#bo3bingo

[sapphireginger]

Title: At Our Ex-Spence - Chapter #3

Summary:

“Ah. Well, what can I say, Little Red?” he purrs as he comes up behind Stiles who has managed to get into his underwear, pants and shirt. “I think you should wear a little red .”

“Hardy har har,” Stiles retorts drily. “Someone is in a snarky mood this morning.”

Square Filled: Found Family

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Full AO3 Link

@thebo3bingo

The next morning, Stiles wakes up with his nose buried in Peter’s neck and the wolf’s arms wrapped around him. He huffs making the man grumble and then pulls away. Peter tightens his hold making Stiles laugh. “Dude. I have class. Let go.”

“No,” Peter grumbles, even as he loosens his hold enough for the amber eyed man to get up. “I’ll get your shirt and you shower.”

Stiles pouts. “You say that like I smell or something.” His eyes widen and he subtly—not subtle at all—sniffs. “Oh. I kind of do.”

This gets him an eye roll of epic proportions to which he responds by sticking out his tongue.

“Love you too dear!” Peter calls out after him as a now very red faced Stiles darts into the bathroom and shuts the door.

When he emerges bright eyed and smelling like rain, petrichor and lavender with an undercurrent of lightning and cinnamon, he eyes the clothes with a bemused look. “Peter?”

“Hm,” the wolf hums. “Something wrong?”

Stiles startles and glances at his bed where the wolf has taken it upon himself to make himself at home. Not that Stiles minds although he won’t admit that out loud. “I can’t wear this.” He holds up the tie. “Black is required.”

“Is it?”

“Wha—Yes!”

“Ah. Well, what can I say, Little Red?” he purrs as he comes up behind Stiles who has managed to get into his underwear, pants and shirt. “I think you should wear a little red.”

“Hardy har har,” Stiles retorts drily. “Someone is in a snarky mood this morning.”

“Whatever do you mean darling boy? I am always in a snarky mood.” Peter holds out a bag that smells divine. “Enjoy lunch. You’d better get going. Don’t want to be late. Unless of course it’s your turn since your twin was late yesterday.”

Stiles glares at him without heat. “Fuck you dude.”

Peter smirks. “That doesn’t sound like begging and when you actually want to fuck and I want to fuck you, you’ll be begging before I give in.”

A crimson faced Stiles hurriedly grabs his things and bolts out the door. “Asshole,” he swears under his breath.

Of course, Peter hears it. “Love you too!”

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

When the alarm goes off Stuart curses and bolts back into the bedroom to turn it off. Unfortunately, he’s not able to do so before said alarm wakes up his girlfriend. She glares at him with the most adorable pout that terrifies him at the same time. “Uh. Good morning, babe.”

She frowns and then sighs, shaking her head. “Why weren’t you in bed?” she asks softly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He blushes sheepishly. “Sort of? It’s—I was—I mean—” He sighs. “Come see for yourself.”

When they reach the room that he’s claimed as office space her eyes widen. “Holy shit!” she exclaims, though her voice doesn’t rise at all.

“Yeah. I couldn’t let it go. I need to know and well…” he trails off, giving a one shoulder shrug.

“You researched,” she finishes for him and smiles softly. “I want to hear everything, but you have to get ready.” She punctuates this with a kiss to his cheek that he quickly turns to catch with his own lips.

For a few minutes she lets him before pulling back with a soft laugh. It makes him smile. “I love you.”

Allison beams at him with dimples that are to die for. “I love you too handsome.”

Before he can lean in for another kiss she tuts and points. “Shower. Class. Now.”

“All right. All right.” He raises his hands in surrender, noticing her lips twitch slightly. “I’m going. You wanna shower with me?”

“Not this time. We both know Spencer won’t let you get out of being late two days in a row. Plus…” She gestures to the board of information behind her. “The answer to your questions sits right next to you for an entire hour.”

That is a fair point indeed and all that is needed to get Stuart in and out of the shower in record time. He quickly dresses, grabs his bag, kisses his girlfriend–twice when she hands him a packed lunch–and is out the door with plenty of time to spare.

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

Stiles stops at a coffee shop before parking in the lot and heading inside. It’s surreal to be here and he is eager to learn. However, if he’s learned anything during his time as the boy who runs with wolves, it’s that things can change in an instant.

One minute you’re hiking looking for a dead body and the next—TA DA—your best friend is a werewolf. He still feels the guilt over Isaac’s turning but then again it brought him, Jackson and Stiles closer. He loves them despite everything and now that he thinks about it, he should really call them. After the big twin thing yesterday, he sort of forgot.

“NAT Stilinski?”

Stiles’s head snaps up and he offers a shy smile. “SSA Reid.”

Spencer clears his throat and nods at his coworkers as he makes his way over to Stiles. “I was hoping to speak to you for a moment.”

“Okay. Shoot dude.” His eyes widen and he pales. “I-I mean. Okay,” he squeaks.

This elicits a laugh from the older man and Stiles blushes lightly. “Relax, Stiles. We’re just two people talking.”

Stiles snorts. “Two people related by blood who have never met before and are suddenly in positions of power one over the other.”

Spencer blinks, his former lightheartedness almost vanishing. “Right. Well, I ask that you not dart off after class today. I need to speak to you about something important. Okay?”

“Oh. Yeah sure. Hey uh can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” Spencer quips.

It makes Stiles grin. “So, what can I call you like in non-formal settings?”

A quirked brow that reminds him of his mother is the response he gets before Spencer replies, “Spencer, Spence or cousin.”

“Huh. Okay so what will you call me?”

“Stiles, Miko or little cousin.”

“My mom called me Miko,” Stiles whispers and then clears his throat. “I thought Stuart was little cousin.”

Reid opens his mouth to reply only for the mentioned man to scramble over. “Spence!”

With an exasperated eye roll Spencer turns slightly towards Stuart. “You made it on time. Color me impressed.”

“Oh, shut up!” Stuart snaps and Stiles blinks his Bambi eyes at the annoyed but mischievous look in his double’s eyes. “Ally got me into gear.”

Stiles glances at Spencer. “How about little cousin one and little cousin two.”

Spencer smirks. “Which would you be?”

“Two obviously.” He gestures a thumb at Stuart. “He was here first.”

“Perhaps but you are the older twin.”

“I am?” Stiles asks with his jaw hanging open. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

The other two men stare at him and then burst out laughing. Stiles is sure the tips of his ears are red by now. He glares at the other two who are wiping tears from their eyes.

“I’ve not heard that one before and that is be-you-ti-full!” Stuart crows and then quickly silences when Spencer clamps a hand on his shoulder.

People aren’t paying them any attention but that doesn’t mean raucous laughter won’t change that.

Stiles huffs. “Dad always said it.” He shoulders past them feeling adrift again. These two—his twin and his cousin—have a bond that he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to think about that though because it only makes his chest feel tight. Stiles is quick to head towards the stairs.

Spencer of course quietly calls after him. “Don’t forget. After class you need to wait.”

“Yes sir.”

✶ 🔎 ❤︎ 🔍 ✶

The twins sit next to each other again. Stuart tries to catch Stiles’s gaze, but the other man is stubbornly avoiding him. Stu does feel kind of bad for laughing. From what he learned through his research, Stiles is all the way across the US now away from his dad and his friends. The least he could do is make him feel welcome.

A lightbulb goes off and he sneakily retrieves a small item from his bag. He quickly scribbles a note on a scrap of paper and passes them both over to his twin. His smile is pleased, when both the Reese's and the note are snagged by his twin. After that Stiles seems to relax and Stuart feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s just debating whether or not to ask Stiles to join him for lunch when class ends.

Before he gets a chance to ask, Stiles is down front with Spencer and the two are talking in hushed tones. When he tries to join in, Spencer gives a subtle shake of his head. Stuart tenses and then nods sharply before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

He doesn’t like it one bit. Spencer is his cousin too and he’s known him longer. Suddenly, Stiles shows up and he’s like this new shiny version. There is no one like Stuart and no photocopy wannabe version is going to change that. Nor is said copy going to take away what little family Stuart has.

Lunch is forgotten and Stuart hits the library for genealogical records on the Gajos family. He needs answers and he needs them now.

[sapphireginger]

Title: Me & My Broken Heart - Chapter #5

Summary:

When Stiles’s eyes widened and a smile formed, Eli let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He hated how guilty his dad felt and figured that even if he was only fifteen going on sixteen, he could keep reminding his dad that he wasn’t alone anymore, that they had each other now. He could keep reminding his dad that he wasn’t the one at fault, neither of them was. It was like Aunt Mal said, the fault alone lied with Derek Hale, and he was the past, but this was the future.

“Great minds think alike,” Stiles said. “Those are my absolute favorite, my guilty pleasure.”

Eli couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah? That’s legit dad. I bet we have even more in common and we have lots of road to cover all of those things.”

Square Filled: Rekindled Love

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steo [Stiles Stilinski + Theo Raeken]

Full AO3 Link

@thebo3bingo

Eli sought out Malia and told her what he overheard in the diner. The female coyote was furious, her own control slipping slightly, and she wished that she could raise her cousin from the dead just to kill him again. She sent Eli to see Jordan and then shifted to go after Stiles. His was a scent she would never forget, and it was easy to trace him to his old haunt.

Stiles was sitting on the outcrop, overlooking Beacon Hills, the silence calming him and the distance from a place of pain easing the tightness in his chest. He was drawing in a sketchpad when Malia softly padded over to him. He smiled softly without looking up, sensing who it was. “Hello, Mal,” he said softly. 

Malia pressed her nose against his stomach and then nuzzled her muzzle against his knee. When he finally looked at her, she gave him a toothy grin. 

The amber eyed man snorted and petted her with a gentle smile. “I should’ve known you’d find me.” Something in his expression shifted and Malia whined softly, her tongue flicking at the salty streaks forming on his cheeks. “Can I—”

He wasn’t even able to ask, but he didn’t have to as she already knew what he was asking for and quickly rested her head over his shoulder so he could bury his face in her fur coat. His arms wrapped around her and even if Malia could have said something she wouldn’t have. She kept silent as Stiles shook with silent sobs. 

The coyote had never seen her friend so broken down and it filled her with disdain once more for her cousin, but Derek was gone now and never again would he be able to hurt Stiles. So, she just let Stiles hold onto her and relaxed in the silence that she, like Stiles, found soothing.

✶ ✦ ⟡ ♥︎ ⟡ ✦ ✶

After what might’ve been minutes, or hours later, Stiles pulled back and averted his gaze as Malia shifted back. “Hey, Mischief,” she said after slipping on a pair of shorts and a tank top. 

“Hey, Maleficent,” he replied with a small grin at their usage of childhood nicknames.

“So…” Malia said and trailed off. “What do you say to you and Theo joining Jordan and myself for dinner?”

Stiles hesitated once more. “Will Eli be there?”

Malia nodded that he would and watched Stiles’s expression closely, glad she did, or she would’ve missed the longing look of hope. “My cousin was an asshole and is lucky I didn’t kill him first.”

“You sound like Theo,” Stiles said, wiping at his face, snorting when Malia made a face at the comparison. Stiles chewed his lip and fidgeted. “Does he want me there?”

“Are you serious?” Malia asked. “Of course, he wants you there, idiot.” The insult was said fondly and he knew that. So, Stiles didn’t take offense to it. “Stiles you’re his dad and no matter what Derek said or did, that won’t change. You won’t know unless you try.”

Knowing she was right, Stiles drew on his courage reserves and agreed, asking her to text him the address and a time before parting ways for the evening. 

✶ ✦ ⟡ ♥︎ ⟡ ✦ ✶

Saturday night came and Eli was anxious, pacing back and forth in the living room. 

Malia smiled at him. “You’re so much like your dad.”

Eli froze on the spot, spinning to face her and looked at the woman, searching her face for sincerity. “I am? Really?”

“Really, pup. It’s going to be okay.”

“How can you say that? Da—Derek lied to me and now my actual dad probably hates me. I lost nearly two decades of time with him all because of a lie. It was a lie, all of it and I was stupid enough to believe it.”

Malia shook her head and went over to him. She cupped his face, making sure he was looking at her. “You were a child, still are a child and the fault lies with Derek Hale alone. I’m sure, when the time is right, Stiles will answer your questions. He and Theo should be here soon.”

Eli nodded, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He scrunched up his nose as Malia let go and pouted when she ruffled his hair. Then, he voiced a question, something he had been curious about. “Who is Theo, Aunt Mal?”

Jordan popped his head into the room and quirked a brow at his wife, the hellhound wondering just how his mate planned to answer that question. 

When it seemed that she wouldn’t give an answer and had no idea whether or not she should attempt to offer one at all, Jordan stepped in. “Theo is a childhood friend of your dad’s. At one point, we believe there was more between them but after Stiles left, we don't really know what became of whatever was going on with them nor what became of Theo himself.”

“What about now?” Eli asked.

