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vaguely-concerned · 5 years

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Mass Effect: Annihilation thoughts

TL;DR I fucking LOVED IT, a balm to my heart after struggling through Nexus Uprising! Also canonical lesbians! The sweetest quarian & his badass grandma! Elcor Hamlet except this time it’ll make you cry!!!

- Aaaaaah the audiobook reader is Tom Taylorson (so male Ryder)!! Fryda Wolf (female Ryder) read the two others and did a nice job, but man I’m soft for his voice in a way only rivaled by (...outside-of-Overwatch!)Jennifer Hale and Nicholas Boulton haha. He also has a much better handle on the pronunciations and voices for the different alien species -- delightful, I’m still cackling over his pitch perfect elcor impersonation. (Bioware please give him more Scott Ryder to voice I miss my son)

- I’m only about half an hour in and this is already SO much better than Nexus Uprising, it really does feel like a brave new galaxy haha. Very funny, very warm and smart and engaging in how it does its characterization and Valente clearly has affection for the setting and the universe, she and Jemisin both do incredible jobs with these.

- I’m fucking crying laughing at this cross-species near-brawl over a flower arrangement, god I love Mass Effect SO MUCH (what a neat idea though. something blooming quietly even when no one can see it. impractical as hell and hilariously including a high-nutrition celery now, but still neat)

Taylorson continues to wonderful things with the voices, that volus suit sound is so good. (he’s just generally really good at comedy) also a volus bellowing insults ‘moments before punching an anti-bouquet batarian in the groin’ sdafhjklsahfsjadkhfklajshdfkjlsadhf

- a high as a kite elcor... what a time to be alive, to get to read this book

I have already reached the ‘I LOVE EVERYONE IN THIS BAR’ stage with these characters, hard boiled drell detective lady and sweet sweet quarian first officer and manically enthusiastic elcor doctor TOT I would die for any one of you!!!

- The quarian/multispecies ark was built for long-term habitation, potentially over multiple generations. So what you’re telling me is that the quarians are the only ones who fucking thought this through and the rest of the Initiative probably should have listened to the people who’ve essentially been living on arks for ages. Who’d’ve thunk huh lol. (I guess the in-universe explanation is that people like the mysterious benefactor just wanted those arks yeeted to Andromeda ASAP, no time to get fancy in case the Reapers changed up their schedule. Fair enough)

- ;n; petition to let senna have a SAM pls (also uh. how happy do you think the stringently anti-AI quarian pathfinder will be when he finds out about everyone else’s SAMs lol lol lol he’s going to PASS OUT FROM RAGE upon meeting ryder. well he sounds like an asshole, I hope he dies so senna gets a chance)

- I can’t BELIEVE yorrik is an anti-stratfordianist, i am betRAYED! disgraceful, how can I still love you knowing this (and yet I do he is extremely funny and sweet)!!! (at least his theory is that this so-called ‘shakespeare’ was actually an elcor, which makes it better somehow lol. anything so long as he’s not an oxfordian tbh)

senna and yorrik’s friendship is so good and wholesome

- I really love the consistent alien POVs in this book, mass effect should indulge in this more -- everyone loves this universe so much, bioware, stop making us squint through a human lense to look at it!!

- oh of course quarian ‘pirates’ exist, the people who’re thrown out of the fleet must be doing something huh.

- haven’t written that many notes in a while just because I’m enjoying myself so much, I keep forgetting

- lfsdkhfsajkldhfskadjhfsjakdfhsdkjfh communist volus!!!! this is not a drill, communist volus! I am completely and utterly charmed by this entire book

- the quarian ancestor VI is so interesting and weirdly touching. senna is adorable (and relatably neurotic lol)

grandma AI smoking T___________T I love everything about this, she’s so cool. the worldbuilding being done around pre-geth revolution rannoch here... exquisite

- way to make me cry about batarians cat valente ;_______;

- the voice acting is SO FUCKING GOOD! I keep forgetting it’s one dude reading all these characters haha, I caught myself wanting to look up who voiced this dying batarian. (special shoutout that he does so many wonderfully distinct and specific female voices!)

- haHA I KNEW the quarian VI was a full AI (or near enough that it makes little difference tbh)!!! this fabulous grandma was self aware the entire time b i t c h e s !!!!

- the running joke of borbala’s ‘you need ______? I can make _______ happen’ is SO satisfying hahaha

ooooooh serious femslash vibes!!!! initially I thought batarian ex-crime matriarch was too old for drell PI, but this is undeniable. (I don’t think we actually ever get to know how old annex is, anyway, come to think of it) I guess if asari get to be five times older than everyone else and still fuck freely this isn’t really that weird lol

- “don’t look! it’s not so bad if you don’t look!” ofhsdalfhskldlsfjas oh senna baby boy

hey qetsi? qetsi both senna and I love grandma liat more than you. stand the fuck down

- NOOOO GRANDMA LIAT ;______________________________________;

- do you think SAM could meet liat (either ship!liat or just grandma!liat).... and have... a friend ;_________; (a cool laidback friend who isn’t a murderous angaran ai who might very well go the murder suicide sort of friendship route lol)

anyway I miss SAM a lot and love him??

- yorrik noooooooooooo this is awful everything is bad and terrible I love all of them so much why must senna be sad and watch everything he loves fade away 😭😭😭

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood/Clean from my hand?” He realized he’d forgotten to preface the words with an emotion. Now they wouldn’t understand what he meant.

