe when you unveiled it to her, “This is so cool!” “And wanna know the best part? It can get through metal detectors.” After discovering Parrish’s nature, you made it your mission to make a special custom uniform made out of a very rare and expensive fire retardant fabric you created. “This way you’re not burning off all your clothes every time you catch fire.”

Peter loved watching you work. And he could listen to you talk about mechanics and physics for hours. He had a special seat that was close to you but not in your way and would watch in admiration as you rushed to map out equations and blueprints. Expect him to bring you a Red Bull, coffee, lunch and even dinner on days your extra busy. That usually was when you had a deadline to meet, so Peter was also a voice of reason by telling you take breaks, stay hydrated and get plenty of sleep. “You’re going to burn yourself out, sweetheart. And if you do that then mistakes happen.” “I know but I’m so close to finishing this—.” “And tomorrow is the perfect time to get that done. So let’s sit, eat, put on a movie and then sleep the night away.”

Oh y’all’s first kiss happened when you were rambling. It was either you confessing your feelings to him or going off about how your work’s been stressing you out when Peter cuts you off mid sentence by pressing his mouth to yours. He’d been waiting what felt like forever to kiss you, and you were just so adorable in your rambling he couldn’t help himself. And boy does he love kissing you—he can’t get enough of it. Only thing is Pluto will tug on y’all’s pant leg to interrupt when he needs your attention on something. And the little robot is just too cute even Peter can’t get upset at him.

If you get hurt due to a malfunction Peter is there to take your pain even if its small or rush you to the emergency room if its bad. “Peter, we could’ve handled this at home.” “You nearly severed your finger off, Y/n…..” There is always a sense of worry in Peter when you’re working on something big. After an accident that caused a mini explosion in your workshop when he wasn’t there has left Peter stressing that he’s gonna walk into your place on fire. He’s not the only one in his worries, Stiles and your uncle end up forming a ‘civilized relationship’ with the beta when it comes to making sure you’re in one piece.

Eventually the werewolf learns to communicate with your robots. Really Pluto is the one he understands the best—and the little guy is his favorite of the bunch. “Peeeeteer.” “I thought you said roses were their favorite?” “Peterrrr.” “Oh well then, sorry for misunderstanding. But roses and daisies are two different types—I thought you were supposed to be the most intelligent thing on the planet?” “Peter!” “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Malia really likes you. Even after her and Stiles break up you two remain close. In fact she comes to you for advice often—not just about boy or pack troubles but also about her relationship with Peter. It pleases her to know he’s genuine in his affections towards you, considering love and caring nature is not a side any of them ever see. Only you get to see that side of him, but on rare occasions when Malia is present she’s witnessed the soft side of her father. Like when assists you on holding a part while you screw it in place or take a tissue to wipe the food on the corner of your mouth. “He was never like that before he met you. From what Stiles and Scott have said, he was practically a menace to society.” “Oh I can assure you he still is…just a lovable one when I’m nearby.” “Stop talking about me. I’m literally right here.”

Peter is very protective of you. He’s the type of boyfriend who’s like, “who did this to you?” Or “touch them, you die.” This is pretty much how the pack realized he was serious about his feelings for you because when Theo targeted you as a way to hurt the pack, Peter about ripped him to shreds until Scott pulled him away. “You got lucky,” he spits at the boy, “there won’t be a next time. Touch them again—no you so much as breathe in their direction and I will rip your throat out with my teeth.” That night ended with the man snuggling against you on your bed, promising to never let anything bad happen to you.

“You might be the big bad wolf, but you’ve got a heart in you, Peter Hale.” “Don’t be fooled, my little tech wiz. That heart is reserved only for you.”

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

Monster

Word Count: 1,514

Characters: Peter Hale, Derek Hale (brief), Talia Hale (mentioned), Laura Hale (brief), Hale!Reader

Pairings: Peter Hale x Hale!Reader (platonic) (gender!neutral)

Warnings: angst, death TW, some fluff

A/N: three left! i’m not gonna lie, the writer’s block is starting to hit but im gonna try to get through it!

Masterlist

“I still don't feel good about you going alone,” Derek and Laura followed you around the room, while you sighed, turning to face them.

“This isn't unlike anything I’ve done before-”

“It's Beacon Hills,” Derek replied.

“This is just another mission,” you replied.

You continued packing your bag, before giving both of your siblings a tight hug.

“Why won't you let us come with you?” Laura suggested.

“I said no,” you flashed your eyes red while they both rolled their eyes.

“You know what to do. I’ll keep you updated. Don’t be stupid,” you waved to them both before taking your bag, quickly running out to your car.

Beacon Hills was going to be a far drive.

---

After the fire, you and your siblings fled across the country, trying to find someplace to use as shelter. You were the oldest, leaving you with the responsibility of being the alpha, and taking care of your siblings.

Your uncle, Peter, remained in Beacon Hills, you tried to visit him when you could, without telling Laura or Derek. There was no love lost between the three of them.

You and Peter were closer in age, only 3 years apart, he was more like your brother than your uncle.

“All of it?” Peter groaned, sitting across from you.

“You lost the bet. You either drink this entire thing of mystery sauce or you can just give me a thousand dollars,” you raised an eyebrow.

“I’d rather give you a thousand dollars,” he muttered.

“No, it’s too late. Just close your eyes and hold your nose,” there was a smile growing on your face, while Peter had a frown on his.

“That trick doesn't work,” he said.

“Well, sucks. Now do it,” you flashed your yellow eyes at him, while he flashed his blue ones at you.

“Fine!” you watched as he opened the bottle, drinking out of it as you gagged.

You didn't know what was in it, something Derek had created. Your eyes watered just by the smell of it.