Malia shrugged. “Now? We have no idea. I mean, Theo was the one to call and get him here and I thought getting Stiles to return here to Beacon Hills would be an impossible feat but somehow Theo managed it. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s more to them than we ever knew but it’s not our place to speculate and I know in time we’ll learn the truth.”

Jordan kissed her cheek and gestured to the stairs. “Wash up for supper, Eli. Your dad will be here soon.”

“Yes, Uncle Jordy,” Eli said. He waited until Jordan disappeared back into the kitchen before turning to face his aunt again. “Do you promise that my dad doesn’t hate me? Do you promise that he never will?”

Malia shook her head and pulled Eli into a hug. “Stiles doesn’t hate anyone. You’d have to hurt someone he loves for him to even come close to hating you. He’s here and he loves you. It won’t be easy but you’re his kid. That’s what matters most. You’ll have time now. I promise.”

✶ ✦ ⟡ ♥︎ ⟡ ✦ ✶

When Stiles and Theo arrived, it was just half past six in the evening. Both father and son were nervous but with Theo’s support Stiles knocked on the door and with Malia’s support Eli stood his ground when Jordan opened the door to usher in their guests. 

As soon as Eli laid eyes on his dad, he ignored everyone and everything else. Nothing else mattered and everything but his father faded to white noise becoming background and trivial. Eli trusted his instincts and once Theo had taken the bottle of wine from Stiles; Eli threw himself at the amber eyed man. The young were keened and whined as tears poured down his cheeks. “Ojciec!” he whimpered.

For a moment, Stiles was shocked, rooted to the spot. He had not expected such an embrace to occur nor to hear the Polish moniker roll off of his son’s tongue so easily but almost instantly, something inside him clicked into place.  Stiles wrapped his arms around his son and held him tightly, his eyes brimming with tears. He hadn’t held his son since the boy, the teen, was a newborn. Now, here he was embracing his fifteen year old son and though they had lost so much time, all that mattered was they were together now. 

As Eli continued to whimper, Stiles couldn't help the chittering sound he made to soothe the—his—young cub. “Shh. It’s okay, mały wilk. I’m here.”

“It’s not fair,” Eli whispered against his father’s chest. “I’ve lived my entire life without knowing you, fifteen years without knowing my dad. It’s not fucking fair!”

“Language,” Stiles chastened, his voice cracking with how reminiscent the scolding was to his own father. “Fifteen years is a long time, kiddo, but it is not forever. We have time now.” When Eli stilled in his arms, Stiles quickly amended his statement. “That is if you want that?”

“I want it!” Eli said adamantly, pressing his face harder against his dad’s sturdy chest, anchoring himself to the beat of Stiles’s heart, to the scent of family, pack and dad. 

“Then you shall have all the time that is within my power to give you.”

Ei looked up at his dad, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. There was a twinkle of hope in them, and he offered a watery smile. “Do you promise?”

Stiles nodded and gave a watery smile of his own. “I promise,” he said, whispering the vow against the top of his son’s forehead, burning his nose in the chocolate curls almost identical to his own. He was holding, hugging, and embracing his son. His son. His. 

Malia, Jordan and Theo gave them privacy, slipping into the kitchen to gather the food and dishes they would need. They had originally planned on eating at the dining room table but with how Eli refused to move from his place at Stiles’s side, clinging to his dad as if the man might disappear should he let go, they eventually moved everything to the living room. None of them minded where they ate, only caring that they all ate together. 

As Jordan and Malia took to the kitchen to clean up and wash dishes, Stiles finally relaxed, his eyes meeting Theo’s over a now sleeping Eli’s head. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed.

Theo smiled, his cheeks pinking. ‘You’re welcome,’ he mouthed back.

✶ ✦ ⟡ ♥︎ ⟡ ✦ ✶

Three Weeks Later:

With the jeep packed and all the papers in order, Stiles bid Malia and Jordan goodbye. Theo had disappeared sometime after saying early the night before after saying goodbye and giving Stiles a bittersweet kiss. It hurt to feel abandoned again, but Stiles had his son to look after now. 

Speaking of—“Eli?”

“Over here, dad!” 

Stiles glanced over at the jeep and smiled. Said son was in the front seat, rifling through a wooden box, one of many they discovered while collecting Eli’s things from Derek’s house. Each of the wooden boxes held dozens of letters. It appeared that Derek had kept all the letters Stiles had sent over the years. The awe on Eli’s face upon seeing them, and the tears slipping down his cheeks, made rage flood through Stiles, on his son’s behalf. 

The fact that Derek kept every letter Stiles sent, kept every scrap of correspondence but had them hidden them from Eli made no sense. Why would Derek have kept them in the first place? The amber eyed man was grateful he never missed a chance to write to his son. Even if he never got them until now, at least Eli had proof that his dad loved him, has always loved him and always would love him. 

Still, Stiles was angry and felt betrayed by the alpha, especially when he learned that all of Derek’s promises were false and empty. At least Stiles could be grateful that the alpha wolf didn’t destroy the letters. Now Eli could see the proof with his own eyes instead of having to take Stiles’s word for it. Stiles was content with the knowledge that his son would now know for the rest of his life just how much his ojciec loved him, always had and always would.

The two were on the road by nine am and the Leaving Beacon Hills sign hit their rearview mirror around nine fifteen am. Stiles felt the tightness in his chest fading with every mile they put between themselves and that accursed town that had so deeply wounded them both.

Over the course of a couple hours, they talked, they talked a lot about anything and everything. Eli had so many questions for his dad and Stiles did his best to answer each and every one of them. The one he didn't know how to answer came around noon when they had stopped for gas. Stiles put the car in park and turned it off, but before he could get out, Eli asked said question and the question threw him off balance. “Dad? Are you in love with Theo?”

Stiles was frozen, unsure but he knew the answer even if he believed that he would never see Theo again. So, with a sad smile and a single tear slipping down his cheek, he nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes. I was in love with him before I had you and I guess once I fell, I never stopped loving him.”

He quickly got out of the car, unaware of his son’s gaze flitting between him and the backseat. He started to pump the gas and pulled out his wallet. “What kind of snacks would you like?” Stiles asked, feeling his gut churn with shame and guilt that he had no idea what his son loved to eat. 

Eli could sense his dad’s uncertainty as well as scent the rising guilt and shame. “How about Reese’s?”

When Stiles’s eyes widened and a smile formed, Eli let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He hated how guilty his dad felt and figured that even if he was only fifteen going on sixteen, he could keep reminding his dad that he wasn’t alone anymore, that they had each other now. He could keep reminding his dad that he wasn’t the one at fault, neither of them was. It was like Aunt Mal said, the fault alone lied with Derek Hale, and he was the past, but this was the future.

“Great minds think alike,” Stiles said. “Those are my absolute favorite, my guilty pleasure.”

Eli couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah? That’s legit dad. I bet we have even more in common and we have lots of road to cover all of those things.”

“We sure do,” Stiles replied with a wistful and hopeful smile. “Well, guilty pleasure Reese’s Penrith butter cups coming up for one father and one son. Could you keep an eye on the pump for me please?”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Eli quipped with a salute. He beamed, his chest puffing out with pride when his dad laughed, and he watched as Stiles went inside to get them some snacks.

As soon as he was out of sight, there was a shuffling sound coming from under a blanket in the backseat. Suddenly, a nose popped out from the pile of fabric and Eli chuckled, snorting softly as he booped the black nose. “Let’s hope he doesn’t get too pissed at us. He still loves you, you know?”

The nose retreated under the blanket once more and Eli heard the creature whimper. “You love him too. I know you do. So, now’s your chance. Don’t let yourself live with never knowing. Rejection is better than regret.”

There was a bit more shuffling and then the whimpering turned to sighing as the blankets shifted to the side and a man slipped out of the car. Eli turned his attention to the box of letters once more, and tuned out the conversation that was sure to come as soon as Stiles saw just who had accompanied them.

✶ ✦ ⟡ ♥︎ ⟡ ✦ ✶

When Stiles returned, he nearly dropped everything, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide in shock. Theo was leaning against the side of the jeep, keeping an eye on the gas pump that was filling the tank. “Th-Theo?” he said softly, his hands shaking slightly, his grip turning painfully tight on the handles of the plastic bags. 

“Hey beautiful,” Theo says, blue eyes meeting amber eyes and a smile quirking on the coyote’s lips.

Stiles set the snacks down and threw his arms around Theo. “I thought–” he mumbled, his breath hitching as he buried his nose in Theo’s throat. He drank in the scent of the man he loved with every fiber of his being, thinking he had to be dreaming. “I thought you—I thought that—How are you—What are—I just—”

“I know,” Theo whispered and wrapped his arms around Stiles, kissing the man’s forehead. “I wanted to come but I didn’t want to push. You just reunited with your son and—”

“Our son,” Stiles cut in, halting Theo's words with a firm kiss, his tone one that said he wouldn’t budge.

Theo cleared his throat softly, emotional at the easy way Stiles once again stated such a thing as fact. “You just reunited with our son, and I didn’t want to get in the way of that reunion.”

“How are you here?”

Theo gestured to Eli who was smiling fondly at the two men. “Ask the little mischief.”

Stiles’s breath hitched and he looked to his son for an explanation. “Eli?”

Eli fidgeted and sighed. “Derek lied. I know that now. Plus, you love Theo, and he loves you. It’s obvious and anyone who doesn't realize it is just blind.” He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “Besides, it’s the least I could do after all the awful things I’ve said and done over the years in regard to you.” 

It made Stiles’s heart swell with pride and love. “Thank you, Eli.”

“You’re welcome, Ojciec. Oh! Also, it’s a plus to have my Papcio coming too.”

Stiles nearly choked on his own spit and the action elicited a snicker from both Theo and Eli. “How did—”

Eli smirked, very reminiscent of Theo and tapped his nose. “Werefox, Ojciec.”

“Right. Of course.” Stiles glanced at the backseat and tilted his head. “Have you been in there, been in Roscoe, this whole time?”

Theo blushed and nodded, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah. Well, Eli came to find me and snuck me in. It was easier to fit in my full shift form anyway. Coming with you was what I wanted, and I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. I would and always will follow you anywhere and everywhere for the rest of my life. I’m never leaving you again.”

“Are you staying with us then?” Stiles asked, hope blooming in his chest, but Theo left him once. Who's to say he wouldn’t leave again?

Warm hands cupped Stiles’s jaw, the gesture one of reassurance almost as if Theo knew exactly what Stiles was thinking. Stiles wouldn't be surprised if the coyote knew. Theo had always known Stiles’s mind nearly as well as Stiles did. 

So, as Theo rested their foreheads together, Stiles let himself believe the coyote’s next words, his next promise, to be true. “I never should have left you or abandoned you and I am sorry for what I did, but I’m here now and you’re never getting rid of me.”

“Never?” Stiles breathed.

“Never, little fox.”

Their lips brushed and they kissed as if they had all the time in the world. However, it didn't last long as Eli started laughing, sounding so much like Stiles when he did and then honked the horn. “Get in losers. We’re going home.”

With a smile and matching red cheeks, both men climbed back into the jeep, Theo taking shotgun now that Eli loved to the backseat surrounded by piles of letters. With them all settled the small family of three did indeed start driving home. 

Home.

They were all three a little broken in their own way, but together as a family, as a pack, the broken hearts, broken spirits and the darkness would be mended with time, love and by the strength of their pack bonds. 

The strings of golden light connecting all of them to each, reflected in the fox spark’s eyes, though if you looked at Stiles head on, you would think it was a trick of the light of the setting sun. That was okay though. 

Such things weren’t for you to see. They were for them, for their family, and for their pack. The bonds were for Stiles and Eli Stilinski and for Theo Raeken. All three of them were ready for and eager to see what the future held for their small pack, their small family of three. There would still be tears, there’d still be pain but so long as they had each other there would be no more me and my broken heart.  

[sapphireginger]

Title: Paw Patrol: Chapter #2

Summary:

The bell to his door jingled as someone entered and he put on a smile. “Hello, welcome to Mischief Makers and Healers. How can I help or heal you today?” Stiles was the proud owner of a store that was part bookstore, part apothecary and part magic shop. He had designed it to look like the one his mother had owned and then added a bit of himself to it. He served all kinds of people whether supernatural, human or something in between. 

Square Filled: Store Owner AU

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

None

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

Stiles had always taught his children the importance of secrecy when it came to what they were. Werecreatures existed in abundance but werecats, weretigers especially, were very few in number after a rogue hunter and their family wiped out prides of them a few decades ago just after Stiles himself was born. 

He turned his attention to his children who were coloring in their sketch pads at the store counter while Stiles tended to his customers. He smiled at the sight of them. They were the best thing to ever happen to him and he would protect them with his life. A part of him was worried, unable to let go of what happened the day before. It was bad enough that his son was all bloody and bruised but to smell a wolf and wolf pup on top of that, set Stiles’s teeth on edge and made his gums itch. He wasn’t sure he shouldn’t just pull the twins from school and send them to that private school Lydia had suggested and even offered to pay for.