Oh. Oh what a way to drive home the sadness and loneliness of this moment f u c k (and again the emotion taylorson brings to it jesus cHRIST)

I’m destroyed over how much senna and yorrik love each other, cross species found family out here wrecking my heart in true mass effect style

- yorrik is such a great character though. he’d be so easy to make a one-note joke character (like most elcor have been in canon lbr), but there’s nuance and depth and just enough satsifyingly believable alienness there. (I love the staunch elcor ‘you can’t call anything love that hasn’t lasted at least two centuries’ perspective haha) his memories of his childhood and disappointment with his profession and everything... goodnight sweet prince indeed :(

- they went and made elcor hamlet heartbreaking how dare they

(to be real for a second I think some of the human culture references are a little bit clunky, but the elcor hamlet stuff is perfect. contextualizing a throwaway joke from the original trilogy and giving it emotional depth, helping us see it from the elcor perspective and how frustrating and lonely it is to be so fundamentally not emotionally understood or seen on a level most of the other races are, despite their other differences, even though you have all these feelings and want to communicate... its very good.)

fun additional fact: both mordin and yorrik have played/wanted to play polonius in a production of hamlet! though I guess mordin is the slightly problematic fave in that duo and yorrik is a sweet melancholic angel who has never done anything wrong in his life, I would say protect him but I guess it’s too late for that D:

- qetsi giving off some real ophelia vibes here, I wish yorrik was here to see it, he’s the only one who’d properly appreciate it despite it all

- I. am. SO FUCKING HUNGRY for more mass effect after this (well even more so than usual) I’m so hyped!! I love this universe so much! I want a new andromeda game with senna as quarian pathfinder and grandma liat as the ship’s AI and see how they interact with ryder and SAM! (honestly though I feel like senna might be the one who’d translate the most cleanly into a game, I think there’s a lot of potential in him that’s barely being realized towards the end there with his deep righteous rage cutting through his uncertainty. also I just want nice things for him. is that so much to ask. he is a good boy, yorrik was so right.)

- aaaah not just femslash vibes, canonical lesbians, this is not a drill! I can’t wait until they propose... ‘we get shit done together, want to be in good cop/bad cop with me until the day we die y/n?’

- the ME universe doesn’t feel quite itself without all these ‘background’ species hanging around, I suddenly realize. I dream of an Andromeda sequel with all of them on the board and in play again Y-------Y

- potential Liat and SAM dynamics are so fucking interesting though! if she becomes/is confirmed as a full AI (all I hope and dream of), you’ll have two artificial intelligences with such different starting points but not that dissimilar goals? Liat was an organic person once who’s looking out for her family even now, and SAM is completely artificial but also intimately tied to and protecting His People. (and pulling a whole lot of symbolic weight re: the strength of familial/interpersonal relationships to boot; he’s the best way alec ryder managed to connect with his children. even though he was dead. because as established alec ryder was a disaster of a person)

- I enjoyed the loose murder mystery structure of this quite a lot, but that might also be because nexus uprising is so shapeless and meandering by comparison that I’d be relieved by anything else (sorry I’ll stop ragging on NU soon it just. took some hours of my life I can’t get back)

- jemisin did great stuff for characters already in andromeda (cora, SAM, alec ryder) and valente made me remember just why I love this universe so much and desperately want these aspects brought to andromeda too... and now I’ve exhausted all the fresh mass effect content I had available to me and will sit here consumed with lust for the rest of the time it takes for a new game to be announced thank you and goodbye

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #mass effect annihilation #*vibrates silently with cravings for more mass effect all while knowing it's gonna be a good goddamn while yet*#thank you cat valente this was a very nice gift

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ao3feed-sterek · 4 years

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a cup of tea and a nap (don't) solve my problems

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yEsABY

by PastillaSaborLimon

- En realidad, vi estás lámparas de papel y creí que podrías colgarlas por toda la entrada - respondió el sheriff, mostrándole lo que había comprado, sonriéndole con aprecio.

El castaño saltó a sus brazos, sintiendo las lágrimas acumularse en sus ojos.

- De todas formas no habrá tocino para ti - soltó el Stilinski menor, alejándose un poco - Lo hice para Derek, vendrá a desayunar con nosotros.

Momentos después, aprovechando que Stiles miraba las lámparas con admiración, Derek deslizó un tocino en el plato del Sheriff, quien asintió con la cabeza, como si acabaran de hacer un negocio sucio.

Título inspirado en Seasonal depression de mxmtoon

Words: 9089, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Español

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Jackson Whittemore, Cora Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Witch Curses, Spark Stiles Stilinski, I'm Bad At Tagging, Time Travel, Slow Burn

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yEsABY

#ao3feed #fanfic #sterek

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ao3-sterek · 4 years

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a cup of tea and a nap (don't) solve my problems

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yEsABY

by PastillaSaborLimon

- En realidad, vi estás lámparas de papel y creí que podrías colgarlas por toda la entrada - respondió el sheriff, mostrándole lo que había comprado, sonriéndole con aprecio.

El castaño saltó a sus brazos, sintiendo las lágrimas acumularse en sus ojos.

- De todas formas no habrá tocino para ti - soltó el Stilinski menor, alejándose un poco - Lo hice para Derek, vendrá a desayunar con nosotros.

Título inspirado en Seasonal depression de mxmtoon

Words: 9089, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Español

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Jackson Whittemore, Cora Hale, Sheriff Stilinski

Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Stiles Stilinski Is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Witch Curses, Spark Stiles Stilinski, I'm Bad At Tagging, Time Travel, Slow Burn

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2yEsABY

#ao3feed #sterek fics #sterek #fics

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ao3feed-peterstiles · 6 years

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Uncle Peter has a father in law (Traducción)

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2DMpw6X

by ChanBaek1997

"Nos conocimos en la estación. Traía el almuerzo de mi papá y allí vi a Peter. Básicamente fue amor a primera vista." Stiles se sonrojó un poco y agachó la cabeza adorablemente. Laura quería arrullar. "No nos dijiste que te arrestaron". Talia frunció el ceño a su hermano.

- O bien: Laura tiene que sufrir a través de la cena familiar semanal.

Words: 5728, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Español

Series: Part 2 of Uncle Peter Doesn't Date

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sheriff Stilinski, Laura Hale, Talia Hale, Esposo de Talia, Cora Hale, Derek Hale, Lydia Martin(mención), Jordan Parrish (mención), Peter Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Personajes originales

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Abogado Hale, Estudiante de universidad Stiles, Cena familiar, Familia Hale viva, Alfa Peter Hale, Universo Alterno-No existió el fuego, POV Outsider, Equivocados sobre Peter, caridad - Freeform, Comida vegetariana, Comprometidos, Anillo, Restaurante vegano, Papá Hale no quiere cocinar, Casamentera

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2DMpw6X

#ao3feed #fanfic #steter #peterstiles

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eternalstereksecretsanta · 7 years

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Where Our Story Begins

@fear-frost | AO3 | This is not precisely what you asked for, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way, I definitely enjoyed writing it :)

Explicit (though this only applies to part VI)

It all started with the kelpie even if that wasn’t what it was.

