Heyo!! I'm actually super late posting this!! I meant to post sign ups the day after the Secret Santa gifts were posted so as to not overwhelm anyone but now I've just overwhelmed myself with my fantastic ability to procrastinate!
Anyways!!
It's time to sign up for the Steter Valentine's Exchange!!
Last year I gave y'all 2 weeks to sign up and a month to create but because I'm back on my bullsh*t I will be giving you one week and three days to sign up and one month to create!
So here's our schedule:
Sign ups: December 27th- January 6th
Matches sent out: January 8th
Check in emails: February 8th
Gifts due: February 12th
Gifts revealed: February 14th
(If you miss the sign ups message me and if I have enough late sign ups I'll match each of you and will half the requirements ❤️)
Did I just say requirements? What even are they?
Here's what they are babes!
1000 words
1 scene/image
1 four image edit + five song playlist
So please spread the word and sign up as fast as possible darlings!!
Sign up link ⬇️
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it
“That’s it.” came the cold, calm exclamation from the young woman brewing in her own fury. Peter was surprised that the pack had let her last as long as she had been without anyone asking her what was wrong - then again her gaze had centered mostly on him so of course they didn’t ask. “Derek, postpone the rest of the meeting.” bold little thing she was, though she was allowed such a reaction. Being a pack’s Emissary had special privileges, the fact that she had come back to Beacon Hills before she could be an official FBI Agent had also granted her certain privileges.
No longer was she an ADD spaz kid wonder with too bright brains and a loyalty that defied death for those she loved and cared for. No, Stiles Stilinski had gone away a teenager and had come back a weapon. She was toned muscle hidden deceptively with her plaids - though they were now women's plaids and fit her better, not men's as she had once worn - and had a grace in her movements that only came from someone who knew they could hold their own, no matter the threat they came across.
She had always been his favorite human, now she was even more of a wonder he wanted to explore.
He just wasn’t expecting the tart to march up to his spot on the staircase and drag him from it with a strength he had not been expecting. “You’re coming with me,” was the only explanation he was granted as he was led out of the apartment complex. Truthfully he wanted to snap at her and belittle her so she’d leave him alone, more than that he didn’t want to be around his nephew and the pack he was part of/not part of. “Get in.”
He didn’t snark her as he normally would, didn’t remark that he sure as shit did not want to be trapped in the tiny confines of her jeep with her burning cinnamon fury that was mounting by the moment. No, all Peter Hale did was get in the passenger seat out of mild curiosity and wry contempt.
When she pulled out of the parking garage Derek had converted the basement floor too the pitter-patter of rain greeted him. It wasn’t a full-on storm, no wind was blowing the trees in wild abandon and no thunder was rocking the heavens. No, the clouds in the sky were a dull grey and the rain came down in fat dollops with the briefest flicker of lightning glistening off the raindrops like diamonds. It reflected her calm fury so well he faintly wondered if she were responsible for it.
He had thought she were a witchling or Spark so long ago only to be wrong, Stiles Stilinski was completely human. The weather, nature, hell magic even responded to her in ways that made it seem like she had an affinity for them. She drew him in too, just as effortlessly as the rest of the world was drawn to her.
The only reassurance he had was that she seemed just as attuned to him as he was to her. The relationship that had sprouted between them had been strange and completely uncommon, relying on mostly snark and defensive barriers consisting of disappointment that neither was what they desired the other to be. Then the Ghost Riders had happened and something had changed. The strained bond he had with her grew stronger than any of the others he had, she saw in him something that had urged her camaraderie.
He had made her push him through the portal, knowing full well it would be painful and would most likely result in his death, but she had surprised him more when she sent him through with a chaste kiss. He had known that Stiles was important to the pack even if they themselves didn’t, it still amazed him how much of a difference she actually made.
Not only was she Malia’s Anchor, but she was the anchor for Erica, Boyd, she was the driving force of plan-making and willingness to look at every aspect - ‘Your plan is to rescue Stiles so she can come up with a plan?’. Perhaps the most heartbreaking was seeing her father, the one she loved so unconditionally, be so inherently happy without her and the fake specter that was his wife. He had been forgotten too, but her being forgotten infuriated him like no other.
When she graduated he had her Jeep repaired without ever telling her who was responsible, that way she could have her beloved companion and have absolutely no reason to stay. He kept tabs on her, of course, and felt a strange sense of pride every time he saw her accomplishments.
Then Scott, True Alpha McCall called every former pack member and told them they needed to reform, that the Ghost riders were back. Of course everyone returned, the Ghost Riders were too great a threat to ignore.
He has a video somewhere in his suite of Stiles absolutely fucking wrecking Scott when he admitted that he had jumped the gun and it wasn’t the Ghost Riders but instead a Headless Horseman. That was when he had first noticed how different she was, hard not to when she’s literally shoulder tossing a werewolf that’s at least six inches taller than her. Stiles was no longer the skinny teen who had brains she couldn’t put into thought, she was now a twenty-something young woman with a body trained for confrontation.
The fact that everyone ended up staying in Beacon Hills is part of the reason why he was so frustrated and annoyed lately. Everyone was changed and yet they were pretty much the same. All aside from himself, Lydia Martin, and Stiles.
He was brought out of his reverie by Stiles opening her door and sliding out of the jeep without a word. They were at the Preserve and heading for a popular hiking path but…
He followed after her, curious and annoyed. She was going to get sick, walking about in the rain - refreshing though it was - and he couldn’t stand the smell of a sick human.
“Shift.” and now he was side-eyeing her, curious how much she truly knew and unwilling to give an inch if she didn’t already know everything. “Peter,” his defenses broke down with the compassion in her tone, with the way her scent - even in this downpour - was steady in its vanilla and honey. “I can run with you like this, but your wolf is anxious. Just shift, please.”
“You going to watch me undress then, sweetheart?” not that he wouldn’t mind, definitely not, but that would be heading in a direction their current relationship hadn’t gone in. To his delight she simply raised her brow at him and began putting her hair up in a ponytail.
“Since when have you ever been shy, Peter? Get naked or shred your clothes.” and then she burst forward, charging through the brush with a wicked gleam in her eye that challenged and enticed him all at the same time. Gods, but he did adore her, especially when she knew just what he and his wolf were needing. He barely shucked his pants off in time before his full shit hit him and he was chasing after her in a flurry of soaked leaves and wet underbrush.
He howled the moment he caught sight of her, ethereal white fair skin flickering through the soaked dark material of her shirt and hair, then howled once more when she threw her head back and let out a loud laugh he felt in his bones. They ran together, side by side, slowing down and pushing forward, teasing and relaxing in ways that only made sense to them. Stiles had always been an important member to the wolves, if not the pack itself, but it was moments like these that made her impossibly invaluable to him.
They ran for an hour until she could run no more and collapsed against a tree trunk, pants soaking into the muddy ground.