The bell to his door jingled as someone entered and he put on a smile. “Hello, welcome to Mischief Makers and Healers. How can I help or heal you today?”

Stiles was the proud owner of a store that was part bookstore, part apothecary and part magic shop. He had designed it to look like the one his mother had owned and then added a bit of himself to it. He served all kinds of people whether supernatural, human or something in between. 

About midway through Saturday’s hours of operation the door jingled again, and Stiles stood up from the table in the back room where he’d been having lunch with his children. “Welcome to Mischief Makers and Healers. How can I help or heal you today?” he asked, a smile on his face as Cas made faces at her brother.

“I’m not sure,” answered the customer and Stiles looked over only to stiffen subtly. “Hello again.”

“Mr. Hale. How can I help you?”

Peter grimaced at the professionalism but understood it. They were strangers after all. “I wondered if I might have a moment of your time?”

Stiles quirked a brow, his fingers flexing with tension. “You’re welcome to speak freely. We will close soon anyway.”

“Yes. Uh well. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for my behavior and for my daughter’s as well.”

It was only then that Stiles noticed the wolf pup peek out from behind her dad with a guilty expression on her face. “Well, I appreciate that but neither of you have anything to apologize to me for. My children on the other hand…” he trailed off as the twins emerged and stood side by side with their arms crossed. 

Peter swallowed, feeling confused how such tiny beings could make him, an alpha werewolf, nervous and be so intimidating. He noticed the man smirk momentarily and wondered if that was his proud face. Peter shook his head and knelt down. “Hello. My Nia tells me that your name is Cas and yours is Reyn. Is that right?”

Reyn and Cas pursed their lips and shrugged with Cas being the one to answer. “I’m Caspiana Marjorie Stilinski and this is my brother Reynard Aleksander Stilinski. We go by Cas and Reyn but that’s only for our friends and family to use. We’re not friends nor are we family with you or her.”

Nia’s lip wobbled and she looked away for a moment. Her words were barely audible as she said, “I’m sorry.”

The twins looked at her in surprise as she glanced up at them. “I’m sorry I was so mean and that I h-hurt you. I-I was scared cause all these new kids and then I saw you guys and I was jealous cause you had each other to play with and I had nobody. Then your sissy got sick, and I thought that meant we could play but then you said your daddy is better than my daddy and I got upset cause daddy’s mommy said mean stuff about him and I don’t like it.” She had rambled faster and faster, her breathing getting short, and Peter was panicking himself. He hated when she got worked up like this as it always took hours to get her back down afterwards.

Before he could take even a single step in her direction, Stiles was there, and knelt down in front of her. The scent of lavender surrounded them, and Nia’s eyes widened. She seemed to search the man’s face and whatever she found gave her the reassurance she needed to hug him. 

Peter was shocked, having never seen anyone comfort his daughter in such a way. He watched her sob and shake and then slowly calm down. All the while, Stiles held her, cooed at her, kept up the lavender scent and did something else that Peter couldn’t quite figure out. 

By the time she was calm the twins had put their heads together and made a decision. When Stiles let go of Nia and smiled reassuringly, the twins came over and each took one of her hands.

“We have some colors,” Reyn said.

“And some paper,” Cas replied with a grin.

“Come color with us?” they asked in sync.

Nia sniffled and smiled shyly. “Really?”

When the twins nodded and smiled back, she followed them to the side room and sat down at the table.

✶ 🐺  🐾 ❤︎ 🐾 🐯 ✶

After the twins and Nia were all sequestered in the side room and fully immersed in their drawing, Stiles turned to the wolf, who was staring at him. The look made the amber eyed man blush lightly as he adjusted his glasses. “What?”

Peter shook himself from his thoughts. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?” Stiles asked and then nodded in understanding. “Oh. Well, I know what panic attacks are like and they suck dude. So, I know what helps me and figured it would help her too.”

“Thank you. I—” Peter cut off and tried to clear the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. “She’s had them for a couple years now and I just have no idea how to handle them. My sister used to…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. “Anyway, maybe you have some lavender I could purchase?”

Stiles titled his head. “Lavender? Oh! Of course! I have different kinds as well as some mixtures and then there’s candles, lozenges, spray, mists, air fresheners and more. What would you like?”

Peter blinked, overwhelmed and shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

“I could totally tell you that they’re all amazing.”

“Then I’d get them all.”

“What if that was my goal?” Stiles asked, stepping backward to lean against the counter on his elbows. 

Peter followed, his eyes never leaving Stiles’s. “Then I’d say Mischief Makers fits you perfectly.”

They stared at one another, the tension between them foreign and new but not necessarily unwelcome. 

“Daddy!!!” 

The two men snapped apart and Stiles hurried to the side room. “What is it, Cas?”

Cas held up a drawing and beamed. “It’s me, Reyn and Nia! We all got to play as Marshall the Dalmatian, but we all chose different names.”

Nia giggled and pointed to the drawing. “That’s me and I named my puppy Coral like my cousin Cora.”

Reyn smiled and pointed to the drawing. “We all signed it too, Daddy. Do you like it?”

The three children looked at Stiles with hopeful and earnest expressions. “I love it. I think it deserves a place on the Wall of Wonder.”

Nia tilted her head. “What’s the Wall of Wonder?”

She quickly learned it was a wall at the front of the shop where they put up articles, announcements, invitations, drawings and more. Stiles handed Nia a silver thumbtack and helped her put the drawing up.

When the twins high fived her, Nia felt so much better. She looked over at her dad and was surprised to find him staring at Mr. Tinski. She wondered why he had that look on his face. She’d seen Aunt Talia with that look and then her cousin Cora too but that was silly. Daddy couldn’t like Mr. Tinski like that, right? They just met after all.

Soon, it was time to close up the shop and the twins had made sure to give Nia some colors and paper to take for next time. Nia was excited for the next time and the two dads discussed a possible playdate for the children. It was as the agreement to host a few was made that the twins noticed their daddy fidgeting like he did when he was nervous but paired with the expression on his face, they realized their daddy was blushing. They looked at Mr. Hale who sported a similar look. 

“Hey, Nia?” Cas whispered.

“Huh?”

Cas nodded her head towards their dads. “Why’s your daddy looking at our daddy like that?”

Nia followed her gaze and giggled softly. “Daddy looks like my Aunt Talia and my cousin Cora did. I think he likes your daddy.”

Reyn and Cas exchanged a look and frowned for a moment. “Like a mommy and daddy like each other?” Reyn asked.

“Uh huh.” Nia’s smile faded. “Is that bad? I’m sorry.”

Cas shook her head and smiled slightly. “No. It’s not bad. Daddy just hasn’t liked anybody since mommy.”

“Does your daddy like my daddy?”

Reyn glanced at their daddy and shrugged. “I think so. He’s smiling like he did in the pictures our Auntie Liddy shows us when he and mommy were dating.”

Nia could see the sadness in the eyes of her new friends and hugged them both. “I miss my mommy too sometimes,” she whispered. The wolf pup was oblivious to the soft purring coming from the chests of her new friends.

[sapphireginger]

Title: A Mattress for My Omega

Summary:

A roar was trying to escape from Peter's very pissed off wolf, but he snarled instead which was just as fear inducing. “How dare you!” the alpha snapped. “Do you always speak in such a way to your customers?”

“Only the special ones, sir. Now as I said you—”

“Watch yourself. I am well aware of what you think of my mate but if you can’t keep such vile things inside your head, I’d be happy to remove your tongue. How does that sound?”

The manager went pale and shook his head though he did not budge from his place, staring down the alpha. “Then I must ask you to leave. This kind of behavior is unacceptable in this establishment.”

Square Filled: Tears of Laughter

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Slurs

Bigotry

Rating: Teen & Up

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

Peter had decided that today was the day he would be taking Stiles to the mattress store to pick up the perfect mattress for their new bed. They had just finalized everything and wanted to settle fully into their new home. They could even call themselves homeowners now. Stiles hadn’t wanted to move from their small apartment in the city until they could afford to own a home. Then they wouldn’t have to move again and could start a family. 

As they drove to the store, Stiles was practically vibrating in his seat with excitement. It made Peter chuckle softly. He laced their fingers together and kissed the back of Stiles’s hand, loving the way Stiles’s cheeks turned pink and he stilled for a moment or two before fidgeting again. Peter didn’t mind a bit though as he was of the opinion that there were few things as adorable as an excited Stiles. 

It seemed, however, not everyone was as enamored with his omega’s adorableness as not even ten minutes after they entered the store, the manager was storming over with an annoyed expression on his face. The expression grew when Stiles insisted on curling up on every single mattress. 

Peter stood in front of the mattress the omega had just laid down on and let out a low warning growl at the hostile human manager. No one was going to step within a dozen feet of Peter’s omega acting like that. “Sir, you should get your omega under control. I hardly think he needs to test them all out. Perhaps, the speakeasy would be more to your liking if all he wants is to lay on his back and spread his legs.

A roar was trying to escape from Peter's very pissed off wolf, but he snarled instead which was just as fear inducing. “How dare you!” the alpha snapped. “Do you always speak in such a way to your customers?”

“Only the special ones, sir. Now as I said you—”

“Watch yourself. I am well aware of what you think of my mate but if you can’t keep such vile things inside your head, I’d be happy to remove your tongue. How does that sound?”

The manager went pale and shook his head though he did not budge from his place, staring down the alpha. “Then I must ask you to leave. I would be happy to point you to the speakeasy. It's just a few blocks over. This kind of behavior is unacceptable in this establishment.”

Peter’s gaze narrowed. “Is it? You see, I don't think that’s true at all. The mattresses all have coverings and there are signs that allow people to test them out.” He stepped closer, loving how the man seemed to flinch. “I think you are an archaist and prefer your idea of omegas. I assure you I won’t fall in line with such bigotry. You may be satisfied with your little housewife, having her all barefoot and pregnant, cleaning, cooking and pretending to be satisfied with your subpar fucking but that’s not for me. I love my mate. He’s a genius, kind, loyal and so fucking adorable. He loves with everything he has and when the time comes that he decides he's ready to have children, we’ll make the smartest and most beautiful babies to ever exist.”

With a clenched jaw, the manager sent a look to the alpha that said more than his vitriol ever could. Thankfully he said nothing else to his detriment regardless of the fact that Peter could tell he wanted to.

Satisfied the man had been put in his place for the time being, Peter flicked his gaze to his mate who had just gotten up. Stiles looked at Peter and shook his head. Apparently, that mattress wasn’t the one and the alpha chuckled when Stiles hurried to the next one. He was glad his omega hadn’t caught onto the tension just yet though Peter was sure he would soon. For now, the alpha was content to let him try and find the perfect mattress for nesting.

Just as the manager was gearing for another argument, a woman nearby let out a soft cooing sound.  “Aww. So cute! Such a sweet little omega.” She met Peter’s gaze. “Nesting time, is it? Such a special time for mates. Intimate too.”

Peter puffed out his chest in pride and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed softly and nodded her approval. “Such a lucky omega to have such a loving alpha.” She turned to her son who screamed alpha. “That man there with the blue eyes is the kind of alpha I want you to be, sweetheart.” She glared at the manager and shook her head. “Not like the one without a heart.”

Peter smirked and the manager turned around, his face flaming with mortification. It wasn’t until Peter scented fury that the alpha followed the manager’s gaze. There in the middle of the plushest and best mattress was Peter’s sweet little omega. Stiles was curled up and purring softly. It seemed they had found the right mattress. 

With a grin Peter made his way over to his mate, gently brushing his fingers against Stiles’s shoulder and then his cheek.

Stiles looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded and offered a sweet smile. 

> Is this the one my darling?

Peter signed.

Stiles smiled and nodded, but just as easily as the smile came it disappeared as the omega caught the scent of his alpha’s anger and whimpered softly in question.

> It's nothing dearheart. Just another bigot who has opinions on omegas. 

> You’re upset though. So, it’s not nothing. What happened?

It was only then that the manager realized the omega was deaf. He immediately felt ashamed of his behavior. His opinions about omegas had not changed but he did feel like an asshole for the inconsiderate way he had approached it. Of course, the omega needed to touch the mattresses to feel them out. After all, not having one of his senses made the comfortableness of the mattress even more important. 

When the mated pair approached the front, the manager attempted to offer them a discount. He only took beginning sign language but his attempts to save the situation meant he fumbled and ended up calling them both assholes.

Stiles snorted and signed to his mate. 

> Assholes? Really? Coming from him, that's hilarious.

> He’s not wrong.

Peter signed back. 

> True. Should we tell him or let it go?

> Let it go. 

> He may sign that to someone else.

Peter smirked.

> Exactly. Maybe he’ll learn. 

> Doubtful. It's more likely he’ll end up getting his ass handed to him.

> An alpha can dream.

Stiles silently guffawed, Peter snickering and the two of them were nearly in tears from laughing so hard. It made Peter preen to which Stiles playfully rolled his eyes. The two of them were taking great pleasure in the way the manager’s scent grew more and more thick with nerves.