It all started with the kelpie.

Well, to be precise it all started back when he was 16 and had dragged Scott into the woods, but considering the clusterfuck that had turned out to be – with kanimas and evil grandpas not to mention the animosity between them all and whatnot – Stiles usually tended to ignore those few years when telling the story.

So – it started with the kelpie. And whatever was a kelpie even doing in a goddamn forest in the first place, is what Stiles would very much like to know. Or, he would have if he wasn’t just a little preoccupied fricking drowning! But he was, so he missed what had probably been an epic battle of the pack taking down the ginormous horse creature only to come to on an all too familiar (and all too cold, too) steel table, looking up into the alpha’s worried eyebrows. Admittedly all of Derek is probably worried but his eyebrows seem to be the only part of him actually willing to admit it.

Turns out the kelpie isn’t as much dead

“It wasn’t a kelpie, Stiles,” Lydia snaps at him. “Then what was it?” he asks, mind already going in a million different directions trying to remember every bit of lore he’s ever read concerning either horse-like creatures or creatures wanting to drown some poor, unsuspecting guy minding his own business. Every thought comes to a screeching halt when a heavy hand lands on the nape of his neck and this sort of calm just washes over him. “We don’t know,” Derek grumbles.

as it had just made a strategic retreat in the light of being massively outnumbered; though why it would isn’t very clear considering nothing the pack did had seemed to do any sort of permanent damage, but Stiles isn’t really in the mood for analyzing the reasoning of some unknown entity when it’s suddenly decided that he should have a babysitter.

“I can take care of myself,” he says, outraged that his best friend would throw him under the bus like that. Derek’s gone back to his usual blank expression and Stiles can’t help but wonder if maybe he’d imagined the worry in the first place. Even now after saving each other’s lives several times, making Jackson into a real wolf and getting rid of aforementioned evil grandpa; after prying Boyd, Erica and – surprisingly – Cora Hale from the clutches of the alpha pack (and disposing of them – permanently), Stiles sometimes get the feeling that Derek doesn’t like him, only tolerate his presence in the pack because he’s kind of a prerequisite for Scott staying.

Then there are times where Stiles will unexpectedly turn his head and catch Derek staring at him with something close to fondness in his eyes, times when Derek ducks his head and Stiles is almost a hundred percent certain there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth brought forth by whatever Stiles was doing or saying at the time. Those times Stiles can’t stop his heart from beating a little faster or his palms getting a little sweatier or his mind drifting off into a pleasant daydream, one he’s usually rudely brought out of again by Erica’s snickering and Lydia rolling her eyes while everybody else simply ignore him.

Things are once again quiet when they finally mange to get rid of the kelpie

“Still not a kelpie, Stiles,” Lydia says though her voice has the resigned tone of someone who has given up on making the person they’re talking to see reason.

not that any of them really know how, in the end they had simply thrown anything they could think of at the creature and at some point it had sort of just vanished with a ‘plop’ and the smell of rotting flowers. It meant they didn’t have to stay and deal with the corpse and could get the hell away from the stench quickly; small blessings and all that. It also meant that things could get back to normal especially with Derek going back to his own home rather than staying at the Sheriff’s house (so, Stiles had moved back home after college, that’s hardly a crime), and Stiles resolutely did not miss sharing space with the werewolf.

But though things had quieted down considerably since those horrible high school years where it’d felt like they were battling a new monster every week, the Nemeton still attracts the occasional creature so it’s hardly a surprise when the siren shows up. Not that they take one look at the new barista in town and go all body snatcher screechy on her, but when the dust settles on that particular fiasco the pack give each other knowing looks before going off to somewhere that isn’t the house where Derek and Stiles are yelling at each other.

It had been a perfectly ordinary Monday. As the newest deputy in Beacon Hills, Stiles was the one tasked with getting the coffee for the rest of the station; a task he’d gleefully accepted as it meant his dad wouldn’t be getting any of those sugary concoctions he’d been drinking at work with the excuse that they were called coffee. As always Stiles had his eyes on his phone and just made his way to the counter where he rattled of the usual order, knowing full well that Edith Wilson had had it written down since before Stiles was born; Beacon Hills sheriff’s department was nothing if not dependable.

It’s the chuckle that has him snap his head up, eyes going wide in shock because if that’s Mrs. Wilson then he would very much like to know where the Fountain of Youth is located these days. There’s something familiar about the woman, both her looks, voice and laugh strikes a chord of recognition in him though he’s certain he’s never laid eyes on her before in his life. He shakes the unsettling feeling and with an awkward chuckle apologizes before repeating the order in a significantly slower tempo giving her time to enter it all on the register.

He’s pleasantly surprised when, while making the different coffees, she strikes up a conversation. Stiles may have gotten more control over his tongue since leaving his teens, but he’s still a proficient rambler and it’s always nice to have a captive audience. The woman smiles and laughs at all the right places, even manages to put in a few questions or remarks of her own, and soon Stiles has forgotten that feeling of having seen her before, engrossed in their conversation as he is.

It’s a few weeks later when he’s doing his grocery shopping and a woman who seems familiar comes up to him and starts talking as if they’re old friends. He spends far too long trying to place her – all his high school friends are in the pack, the ones he made in college are half a country away from Beacon Hills, and Stiles never really was good at making new friends in the first place, which means he could point out every single one of those he do call friends even if it was pitch black inside the store – and at long last his silence make her close her mouth seconds before a sheepish smile stretches her lips, a blush rising on her cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“You don’t remember me,” she says as she laughs a little shyly. Stiles sees no need to argue her statement even if he’s beginning to feel a little bad about it.

“I’d forgotten how different you look without the uniform.” Her smile has lost some of the sheepishness even if Stiles isn’t really any closer to figuring out who she is.

“I’m Kereda. Your friendly neighborhood barista!? And you’re the cop with the funny name who laughs at my lame ass jokes every morning.” By now there’s something hopeful in her expression and Stiles finally recognizes the woman who’s taken over for Mrs. Wilson while the elderly lady is recovering from a broken hip, and as recognition sparks it feels natural to send her a smile in answer to hers and stretch out his hand.