“You know, Peter,” he tried not to think of how breathless and relaxed she sounded as he zipped his pants back up from behind a tree a little ways away. “I never did get to thank you for repairing Roscoe instead of just buying a completely similar car.” there she was, shocking him still again.
“You knew it was me?” he tried to distract himself with re-buckling his belt instead of the hummingbird heartbeat.
“Of course I did, just like how I knew you were the one telling me to get out of Beacon Hills.” she sighed and when he turned had her head tilted back against the tree trunk with her eyes closed, letting some of the raindrops filters in from the canopy above them drop onto her face. “Some,” he was not paying acute attention to the way her throat looked wet with the rain, slick strands of hair and the beautiful kisses of moles decorating her flesh. No, Peter was paying attention to how kissable she looked, how in tune with her surroundings and how… how at peace she seemed with him being near her, like this. “Some would say that it was a courting gift, if people still did such a thing.”
“You’re worth more than the repair bill I got for it.” it was this murmur of admission that had her lashes parting to strike him with her champagne eyes. In truth, it startled him how well and sincere it had come out, yet when he found himself looking at the woman before him he found he didn’t care. “Using money as a courting gift is cheap anyway.” a test then, to see if she was as sincere about furthering this as he was.
“It wasn’t the money you spent,” it didn’t seem possible that the forest could become so quiet, “it was the sentiment behind it. You didn’t just give me a car back, you gave me back something I loved.” he watched as she lowered one bent leg to the forest floor, still assessing him the way he was assessing her. “If you were to give me a courting gift I’d tell you to not bother.” before he could be hurt, before he could get infuriated she floored him. “ ‘cause I’ve been yours since I was seventeen.”
“What?” she rolled her eyes and stood, approaching him much like she had earlier.
“I’ve waited years for you, Peter Hale.” his heart soared, his gut hardened and rolled, he was pretty sure he was both freezing and having a hot flash, and then his nerves sang the moment her cold, plush lips pressed firm against his. It didn’t require thought when he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest, nor when he kissed her back and let go of every reason why they shouldn’t. She had just admitted interest in him, interest in something serious and long-lasting - and gods if that didn’t make him love her more.
“That wasn’t exactly a declaration of love,” he sniffed dramatically, watching in admiration as a drop of rain fell down the bridge of her nose and trail down her jaw. “But it’ll do, I suppose.” her smile was like watching a sunrise after a stormy night, slow and beautiful and breathtaking. Their next kiss was slow and sweet and everything he’d rarely gotten in life, most importantly of all it was a memory he’d hold close to his heart for years to come.
Who would’ve thought that rain could bring such clarity?
Title: Bid My Blood To Run
Author: rightsidethru
Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Rating: T
Tags: Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Pre-Slash, Scott is a Bad Friend, True Alpha Scott McCall, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steter - Freeform, Scott McCall is a Bad Alpha, Pseudo Ghost Story, BAMF Stiles, machiavellian, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Does What He Wants, (Seriously though. Don't ever piss off Stiles.), Necromancer Stiles Stilinski, Sorta anyway.
Summary: Samhain--All Hallow's Eve--still remained the day where the veil between the living and the dead lay thinnest.It went without saying that Stiles ended up taking advantage of this fact when it became clear that Scott's leadership skills weren't enough to guarantee the safety of Beacon Hills' populace.
Come with me as I tell you of all these magical fics I've been reading lately! I am just so amazed by our fandoms talent constantly!!! So I figured, let's share my enthusiasm with you all!
Baby Daddy by @discontentedwinter
WIP | Sterek
Okay this one is so fucking good you guys. The friendship between Laura and Stiles building before she asks him to help her have a baby is so good and pure, and well balanced with the absolute misery Derek seems to be in when left to his own devices. Also I gasped so hard I choked at the end of chp.10 so please read this!
Under The Songbirds Wing by @mia6363
WIP | Steter
Oh my God y'all this is so bittersweet and beautiful! Stiles is only just 16 when he's taken and caged a la The OA style and kept in cages with Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi and yet he's so fucking brave and inspiring that instead of being weighed down by grief for his life you too feel his pragmatic resolve to not die there! And the steter? So sweet. So slow to build so beautiful.
Touch Therapy by Syriala/ @bloody-bee-tea
Complete, but first in a series so maybe more to come | pre-Steter
Y'all I fucking love this idea! Stiles hugs the aggression right out of Peter and it changes everything. So cute, so funny, so fucking true. #hugyourlocalwerewolf I sincerely hope the series continues but I'm also personally guilty of not expanding series lmao so it's hashtag relatable if it doesn't get a sequel. I just really loved it!
Rules Are Meant To Be Broken by @rebakitt3n
Complete | steter
Oof the angst! An abused and pregnant Omega Stiles is found with a son in the wreckage of the Argent take down of the Alpha pack. Luckily Chris and Allison are quick on their feet not there triggers and devise a plan. Stiles and Peter are so unsure of each other at the beginning and it makes that beautiful happy ending so much sweeter!! Derek needs a hug and the pack is ridiculous so it's even true to canon a bit in that way lmao. This was such a beautiful story full of fearful hope and heart breaking angst and I truly loved the hell out of it! (And I don't usually read A/B/O fics!)
I fucking love this fandom and I will continue to be in awe of the wonderful works of art and fiction we produce💖
“And it was Death itself who stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around me as tight as iron bands, and his lipless mouth kissing my neck as if in love. But as well as the horror, I felt a strange longing.”
— Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace
Ao3 link (Please check tags!) Words:2888 Chapters: 1/1
“Stiles!”
The young god of mischief and retribution giggled delightedly to himself as he slipped into the shadows behind a nearby pillar. The only ones that could track him down once the shadows enveloped him were the Hades bound death gods, and they never hung around Olympus long enough to even care that he was hiding from punishment.
Lightning suddenly crashed through the throne room taking away his shadows and startling him out into the open space.
“Oh dear. You put a hole in the table.” Hera worried quietly.
“Better patch it up before he tries to put his dick in it ma’am.” The words flowed much too easy for the death sentence they carried.
“Stiles!” shouted his father from his place beside Hermes at the same time the rest of the room was gasping from surprise and mirth.
“Don’t be crass darling.” Hera chastised, though she added a little quieter, “He’s not wrong though, is he?”
Stiles laughed and laughed despite the angry glare Zeus was sending him.
“Stiles. You’re games grow tiresome. Perhaps a more severe punishment should be in order?” Poseidon offered.
“What are you going to rape me in someone else’s temple too, oh great Earth-Shaker?” Blue eyes flashed at Stiles’ response.
“Insolence!” Ares shouted, slamming his fist on the table.
“You’re right! Maybe instead of disrespecting someone else’s temple he’ll just turn us both into horses and rape me that way!” Stiles flashed a sharp, predatory grin at the gods before him.