“Sir?” the manager said when the two men didn’t say anything to him. “About the discount?”

Peter glanced at his mate and Stiles, who had tried to read the man’s lips just shook his head. 

> I don’t want to get it here. We weren’t doing anything wrong by testing the mattresses. He was rude. I could tell by the way our bond flared. He made you angry and called us assholes. So, we can go get one from that store you like.

Peter grinned, kissed his mate soundly and looked at the man making sure to sign at the same time.

> My mate has decided not to purchase a mattress here. Every person who comes through that door should be treated with respect and understanding. Your tune only changed when you found out he was deaf.  

Stiles scoffed.

> And because people saw how cute I was curled up on the mattress.

> You’re always cute darling.  

> Always? Am I the cutest you ever saw?

Peter fondly rolled his eyes at the way his mate dramatically fluttered his eyelashes.

> You know you are you little brat. 

> You love me.

With a grin, one reserved only for his mate, Peter traced Stiles’s bottom lip. 

> I do indeed.

> That and I make the best white chocolate chip waffles.

Peter chuckles.

> That too.

He turned his attention to the manager and sent the man a sharp smile. “Good day.”

With that, the alpha and omega mates left the store, leaving the manager to sigh and curse the loss of sale. 

One of the workers, a teen beta, approached him not even five minutes later. “Boss?” 

“What?!” the man snapped, not in the mood for the teen who he despised. Everyone knew betas were a dime a dozen and— 

“Did you know that was Peter Hale?”

“Who?”

“You don’t know? He’s only the most famous lawyer and former actor in America.”

Once again, the manager’s face paled, now nearly as white as a ghost. “WHAT?! That was—He’s the—Oh fuck!” 

“Not to mention the foundation he started to help at risk omegas, abandoned omegas and omegas with trauma. He also opened a daycare center just down the street from their new home. Apparently, his mate loves children and wants to renew his teaching certificate so he can work with them again.”

“Oh, kill me now. What have I done?!”

Another worker snorted, loving the trouble their manager had landed himself in. Served him right in her opinion. “Not to mention Mieczyslaw Hale, a world-renowned author and deaf rights activist among other things. Oh! His father is the FBI Director, and his sister is a Navy Seal, while his brother-in-law is a brain surgeon, and his cousin is a missionary who founded an orphanage in Ecuador.”

The beta teen grinned. “That’s right! Don't forget that his best friend won the Fields Medal in Mathematics and she’s an omega too!” The two workers looked right at their manager when they stated that fact.  

The manager leaned heavily against the front counter, feeling as though he might faint. “Why didn’t anyone say anything?” 

The two workers exchanged a look. “Well, Boss, they're right. This isn’t the first time you’ve acted that way. No offense but yeah.” The teen beta sure didn’t pull his punches.

“How dare you! You’re fi—”

“Actually,” the other teen cut in, “We both quit. We accepted job offers last week but our new boss offered to let us give you one more chance.” 

They handed in their name tags, shucked their vests and shrugged. The girl spoke up. “Also, we’re omegas too. We wore scent blockers to protect ourselves.”

“Protect yourselves? From what?!”

Both teens stared him down. “People like you.”

They walked out and the manager hung his head, massaging his temples. This day couldn’t get any worse. 

The woman from earlier who had praised the alpha and cooed at the omega, smiled at her phone as she headed to the door, her son’s hand in hers. The boy sent the manager such a disgusted and disappointed look that seemed so out of place on the face of one so young. 

Just as she reached the door, the woman paused and sighed softly. “Such an adorable omega. To think he found the mattress he needed for nesting and turned it down. I don’t blame him but he sure is cute.” She turned her phone and the manager saw that she had taken a picture. 

He had half a mind to ask her to send it to him so that he could use it for promotion but that would mean asking the omega for permission and he was not touching that with a ten foot pole. “Discount ma’am?”

With an incredulous look followed by a laugh, she shook her head. 

> Not interested.

She signed and left with her son in tow, the boy watching the manager as he signed. 

> Later asshole. 

[sapphireginger]

Title: You’re On My Frequency

Summary:

As he was about to take a sip of his drink, the radio in his office crackled to life and his grip crushed the glass in his hand. He marched in there and grabbed the microphone, his voice steely as he said, “Whoever the fuck this is needs to stop. This is my station. So, just stop it okay?” He was panting after his chastening, and thought that would be the end of it until…

“Who is this?”

Square Filled: Changing the Past

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Past Character Death

Suicidal Thoughts

Alcohol

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

June 1st, 2021

One day, Stiles was sitting in his FBI issued SUV when the radio clicked on all by itself. It was weird and he almost turned it off. That was until he heard the call code and his breath stuttered. He shut it off and shook his head. No. No way. He elected to ignore it. He had places to be and an anniversary coming up. He didn’t need this shit.

However, strangely enough, it wasn’t just the FBI SUV radio that was acting up. It was his pal Thomas’s cruiser radio. It was the captain's radio. It was the store radio. It was every single radio and yet no one else heard it or acted any different. Stiles assured himself over and over again that it was nothing as he grabbed the bouquet of flowers and winced at the rain outside. At least he brought an umbrella right? Oh. That’s right. He left it in the car. So a soaking wet Stiles quickly ran towards his car. Suddenly, he tripped, crashing to the ground, the flowers getting crushed and well he just sat there and started to cry.

An angry, dirty and grieving Stiles got home and headed to his office. He should shower but fuck that. The fireplace was lit and he cradled a glass of whiskey as he stared at the picture on the mantle. “I might join you soon. I swear I’m going crazy. You’re supposed to be here and you’re not.”

As he was about to take a sip of his drink, the radio in his office crackled to life and his grip crushed the glass in his hand. He marched in there and grabbed the microphone, his voice steely as he said, “Whoever the fuck this is needs to stop. This is my station. So, just stop it okay?” He was panting after his chastening, and thought that would be the end of it until…

“Who is this?”

“Who are you?!” Stiles demanded.

“PH—89.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I assure you it’s my code. Who are you and how did you access this? It can’t be your station. It’s my father’s.”

Stiles froze at that and oh yeah, he has definitely gone crazy. “What’s your name?” he asked, glancing at the inscription on the radio.

“Peter Hale.”

When did the room get blurry and why was he so cold all of a sudden? Stiles didn’t know, but he would recognize that voice anywhere. He just didn’t understand. “Oh. I’m Sti—Genim. Though my mom always calls me Mischief.”

“Father says I’m a troublemaker but I think he’s just annoyed he never can figure out how I pull half the shit I pull.”

Stiles chuckled and glanced at the inscription again, letting his thumb brush over it. He smiled and pressed the button again. “Well get this…once when I was about twelve I think? Anyway I went around our home and moved everything a half inch to the left. It really frustrated my mom. She still has no idea how I did it.”

A laugh echoed from the radio and Stiles got chills. He knew that laugh. “That’s priceless dude.”

Stiles sputtered. Peter used dude? He scoffed, and Peter had given Stiles such a hard time about it. That made his smile fade because gave was the keyword. Past tense. The ten year anniversary of Peter’s death was coming up. Stiles would never be able to forget the worst day of his life.

Amber eyes flooded with tears but he pushed through it to continue the conversation. Whoever this was sounded enough like Peter that it was helping. Surely it wasn’t going to hurt anything if they talked more. Right? “Right? She always says I’m her Mischief maker but I prefer Master of Mischief and Chaos. What a mouthful that was for a six year old. Not like my full name though.”

The man whose voice was almost identical to Peter’s replied quickly. “Well, I bet I could say your name. What is it?”

Stiles snorted, his heart aching a bit. That was what Peter had said the first time too and well Stiles knew Peter was able to say it which was why he didn’t give his name this time. It would hurt too much.

“So, Peter Hale. Tell me about you? Are you even old enough to be on this?”

The offense and eyebrow quirk were obvious despite not seeing his face, or maybe that was just Stiles’s imagination.

“Listen here, Genim. I’ll have you know my father said I could use this as soon as I turned eighteen. I’m nineteen now. So there!”

Stiles snorted even as he froze again. Nineteen. Stiles remembered nineteen with Peter and fought back a gut wrenching sob. Stiles’s best friend Peter was nineteen when he died. Suddenly, Stiles was regretting this. He should shut it off and throw it away but the inscription prevented such an action. He simply couldn’t get rid of it. The radio was Peter’s and had been Mr. Hale’s radio before that.

“Dude?” Doppelgänger Peter’s voice said. “That was kind of a churlish response for me to give you, but how do I know you’re not some forty year old creep?”

“True, but if I said I wasn’t, would you believe me?”

Doppelgänger Peter didn’t even hesitate. “Well, yeah.”

Stiles scoffed. “Really?” he sneered, pain lodged in every fiber of his body. “How naive of you. You shouldn’t be so trusting!” He stilled and sighed, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to stop the flow of tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Something is eating at you man. Come on. Tell me all about it, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not but you need an ear and I have two. Go for it.”

“You’re gonna wish that you hadn’t offered.”

“We’ll see. You just let me be the judge of that.”

Stiles sighed and took a deep, steadying breath. He had never really talked to anyone about what happened except his mother and well they weren’t talking now. She might as well have been living hundreds of miles away because that’s how it felt to gaze at the house when he drove by it on his way into work. He was cruel in his words. He lashed out and now it was just him, a portrait of Peter and this stranger on the radio.

“There’s a day coming up that sucks for me. I guess this entire month sucks for me. I lost someone very important to me. It’s really just me now. I have my mom but we don’t talk anymore. It’s my fault but…”

“What was the date of it if it’s okay to ask?”

Stiles huffed. “I’d never forget. June 5th, 2011.”

Silence is the response he got, silence and the crackling of static. After waiting he tried again. “Wishing you hadn’t asked?”

The voice still eerily like Peter’s was so soft when it spoke again. “Dude. Today is June 1st. 2011.”

Rage flooded Stiles's body at that moment and he smashed the lamp. “Don’t fuck with me and my grief. You have no idea what—who—I lost, Peter.”

“You’re right I don’t but I just looked at the calendar. I’m serious. I’m not being insensitive. I might be an asshole but not that kind of one.”

Stiles was only able to see red and he smirked. “All right. I’ll tell you something that happened earlier that year on April 28th, 2011.”

Peter cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m not a fan of that day but go ahead.”

Yeah this was freaky. “My best friend—whom I loved—and I went into the academy together. We dreamt of being agents for the FBI. Something went wrong in one of the shooting practices. A gun was tampered with and my best friend he—He nearly lost his leg. We got in a fight and he told me he’d never be an agent now and I should just go on without him but I told him not without him. He called me stupid and naive.

“We stormed away and the one fucking time we don’t stick to our never walking away angry…it’s the last time I saw him. On June 5th, 2011…our superior brought me in and sat me down. They had found his body. He’d been attacked by someone who I still haven’t been able to catch. I know the case like the back of my hand and 10 years later I’m no closer than I was then. So tell me Peter Hale. What happened to you on April 28th that makes you not a fan of that day?”

Stuttering breaths came through the radio. “Who are you man? Have you talked to Stiles? Did he tell you?”

Stiles hissed and stepped back. Nope. Not possible. He was drunk. Yeah. Yep. Yes, totally drunk and this was just a manifestation of his grief.

“Goodbye, Peter Hale.”

The protests were a blur as he shut off the frequency. He glared at the inscription. “Fucking bullshit.”

Stiles went to bed, determined to sleep off this horrible night. Maybe he would even be lucky enough to not wake up and would finally be with Peter again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

June 1st, 2011

Meanwhile, on June 1st, 2011, a very pale faced boy who now looked so much younger than nineteen yanked his phone out and dialed the number he knew by heart.

“‘Ello?” a voice croaked.

“Stiles?”

“Oh. Hey. You good? It’s like…Shit Peter! It’s after 2 in the morning. If you’re gonna yell please just—”

“I’m not. I’m calling to apologize. I didn’t mean it. You’re my best friend since diapers and I want to be there when you graduate at the top of your class because you absolutely will.”

Stiles's voice was soft but hopeful. “Really?”

Peter smiled, his cheeks twinging pink. “Really really.”

They were both grinning like loons but Peter was scared that the conversation he had earlier was some kind of premonition but either way, at least this way he could make sure it didn’t happen. Ever.

“We should get some sleep,” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

“Goodnight, Mushu.”

“Hey Bambi?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Stiles’s breath hitched and Peter heard his bedding rustle. “Dick move you jerk,” he said sniffling. “Doing love confessions over the phone is such a dick move.”

Peter smirked. “Yeah. That’s me. A dick.”

“It’s a pretty dick.”

“Been taking peeks there, Stilinski?”

“You wish, Hale!”

“No point in wishing for something, you already know is happening.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t you jerk. I actually lo—”

“Stiles?”

“Sorry! I dropped the phone. My hands were shaking.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come over and I’ll fix that.”

“Wait. Like right now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“Wooooooow! Are you booty calling me, Hale? That’s bold even for you. What if I want to be wooed?” he teased.