“Yeah, of course,” he chuckles. “And you’re right, it’s like Clark Kent and the glasses.” She laughs and before Stiles is sure what happened he finds himself at the diner, curly fries and milk shake in front of him as he and Kereda are talking the hours away. He’s dimly aware of a phone ringing continuously but it’s all lost in the kaleidoscope of the woman’s eyes; a shiver runs through him as if the temperature has suddenly dropped and out the corner of his eye he sees… no, that can’t be right, how can there be a fifteen foot tree in a diner in Beacon Hills?

Stiles focuses on Kereda’s face – the skin too smooth and with the wrong hue; eyebrows too light and too thin – watches her mouth move, he can’t make out the words but the voice is wrong, something he can’t reconcile with the face before him. And then he hears it, other voices calling his name, howls echoing through the air making it through the fog in his head and he groans when he realizes he’s in the preserve getting dragged towards the lake where he’d nearly drowned barely three months ago.

His wrist is held in an iron grip and though he’s nowhere near as scrawny as he was at sixteen he’s still human and Kereda clearly isn’t, no matter what he tries it’s impossible to get her grip to loosen in the slightest as the steadily nears the edge of the water. The tips of his shoes have almost breached the surface when Derek barrels into the woman claws and teeth out reaching for anything to tear at. There’s a slight hesitation, a fraction of a second as if she thinks it’s not worth the effort but then she lets go of Stiles and turns to meet the threat head on.

The rest of the pack soon descends upon her but not until Stiles has seen the human melt away to be replaced by something that essentially resembles an oversized, beach ball with orange and yellow fur and long, snake like limbs ending in something that might be blades – they leave shallow wounds on the wolves that soon close up again. It’s over almost as soon as it began, Isaac and Boyd dragging the now very dead siren away from the lake presumably to get rid of it while Derek stalks towards Stiles, the wolf receding and with the return of his eyebrows the disapproval is clear on his face.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something in his own defense, but it’s lost in an indignant squawk as Derek bends and lifts him bridal style carrying him off in the direction of the pack house, the others following quietly.

The ensuing screaming match reaches epic proportions, even if Stiles loses on points when he trips over the last step on the stairs; Derek’s chuckle accompanies him all the way to his dreams.

III

The fairy isn’t Stiles’ fault; he’d like everybody to know that. The tiny terror had shown up on the full moon, thrown some sort of dust at Derek, cackled manically and said something that involved a lot of chirping noises nobody could make sense of, before it was gone as abruptly as it had shown up.

Not that anybody was scrambling to find the thing as they were all staring at the alpha and trying to shield their ears from the horrible sound of 206 bones breaking to morph into a different shape. Once the last crack sounds where Derek was just seconds ago there is now a gigantic, black wolf, its eyes a blazing red amidst all the dark fur.

There’s no sound, as if the entire forest is holding its breath; even the wind has stopped blowing and all they can hear is the memory of the leaves rustling and the blood rushing in their veins. As if by agreement it’s Stiles who takes a step forward, reaching his hand towards the wolf, his voice a higher pitch than usual when he says a single word.

“Derek?”

The wolf tilts its head as if wondering why anybody would ask such a silly question and then there’s a tongue slobbering all over Stiles’ hand.

“Okay then,” he says, wiping his hand on his pants with a look of disgust on his face; nostrils flaring when Jackson snorts a laugh at him.

“Screw you…” he starts but is cut off by Derek growling and flashing his teeth at the beta until he bares his throat and takes a few steps back. Puzzled Stiles files the interaction away to be looked at when Derek’s back to his usual self. He takes out his phone and shoots of a quick text to Lydia letting her know what has happened asking her if she could maybe try and get some answers from Deaton. It’s not that Stiles wouldn’t enjoy dragging the cryptic man from his sleep; it’s just that experience has taught him Lydia is far better at getting answers from the man than Stiles is. Then he tells the pack he’s going to head back to the house and start looking through the bestiary and see if there are any answers there.

He leafs through the books in Derek’s library, Peter’s laptop and his personal copy of the Argent bestiary. There’s nothing anywhere to suggest what the fairy had done to Derek or why and aster hours of research with nothing to show for it Stiles falls asleep in the chair he’s sitting in, bend over the desk and with his head resting on the book he took from the shelf two minutes earlier.

Stiles doesn’t even stir when Boyd carries him upstairs and puts him to bed, doesn’t react when the bed dips and a warm body snuggles closer. He sleeps undisturbed, his arms wrapped around a body that at some point loses its canine shape leaving Stiles and Derek to sleep in each other’s arms.

The harpy infestation is nothing but a minor footnote: unpleasant for sure and not something any of them hope happens again, but a footnote nonetheless. The omega who crosses the border three days later, however, is an entire different story.

For starters because it decides to kidnap Scott.

Stiles and Scott had made plans to veg out on the couch playing video games just like they used to before werewolves became something that turned out to be real. It’s a day just for the two of them, no talk of pack or Allison or Derek. So when his best friend isn’t obnoxiously ringing the bell at nine in the morning Stiles knows something is wrong.

Not much has happened since the morning he woke up in Derek’s bed and had snuck out while the man was still asleep, but seeing as that’s months ago maybe they should’ve all been prepared for something to happen soon. He calls Allison, hoping that Scott has simply forgotten their appointment and gotten lost in her dimples (it has happened before); she calmly tells him that Scott had left at eight like he always does when it’s “bro-day”, her voice quivering slightly as she tells him to pick her up on his way to the pack house, she’ll text the others to meet there, too.

The jeep’s the last car to pull up, the pack already gone trying to pick up Scott’s scent. Stiles makes tea, figuring both he and Allison are too keyed up to need coffee right now and Lydia’s on some weird cleanse or diet or something (he’s stopped paying attention to these things, it comes with being her friend rather than her stalker) and only drinks this foul smelling thing; he sticks to jasmine for his and Allison’s though.

It’s noon before the door opens and Derek’s standing there in a pair of running shorts and a sweaty wife beater, making Stiles forget to be worried, at least until he opens his mouth.

“We found blood between your house and the Sheriff’s,” he says, but before his audience has time to panic he thankfully continues.

“It’s just a drop or two, and even if it’s definitely Scott’s it’s not something to worry about.”

Which Stiles is inclined to believe, after all he’s seen his friends practically hemorrhaging their internal organs and they’re still here. He does know about nasty things like vaporized wolfsbane though, so he’s not ready to relax just about yet. As if reading his mind Derek’s suddenly looking him right in the eyes.