Stiles didn’t fear these immature hypersexual rapists. Their wives were always on Stiles’ side when it came time for punishment, always protecting him from anything too severe. Stiles’ sharp words and small deceits and tricks made eternity spent with assholes a little more bearable, and he would continue to speak the things others wished because they needed to be said. Demeter and Athena don’t speak of the wrongs Poseidon committed against them, but Stiles did for them. He didn’t miss the vicious glint of righteous fury in Athena’s eyes or the guarded neutrality in Demeter’s whenever he came after the god of the sea. Persephone once told him her mother still wept over the event, and that was not something he could let go. He would make these men rethink their actions, their words, their lives.
Stiles was a young god, new to his powers and immortality, but not new to the ways of the gods. He still remembers his human life, mostly blurred images and some strong emotions. He remembers sneaking into the woman with red hair’s trial and declaring himself the father of her child so he would be punished instead of her. He remembers taking the gallows march knowing he couldn’t be the father, but at least this way she would get his land and money. He knew he would have married the girl if she’d told him soon enough and they could’ve had a romanceless but happy life, but someone had told the town judges before she could seek help. The world was cruel to women and Stiles would trick, lie to, and punish the men that took advantage and let it be so.
Hera had seen his bravery and devotion, had felt his intentions to marry even though the child was not his and he did not love the woman with the red hair and blessed him with the power of a god. He spent his days spying on and badgering the elder gods, much to Hera’s delight because first and foremost she was his benefactor and the only one he had to make sure still enjoyed his company.
“I think that will be enough youngling.” Athena’s calm, authoritative voice cut through Stiles’ racing thoughts and the fury of the elder, male, gods.
“I think so too, miss. What shall my punishment be?” Stiles faced Hera again, ignoring the indignant look on Zeus’ face.
“My dear Stiles.” Hera’s voice was a soft melody as she smiled at him, “Report to Hades,my darling. Work for him until I send for you.”
Stiles’ fear and anticipation was both immediate and overwhelming, but he remembered where he was and who was watching him so he held tight to his composure and thanked his benefactor before walking calmly out of the throne room.
The god of justice and order found him outside a few moments later a frown on his face.
“Noah I do not wish to hear reprimands. I will serve my punishment with grace and dignity, it is not any worse than the ones before.” Stiles sighed.
“Son, you have always been bold with word and spirit and I will not condemn the very whims that brought you immortal life and into my path. I am not your benefactor nor your real father, but after all this time I’ve come to think of you as my son. And I’m proud of you.” Noah was always so loving and devoted when it came to the people he respected and cared about, and Stiles was always caught off guard after one of his confessions.
Stiles grinned up at the elder god and pulled him into a fierce hug. He was going to say more, but the shadows rippling behind the tree beside them meant someone was here for him.
A godling with light brown hair and piercing blue eyes stepped out into the daylight and nodded at the two of them. Death gods were not known for being social or talkative, but this one was down right cocky as he approached.
“Hello gentlemen.” Stiles snorted, cutting him off.
“Let’s try that again. Hello gentlemen, I am here to collect Stiles for his duty to the Underworld.” The godling glared at Stiles, probably already irritated with Stiles’ presence.
Stiles grinned at him and said proudly, “That’d be me, handsome.”
Noah groaned with fond embarrassment before taking his leave.
The male’s nostrils flared before a grin of his own spread over his features, “Interesting, they do not usually punish the powerful ones.”
“Yes well I suggested that Zeus would try to fuck the hole he’d created by throwing a tantrum because I dyed his eyebrows pink. Really if he’s going to fuck everything then he should spruce it up a bit.”
That startled a laugh out of the male before him.
“Well we should get out of here before he decides this isn’t punishment enough.”
“Oh my us, aren’t you going to at least tell me your name before you whisk me away?”
The male laughed again before informing Stiles that his name was Peter. He lead the god to the shadow of the tree.
“Hold onto me, gorgeous.” Peter winked before stepping into the shadow transporting them both to the Underworld.
“Can we see Icarus?”
“No”
“Oh come on! I just want to ask him how he likes his hot wings, burnt or soggy.”
That startled another laugh out of the death god, but all mirth was gone as they stepped out of the shadow realm and into a beautiful throne room.
Stiles had always imagined Hades’ castle to be dark and creepy, but what he saw was spectacular splashes of violet and emerald green among shades of gray. Chandeliers of diamond and ruby, decorative curtains of strung opal and onyx, and silver sparkling from every corner.
“See, my love I told you they weren’t sending some worthless troublemaker! They sent Stiles!” The sound of the ever lovely Persephone made Stiles’ head whip up, a smile already gracing his features.
“I knew the Underworld was fascinating, but now it’s just down right beautiful.” He winked at his friend crossing the hall quickly to hug her.
Persephone giggled as he dramatically rocked them in their embrace.
“The castle looks stunning! I had not expected that you were such a good interior designer.” Stiles gushed pinching her cheek lightly as she flushed with praise.
Hades cleared his throat before speaking, “I am the decorator actually.”
Stiles laughed and stepped away from his friend to shake Hades’ hand and introduce himself.
“I should’ve known it wasn’t this one.” he jerked a thumb in Persephone’s direction before continuing, “I’ve seen her room at Olympus and it’s like Iris vomitted rainbows on the walls.”
Both gods more powerful and older than him laughed at his description.
“Hera told me why you are here and while I could give you the typical punishment of soul reaping with one of the others I do not think you should be punished for putting Zeus and Poseidon in check. Demeter and I may not be on good terms, but I do know she will not forget your words, nor will Athena. Most do not stand up to Poseidon, he is too respected and too powerful, but you did. For that we will be sending you with Peter.” Hades smiled at Stiles before motioning for Peter to join them.
Stiles tried to whisper quietly, he really did, but his words were clearly audible as he whispered, “Did you have to give me one that’s so attractive?”
Persephone giggled, the sound of wind chimes on a cool sunny day, while the other two males looked at Stiles like he was an idiot.
“I stand by that. Sunshine likes to torture me.” Stiles defended himself with a shrug.
Hades continued to look at Stiles like he was a biggest fool the male had met in a millenia, while Peter’s look morphed into a smug smirk before he winked at Stiles.
The younger male was doomed.
Hades shook his head at the two of them before dismissing the pair to start Peter’s duties, which took them topside much to Stiles’ delight. He did not often frolic with the mortals, but he always enjoyed his time there.
“Do you come to the land of the living often?”Stiles inquired.
Peter hummed his confirmation, being purposefully vague as he lead Stiles into a city. The buildings and markets around them were large and well made, most displaying a royal insignia, Stiles’ eyes quickly examined everything they passed. Peter moved through the streets with the speed and ease of constant visitor, almost as if he lived in this capital city. Stiles desperately wanted to look around and experience human civilization, but this trip was not like his last one. He had a job to do, most likely one that involved reaping souls.
Peter nodded to the guards, though the guards did not know they were nodding to an incredibly attractive death god due to the glamour now surrounding Peter giving him the appearance of an old man with a long gray beard and a cane. Stiles quickly pulled a glamour around himself giving him the appearance of a man in his forties and clothes that matched Peter’s, before he too nodded to the guards.