Peter smiled fondly. “Then I shall woo the fuck out of you. Your training is complete and all that’s left is testing. So this next week or so it’s you, me and Marvel. You down?”

“I’m so down, dude. Just remember the testing is June 5th at 9 am. Come watch? I’ll feel better knowing you’ll be there.”

Peter thought back to the words of the stranger Genim. “I’ll be there. I promise.” After all, if he hadn’t called he was waiting for Stiles to call first and he wouldn't have and now Peter sounded crazy but his gut was telling him not to ignore this. So, he didn’t.

Instead, they said goodnight again before hanging up. A part of Peter needed to know more details but if this was a universal wire crossing thing he didn’t know if he would be able to get back through. He would definitely try but he was already thinking of how to convince Stiles to add Star Wars to their weeks of hanging out.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

June 2nd, 2021

Stiles woke with no hangover, realizing he didn’t drink and now had nothing to blame the previous night's bout of insanity on. He got up, threw back his covers, and told himself that he was just going to check, that was all.

The radio clicked on and Stiles felt like it was the right thing to do.

“Genim?”

Stiles blinked. “Hello, Peter Hale.

“Uh hey! So um this is weird.”

With a snort, Stiles replied, “Weird doesn’t begin to cover it. I mean fucking hell. How?”

“I don’t know dude. I swear I’m as confused as you, but listen. Did your best friend call you after the fight?”

“No. Neither of us reached out. Stubborn fuckers that we were. Why?”

Doppelganger Peter’s voice came through again. “Just hear me out, okay?”

“No promises, kid.”

That got him a slightly annoyed huff before the other started speaking. “Fine. So my best friend is named Stiles. He and I got into a fight at the academy. My fear of not achieving our dream together like we always planned kept me from reaching out. Until you. I called him last night and I told him, I love him.”

Stiles gripped the desk hard, his vision whiting out for a moment and then fading as black spots danced around his vision. Wait. So, Peter called him, HIS Peter. The dick did his first love confession over the phone. “It was a dick move.”

Peter gasped. “That’s what he said. Dude. Dude. Duuuuude. Dude! Holy shit!”

“Peter, is there anything custom about your radio?”

“Huh? Well, I mean, not really? Oh! There’s a small silver plaque with an inscription. Why?”

Stiles traced it with his thumb. “What’s the first sentence?”

“A star shoots across the sky hurtling through the dark…” Peter trailed off.

“And the shadows converge to swallow the dying spark,” Stiles finished.

Peter gasped. “How did you—”

“I added to it.” Stiles softly interrupted. “But upon the world it has made its mark and from the memories of its gazers it will never depart.”

𝙰 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝.

“That’s beautiful,” Peter replied. “I have so many questions.”

Stiles chuckled, wanting to believe it but still, he hesitated. “Ask your friend what his middle name is. Let me know what he says?”

Peter hesitated and then replied easily with, “Will do. He’s due any moment.”

“Really? Why is—”

“Oh! Hey, Bambi!”

A painful lurch exploded in Stiles’s heart at the nickname he hadn’t heard in ten years. Another voice joined and Stiles muted himself to hide his whimper.

“Hey, Mushu. What are you doing?”

“Oh, just messing with the radio.”

“Oooo talking to a boy?” he teased and Stiles bit his lip, his head pounding. He remembered this conversation.

“No! I mean kinda. His name is Genim.”

Silence and then…

“How the fuck did you end up finding someone to talk to who has my middle name as their first name?!” He grabbed the mic. “Who are you buddy? What game are you playing?”

“No game. Just a nightmare more like it.” 2021 Stiles managed to get out his reply without breaking after he unmuted it.

“Well what’s your interest in my buddy here?”

Peter hollered trying to intervene. “Stiles, it's not like that.”

2021 Stiles agreed. After all, the Stiles there was the one Peter was with. Not him. “Enjoy your movie marathon boys.” He clicked mute again, but didn’t turn the radio off just yet, although he didn’t know why.

“Dude! What the hell?” Peter hissed.

“He’s some random stranger! I was trying to test him. You like him!”

2021 Stiles knew what Peter did next. He remembered Peter leading him to the bathroom and pointing to his reflection. “That’s my type.”

“Yourself?” 2011 Stiles quipped.

“No you oblivious idiot.” Peter stepped closer, meeting Stiles’s gaze in the mirror. “It’s you. My type is you and only you.”

That was when 2021 Stiles finally turned the radio off. He wasn’t ready to listen to himself losing his virginity. He was already getting flashes.

He turned around to leave the office and his gaze settled on the living room. All the air left his lungs when he caught sight of something that hadn’t been there last night.

Shockingly, when he reached the living room, there was a new picture on the mantle. He nearly fainted at the sight of it. It was him and Peter at their academy graduation. “No. Fucking. Way.”

[sapphireginger]

Title: Peter & the Sunflower: Chapter #6 | 1901 - Post Battle, Neverland

Summary:

Killian watched the Never Boy pacing back and forth, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to calm the boy’s nerves.  Peter finally froze and turned to face the man. “What if we’re too late? What if we waited too long?” For a moment, Killian wanted to refrain from answering but throughout the ritual he had felt a kinship form with the boy, now feeling almost like a father figure to him. “I can’t promise that we aren’t too late but what I can tell you is that I know from experience the feeling of not trying at all would be worse than being too late.”

Square Filled: Love Realization

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Character Death Past Character Death/Past Death of a Child Reference to Intentional Injury

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

1901 — Neverland, Post Battle

The battle didn’t last long. The woman—Kate Argent—was felled by the Sióg’s magic but it came at a cost to Pan who now laid unmoving in the center of the forest. He was so tired. A breeze caressed his cheek and a voice whispered in his mind. 

“Rest now sweet child of the sun. Rest now Leanbh an Domhain . You’ve done well. Sleep.”

So, Pan surrendered the last he had to give, greeting the abyss like an old friend. 

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

Peter winced as he ran through the trees, uncaring of the cuts on his face from the branches or the blisters forming on his feet from the harsh earth. He couldn’t fly and he had no idea why, but he just knew something was wrong and he needed to know what that something was. He had woken up and searched for a sign of Kate but found none, had searched for a sign of Pan but alas, found nothing. The only thing he discovered was a letter that had slipped into a crack in the floorboards. It was a handwritten letter to Kate from someone named Gerard. The words had sent him into a panic, his lungs constricting as he read.

𝘋𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘪ó𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴.  𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘉𝘰𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥, 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥. 𝘐 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥. 𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴. 𝘉𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘴 𝘝𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦. 𝘐𝘵𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳. 𝘐𝘵𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘵. 𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘮 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴. 𝘋𝘦 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴 𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘦. 𝘕𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘮 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘚𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘴. 𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘶𝘴 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘏𝘦𝘳𝘪, 𝘩𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘶𝘴. 𝘎𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵,  𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴�� 𝘈𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵

Peter had rushed to the basin and thrown up until mere acid and bile remained. How could he have been so blind, so naive, so stupid? Kate had tricked him. “Oh goddess. Pan! Pan!! Pan? Pan?!” His gaze had whipped around the small home looking for his friend, still unable to find him. He needed to find Pan which was what led to him racing through the Never Forest. Bursting from the foliage, he skidded to a stop in the clearing at the sight of a broad back. “Hook?” 

Said man’s shoulders tensed and then dropped. “Hello, Peter.”

The boy moved closer, uncertain about what was going on. He and Hook rarely interacted and when they did it was hardly pleasant. It hadn’t been easy until Pan. Pan had made them friends. 

“What’re you doing out here?”

Hook didn’t look at him or give any reply as Peter stood beside him. His gaze was fixed upon something at their feet. 

Peter followed the man’s gaze to see a series of sunflowers that had sprung up from the earth. They were in the shape of a P. 

Despite knowing what it meant, Peter refused to give it acknowledgement. It wasn’t real. Pan was fine. He was probably in the house—their house—and overslept on his feather cushion again. 

The tears on his face showed how little he believed the lie. An arm went around his shoulders and though they were not close, Peter let himself be comforted by the man. 

“He saved us all, Peter. Did you know, Neverland has never had sunflowers before?”

Peter hated them but he loved them. His voice was shaky as he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Panteleimon. I miss you. I love—” He froze at the near admission. He loved Pan? He. Loved. Pan. Oh goddess. He loved Pan. Now it was too late and that thought ripped through him like a dagger had been shoved into his gut, pain lacing every fiber of his being. 

The grief overwhelmed Peter and he began to sob until he couldn’t cry, scream or speak anymore. His eyes fluttered shut and he curled up on the ground next to the P shape, his only thought and feeling being that of regret. What was he supposed to do now?

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

Hook watched the Never Boy with a curious expression. His eyes flicked between the flowers and the boy as an idea formed. It was said that none could raise the dead but for Sióg, for an Leanbh an Domhain, an earth child, nature would often bend the rules if the need was great, and the intentions were pure and true. 

They could bring the Leanbh an Domhain back, but the question remained…should they?

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

“Do you know the story of Peter Pan?” Hook asked the Never Boy curiously. The two of them sat within the Pirate Captain’s wooden home, Hook on a wooden stool before the fire and Peter sitting curled up on the floor, leaning against the stone fireplace. 

Peter tilted his head. “Of course, I do. A boy named Peter Pan fell for a girl named Wendy as he listened to her telling stories from his place in the shadows of the windowsill.”

Killian, Hook, sighed and shook his head. “It’s as I feared. You know the version not lost to history, the story put out there to try and cover up the horrors contained within the real story.” With his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace he began his tale. 

“Long ago, not here, not there, not then, not now, there were two young boys named Peter and Pan. They were two halves of a much greater, more divine whole. However, for all that their love was pure and true, the hate their enemies possessed was also quite powerful. Many were jealous of the love that Peter and Pan had, and others saw it as an abomination to the term love. So, hate did what hate did best, and broke the love by creating dissension and doubt between the lovers. The one who held the most hate in her heart was like the snake in the garden. She played Peter like a fiddle, and he fell into bed with her, leaving a broken-hearted Pan to discover them and die of a broken heart.”

“No,” Peter whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks. “Say it isn’t so. Tell me it’s a lie!”

“I cannot Peter. The death of Pan brought a new life from the depths of the sea and formed what we call home, Neverland. Soon, knowledge of Peter’s Pan as they called him, faded away to myth by all except the ones who housed hate in their very souls. Those of House Argent whose hearts are black and who bleed ash, never forgot and it is they who slithered into our home once again. It is they who nearly killed Peter’s Pan before he had begun to live, and it is they who we just rid ourselves of at least but at a cost. All magic comes with a price. Yes?”

Peter nodded. “Yes. This all happened before?”

“Yes and no. We call it the circle of life, while others call it reincarnation, but I simplify it as best I can by calling it a story. However, I tell it as it is not as the fairytale would have you believe. You are Peter, yes and Panteleimon was Pan, but you are neither of you the original lovers in the sense that most would think of. It was the Argent Family’s belief that magic as pure as the love between Peter and Pan would become the complete opposite when shattered beyond their definition of repair. However, they couldn’t have been more wrong because the love of the broken heart didn’t destroy a thing. It was the purity of their love that created Neverland. It was said that one day the sunflower would return to Neverland.”

With a furrowed brow Peter asked, “How could it return? You said there had never been a sunflower in Neverland before.”

Hook smiled and nodded sharply. “Exactly, and I was telling the truth. For you see, Panteleimon, Pan was the sunflower but as it was his broken heart and pure magic that created Neverland, he himself had never lived here but he did return in a way through his ninth lifetime.”

“Ninth?”

“Yes. Reincarnation, Peter.”

Peter was in shock, his jaw dropped, and his eyes were full of awe. “Holy Jiminy Cricket.” His mouth clicked shut and he inhaled sharply. “Then I’m the descendant of…”

“No. Not the descendant of Peter. You are and always have been Peter himself.”

“What about Wendy?” he asked, confused how the two stories could be so vastly different, focusing on that instead of how he was supposedly the original Peter. 

Killian’s eyes darkened and his expression clouded over. “Wendy was an Argent, born in France and grew up in London under the cruel guidance of her father who told her she was too old for silly things like fairy tales. He took her curiosity and quite literally killed a cat, took her joy and turned it into pain, took her love and devotion and twisted them into a sickly obsession that he shared. Wendy was not her name either.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. Wendy means friend and what better name to give the villain you wanted to be the heroine than one that meant friend? As always, the Argents had a hidden agenda behind everything they said and did. When they realized that the magic had not caused the destruction they wanted, they had to find a way to cover things up. So, after hearing of Peter’s Pan whose love so pure and true created Neverland from nothing, they decided to spin their own tale. It would distract the world at large and allow them to continue the search in the shadows. They weren’t good people, but they were good at what they did. It was they who entombed thousands of Siógs in their Helianthus blossoms, leaving only one alive and I still don’t know if that was intentional or not.”