“There’s the scent of another werewolf, omega most likely, but nothing else.”

And just like that Stiles feels like he can breathe again.

Derek drives while Allison and Stiles are clinging to each other both worried about Scott but hopeful they’re going to get him back in one piece. The car slows down once they reach the part of town with all the abandoned warehouse, and when it finally stops Derek wordlessly orders them out and motions for them to follow him. About 500 yards away the rest of the pack joins them just before they reach one of the larger buildings.

It’s dark inside and Stiles holds tight onto Derek’s top, knowing the wolf will make sure he doesn’t trip over anything or walk into a wall or something equally noisy. It doesn’t take long, though, to get Scott and his abductor in view. The stranger’s talking but his voice too low for Stiles to make out the words, but the sight of his clawed hands confirms the suspicion that he’s a werewolf so Stiles reaches for the chain around his neck from which hangs a small vial filled with mountain ash. He removes the lid and believes, making an impenetrable barrier between the stranger and Scott.

Once they’ve made sure Scott’s safe and sound Derek orders the lot of them to go home while he waits for Deaton to come question the strange wolf. Stiles takes it as a sign of personal growth when the alpha doesn’t even glare at him when he sits down having decided to keep him company while waiting.

Turns out the guy has a grudge on Peter and for some reason had thought Scott was his beta and could lead him to the man. When Scott had told him he had no idea where Peter is the man hadn’t believed him. Stiles, because he’s a nice guy, gives the man the information he’s after: Peter Hale is currently gallivanting through France with Chris Argent. At the disgusted face the man pulls Stiles nods sagely and says.

“Yeah, I called TMI on them, too,” he smirks, “but at least they left it at the euphemisms.”

When Deaton shows up the stranger is practically in tears and begging to be far aware from both Stiles and Derek, the alpha cracking a smile once they’re out of sight cause Stiles’ heart to go into overdrive and the smile getting replaced by an expression he can’t decipher. Then he turns on his heel and starts running leaving Stiles to drive home by himself.

They’d all thought the Nemeton was dead, nothing but an empty shell of its former glory working as a beacon drawing supernatural creatures with ill intent to the town. But Lydia had found an obscure reference and she and Stiles had managed to piece together a ritual to cleanse the tree and make it grow once more.

Neither would ever go into detail but all the wolves had felt their connection to the land and each other strengthen – they’d been surprised realizing that both Peter, Chris, Melissa and the Sheriff were pack, though that had been nothing compared to the humans’ surprise when feeling the pack bonds for the first time – and when they’d gone to see the Nemeton the full moon following the ritual none of them had been the slightest surprised at the sight of thin branches and light green leaves growing from the stump.

And with everything being all peaceful and winter fast approaching Derek probably shouldn’t be surprised when most of the pack showed up on a chilly Saturday morning, bringing boxes filled with decorations and cookie ingredients inside. Soon the house smelt like cinnamon, oranges and cloves, there were fir, festoons, lights and wreaths everywhere and on the mantle of the fireplace hung fourteen stockings each with their owner’s name embroidered.

Sunday was spent decorating outside and by the time the pack declared themselves done Derek was very happy there weren’t anybody living in the preserve; a pair of legs were sticking out the chimney, the lawn was practically invisible beneath the reindeer and the sleigh with the sack of presents not to mention the angels and snowmen and giant letters. Everything, including the entirety of the house, was wrapped in lights. Derek could see white, yellow, red, green and blue, some lights were static others not and some even changed color continuously. It reminded him of Christmases past and looking to his uncle and sister he could see they thought the same even if they were both smiling.

Overwhelmed Derek just stands there taking it all in before suddenly wrapped in a hug by Boyd. Hesitantly he reciprocates which seems to be some kind of sign as the rest of the pack’s suddenly just there and they’re all hugging each other, even Peter and Chris a part of the group in a way they rarely are.

They end the evening in a pizza induced food coma laying around on the furniture and floor of the living room with some movie Stiles picked playing on the tele vision, Derek’s basking in the warmth of pack and the bodies flanking him and doesn’t even fight the tug of sleep.

Stiles’ eyes are glowing amber where the light streaming through the bedroom window hits them just right, his mouth stretched wide on a loving smile and his entire expression soft in a way Derek has never seen; it makes his heart beat faster and his palms sweaty, adrenaline pumping through him though the only thing he dares move is his eyes, raking over the naked body pinned beneath him.

It has taken years to get here and Derek intends to savor the moment for as long as he can. He remembers two boys searching for an inhaler, remembers a human shaking with fear who refused to let him go. For a second he regrets that it has taken them this long, but they’re all brushed away by hands framing his face and long fingers stroking his cheeks; they both needed the time to learn to trust themselves as much as they trusted the other.

The wolf stretches beneath his skin and Derek concedes that he also needed the time to reconnect with the wolf, learning to trust his instincts again.

Besides it hardly matters anymore that they’ve moved towards each other at glacial speed, what matters is that they’re finally here, together. This, them, is still exhilaratingly new that lying here both of them bared to the other’s eyes, should feel like it’s going too fast and while Derek feels like he’s tied to the front of a runaway train he in no way feels like things are going too fast, his senses telling him that Stiles doesn’t think so either.

“You’re sure,” he still asks, needing Stiles to consent with his voice as much as his steady heart beat and intoxicating scent broadcasting nothing but lust, need, want.

“Yeah,” Stiles rasps, pulling Derek’s face closer to his own slotting his lips over the wolf’s. It’s gentle, tentative because even if they’ve kissed a million times by now this feels different, something new they both have to explore together.

Derek gets lost in it, the feel of Stiles’ lips against his own, his tongue swiping his bottom lip before asking for entrance which Derek willingly grants by parting his lips, Stiles mapping the cave of his mouth with the slick muscle. Derek’s holding himself perfectly still but then Stiles groans and he can feel the vibrations of it all the way down to his toes and he needs to see if Stiles tastes as good as he remembers.

Once upon a time Derek thought kissing – sex for that matter – was a battle; but with Stiles it’s like a dance, a push and pull of one leading and the other following before turning and the follower suddenly being in charge.