Stiles’ mind was whirling, his thoughts flashing erratically in his hyperactive brain.
Why are we glamoured?
Why are we interacting with the humans as one of them?
Why aren’t we invisible?
Whose soul are we here for?
Peter’s quick steps had them in the throne room in no time, the guards never looking twice at the old man and his companion.
“Old Man Aldrich is here, momma!” a small child screeched as she ran straight at Peter/Aldrich.
Stiles laughed, a much too high pitched sound for the man he was masquerading as, as Peter fake grunted under the weight of the small child.
“Cora darling please release Sir Thomas, he has grown much to weary and you much too large for those kinds of greetings.” A regal woman approached him serenely, her long dark hair swaying around her waist and her dark skin unmarred by hard work.
Stiles still had no idea who Sir Aldrich Thomas was or why Peter was pretending to be him, but now they were speaking with a queen.
“And who might you be?” The Queen addressed Stiles finally, the soft smile falling from her face.
“This is my successor, Beckett Clayton, he hails from the west and I have been training him to take over here when I leave. We’ve talked about my successor before Talia, you know my time draws near.” Peter/Aldrich’s voice was full of steel despite the fact that he was supposed to be a human speaking to their queen.
Talia looked pained for a moment before the young girl still attached to the old man whined, “Why do you have to leave us, Aldrich?”
He crouched before her and laid one liver spotted hand gently on the nape of her neck, “All people must leave eventually darling girl, and all you can do is love them while they’re here.”
Peter had a life here with these mortals. Peter was loved, but Peter also had to watch these people that loved him die. Stiles wanted to cry for the male. Forever doomed to love and be loved only for them to watch him die and he to reap their souls. Stiles tried not to think about his own eternal loop of being cherished and being punished.
After the reunion and Stiles being introduced to the royal family Peter finally signaled for Stiles to follow him out of the castle, the sounds of laughing children and chatting servants following them out into the hot evening air. Once they were far enough from the palace and its guards Peter and Stiles dropped their glamours.
“Why do you help this kingdom instead of leading them to ruin?”
“Death plays a long game, and a prospering kingdom has many citizens all whom must die.” Peter said with a sad glint to his blue eyes.
“Why this kingdom then?”
“Ah, now that is much too personal. Let’s reap these souls and maybe I’ll tell you then.”
They spent all night reaping the souls of marauders, innocents, and the ill Stiles was exhausted and his spark a bit more dim. Peter on the other hand was glowing, a slight blush to his cheeks and warmth to his aura that drew Stiles in like a siren’s song.
“Are you intoxicated off death?”
Peter stepped closer to Stiles one foot at a time, his eyes staring directly into Stiles’, a strange magnetism overtaking them as Peter backed Stiles up against a wall. Their faces were close, Peter’s body hovering over Stiles’ when Peter finally replied.
“I’m intoxicated by life dear boy. Their lives reside in me until I release them to the underworld with prayer and an offering to Chiron for their safe travel. I am full of their love, passion, and fire until they make their journey down to Hades.”
Peter was all energy as he spoke, his body still but his aura pulsing, drawing Stiles in with each breath that ghosted over his lips. Finally Peter closed the miniscule distance and kissed Stiles like he was burning inside and Stiles was the soothing water he desperately craved. Their bodies crashed against each other, twisting and grinding until both males were panting.
“Queen Talia is my granddaughter. This was once my kingdom.”
Peter’s words ghosted across Stiles’ lips, but their echo screamed in Stiles’ mind causing him to flail his limbs and separate them so that he could look into Peter’s eyes.
“Explain.”
“Hmm. Bossy. My son had risen to the throne when he married, but a rival kingdom had taken his sister hostage with the help of my brother, who felt he deserved my throne, and threatened to wage war. To save their lives I snuck into the Argent dungeons. I released my daughter and ended my brother’s treacherous life, but was caught by the guards at the kingdom border. I was able to get her onto a horse and sent her to safety before taking my own life so I would not be a pawn used to wage war against my kingdom.” Peter’s eyes were pained but shone with a love Stiles couldn’t remember seeing in someone else’s eyes.
Sacrifice in death to save an entire kingdom and his family was sure to catch one of the gods’ eye, but his brother’s betrayal explained Hades’ interest. Stiles couldn’t blame him, that amount of devotion and bravery was more than worthy of immortal life.
Stiles found himself jealous of anyone deserving the love and devotion Peter was capable of, no one had ever truly fought for him. Hera and the other women of Olympus only defended him so far as to keep him out of the way of the elder gods wrath, but only when it suited them. Noah loved him, but he had never tried to protect him from the cruelty of the world they lived in.
But here was Peter, glowing with the force of humans’ lives and full of love and loyalty, and Stiles found himself wanting for something more. For the first time in his immortal life Stiles allowed himself to be unhappy with his life, allowed himself to want more than the gift he was given, allowed himself to yearn.
“I imagine you figured out the rest, your face is fascinating when you are thinking.” Peter’s voice, still heated, reminded Stiles of their position and the activity they could be doing instead of letting his mind race.
“Kiss me before I start thinking again.”
“As you wish.” Peter’s blue eyes shone bright in the dark alley before he kissed Stiles with renewed passion.
Thanks again to our wonderful mods at @steterweek for putting all of this together!
Day two: Mating Bite or AND Magical Stiles
Ao3: Link
“What’s wrong little guy?” Stiles cooed at the wilting rose bush.
“It’s been on the edge of death for weeks. Please tell me you can save it!” Mrs. Jones pleaded behind him.
“I can help you, but it’s going to have to wait for the waning gibbous moon in two days.” Before Stiles could continue his explanation Mrs. Jones threw herself into his chest.
“Mrs.Jones, I’m happy to be of assistance, but we need to figure out why someone has been wanting your roses dead so that I don’t have to cleanse them every month.” Stiles laughed pleasantly as he gently removed the elderly lady from his body and said, “Not that I wouldn’t like to see you that often.”
He sent her a wink for extra measure.
Mrs.Jones giggled, “Oh you little minx! You’re too sweet to this old lady.”, her smile dropped as she thought for a moment, “I bet it’s that darn Peggy Clifton down the street! My rose bush beat hers for Most Vibrant Bloom and she’s been down right hateful since!”
“I think you should go over and see if a nice homemade pie might soothe her ire. Compliment her hydrangeas or something. Make her regret being so rude to such a nice young lady,” another wink, “and maybe she’ll stop killing your roses.” Stiles knew he was flirting with this woman, but old ladies always had the prettiest flora and if he could get in her good graces long term he might be able to spend time in her lovely garden surrounded by her happy plants.
“Yes my sweet I think that’s exactly what I’ll do! Like my nana always said ‘Kill them with kindness and if that don’t work a good stabbing will!’ Hopefully I won’t need to get out ol’ Richard.” Mrs.Jones let out a pretty laugh when she saw Stiles’ face.