Peter hugged his knees to his chest, absorbing the information as best he could. It was a lot and he felt adrift, unsure of himself in a way he never had been before. “So, Pan, my Pan came here and thrived only to once again die?”

Hook took a drink of stale ale more for something to do than to savor the bitter taste. “Pan isn’t necessarily lost to us forever but, as I said, all magic comes with a price.”

“I’ll pay anything to have him back. Anything for the one I love.”

Hook nodded gravely and gestured to the Never Boy's chest. “It’ll require you to be pure of heart, soul and intention. It will ask for a piece, for a sliver of your heart, thus leaving your heart cracked as it has never been before in order to fix the fractured heart of the one you love.”

Listening carefully to Hook’s words, making sure he understood them and believing that it would be so, Peter nodded and plucked the small ruby handled dagger from his belt. It had been a gift from Panteleimon. “I shall pay the price,” he vowed as he presented the dagger to Hook. 

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

Killian watched the Never Boy pacing back and forth, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to calm the boy’s nerves. 

Peter finally froze and turned to face the man. “What if we’re too late? What if we waited too long?”

For a moment, Killian wanted to refrain from answering but throughout the ritual he had felt a kinship form with the boy, now feeling almost like a father figure to him. “I can’t promise that we aren’t too late but what I can tell you is that I know from experience the feeling of not trying at all would be worse than being too late.”

“What do you mean?” 

“When I was a lad, I was thrown in jail for stealing to feed my mother. While there, I was seen by a soldier who brought me before the king and queen. I was prepared to lose my hand for such a crime and didn’t fight it. As you can see, I lost it all right. I was then put to work in the castle, a lowly servant and I was still grateful because I was able to help my mother. 

“Then, at the age of fifteen, after serving them for five years, I began an apprenticeship under the commander of the royal ships. I learned a lot from the man and trained with him until I was eighteen. At that point, I returned to share news of our victory at sea. However, upon entering the throne room for an audience with their Majesties, I learned of their fate. There had been an invasion and the queen had been poisoned, while the king had been beheaded. Their son in law and their daughter would be there in a fortnight but that meant, for the time being, the kingdom was being ruled by the princess, the granddaughter of the former rulers. 

“Her name was Emma and the moment I saw her, I fell for her. She knew of my deeds and elevated me to the royal guard. I missed the sea, but I wanted to be near her more. Once the kingdom began to stabilize, we began to see each other, though at first in secret for fear her parents would not approve but the day we were caught and my other hand was nearly removed, her mother stepped in to prevent her father from carrying out his sentence. 

“That day I learned the love story of Snow and Charming. Love at first sight was their story too. At the age of twenty-one, Emma and I were married and a year later she gave birth to our daughter, the crown princess, Hope.”

Peter listened with rapt attention, never having heard Killian speak so freely or openly. 

“She was the brightest, happiest and most special child I’d ever seen and that wasn’t just my biased speaking as her father. The kingdom adored her as much as her parents and grandparents had.”

Killian fought back the grief that had become an old friend and foe all at once. “Then, five years after her birth, I was summoned to depart on a ship that was set to sail where the tides took us. It was to be my last assignment, but I didn’t know that Emma had snuck aboard.”

“She what?!” Peter exclaimed in horror and shock. “W-What about the little girl, your daughter? What about Hope?”

“Hope came too, for Emma did not want to spend so many fortnights apart. The seas were rough, and I was afraid that I’d lose them both. I was right to fear such a tragedy for the sea was unforgiving as it crashed against our ship in the dead of night. I dove into the water after my wife and child, but I was too late. I nearly drowned myself, but I had to try. However, without them, I wondered what I even left to live for.”

“Killian I—”

Killian shook his head. “For many days and nights, for many moons, I drifted on a piece of the ship. It was all that had remained after the seas were calm once more. I was ready to die but the goddess intervened and when I awoke, after embracing the end, I was aboard the ship you have seen in the harbor. The blinders had been removed and I found myself on course for here. Neverland has been my home for the last several hundred years.”

Peter stared in awe at the man who was still living despite the loss of the ones he loved the most.  “How did you keep going?” he asked, needing to know just in case they were too late to save Pan. 

“I had a purpose, a duty to protect.”

“Protect what?”

“Not a what, a who.”

“Who?”

Killian locked eyes with the Never Boy. “You, Peter.”

“Me? Why?”

“You won’t remember soon, Peter.”

“Won’t remember what? What are you talking about?”

Killian smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that unlike me, you weren’t too late.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Goddess knows.” Killian glanced at the open door and Peter turned to look. 

“Hello,” the glow said and when the shimmer faded, there stood the one they had been waiting for. It was—

“Pan!!” Peter cried as he leapt up, ran over to the other man and hugged him. 

Killian grimaced and clenched his eyes shut as the next words were spoken. 

“Uh…” Pan started as he froze and tensed. “Let go of me.”

Peter stiffened at the other man’s tone and pulled back. “Pan? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that. Do you always hug strangers like that? I don’t know who you are, but I came to see Killian.”

The Never Boy’s heart shattered, and his confusion mounted as the other man passed by him and joined Killian on the wooden bench. “Hello, love,” Killian said softly. 

“Hello, Killian.”

Peter had to fight back tears. ‘Was this what a broken heart felt like?’ he wondered to himself. Peter placed a hand over his chest and rubbed, feeling the missing sliver of his heart now more than ever. Not that he would have taken it back even if he had the option. At least Pan was alive even if that meant he didn’t remember Peter and the mutual love between them went unconfessed once more. 

He stood to the side as Killian packed up his small house and watched as Pan did the same but not even the sight of Pan taking the cardinal feather bed with him could soothe the brokenness he felt down to his soul. 

Still, he said nothing as Pan boarded Killian’s ship, said nothing as they pulled out of the harbor and said nothing as they faded from sight. Even if he had wanted to say something to Pan, as soon as the ship was swallowed by the fog, he no longer knew of Pan. Peter only remembered Hook, the pirate who had been the rival, turned friend, turned father figure. Peter also remembered himself slightly differently as he no longer remembered being Petronius, Petruccio, Petrick, Petgiel, Petolmerch, Petion, Petrine, Petrice or Peter. Yesterday he was Peter but that was not who he was now. Now, he was Peter Pan. 

✨ 🍃 🌻 🍃 ✨

So, Pan had been brought back, the sliver of Peter’s heart fitting seamlessly into the large crack that had formed in Panteleimon’s heart all those centuries ago. Peter had been hopeful but when Pan returned to them at Hook’s home, he didn’t remember Peter. Hook’s job, Hook’s purpose in Neverland had been fulfilled. So, Panteleimon had boarded the ship and sailed away with Hook. 

With a heavy heart, Peter watched them go and then his memories shifted once more as they had done so many times before. Though he didn’t know what was missing, he knew something was and as each day passed with no answer as to what that something was, his hope dwindled. Pan didn’t return but Peter never stopped loving Pan, even if he couldn’t remember him and because he loved him so, his heart remembered. This led to his decision to change his own name to Peter Pan. 

Hook never returned to Neverland either, but Peter saw him from time to time though only from a distance. Years passed and Peter Pan rescued lost boys and girls who had no one, bringing them to Neverland and offering them a safe haven.

[sapphireginger]

Title: Set Free by Curiosity & Bravery

Summary:

As their king, it was Noah’s responsibility to see to the people's health, their well-being, their safety, their happiness and their love. Stiles vowed to save them all and take up the mantle Noah had tossed aside, the mantle he was no longer worthy of. In fact, it was the mantle he had never been worthy of. Noah had married into the Gajos Royal Family and without Stiles, without Claudia or any of her blood, the man had no claim to the throne.

The truth was immensely satisfying, and Stiles knew he’d be returning to his home. After all, he was the rightful ruler now sealed in blood that none could break. Not even his stepmother the witch bitch would stand a chance. Especially not after he had added extra layers of security to the blood binding oath once he became aware of who and what his stepmother was.

Square Filled: Unsupportive Parents

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Character Death (Off-Screen)

Attempted Murder

Stabbing

Poison

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

Stiles had always been curious, always devouring knowledge, burying his nose in a book and was always eager to learn anything and everything he could. He hoarded information and was the most observant person—the most observant merman—in the kingdom. Some had said he was the most observant and intelligent merman of the seven seas, and of the five oceans. 

He was hiding one day, not interested in the slightest about the wedding. His circlet was locked up and he was lucky he himself wasn’t as well. His stepmother’s words kept echoing in his mind. 

'You cannot escape. It's time for you to accept that your mother is dead. It's time you accept that your sister and your brother are dead. It's time for you to grow up, do your duty and marry for the good of the kingdom. You might as well, considering the fact that your mate is dead. You will either fall in line or you’ll end up wishing you’d never been born.'

Stiles hated his new stepmother and stepsister and his instincts screamed at him that this was all wrong. As far as Stiles was concerned, he had a mother, a brother and a baby sister. It didn’t matter that no one else seemed to believe him. What mattered was that he believed it. He hated the words and looks of pity and sympathy people gave him. They kept saying his family was dead, but Stiles knew that wasn’t true. It was the same as him knowing it wasn’t true that his mate had died. No. None of that was true. 

When people continued trying to get him to admit that they were dead, especially his mate, Stiles tried to tell them why it wasn’t true. If his mate had died then some of Stiles’s scales would have turned black, but they hadn’t. Therefore, his mate was still alive. No matter how much evidence he gave, they pitied him. There were a few mermaids and even mermen who wanted his affection or attention. Stiles held no desire for anyone but his mate. 

There was no point in trying to convince anyone of the truth he knew down to his soul. So, he gave up after that. There were other things he needed to deal with, especially when he realized he was in even more danger. His father, stepmother and stepsister had started poking around and sending guards to bring him to the throne room now that he had come into his abilities. Stiles evaded the guards every time.

Stiles didn’t call Noah father anymore. He supposed the only thing going for him was that he was the crown prince and would soon rule after his coronation on the eve of his 21st birthday. 

He heard his stepmother crooning into Noah’s ear and seductively drawing him in. Stiles realized one night after overhearing a conversation between the servants, that his stepmother had convinced Noah of yet another lie. He now believed that Claudia must have cheated on him, now questioned her fidelity. His new wife played her part well and insisted it had to be true, otherwise the royal bloodline would not have been spoiled and resulted in an abomination like Stiles. Stiles knew it was a lie, but his father would not listen. It had been like talking to a wall for the past two years. So, here Stiles was, overlooking the kingdom with a pang of longing around his chest, pulled taught making him struggle to breathe. "Where are you?" he whispered.

Suddenly, Stiles felt icy shivers wrack his body and urged his little companion, a blue baby sea turtle, to hide and for once she didn't argue. As soon as Nova was out of sight, Stiles spun around, coming face to face with his stepsister, Marguerite, who was wearing a sinister smirk. 

“Good evening, your highness!” she purred but though it may have looked sweet to anyone else, Stiles saw the hatred behind her eyes, the disgust she never concealed. Since the moment Stiles met Marguerite, he had seen right through her. In fact, had there not been a servant swimming by, he doubts she would have addressed him formally.

“What do you want?” he demanded, knowing she hated him just as much as he hated her. 

She leaned forward and grabbed his hair tugging hard in order to bring him closer so she could whisper in his ear. “Your daddy belongs to us now. There is simply no place for you now and it was so…easy!” With a smirk and a hiss, she plunged a dagger into his stomach. The manipulation of Stiles’s stepmother and Noah’s now wife, allowed for Stiles’s stepsister to stab him in an attempt to rid them of the abomination. 

Stiles watched his stepsister’s eyes gleaming as she swam away, leaving Stiles to clutch his stomach and wince in pain. “Poison!” Stiles gasped. His vision began to blur but in a rare moment of clarity, he forced himself to focus his thoughts. If Noah truly had been compromised, then Stiles was in danger. Stiles knew he had to leave, and he had to leave now. 

With his body growing weaker by the second, he swam to his best friend Isaac’s grotto and gasped out his name. “I-Izzy?!?!”

Isaac came darting out and quickly assessed the wound. “You’re lucky, Stiles. This could’ve killed you if not for…” he trailed off, but Stiles knew what he was referring to. It had been hard to ignore the bond with Ivy as she called to him in concern. He hated hearing her call for him, but Isaac would look after her.

Stiles nodded and croaked out a reply. “I know. Listen, I have to leave, and I need you to look after Ivy.”

“I'll always watch out for her just as I always watch out for you." Isaac's brain then caught up to the rest of Stiles's words. "Wait! Leave?! You—Are you sure you have to?!” Isaac asked in a small voice. 

With a heavy heart, Stiles nodded and pulled his friend into a hug. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way, Izzy. I’ll be back.”

“Promise?” Isaac’s embrace was fiercely protective. Stiles took comfort in that. After all, Isaac was the most loyal merman, the most protective merman, in the seven seas and of the five oceans. 

“I promise but there are a few things you need to know before I leave.” There was no one Stiles trusted more than Isaac. So, he revealed everything to his best friend, taking him into his confidence, informing him of his departure and what all that would entail. 