Maybe it’s seconds or possibly eternities later when Derek pulls himself from Stiles’ mouth placing feather light kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheek, behind his ear and down his neck where he latches onto the pulse point, worrying the skin there marveling in the broken sounds coming from Stiles’ throat.

Stiles’ skin is warm beneath his hands as Derek tries to touch every bit of skin he can see; he plays connect-the-dots with the moles adorning his chest, combs his fingers through the treasure trail below Stiles’ navel. He marvels at the fact that even though Stiles has bulked up he can still span the width of him with both hands, revels in the way he shivers when Derek rubs his hands up and down his torso.

His thumb catches on Stiles’ right nipple and he’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath and a spike in the scent of arousal. His gaze zeros in on the way it pebbles and he doesn’t bother with eye contact.

”Can I?”

“Anything. Anything you want, Derek.”

The last vowel of his name is drawn out and tapers off into a moan as Derek seals his mouth over the hard nub and sucks. He doesn’t let up until Stiles is reduced to whimpers, a limp hand resting in Derek’s hair as if Stiles doesn’t want him to move but is somehow too weak – or maybe just unwilling – to forcefully ensure he stays.

Once Derek’s done feasting on Stiles’ nipples he lets his mouth travel the path his hands took earlier, making sure to taste everywhere he’d touched leaving not as much as a single mole untouched as he slowly makes his way further down. Stiles is pliant beneath him, letting Derek’s movements guide him as how to move himself. Up until now Derek’s knees have been planted firmly on the outside of Stiles’ legs but the further he travels down his body the more he’s overcome with the need to see, so he carefully moves one leg at a time until there’s room for him between Stiles’ parted legs.

He bypasses Stiles’ cock – long and slender like its owner and Derek is almost drooling at the thought of getting to have it inside him – rubs his face on the thin skin at the inside of Stiles’ thighs, a satisfied rumble rising in his chest when the skin pinks prettily. He follows with kisses to the thighs, the hollow of his knees, down the calf; he steers clear of the underside of Stiles’ feet, knowing he’s terribly ticklish though he places a kiss to the arch of the foot before making his way back up, from shin to knee to thigh where he nuzzles at the crease where the leg’s attached to the body.

The smell of Stiles is overwhelmingly strong here and Derek is helpless to do anything but inhale the scent of him, rumbling happily in his chest.

Stiles’ hands against his skin, drawing patterns on his shoulders and upper back stroking down his arms as far as they can reach makes him lift his head and catch his gaze with his own. Stiles’ eyes are blown wide the pupil swallowed almost all the color in them, his body taut as a bow string as he holds himself completely still under Derek. Despite the lust rolling off of him Derek still opens his mouth to ask though Stiles answers with a smile before words can pass his lips.

“Derek.” It’s hardly more than a breath and yet it’s Stiles’ heart soul handed to him on a silver platter in that single word, and how is Derek supposed to resist that, the love and trust given to him so easily? The answer obviously being that he can and so he surges, pours everything he has, everything he is, into a kiss that leaves them both breathless as Stiles meets him halfway every bit as desperate as Derek.

Their moans echo between them passes back and forth as part of their kiss; it’s impossible who makes which sound as they’re pressing closer to each other, their bodies locked in the same slick slide as their mouths.

This time it’s Stiles breaking the contact, his hands once again coming up to frame Derek’s face.

”I need you,” he says, desperation lacing his tone. “Inside me, next to me. It doesn’t matter, I just need to have you.” His heart beats steadily. “Now,” he whimper growls before kissing Derek senseless once more.

Derek has no idea how he’s managed to get hold of the lube, let alone how he’s gotten some of it onto his fingers but it hardly matters at the sound Stiles makes when he circles the puckered skin, lathers it with the slick substance gently testing the give, and then he’s inside, barely even an inch of his finger buried in Stiles and it feels as if he’s going to explode from it.

”More,” Stiles sobs and Derek complies pushing in to the second knuckle. Stiles’ mouth is hanging open and his breath’s ragged but rather than wait he bares down taking the whole digit, Derek stares, enraptured at where he’s inside Stiles, watches the flex of his muscles as he moves, trying to ride the finger.

Derek puts his other hand on Stiles’ hip stopping his movements then withdraws his finger completely. Before Stiles can voice any objections Derek lifts the bottle of lube pouring another helping onto his finger. This time there’s no hesitation as he pushes two fingers inside Stiles.

Stiles mewls encouragingly, wordlessly telling him to speed things up. Derek leans forward causing his finger to press even deeper than before and Stiles obediently lifts his hips to grant him better access. It brings his cock closer to Derek’s mouth and he doesn’t even think about it, just opens his mouth and takes him to the root. He’s rewarded with a cry of pleasure from Stiles who’s soon rocking back unto Derek’s fingers and bucking forward into his mouth. It’s not long before his breathing shifts and Derek doesn’t need the tap against his wrist to know Stiles is going to cum.

He doesn’t pull off, simply open wider trying to get Stiles further down his throat wanting to taste everything he’s willing to give and when he clamps down on Derek’s fingers and floods his mouth Derek eagerly swallows every last drop. He doesn’t care for the consistency but it’s outweighed by the taste of Stiles exploding in his mouth, sliding down his throat as it flexes around the still hard shaft. Once there’s nothing left and Stiles is pushing at his forehead he reluctantly lets go of the flesh; he raises a questioning eyebrow while twisting his hand which Stiles answers by squeezing around the digits still exploring his hole. Derek takes it as his que to add a third.

When Derek finally withdraws his hand satisfied with the stretching he’s done and coating his own cock in a liberal amount of lube Stiles is fully hard again, his gorgeous cock standing proudly in its nest of dark curl almost as if it’s trying to lure Derek in once again. This time he refuses to fall for its wiles choosing instead to fold Stiles in half by now trusting him to voice any objections he may have.

When none comes Derek nudges against his hole applying pressure until the head of his cock is past the muscle and he’s approximately half a breath from cumming his brains out. Stiles seems to sense it as he’s stopped moving when Derek did, this time content letting the wolf set the pace. It’s equal parts amazing and torture hovering on the edge of Stiles’ body and Derek has to move so he presses closer, infinitely slow half an inch at the time until he’s sheathed to the root, his thighs against Stiles’ asscheeks. That’s when slow flies out the window.