“Nana named that knife after her first husband, you know they never did figure out where he ran off to.” Mrs.Jones sent him a wink of her own before linking elbows with Stiles and bringing him inside.
Three days later, under the gibbous moon Stiles said a quick incantation to bless the small cloth bag he’d put: clove, wormwood, holly, motherwort, lavender, and vervain in for purification, healing, and protection. Unless Mrs.Clifton decided to get really nasty Mrs.Jones’ roses were going to be perfectly healthy.
Mrs.Jones had sent him off with a pan of brownies and a teary hug goodbye. He really did adore the sweet older ladies in Beacon Hills. They always had such happy plants, and were always willing to have a chat.
The light of the large gibbous moon lit his way through the preserve, a path he’d taken so often he could walk it backwards and with his eyes closed.
Tonight something was different Something was calling him.
Stiles pulled his hoodie tighter around himself. The hair on the back of his neck started to stand as he went deeper into the relative darkness of the forest. The tugging sensation was getting stronger the further he went, but this was his quickest way home and Stiles wasn’t going to show weakness by turning around. The air around him danced quickly across his chilled skin leaving the impression of little feet racing down his spine. He tried to block out the smell of wet decay as he moved quickly down the path. The tugging sensation was strongest as he approached the trail to the old root cellar his mom used to go to. His steps sounded hurried and panicked even to his own ears as he raced out of the forest and into the orange glow of the streetlights.
-
Stiles avoided the path through the preserve until the day of the dark moon. He’d told his father where he was going to be for the night in case anything happened and headed out into the forest before the sun had fully set. Stiles wasn’t a fan of being caught out in the dark again, but tonight would be a good night for divination and he wanted to find out if the thing calling him that night had malicious intent or did genuinely need his help.
He downed the last of his rosemary tea, which he’d brewed specifically for courage, and stepped onto the path to the old root cellar he’d only ever heard stories about. Stiles immediately started hearing cries in the wind. Something was out here hurting, maybe even dying; unless he was being baited into a trap. He pulled his favorite hoodie tighter around himself, the red color soothing in its familiarity, not to fight the chill but to fight his sense of dread as he searched through the ever dimming light of the setting sun. His mother had told him that sitting in the root cellar that resided underneath a great elder tree would help him focus his energy, but he still hadn’t seen any trees he would describe as “great” or one of the elder trees.
When he finally did find the doors to the root cellar they were not at the base of a great elder tree, but at the base of the largest stump Stiles had ever seen. The soft cries on the wind had grown louder with each step towards that massive stump, but with the rosemary running through him and his belief in himself strong Stiles persisted. The wind whipped through the trees as if a tornado was only seconds away or perhaps already upon him. The branches of trees groaned under the pressure, the animals silent save for the screams. The entire forest was telling him to run, and yet Stiles still felt the tugging of a life in pain seeking help. Stiles whispered a quick prayer to Medeina, the slavic she-wolf goddess of the forest and its creatures, in hopes that she’d see that he was only here to help a tree under her protection.
Stiles moved away from the doors to the cellar and closer to the stump. Stiles could feel the ley lines that intersect in the base of the tree, which explained why his mother would come here for divination and other magics that needed extra power. There were two large wounds on the tree’s interior. The first was connected to the northern line that headed out of Beacon Hills, and was a massive dark ink blot like stain. The second, smaller but still significantly sized injury to the great tree was a large burn mark that was connected to the eastern line and if Stiles remembered correctly it continued through the preserve, past the old Hale house, and exited the town through the main road.
“Note to self: Check out where the ley lines run through town” Stiles mumbled, knowing he’d remember because he spoke it out loud and his need to know everything often helped him remember things like this.
Stiles raised the velvet sack of herbs in his pocket up to his lips for good luck before stepping up to the closest wound and lifting his empty hand over the burned scar to divine its origin.
Wolves howling in pain
Cackling laughter
Muffled screams
Human blood spilled
Vengeance
Balance
He stepped back and shook the phantom pain from his hand. This injury was old and while not forgotten it was obviously healed over. The great tree had made peace with what had caused this wound, had found balance with the events that surrounded the burn. Stiles vaguely remembered the arson case his father had worked on six years ago. There’d been six deaths and three survivors. Stiles remembered something about an uncle getting custody of the two Hale kids he went to school with even though the uncle was young. Stiles remembers thinking about how lonely and distraught his classmate and her brother must have been, the death of his mother fresh in his ten year old mind. Stiles shook off the heavy emotions of both the tree’s and his own remembered pain as he took a moment to catch his breath.
Stiles clutched his spell bag as he slowly walked toward the massive ink stain in an effort to keep his nerves from over taking him. He sent a quiet prayer to Gulbis the guardian angel and protector of human spirits, hopefully if something did go wrong tonight he’d get to see his father one more time.
Stiles sensed the presence of a lurking were just as he took one more calming breath and finally put his hand over the wound.
War
Death
Chaos
Destruction
Human blood spilled
Supernatural blood spilled
Stiles broke the connection, stumbling back with from the strength of the pull he now felt from the tree. He drew in quick shuddering breaths as he tried to further himself from the stain. He scrambled across the leaf covered ground before emotions exploded from the tree.
HATE
JOY
CHAOS
GLEE
STRIFE
Stiles was hyperventilating. He couldn’t breathe with the speed of his thoughts and it was causing his chest to contract, his vision going blurry. His world was closing in on him and he knew he was on the edge of blacking out; his brain kept reminding him that whatever was sealed in the tree was going to get him if he passed out, but he couldn’t fight the increasing panic.
A wet nose shocked him out of his thoughts and brought him gasping back into the world. A wolf was gently prodding him in the side as if trying to get him further away from the demon trapped in the great elder tree. That’s what it is, what it has to be; a demon. How was Stiles gonna defeat a demon?
The wolf whined efficiently stopping him from panicking again. The wolf was right, Stiles needed to get the hell out of there. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed a hold of the wolf’s fur so that it could lead him down the now pitch dark path. Stiles took a soothing breath as he blindly followed the wolf in the darkness before closing his eyes to focus his energy. He gripped his divination spell bag once as he slowly opened his eyes to a dark world exploding with color. The dark moon was so good for soul searching and divination that Stiles could see the auras of every living creature around, including the wolf he was following.
The wolf’s aura was intriguing to watch. The shades of yellow mixing with shades of blue and gold; lemon swirling around navy, gold intertwining with cerulean, pale yellow twisting through burnt amber. Stiles watched as the colors danced and began drawing his conclusions about his mysterious savior. His wolf was intelligent, creative, driven, but the specific mix of shades is what caught Stiles’ attention. He looked at where his aura met the wolf’s and noticed how similar they were. Medeina had sent him a savior who suited Stiles’ own personality and soul.