You watched as he immediately began to cough, dropping to his knees.

“That’s gross,” you heard him groan in pain, before wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“It wasn't as satisfying as I thought it was gonna be. I’ll call my mom,” you stepped over him, before walking up the stairs.

You sat on the chair next to Peter’s bed, looking down at his body. He was still paralyzed, he still had burns all over his body. He wasn't healing, he wasn't going to heal.

You held his hand softly, taking his pain as the black veins appeared throughout your arms.

You pulled away, wincing softly. The pain was still strong.

“Do you think someone else escaped the fire?” you asked softly.

“There was an animal, found dead in the woods. It had the triskelion carved into it,” you explained.

He remained silent, his eyes still wide open.

“You need to heal, Peter. It’s been almost seven years,” you sighed.

You felt your eyes water as you cursed under your breath, running your fingers through your hair.

“Why can’t you fucking get up? I need your help, Peter!” you raised your voice.

“I told Laura and Derek that it was fine, that I don't need them here. But I do. I really need you to get the fuck up and help me,” you leaned onto his bed, looking at his comatose state.

Damn it

You pushed away from him, mentally scolding yourself before you walked out of his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

---

“Mom, please leave me alone. I'm tired,” you had your arms wrapped around your head, while you sat on your bed, looking down at your notebook.

No one ever said high school was going to be easy, but Peter made it seem better, getting your expectations high.

You heard someone knock on your door once more.

“Derek, I can’t play with you right now,” you had tears in your eyes as you continued to ignore everyone who walked to your room.

You heard the door open, instantly recognizing Peter’s heartbeat as you scoffed, resting your head on the pillow.

“Go away,” you sighed.

“Who was bothering you?” he asked.

“I said go away, Peter,” you scoffed.

“I heard people talking,” he replied, sitting next to you.

“Stop,” you shook your head.

“Anyone messes with you, I’ll kill them,” he said.

“You’re leaving school this year, it doesn't matter,” you replied.

“I can still break a few bones. Who was it?” he asked again.

You shook your head, while he wrapped his arms around you.

“I hate high school,” you muttered.

“It’ll get better. You can hang out with your super cool and fun uncle for now,” you pushed him away from you, laughing softly as you sniffled.

“Super cool and fun is a bit of an overstatement,” you rolled your eyes.

He smirked softly, before pulling on your arm.

“Come on, let’s go get some food,” he said.

“Thanks, Peter,” you rested your head on his shoulder, walking out of your room.

---

“I found a lead. I’m going to the woods to scope out. Are you two staying safe?” you asked.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Have you seen Peter?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, he's still in a coma,” you sighed.

“It’s been-”

“I know, it’s been a while. Look, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you two later,” you hung up the phone call, putting your phone in your pocket.

The woods were completely empty, there wasn't a single person in sight.

It was unlike before, there was always someone out there, especially this time of night. Beacon Hills was a small town, there wasn't much to do except for partying in the woods.

You used your alpha senses, tensing slightly as you heard a heartbeat.

You frowned, looking around as you continued walking further in the woods. Something about the heartbeat sounded familiar, you could almost tell who it was.

You looked around cautiously, as you sniffed, smelling someone familiar.

Peter

“Peter,” you saw his back facing you, while you walked towards him slowly.

“Peter,” you said again.

He turned slowly to face you, his eyes blue.

Full moon

“Peter, can you hear me?” you said softly.

You felt your eyes water, as you looked at him. His face fell into a glare before you saw the claws coming out of his hands before he scratched your face, taking you by surprise.

You stumbled back, healing before you frowned.

“Peter,” you called again.

“I told Talia,” you could feel something upsetting you, something was different with Peter.

“I told her that something was going to happen, she didn't believe me,” you stepped back from him, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). Don’t be like that,” he scoffed.

“What’s wrong with you?” you said.

“What’s wrong is that I’ve spent the last six years healing! Being trapped, for six years, do you have any idea what that's like for one of us?! My mind was conscious, I couldn't move,” he began walking towards you, as you stayed tense.

“Are you blaming her for what happened to you?”

“It’s her fault. If she just listened to me-”

“My mother’s dead, you asshat,” you spat, feeling anger rising in your chest.

“She wouldn't have been dead if she just listened to me for five minutes,” you watched his eyes glow blue, while he pushed you against a tree, putting his arm on your neck.

You pushed him off, your eyes glowing red as you growled.

This wasn't going to end well, and you knew it.

---

You felt the blood dripping out of your mouth as you dragged yourself away from Peter, putting his hands around your neck.

“You were always too weak. You’re not fit to be an alpha, (Y/N),” Peter’s voice taunted you as you gasped for air, trying to pull away from him.

“So what? You’re just gonna kill me now?” you said, your voice strained.

“Well, for starters,” you looked up at Peter, fear in your eyes.

“We’re family,” you said softly.

“You say that like it means something, (Y/N). I’m going to slit your throat, and then I’m gonna become the alpha. It’s what should've happened to begin with,” you felt a tear fall down your face as you looked up at him.

“I’m not going to fight you back,” you whispered.

“Good, makes my job easier,” he put his claws on your neck as you tensed, letting out a shaky breath.

“Remember this moment. When you become alpha, remember slitting your best friend’s throat. I looked up to you, I cared about you, Peter. And you betrayed me,” he froze, before anger flooded his veins, putting his claws on your throat. 

You could feel blood dripping down as you let out a shaky breath.

“I hate you,” you felt a tear fall down your face as you closed your eyes tightly.

The Peter in front of you right now wasn't the Peter you knew before, he wasn’t your uncle, he wasn’t your friend. He was a monster.

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