Derek grips his hips, trying to be gentle but he knows there’re going to be marks tomorrow and he can’t help a smug smile at the thought. It drops soon though as he picks up the pace, pulls from the comforting grip of Stiles’ body just to push back inside again, again, again, while minutely trying to change the angle. He knows it’s right when Stiles practically howls and meets him thrust for frantic thrust, nothing but the squelch of lube, the slap of skin against skin and Stiles begging for release.

It’s not until the tingling at the base of his spine indicates his own immediate release that he wraps a dry hand around Stiles’ length, tugging at it in the same rhythm as he snaps his hips and together they stumble over the precipice.

~Fin~

#eternalstereksecretsanta17 #esss17 #sterek #submission #fic

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kirah69 · 7 years

Text

[Fanfic] Gallito rojo

AO3, Fanfiction, Wattpad, Amor Yaoi, My Blog

Clasificación: +14

Categoría: M/M

Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)

Relación: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Tags: Emissary Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Tumblr Prompt, The Steter Network, The Steter Network Monthly Prompts, Song Lyrics, Based on a blues song, Stiles-centric

Idioma: Español

Palabras: 1774

Resumen: Megan era todo sonrisas, una nueva adquisición de la manada que parece llevarse bien con todos. A Stiles no le gusta y Peter lo apoya como su pareja. ¿Tendrá razón el emisario al sospechar de ella?

Prompt mensual de The Steter Network de noviembre: Blues

* * * * *

Little red rooster (Gallito rojo)

(escrita por Willie Dixon y cantada por Howlin' Wolf)

I have a little red rooster, too lazy to crow for day / Tengo un gallito rojo, demasiado perezoso para cantar durante el día

Keep everything in the barnyard, upset in every way / Mantiene todo en el corral, molesto en todos los sentidos

Oh the dogs begin to bark, / Oh, los perros comienzan a ladrar

and the hound begin to howl / y el sabueso comienza a aullar

Oh the dogs begin to bark, hound begin to howl / Oh, los perros comienzan a ladrar, el sabueso comienza a aullar

Ooh watch out strange kind people, / Ooh, cuidado con gente amable y extraña,

Cause little red rooster is on the prowl / porque el gallito rojo está al acecho

If you see my little red rooster, please drag him home / Si ves a mi gallito rojo, por favor arrástralo a casa

If you see my little red rooster, please drag him home /Si ves a mi gallito rojo, por favor arrástralo a casa

There ain't no peace in the barnyard, / No hay paz en el corral

Since the little red rooster been gone / desde que el gallito rojo se fue.

* * * * *

Megan era todo sonrisas. Era linda, con el cabello castaño rizado cayendo alrededor de su rostro, su piel pálida cubierta con algunas pecas y ojos verdes brillantes. Era dulce, amable y amigable. Desde el momento en que Scott la llevó a la nueva casa Hale tras haberla conocido en una cafetería, la joven herbolaria pareció congeniar con todos, siempre encontraba algo en común con cada uno de ellos. Tras algunas miradas recelosas los primeros días, incluso Derek y Cora comenzaron a abrirse a ella, a aceptarla como a una más.

A Stiles no le gustaba.

—No me gusta. No confío en ella—le dijo a Peter mientras movía sus caderas perezosamente sobre su regazo, su duro miembro penetrándolo por segunda vez en la noche.

—Yo tampoco, pero sabes que yo no confío en nadie, salvo en ti—añadió como segundo pensamiento.

—Ooh~—Stiles le dio un breve beso en los labios que se tornó en uno más largo e intenso cuando Peter reclamó su boca.

La charla quedó olvidada desde ahí hasta que ambos estaban saciados y exhaustos en la cama, Stiles con la cabeza apoyada sobre el pecho de Peter y sus piernas entrelazadas.

—Crees que tengo buen instinto para estas cosas, ¿verdad?—preguntó cuando hubo recuperado lo suficiente el aliento.

—¿De todos en esta ciudad? El mejor. Cariño, si piensas que no es trigo limpio, yo te creo. Ahora solo falta convencer a los demás.

—Eso es imposible—agitó una mano desestimándolo—, Scott siempre cree que estoy paranoico cuando pienso mal de alguien. Da igual que siempre lleve razón.

—Entonces, habrá que mantenerla vigilada.

—No ha intentado nada contigo, ¿verdad?—preguntó, mirándolo de reojo.

—No le he dado oportunidad. Vi la cara que se te puso la primera vez que se me acercó. No quiero enfrentarme a la ira de nuestro emisario.

—Bien—asintió satisfecho y se acomodó para dormir abrazado a su lobo.

Stiles probablemente no se habría dado cuenta si no hubiera estado observando específicamente, pero lo estaba y se dio cuenta.

Megan se ofreció para recoger la mesa después de comer todos juntos y vio cómo disimuladamente cogía un tenedor que Scott había estado usando y se lo guardaba en el bolsillo, en lo que le pareció una bolsa de plástico. ADN, fue lo primero que pensó Stiles. ¿Para qué quería una supuesta herbolaria el ADN de un hombre lobo alfa? No que Stiles se creyera que lo único a lo que se dedicaba era a hacer tés y ungüentos.

No fue la última vez. Otro día le vio guardar una servilleta que Isaac había usado, el palo de un helado que Cora se había comido y un pintalabios de Erica.

—¿Qué demonios querrá hacer esa p- bruja con el ADN de la manada?—masculló mientras pasaba las hojas de un libro de magia.

—Nada bueno, de eso estoy seguro—respondió Peter sentado en su sillón con otro libro.

—¡Eso no ayuda!—replicó molesto. Peter le miró arqueando una ceja y Stiles se sintió de inmediato culpable por haber gritado. Se levantó, dejando el libro a un lado, y se sentó en el regazo de su pareja—. Lo siento, mi vida, esto me tiene muy frustrado.

Frotó su mejilla contra la de su lobo y Peter le rodeó con sus brazos con un suspiro.

—Lo sé cariño, pero estoy seguro de que resolverás esto, siempre lo haces—besó su frente y acarició su espalda, como si no oliera ya lo suficiente a él, para apaciguar a su lobo, al que no le gustaba ver a su pareja en ese estado.