Stiles sent her a prayer of thanks before releasing his view of the spirits around him. He was immediately surrounded by darkness again, his only grip on the world around him was the soft fur under his palm and the sound of his stumbling footsteps. Once the wolf had guided him out of the preserve Stiles collapsed onto the sidewalk in relief and closed his eyes while he focused on his breathing.
Stiles heard his companion huff a mocking breath.
“If you were in my place you’d be relieved too you ass.” Stiles said with his middle finger in the direction he thought the werewolf was.
After a few moments of silence he looked around only to find out he was now alone.
-
Stiles had gone to the cafe next to the herbal shop he frequented to to read over the new banishing books he’d just bought. Unfortunately for him the cafe was busy and he kept being distracted by the bells that twinkled every few seconds as a customer opened the door. Being constantly distracted in a warm room with good lighting and just the right amount of anxiety to keep him awake was definitely better than reading alone in his apartment where he’d either go on a random research binge or would accidently fall asleep.
He glanced up as the bells twinkled and made instant eye contact with a gorgeous older man with blazing blue eyes and a charming half smile. Stiles was practically panting despite the knee-jerk reaction of awkwardly looking back down at his coffee when he realized they were holding eye contact for an unusually long amount of time.
“Way to go you useless twink. How are you ever supposed to get someone to actually date your bi ass if you panic after making eye contact with a fine ass man you don’t even know?” Stiles whispered to himself kicking himself for his lack of confidence.
Stiles’ head shot up when he heard a soft rumbling laugh from the direction of the register. The man was laughing, but was still alone in the line. Stiles’ life was ruined. He was a deadman.
“You’re a were aren’t you?” He whispered testing out his theory, this time watching the man for his reaction.
The man nodded and flashed him a dazzling, yet cocky smile that just so happened to also have a bit of fang to it.
Stiles knew his face was bright red as he stared into that self-assured beauty and remember the embarrassing way he’d responded to the man he had yet to actually say a formal word to. He dropped his head to the table with a dull thud and sent a quick prayer to Pilvytė for luck and focused his energy. When he lifted his head he could see the auras of the people around him, but not as vibrant as a couple weeks ago when he’d seen the whole forest alight with the colors of every living creature’s aura. He needed to make sure the mystery man didn’t have nefarious intentions as he approached Stiles’ table, but was shocked to not only find him pure of intent but also find out he was the wolf that had saved him.
Wasn’t that interesting?
“May I join you?” The man asked, his eyes twinkling with the secret upperhand he thought he had.
Stiles blinked away the Sight as he nodded.
They sat in silence as both men read the books they had brought. Stiles would have felt uncomfortable if he had truly not known the man, but this werewolf had saved him. Stiles was, perhaps foolishly, more comfortable with the man’s presence and soon found himself yawning as the task of focusing on the book in front of him grew tedious and exhausting.
“I’m Stiles. What’s your name?” he had planned on being smoother, but the man was truly gorgeous and had already saved his life so it was hard not to be weird.
“Thank you for sharing your table with me and gracing me with such lovely reading company, Stiles. My name is Peter.” Oh he was smooth, and charming, and gorgeous, and stunning, and Stiles’ kryptonite apparently.
“It’s been a pleasure Peter.” Stiles closed his book and put it back in the bag it’d came in with a grace he did not realize he possessed in the presence of this handsome of a man, “Nice to see you on two feet this time.”
Stiles did a mental fist bump as he heard Peter’s surprised intake of breath as he passed him and continued on to the exit.
-
Stiles wanted to never return to that wounded great elder tree, but he knew he had to. He had to help that poor ancient tree; it shouldn’t have to contain that monster that so obviously was hurting it.
He cursed himself and his stupid bleeding heart the entire walk to the nemeton. The only thing that ended his long litany of admonishments was the appearance of Peter, who had brought along a cup of coffee for him too.
“You intrigue me.” Peter’s voice was, unfortunately for him, as smooth and charming as Stiles remembered.
Stiles just hummed in response, a small smirk finding its home on his lips.
They spent the evening like that, Peter making flattering and imploring comments and Stiles replying with smirks and noncommental noises. The longer he spent in Peter’s presence the more Stiles felt grounded, and it helped him probe the spell containing the demon. The mechanics of the spell were incredibly complicated and Stiles groaned audibly in annoyance when he realized just how long it was going to take him to figure out how to re-enforce the containment and make it so the demon couldn’t hurt the great elder tree anymore. Stiles wished he could kill it, but he had no idea if it even could be killed. All Stiles could do is bind it more and monitor the spell until he found a better solution or died, whichever came first.
Stiles sighed and started gathering his things back into his bag, “Alright handsome, that’s it for today.”
“What have you found out, darling witch?” He turned to see Peter smirking up at him from his place against a boulder.
“Well, first of all don’t call me a witch. It has a lot of negative history and pain for my people attached to it. We prefer Gifted. Secondly, I’ve figured out I can’t kill the demon the tree holds, but I might be able to seal it better so it doesn’t leak out and hurt the elder tree anymore.” Stiles explained as they made their way out of the clearing and back into the preserve.
“Well that’s a bummer.”
Stiles barked a laugh at Peter’s lame response, and found the burden of saving the nemeton a little lighter with Peter by his side.
-
They spent the cool autumn days that way, bantering to distract Stiles from the demon inside the tree and the crushing weight of responsibility and researching in the cafe they’d first met in. Peter was a charming whirlwind that Stiles had no defenses against, and he soon found himself madly, deeply, irrevocably in love with Peter. They spent so much time together Stiles found it impossible to resist the man or his feelings.
Luckily for Stiles, Peter was just as enamored as he was. You could almost say Stiles had bewitched the werewolf with his wit and humor.
They spent the winter wrapped in each other’s embrace. Together they sealed the demon inside the nemeton so tight it could never hurt the elder tree again.
Fireworks sparkled above them as they finished the final ritual and Stiles found himself happier than he had ever been in his adult life. Here he was on a beautiful night, under dazzling fireworks, and beside the love of his life sent to him from the gods when he needed him most, and Stiles felt like he could fly.
“Come here darling boy.” Peter voice was a honeyed rumble as he held a hand out to Stiles.
His own joy plus the relief of the nemeton and the magic of new years eve had Stiles twirling happily into his lover’s arms and leaning against his strong chest.
“I want you to bite me.” Stiles sighed out in a dream like state high on the glee inside him.
Peter gently swayed them both, humming a tune Stiles didn’t recognize.
“I want to give you the mating bite too my love. Tonight, under these stars, we dance. In the morning you’re mine forever.” Peter’s words floated on the breeze, gently wrapping themselves around the couple.
“In the morning you’re mine forever.” Stiles whispered the words back to him, clutching Peter closer.
Hey-o! This is for @hometownteenwolf 2018 and I’m so excited to share it with yall! I have lived in the deep south my whole ass life and can guarantee that these are all real things said by real humans. So here’’s Teen Wolf if it took place in my home town!