✦ 🫧 •···• 🔱  ✦  🔱 •···• 🫧 ✦

Stiles wasn’t surprised when, after slipping into the darkness, he learned that Noah didn’t care. If anything, the man seemed relieved. Stiles however was not hurt by the man’s indifference, not really. He sought refuge with the only person he felt safe enough to let his guard down around and that was his mate’s sister, Talia Hale. 

He recovered slower as his bond with Noah began to strain and weaken. Perhaps that had been what his stepmother and stepsister were hoping for, but Talia cultivated a bond with him. The night his bond that he’d had with Noah since his birth snapped, there was hardly any pain and instead, Stiles felt Talia’s bond with him burning bright and unbreakable. 

He got regular updates from Isaac, and correspondence through his familiar, a Beluga Whale named Eivhir, though he called her Ivy. Yes. The moment that Stiles had learned he was a mer-spark was the moment Noah became Noah and not father. 

Stiles’s powers were what called to him, urging him towards a deep cavern much farther down into the depths of the ocean. He couldn’t see a thing in the pure blackness as the sun could no longer reach this deep, but he trusted his power. 

Slowly, Stiles dove down into the darkness, his lithe body slinking through smaller crevices as he went deeper and deeper and deeper. He then resurfaced so far under coming face to face with thousands of glowing sea stars, almost mimicking the natural sky and its constellations. 

He marveled at the stillness, the serenity and almost peaceful atmosphere around him but then felt a powerful tug towards his left. 

Unafraid, he followed it and was presented with four small sea slugs. When his gaze alighted on them, Stiles knew deep in his soul, the knowledge settling in his bones, that he was looking at his mother, his younger brother, his baby sister and his mate. 

It didn’t take long to realize that his stepmother was an evil witch who knew she couldn’t take on Stiles alone and therefore began unraveling those around him until they got to Noah. 

Stiles teared up and a shaky hand hovered over the four sea slugs. “Fy nheulu. Rydych chi wedi cael eich colli. Fy nghalonnau. Dewch yn ôl ataf.” (My family. You have been missed. My hearts. Come back to me.) 

Slowly they rippled and shimmered. Then the light faded, and he could see Claudia. “Mwynglawdd Mam.” (Mother Mine.) She hadn't seemed to age a day. Her lavender scales set with a silver and gold gradient still brought tears to his eyes. Stiles embraced her, not realizing how desperately he had needed his mother.

When he pulled back, she cupped his jaw with one hand, tears in her own eyes and pressed their foreheads together. "Roeddwn i'n gwybod y byddech chi'n dod i ni, fy seren fach i." (I knew you would come for us, my little starfish.)

Stiles chuckled wetly, nodding his head. He slowly turned to where the second sea slug had been but now his eyes settled on his brother who was two years his junior, Tristanen. “Brawd Mwyn!” (Brother Mine!) The two boys embraced each other, their grips tighter than even the hug between mother and son had been.

Over his brother's shoulder, Stiles then caught sight of his baby sister, who was only ten and therefore eleven years his junior, Anemone. “Siarc Bach!” (Little Shark!) 

Anemone was shaking from how hard she was sobbing, the water crackling with Stiles's magic as he began to soothe her. Her hair never lost its shine nor it's curls. She looked just like their mother. In fact, hardly any of them looked like Noah except for Tristanen, who had their father's eyes and hair, though his was darker than Noah's.

"Fy nghalon?" (My Heart?) said a voice behind him. Stiles's breath hitched and he let out a mournful but joyful song as he turned to the final mer. Last but not least was Peter, last but not least his cymar. (his mate.)

“Fy enaid!” (My Soul!) he whispered, choking up. “Oh, Peter.” 

The two came together in a kiss so tender, so soft, so passionate all at once that everyone within the cavern felt their love, felt their fated love.

✦ 🫧 •···• 🔱  ✦  🔱 •···• 🫧 ✦

Stiles didn't move from his mate's side but met the gazes of his family with a confused expression on his face. "Sut?" (How?) he whispered. "How?!"

Claudia watched her son with sad eyes as she began to explain what had happened nearly three years ago.

That was how Stiles learned exactly what his stepmother had done. Ursyluva, his stepmother, had been capturing and turning their people one by one. When it didn’t seem to be enough to sway the ki—to sway Noah, she then went after Stiles's family one by one. First was Anemone who was alone for a year until Tristanen was taken along with Peter. Lastly came Claudia who was stolen the night before Ursyluva slipped into Noah's bed for the first time.

Stiles was furious that he had missed what was right in front of him and didn't meet their gazes, couldn't meet their gazes now. How could they ever forgive him? It wasn't until he felt four anchors through touch on his skin that he dared to look up. Instead of anger, hurt or blame in their eyes, he saw nothing but love, acceptance and belief. They had never stopped believing in him.

After settling down, Stiles saw Anemone watching him, chewing her lip hard enough that her freshly formed fangs split her lip. Stiles ushered her over and tucked her hair behind her ear. "What is it little shark?"

The most devastating truth was then uttered into the open, hurting even more that it came from his baby sister. Stiles hated that she had to be the one to carry the burden. Her tail swished as she curled up in his arms. 

“Roedd nhad yn gwybod. Roedd yn gwybod beth oedd hi. Mae'n ddrwg gen i, Trident.” (Father knew. He knew what she was. I'm sorry, Trident.) 

Apparently, Noah made a deal with the witch to rid them of Peter when he deemed the merman unworthy of his son. It was met with a satisfying smirk from Ursyluva who then tried to use Stiles for his abilities after, making sure Noah was after them as well. Stiles knew Noah’s sudden interest in him, and his powers, in his spark was suspicious but when his stepmother went a step further and said that Claudia, Anemone and Tristanen were threats, Noah had permitted their capture. 

Stiles grew livid, his anger burning white hot. His eyes turned pure white like the hottest fire. He looked around the cavern at all the people Noah was responsible for, those who watched their prince and felt his pain as if it was their own. They hadn't wanted to interrupt the family's reunion and had waited patiently for their prince, the true prince, to address them.

As their king, it was Noah’s responsibility to see to the people's health, their well-being, their safety, their happiness and their love. Stiles vowed to save them all and take up the mantle Noah had tossed aside, the mantle he was no longer worthy of. In fact, it was the mantle Noah had never been worthy of. Noah had married into the Gajos Royal Family and without Stiles, without Claudia or any of her blood, the man had no claim to the throne.

The truth was immensely satisfying, and Stiles knew he’d be returning to his home. After all, he was the rightful ruler now sealed in blood that none could break. Not even his stepmother the witch bitch would stand a chance. Especially not after he had added extra layers of security to the blood binding oath once he became aware of who and what his stepmother was. 

✦ 🫧 •···• 🔱  ✦  🔱 •···• 🫧 ✦

He took his mother, brother, baby sister and mate to Talia’s house to plan their next move. However, he also took them there to breathe and rest. He and Peter did not wander far from each other and at night their tails curled around each other. They were afraid to let go for fear the other would disappear. No one objected like Stiles knew Noah would have and every night that they stayed at Talia’s, the two mates easily slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep. 

Noah, Stiles’s stepmother and Stiles’s stepsister never saw it coming. When Stiles showed up wearing his circlet with Talia and his mate, Peter on his right, Tristanen and his mother, Claudia on his left and his baby sister, Anemone behind them, the look on Noah’s face was priceless. His stepmother laughed and his stepsister joined in. 

Noah, however, was frozen in disbelief. “ ʻslefrod môr?” (Jellyfish?) 

Claudia didn’t even look at him, instead focusing on her son. Stiles was her prince, was the prince and soon to be king. They were quickly joined by every single person Stiles had saved. The people of this kingdom deserved to stare down the man who had approved their imprisonment, some of them for years.

Stiles stared Noah down, his eyes flashing pure white like the hottest fire, making Noah's face pale. "I, Trident Gajos, Heir of Poseidon, True Prince of the Seven Seas, Heart of the Ocean, Keeper of Truth, Knowledge and Wisdom, hereby challenge you. You are an unfit king. You are unfit to rule. You have slept with the serpent, let her and her ilk slither in and I have been informed you did so, fully knowing just who and what she was. This means you have committed treason of the highest order and you will be executed along with your witch and her spawn. Guards!"

It was over quickly and with Noah, Ursyluva, and Marguerite subdued and then killed, Stiles accepted the mantle of king. No one objected to this, and no one cared that he had ordered the deaths of Noah, Ursyluva and Marguerite. They all vibrated with joy as he accepted the mantle, and rejoiced as he lowered his head to accept the crown of the True King. That he was doing so in front of the goddess, her creatures and his people, speaking volumes more about the kind of ruler he would be. Stiles caught the various gazes of his family as the scales on his tail turned from fiery orange and sapphire blue to ruby red and molten gold. Stiles now bore the gradient of a True Ruler and Heart of the Ocean. Peter's scales shifted to the same gradient though lighter in shade and he prostrated before the True King to accept his own circlet as the True King's Consort. Everyone prostrated and pledged themselves to the new king of the seven seas, ruler of the five oceans and Poseidon’s heir. 

The people then threw a huge celebration in his honor. From that day forth Stiles vowed to use his powers to protect them, love them and cherish them. 

✦ 🫧 •···• 🔱  ✦  🔱 •···• 🫧 ✦

The True King, Descendent of Poseidon, Savior of the Seven Seas, Heart of the Five Oceans, Sovereign Ruler of the Southern Ocean, Almighty Authority of the Atlantic Ocean, Ambassador of the Arctic Ocean, Prince of the Pacific Ocean, Interim God of the Indian Ocean, and Soul of the Deep ruled with his heart. He did everything for his family, for his people, and for his kingdom becoming ten times the king Noah had ever been.

A year after being reunited with his mate, the two of them married. Stiles had taken his mother’s surname of Gajos instead of Stilinski which had been his father’s surname. Peter offered to do the same and take Stiles’s surname when they married, as was custom but Stiles chose to hyphenate their name instead. The day they became one, they became Stiles and Peter Gajos-Hale.

Then, a year later, they had two perfect babies, a pair of beautiful twins. They were two little girls that the king and his consort named Melaina and Myrcella. A year after that, they had a little boy named Titus and yet another year after that they had another set of twins. This time they had a boy and a girl that they named, Kyro and Kiara respectively. 

The kingdom rejoiced and all five little tadpoles were as mischievous, loyal and loving as their daddy. Not to mention as loyal, fierce and fond as their father. 

Tristanen married a woman named Oksana a year after Peter and Stiles married. Then a year later he and his wife had a baby girl that they named Kalista. She was then followed two years later by a baby boy that they named Lakyn. 

Anemone started dating a young merman named Leonidas a few years later after her sixteenth birthday and unsurprisingly, her brothers were fiercely protective of her. She didn’t mind and neither did Leo. It was understandable and they both knew it was because her brothers loved her so much. 

Claudia loved her children and her grandchildren with all of her heart. She had missed out on so much. Eventually, five years after being reunited with her eldest son, she met Christopher Argent. She quickly fell in love with and married him. Chris then became a loyal advisor to King Trident. Chris had a daughter from his previous relationship, a girl that was only a couple of years younger than Tristanen and her name was Allison.

Together, Claudia and Chris had two baby girls that they named Athena and Artemis.

Stiles watched as Allison grew to adore her sisters, watching over them like Stiles had his own siblings.  Allison blossomed under Claudia’s guidance and love. It made the young king smile as he knew his new stepsister, whom he fondly called Ally, was nothing like Marguerite. She would also never know a stepmother like he had. Claudia was a mother to all, her love as infinite as the drops of water in all the world’s oceans. 

Talia did not marry or bear children, but she became an aunt and a grandmother to the children, all of the little ones adoring her and her coral crystal candied treats. Stiles decided to repay her kindness with the position of his right hand. Though Chris advised him on many things, Talia advised him on all things. Chris was the left hand of viciousness to Talia's clear headed, right hand of wisdom.

Isaac had kept his promise and looked after Ivy. Isaac like Talia never took a mate, but he was given the role and title of Royal High Guard Elite. He was the one in charge of looking after the children, keeping them safe and protecting them like he had Stiles since they were tadpoles themselves.

Peter took on the role of King Consort like he was born for it and considering they were fated, it didn't surprise Stiles one bit. He loved retiring from his day of ruling to find his mate and children cozied up with just enough room for him to join. He was happy and he could feel the happiness like a blanket coating the kingdom, not a single person untouched by joy.

They all celebrated the changing colors of their children’s scales as they grew older and rejoiced in the prosperous decades that followed. Claudia often told her son that his great great great great and so on, grandfather would be proud of him. Stiles hadn't met the man, who was also known as the myth and the legend, but he was told every day that his power was passed down from said man. Stiles was always humbled and honored by that knowledge as he never felt as though he was worthy of Poseidon's power, but he did his best every single sun and moon to rule as a fair, just and kind king.