Ambos investigaban juntos, como siempre, encerrados en su habitación insonorizada. No era fácil porque había demasiados hechizos que empleaban el ADN u objetos personales o que hubieran pertenecido al sujeto. Sería más sencillo si tuvieran ya una víctima y vieran los efectos del hechizo, pero no tenía ninguna intención de esperar a eso.

No tuvo tiempo. Se encontró dos noches después enfrente del Nemeton atado a uno de los árboles que rodeaban el claro.

Mierda. Otra vez no, gruñó para sí. Odiaba ser secuestrado.

Sacudió la cabeza para despejarla. Se sentía pesado, no estaba seguro de cómo lo había dejado inconsciente, pero podía sentir los químicos en su cuerpo además de un golpe en la cabeza, probablemente de una caída. Megan estaba en pie sobre el Nemeton, desnuda, con su cuerpo pintado con runas. Stiles sintió náuseas.

—Oh, ya estás despierto—le habló con su voz empalagosa y su falsa sonrisa.

Bajó del tronco y se acercó hacia él contoneando sus caderas. Ugh, por favor, no.

—Pobrecito. Te preguntarás por qué estás aquí. Verás, necesito la sangre de un miembro de la manada para este ritual y como tú eres el débil y frágil humano has sido la opción más fácil, nada personal.

Stiles tuvo que esforzarse por evitar que una sonrisa se extendiera por su rostro. ¿Débil humano?

—¿Y puedo saber qué clase de ritual es este?—preguntó frunciendo el ceño y apretando los dientes, más por la repugnancia de tenerla cerca que otra cosa.

—Voy a tomar el control de la manada y del Nemeton—respondió con una gran sonrisa extendiendo sus brazos, ese toque de locura que Stiles siempre había supuesto mostrándose claramente en su rostro.

—¿El control de la manada?

—Literalmente. Convertiré a esos perros en mis marionetas, mis propios perros guardianes. Controlaré sus mentes y serán incapaces de resistir mis órdenes.

—Oh. Ya veo. Estás como una cabra.

—¡¡Esa puta tiene a Stiles!!—rugió Peter, su voz resonando por toda la casa.

—¿Por qué dices eso? Los dos han desaparecido, podría habérselos llevado alguien más—replicó Scott con expresión molesta.

Peter se plantó frente al alfa, sus colmillos descubiertos en un amenazador gruñido y sus ojos brillando furiosos.

—Voy a descuartizar a esa puta y al que se atreva a impedírmelo. Y ya podéis salir corriendo si le ha hecho algo a Stiles.

Scott hizo brillar sus ojos intentando someterlo y Peter le gruñó en la cara en respuesta.

—Está bien, tranquilizémonos—intervino Derek, intentando interponerse entre ambos—. Asumo que Stiles sospechaba de ella.

—Por supuesto que sospechaba, es el único con medio cerebro en esta camada de cachorros que solo piensan con la entrepierna—respondió escupiendo veneno. Lydia se cruzó de brazos y se aclaró la garganta—. Oh, por favor, cielo. Tu novio era un maldito lagarto, literalmente. Serás un genio con lo que lees en los libros, pero Stiles conoce a las personas. Y supo desde el principio que esa puta no era trigo limpio, pero por supuesto nadie le hace caso, excepto yo, evidentemente.

—Vale, centraos—siguió Derek antes de que los demás pudieran replicar—. ¿Qué cree que estaba tramando? ¿A dónde podría habérselo llevado?

—Parecía estar recolectando ADN de todos nosotros. Estábamos intentando averiguar el motivo—trataba de pensar con racionalidad, pero no era sencillo, el lobo estaba rugiendo dentro de él para que fuera a encontrar a su pareja.

—¿Por qué no vamos al lugar más obvio primero y si no están ahí seguimos buscando?—sugirió Cora y todos la miraron—. ¿Qué? Quizás no sea un genio, pero no soy idiota—y miró explícitamente a Scott.

Scott devolvió la mirada ofendido y se cruzó de brazos.

—¿Y dónde es ese lugar obvio?—preguntó con el ceño fruncido, lo que le hacía parecer un niño enfadado.

Peter puso los ojos en blanco. No podía creer que el alfa fuera tan idiota.

—Bueno, esto está—Stiles le dio unas palmadas cariñosas al tocón y se sacudió las manos.

—¡Stiles!—escuchó su nombre desde lejos, quizás en la voz de Scott, y otras voces lo repitieron. Después un aullido reverberó entre los árboles.

En apenas un parpadeo vio la figura de un lobo surgir entre las sombras. El enorme animal marrón oscuro se dirigió directo hacia él con grandes saltos sobre sus cuatro patas y ni siquiera tuvo tiempo de prepararse para el impacto. Una vez en el suelo, Peter lamía su rostro, restregando el hocico contra sus mejillas y su cuello de una forma desesperada.

—Vale, vale, tranquilo, estoy bien—Stiles lo abrazó y dejó que lo cubriera con su olor hasta que estuvo satisfecho.

El resto de la manada llegó poco a poco y le saludaron desde cierta distancia, sabiendo que no era prudente acercarse con Peter tan alterado.

—¿Qué le ha sucedido?—preguntó Scott cuando vio a Megan sentada contra un árbol.

Su cuerpo estaba inerte, su boca abierta con un hilo de baba cayendo por la comisura y su mirada perdida en el infinito. Estaba viva, podían oír su corazón latiendo muy lentamente y no había ninguna herida visible, pero no mostró ningún signo de reconocer su presencia cuando se acercaron.

—Oh, eso. Yo le he sucedido, supongo. El débil y frágil humano—respondió con una sonrisa que intentaba ser inocente y que fallaba por mucho. Peter resopló en lo que parecía ser una risa lobuna—. Deberíais llevarla a Eichen House o tirarla a una zanja, me da igual, no se va a recuperar.

Peter se transformó, regresando a su muy desnuda forma humana, arrodillado frente a él.

—Eres glorioso—le dijo con auténtica adoración en sus ojos.

—Lo que haga falta por mi manada—respondió con un beso y se aferró a sus hombros cuando Peter lo levantó en brazos para llevarlo a casa.

#steter #fanfic #fanfiction #Steter Network Monthly Prompts #monthly prompts #November 2017 #Blues #teen wolf #Peter Hale #Stiles Stilinski #fanfic español

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