Words: 2418 Ao3 Link
“If that gremlin sends me to in school suspension one more time because she thinks my shirt is too low cut I’m going to lose my mind!” Lydia shouted her hands throw in the air.
Stiles chuckled lowly and shook his head in sympathy. The gremlin she was mad at was their geometry teacher who had a tendency of standing above girls and telling them their shirts were too revealing. Stiles had been on the receiving end of Lydia, Allison, and Erica’s rants about the unjust dress codes at their high school since the first day of freshman year.
“I can kill her for you.” Erica offered with faux cheer and a sharp toothed smile.
“You can always drop honors and take Mr.Heathly.” Allison suggested even though she knew Lydia and Erica would never admit defeat.
“Oh cheese and rice can he not do that somewhere else? The high school parking lot is not an auto shop!” Scott complained loudly, knowing fully well that the werewolf currently working on his car could hear him, but to the group he whispered lowly, “That boys a snake in the grass if I ever saw one.”
Stiles broke out into obnoxious laughter when Peter Hale didn’t even pause what he was doing to flip them off. Peter Hale had a fantastic humor and an even better body. Stiles had had a crush on the boy since he first saw him. Naturally Peter didn’t acknowledge Stiles’ existence. Stiles had a type after all.
Stiles wished he knew anything about stupid cars. He personally thought Peter’s truck was loud and obnoxious, but he knew the other seniors would crowd around it and praise the monstrosity so it had to be something special. He also knew it was a Ford, though Derek thought that made it crappy. Derek prefered Chevy’s and the two Hales could be heard making quiet biting comments about which trucks are better.
Peter shut the hood of his truck and turned toward the group of sophomores with a smirk. Stiles’ steps faltered when he looked at Peter, whose dirty wife beater clung to his sweaty chest. Peter was a filthy Adonis with a smart mouth and Stiles was putty around him.
“Gross man!” Scott hissed under his breath.
“Poor Stiles.” Erica crooned at him.
Peter went from giving them a cocky smirk to a shit eating grin as his nostrils flared and his eyes snapped to Stiles.
“I uh have to be uh not here. There’s a thing. I need to go to that thing. Bye!” Stiles yelped the last word as he backed away from his friends and bolted to the football locker rooms.
-
Stiles’ jeep rumbled loudly down the winding road into town. He had always prefered taking the backroads around town. They were quiet, well as quiet as something can be when there are croaking frogs and screaming bugs, beautiful little trails through the forest that always seemed to be just barely restrained by industry and society.
Stiles cursed under his breath when he noticed how low the needle of his fuel gauge was, and where that meant he had to go. Only one gas station was anywhere near him, and it just had to be the one owned by the Hales’. Stiles started immediately mentally kicking himself for not filling up at the chain gas station when he was in town the other day.
Gas being almost three dollar a gallon was frankly horse shit and Stiles felt personally victimized since he lived a solid thirty minutes from any gas stations, even further to school or work. Hale’s Station wasn’t the most expensive in these parts, but it certainly wasn’t cheap and Stiles’ wallet was already weeping at the money he was about to drop.
Stiles pulled out onto the main road and made his way to his doom hoping against hope that Derek and Cora would be running it today not Peter or Laura, who both loved to tease Stiles until his face was burning and he wanted to disappear on the spot. When Stiles pulled up to the pump he breathed a sigh of relief because Derek was sitting at the register. Cora normally ran the pumps while Derek ran the register, so Cora was probably in the restroom or something. Stiles hopped out of his jeep and started for the door of the little convenience store to talk to Derek, but was stopped by an arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him back into a very hard chest.
“Well if it isn’t Little Red. We missed you somethin’ fierce the other day when you ran away to the locker rooms.” Peter’s honeyed voice washed over Stiles, send warm sparks down his bones.
Stiles forced himself to relax, he wouldn’t look weak in front of a Hale. Hale’s didn’t respond well to yellow bellied fools and Stiles was definitely not showing his yellow belly to Peter Hale most of all.
He dropped his head slightly back onto Peter’s shoulder to look the older boy in the eye before declaring, “I didn’t run. I had to go clean up the locker room.”
“Well that’s a fib if I ever heard one darlin’. Try again.” Peter hummed in Stiles’ ear turning his bones to jelly.
“You’re a damn fool Peter Hale. You’ll get us both in trouble with you’re hellish ways and I’m not gonna fight my daddy for some devilish boy with a wicked grin and candied nothings.” Stiles huffed before removing himself from Peter’s embrace.
Peter’s quiet laughter followed Stiles inside the little store where Stiles was met by The Disapproving Brows.
“I don’t know what's got your knickers in a twist, but that uncle of yours really gets my goose and your momma ought to have a talk with him about wearing proper britches. It’s indecent.” Stiles snapped as he approached the counter and the grumpy boy behind it.
“My momma ain’t got no way to control that boy. He could drive a preacher to cuss if you left ‘em alone together.” Derek chuckled and shook his head affectionately.
“Alright dumplin’ I filled you up nice and full.” Peter said, abruptly appearing behind Stiles and dragging a suggestive hand down Stiles’ spine, “He owes you $43.56 Der.”
Stiles flushed from the tips of his ears down to the tips of his toes. Where did Peter get off talking like that? He was going to put Stiles in an early grave at this rate.
“Now Peter listen here.” Derek started, but was cut off by Peter winking at Stiles and striding out the door.
Stiles handed Derek his debit card and signed the receipt quietly, still trying to calm his racing heart.
“He’s just teasing me Derek. It’s okay. It’s fun to pick on me I guess.” Stiles chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and making his exit with one final shrug.
-
Football was not something Stiles could be bad at. It simply was not allowed. From the age of six boys were expected to play football, some played other sports as well but everyone played football. It was impossible to be bad at something you’ve always done. Stiles wasn’t amazing, but he was still starting line, which was pretty impressive if you asked him.
Friday night’s game was brutal. The Cyclones were going against the only other school in the county, the pompous rude ass Yellow Jackets. Stiles tried to stay above the school rivalry thing, but the Yellow Jackets always played rougher when they faced the Cyclones. Stiles always seemed to get hit the hardest for some reason, probably an unlucky great great grandfather or something had cursed him. The Cyclones won by seven points and Stiles had never been happier when the buzzer finally sounded the end of the game. Fireworks started going off, but Stiles’ head was still buzzing after that last tackle by the mountain of a seventeen year old they dubbed “The Bull” so he couldn’t enjoy them like usual.
The cheerleaders and the twenty benched players ran out to the middle of the field to congratulate each other.
“Stiles that was a brutal ass tackle man! He took you down faster than a hot knife through butter.” Erica cackled.
“You definitely have a concussion.” Lydia supplied unhelpfully.
Stiles found himself slumping against Scott’s unyielding back in defeat
“Thank fuck for werewolf strength.” Stiles murmured blearily as Scott continued to move them through the crowd to get to the rest of their friends.
“You know born wolves are stronger.” Came Peter’s silken voice from behind Stiles.
“They are not you egg suckin’ liar.” Scott snapped as he maneuvered Stiles’ exhausted body so that he was leaning against Scott’s side and could properly look at Peter.
All werewolves present immediately realized how much of a mistake that was when Stiles finally took in the sight of Peter sweaty and slightly winded, his hair a mess and face flushed. Stiles was too tired to try to control his reaction to the older boy so he straightened up and tried to walk away. Unfortunately Peter knew he was going to run away again and grabbed Stiles’ elbow.
“Before you skedaddle I wanted to invite you to my party at our lake house this weekend.” Peter asked with something akin to bashfulness.
“I’ll be there Hale. Try to wear something that isn’t tight enough to see your religion.” Stiles replied with a smile before stepping out of his grasp and heading for the locker rooms to shower.
-
Stiles put on his jeans and the most absurd shirt he owned, which just so happened to also look amazing on him, and raced down the stairs. Tonight was Peter’s party and Stiles was tired of playing games, it was time to tell Peter to stop teasing him just because he wanted an ego boost. If Peter wasn’t actually teasing Stiles but genuinely flirting with him then Stiles was going to climb that boy like a tree.
“Well look at you two! What a mighty fine couple you make!” Stiles cooed from his window as Scott and Allison walked to his jeep from Scott’s house, they always seemed to wear complementary outfits and it was both adorable and disgusting.
“Thank you Stiles! What are you wearing? That shirt looks like it got hit with the ugly one too many times.” Allison said with a small, amused smile as she lifted herself into the passenger seat.
“It’s my first date shirt! If this doesn’t run ‘em off then my babbling won’t either!” Stiles grinned at his friends and winked before putting the car in drive.
The Hale house was a huge plantation style mansion, but their lake house was much more modern. Stiles wasn’t a fan of sleeping in the Hale house even when Derek had invited him over for slumber parties when they were younger, the house just seemed so haunted that Stiles always had the heebie jeebies inside it. The lake house was all sleek counters and fancy flooring, completely new and unhaunted. Stiles was perfectly content to get raging drunk where no potential ghosts could mess with him.
“We’re going to go find Lydia and the puppies. Peter's probably wherever they're playing beer pong. Good luck Stiles!” Allison gave his cheek a kiss and pushed him into the crowd of people before she and Scott went the other direction in search of their friends.
Stiles was nervous enough that he was flushed and slightly shaky by the time he saw the beer pong table. Derek was going against his sister Laura with a determined look on his face, which was honestly adorable.
“We've been stuck on the last cups for too long. That's it! I'm calling celebrity shot. Peter get over here!” Derek declared motioning for Peter to join him.
“That's not fair! Peter is banned from celebrity shots after the summer of ‘05 and you fucking know it you snake! I hope you gave your heart to Jesus cause after this game your ass is mine little brother!” Laura shouted angrily as Peter smugly walked over to Derek's end of the table.
“Not uncle Peter. Derek just boosted that son of a bitches ego when he already walks around with his nose so high in the air he could drown in the rain.” Cora Hale groaned from somewhere beside Stiles.
The combination of both Hale girls’ cutting remarks made Stiles throw his head back with loud laughter. He loved these fierce people and he especially loved how much they picked on Peter.
Stiles opened his eyes as Laura let out a triumphant yell. And his brain immediately took in the scene before him.
Peter had missed the shot.
Laura had sunk her ball in Derek's last cup.
Peter was staring at Stiles with a heated gaze.
Stiles had distracted Peter and made him miss the shot.
Stiles flushed all over as he met Peter's blazing gaze.
“Stiles.” the word flowed from Peter's lips like a prayer, like Stiles was his only salvation.
“Well that's enough of that.” Cora said roughly as she hip checked Peter out of the way and towards Stiles.
With Peter so close Stiles was having a hard time remembering the rant he had planned.
Peter's intense gaze broke as his eyes dropped to Stiles’ chest, “Is your shirt just a bunch of Nicolas Cage faces?”
Stiles was immediately brought out of his trance and grinned like the devil at Peter.
“You bet your sweet ass it is. What do you think?” Stiles asked pulling his shirt out a little to get a better look.
“I think it'd look better on the floor of my bedroom.” Peter leaned into Stiles’ space with a suggestive tug on the bottom of his shirt.
“Now you listen here Peter Hale. I have just about had it with you constantly teasing me about my crush and I think it's well past time that you quit playing games with me.” Stiles huffed angrily and crossed his arms.
“What if I'm not playing games Stiles? What if I actually do want to be with you? What if all I want right now is to get you out of that horrendous shirt and into my bed?” Peter asked more softly than one would expect when saying such sexual things.
“Well then I'd say call me a squirrel cause I'm gonna get my nut.” Stiles gave Peter's shocked look a shit eating grin and pulled the older boy into a heated kiss.
Hi I’m back with another poorly done edit and a list of fics I loved! This time I’m going to focus on one author by the name of @therapeutic-steter They have so many great fics, these are just my favorites!
The Snake and the Otter
Summary: Steter Week Prompt November 29: Soulmates, Mates, and Anchors AU When Stiles was born, a black snake appeared into his crib on the first full moon and never left.Claudia, whose soulmate animal was a lion, hadn't even flinched, smiling and cooing at the little snake in welcome. It flicked its tongue at her, beady eyes sparking blue, and let Claudia gently stroke it's head. John, whose soulmate animal was a bear, just shook his head, wondering at what kinds of trouble his son and his soulmate would get in to.
Soothing the Burn
Summary: Peter is burnt out and breaking down. Stiles notices and offers him solace, along with the one thing he wants most: Pack.
Scale Tales (Series)
Summary: Connected drabbles revolving around Dragon!Stiles and his werewolf Mate, Peter.
Morning Shenanigans
Summary: brandileeder asked: so i just found you on ao3 and i'm in awe!! i love you're writing so much!! i would loooove if you could write something where the pack finds out about peter and stiles being together by stiles sleepily cuddling up to peter? like maybe after some pack training stiles takes a nap and while he's still half awake stumbles over to peter and demands good morning kisses??
Reaper’s Discretion
Summary: Fate may have plans, but sometimes the Reaper's discretion is advised.
The Choices We Make
Summary:“You’re quite the clever one, aren’t you?” Peter mused, voice like honey.“I like to think so."“What’s your name?”“Stiles.”Peter smiled slowly, looking like a cat that just caught the canary. “Well hello, Stiles,” he purred, eyes flashing a bloody red.Stiles grinned victoriously. Viciously.The hunt was on.
And a special mention because it looks really good and I’ve heard great things, but my soft crybaby ass isn’t going to even look at this sad af fic:
ST1L35
Summary: “It's okay, love,” the droid said. “I'm here.”
Peter sobbed even more. It was just what he needed to hear, only with the impersonal echo of machinery.