There was now no corner of the ocean that had not heard of them. All those who dwelt in the oceans and seas knew of the ferocity, loyalty and strength, the True Ruler possessed. There was not a soul on land or sea who hadn't heard of the curiosity, bravery and love of the Heart of the Ocean.

[sapphireginger]

Title: Phoenix Phenomenon

Summary:

“You’ll never be my equal in anything,” Peter sneered.

“What?” Stiles asked but his tone had shifted.

“You heard me, Stiles. If this is all about equality to you, then you might as well give up. It’ll never happen.”

Square Filled: Taking A Break

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings:

Temporary Character Death Major Injuries Car Accident

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

@thebo3bingo

Stiles and Peter had been dating for three years and had been engaged for two years when they had their biggest fight. The more time they spent together the deeper their bond went, and the fight put all of their hard work at risk.

“Why can’t you just trust me?!”

Peter growled. “I do trust you. Why can’t you understand that a thousand miles between us puts my wolf on edge?!”

“Then come with me!” Stiles pleaded, his fingers fidgeting restlessly with his engagement ring.

“I can’t leave! I’m the alpha! This is all you right now. Why do you have to go that far away just to turn around and come back in a year?!”

Stiles started pacing. “I want to be able to provide for a family without constantly relying on you. I don’t have the means to provide like you do, and I know it’s not the same and I’ll never make enough to make us equals but I can try and come close.”

Peter snorted derisively. “So, money is the issue? Do I have too much? I’m sorry that I have ten years on you and I’m sorry that my family was murdered. Guess that’s too much for you huh?!”

The amber eyed man stilled and glared at the older man. “How could you say that?! I’ve never cared about the age gap between us. Ten years is nothing. Who cares that you’re thirty-three and I’m twenty-three?! I don’t give a fuck! I don’t give a flying fig about age! Don’t confuse me with your nieces!! I’ve never brought up how when it comes to money. I hate that you lost your family and I’m glad I gutted Kate and Gerard myself, but this isn’t about how we got the money. I just want to be an equal in our financial situation. I want to be an equal in everything.”

“You’ll never be my equal in anything,” Peter sneered.

“What?” Stiles asked but his tone had shifted.

“You heard me, Stiles. If this is all about equality to you, then you might as well give up. It’ll never happen.”

Before Stiles could say anything else, Peter continued. “So, go on! Get out of my sight! Go to your fucking far away school and get the fuck out of my life!!”

Hot tears slipped down Stiles’s cheeks. “You don’t mean that,” he said softly.

“Wanna bet?!” Peter flashed crimson eyes at his mate—well the one that he thought was his mate—and roared. “LEAVE!!!!!!!”

Stiles fought hard not to voice the words he wanted to say, the words he wanted to lash out at the man he loved but he still let out a few. “Fine! Have it your way! We’ll be taking that break now, I guess!"

Peter said nothing, his arms crossed over his chest. He wouldn't budge from what he said and ignored the protest of his wolf. Besides, it was only a matter of time before this happened. Really, Peter was shocked they lasted five years. He dug his claws into his palms to try and convince himself of that very blatant mental lie.

When his fiancé didn't say anything, Stiles nodded to himself, sniffled and cleared his throat. "Fine. Whatever! S-Se-See if I care what happens to you now.” He grabbed his bag, slipped on his shoes and after gathering his wallet, keys and phone, he left. The door to the house—their house—slammed shut behind him with a finality that sent pain through both men.

The moment that the door closed, Peter wanted to take it all back. He hated how Stiles never saw his worth and then Peter went and confirmed all the younger man’s worst fears, played on his insecurities and now, Stiles was gone. Peter never cared about the fact that he had more money, that he was older or anything else. He loved taking care of his mate and loved providing for Stiles.

The wolf didn’t understand how Stiles couldn’t see that. If anyone was unworthy of the other, it was Peter who was unworthy of Stiles. The younger man had killed the ones responsible for the murders of the Hale family. Peter would never be able to repay him for it, but he tried to give Stiles everything. The alpha never realized how much Stiles felt he was lacking.

✶ ⟡ 🔥 🤍 🔥 ⟡ ✶

Stiles drove off in tears. No matter how badly he wanted to turn around and go back, he couldn't. This felt so much bigger than their small squabbles. Make up sex was fun in theory, but his heart hurt too much right now. So, no. He had to keep going no matter how badly he wanted to turn around. He would wait until they both calmed down though his gut churned at the thought of being apart for more than a day.

Stiles couldn't focus, his mind awash with questions of how he was going to fix it, would they fix it, was he too much trouble and more. The rain began pouring and he skidded slightly on the road. It was only when he reached the highway that he paused. “Damn asshole of an alpha,” he cursed and started to turn around. “Can’t believe I love you but as angry as you make me, I can’t help it.”

Unfortunately, the tires couldn’t gain the proper traction and the jeep lurched forward. A shiny sports car going way too fast with its music making the road nearly vibrate, careened around the curve and hit Stiles’s Jeep head on. The last thing Stiles heard was the screech of tires and then everything went dark.

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The call came not even an hour after Stiles had left. Peter was a wreck as he raced to the hospital. What a sight he must’ve made. He stood at the front desk, gripping the edge with as little supernatural force as possible. It was hard to maintain control when his mate, who was also his anchor, was in critical condition.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hale. Unfortunately, I regret I must inform you that Mr. Stilinski is in a coma.”

“Why?”

“There was significant bleeding in his brain. It’s surprising he survived the impact itself, sir. Head on collisions very rarely leave anyone alive.”

“His other injuries?”

The doctor checked his notes. “Mr. Stilinski sustained a broken tibia in his right leg, a fractured collarbone, a burst eardrum, a broken nose, a shattered femur in his left leg, a mangled right foot, and a punctured lung. He has bruised and cracked ribs, as well as bleeding in his brain, stomach and throat. He also sustained severe bruising around his throat from the way the seatbelt had been choking him.”

Peter’s eyes filled with tears. “P-Prognosis?”

With a somber expression the doctor spoke the hard and painful truth. “We can make him comfortable at most right now. After setting the breaks, setting the bones and stopping the bleeding, I'm afraid there isn’t much left to do but wait. I’m sorry, Mr. Hale, but you should prepare yourself for what’s to come.”

After talking with the doctor and schooling his expression the best he could, Peter was led to the room Stiles was in. When he saw his mate, Peter felt as though he couldn’t breathe. “Oh, sweetheart,” he husked out, his voice a wreck.

Peter sat in the chair by the bed and took Stiles’s hand in his own. The younger man looked so small and pale in the hospital bed. It was driving the wolf crazy to see so many wires, tubes and monitors. “Come back to me, sweetheart. Don’t leave me. I-I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.” The wolf kissed his mate’s hand over and over, drawing pain as subtly as he could. He hadn't meant to break down, but this man was the light and love of his life, was his mate and he couldn't lose Stiles. So, the wolf didn't fight the tears back, didn't muffle the soft sobs. He broke down and cried. “I love you.”

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For three weeks, there was no change in Stiles's condition. He didn't seem to be healing at all and Peter felt helpless, nearly giving in to the urge to bite and turn the younger man several times but always managed to resist. Then at the start of week four something about his mate's condition did change, just not in the way Peter had hoped. Peter had fallen asleep with his hand in Stiles’s hand just like he had the last three weeks, when suddenly he awoke to alarms blaring. His eyes flared in the dark and settled upon the main monitor, his own heart nearly stopping when he saw the flatline.

Peter choked back a sob and vigorously shook his head. It wasn't true, couldn't be true. “No,” he said, repeating the word over and over again. "No. No! Nononononononono!!" he sobbed. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

The doctor’s managed to restart his heart but the familiar hummingbird pace was no longer. Instead, all Peter could rely on to verify his mate was alive was a sluggish thump thump thump. The following morning, Peter stood outside the hospital room, watching as the nurses made some adjustments and tried to shut off his emotions when the doctors informed him it was time for him to make a decision. Stiles had only gotten worse and they firmly but not unkindly suggested that Peter let him go. They left him alone to say his goodbyes.

Peter began pouring his heart out as soon as the door closed. He said everything he wished he had told Stiles when he had the chance but hadn't because he was afraid. Now, he didn't hold anything back and as he finished, a tear fell on Stiles’s wrist. “I love you,” the wolf whispered, pressing a kiss to Stiles's forehead, and another gentle kiss to his lips. As he settled back in the chair, Peter pressed a firm but soft kiss to the pale skin of Stiles's inner wrist right over his pulsepoint. His tears continued to fall as he rested his head on the younger man's hip.

For a moment, it was silent, the only sound being Stiles’s sluggish heartbeat and the machines. It was almost peaceful. Peter could almost believe they were home in bed together and not in a hospital.

Suddenly a golden glow burst forth and covered Stiles’s body from head to toe. The wolf startled, shuffling back slightly but didn’t let go of Stiles’s hand. In fact, he gripped it tighter, just short of supernatural strength. His eyes widened as a small golden triskele formed on Stiles’s wrist, the very place Peter’s tear had landed.

As soon as the three spirals had formed, the gold glow coating Stiles's body brightened until Peter was forced to look away or risk his eyesight, supernatural healing be damned. It was just too bright.

Time seemed to stand still, the air thick with something other, but Peter was not afraid. He was confused, nervous, uncertain and somehow hopeful but not an ounce of fear resided in him.

As quickly as the glow came, it faded, almost like Stiles was absorbing it, leaving his pale skin with a slight shimmer to it. The glow had seemed to rob the entire town of its light. Peter flashed his eyes and sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of his mate. Gone were the wires and gone was the breathing tube from his pale throat. All that remained of the monitoring was a pulse checker on Stiles's finger and an IV in his arm.

Another three days passed with Peter’s belief never wavering. Peter wasn't Stiles but when his mate was learning more about his spark, he had always said that the power of belief was not to be underestimated. So, Peter believed with everything he had, his eyes never leaving his mate. Something had happened that night and no one else acted as though anything was amiss. This told Peter not to give up. Something was happening and he would hold tight to his hope. He would believe.

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In the early hours of the first day of spring, Peter felt fingers carding through his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp accompanied by a soft humming. It was a beautiful dream and made the wolf smile. If only—The wolf bolted upright when the scent hit him as well as the familiar thumpthumpthumpthump of Stiles's heart and let out a high pitch whine at what he saw.

Stiles’s eyes met Peter’s and he gave the wolf a small smile. “Am I sprouting feathers?”

Peter was confused and definitely hadn’t expected to be greeted so…warmly.

Stiles tilted his head, “I died, Peter. Yet here I am.”

“No!” Peter denied. “You didn’t die. I was here the whole time. I would’ve…” he trailed off. “The accident?”

With a sad expression, Stiles nodded. “On impact.”

“Then h-how?” Peter asked, gently taking his mate’s hand, treating him as fragile, with great care, like Stiles might vanish or break at any moment.

“It’s called the Phoenix Phenomenon.”

Peter’s brows knit together in confusion. “The what?”

Stiles huffed a laugh. Then his expression grew serious. “If a bond cemented between two people is strong enough, it calls to them regardless of where they reside. Their souls are united in life and death. When souls are bonded, not even death itself can separate them.” Stiles chewed his lip and averted his gaze. “Not to mention, I’m…” he mumbled the rest of his sentence, making Peter lean closer.

“You’re…?”

The golden glow returned to Stiles’s body though softer this time and seemed to extend to Peter as well, almost as if greeting him. When the wolf met the gaze of his mate, he inhaled sharply at the orbs of pure gold staring back at him. “Stiles?” he whispered.

“It’s me.”

“What are you?”

Without hesitation, Stiles answered truthfully, revealing to the alpha what not a living soul knew, what no one had ever known before this moment. “I am the First Phoenix.”

[sapphireginger]

Title: At Our Ex-Spence - Ch. #5

Summary:

An older woman, perhaps in her mid to late forties smiles at him. Then her smile shifts as she seems to stare around him rather than at him. “Good gracious child. Who did this to you?” Her tone makes him shudder as if he’s done something wrong, but Stiles doesn’t know what he could have possibly done in the span of a few minutes to incur such a steely tone.

Square Filled: Bad Communication

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Warnings: None

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steter [Stiles Stilinski + Peter Hale]

Full AO3 Link

@thebo3bingo

Stiles can’t help the way he gapes as they pull up to a large mansion. It doesn't look familiar and yet something niggles at his brain in a way that tells him he should recognize it. He can feel Spencer’s gaze and quickly gets out as soon as the car stops. There is an itch under his skin, and he’s reminded once more that this body isn’t his body. He has to bite his lip to keep from clawing at his pale mole spotted skin.

“Miko?”

“Only Matka can call me that?!” he snaps, spinning to look at his cousin only to see the man looking towards the house. “What are you—”

“Mieszko.”

Amber eyes blink and then slowly he swivels towards the voice. “Huh?”

An older woman, perhaps in her mid to late forties smiles at him. Then her smile shifts as she seems to stare around him rather than at him. “Good gracious child. Who did this to you?” Her tone makes him shudder as if he’s done something wrong, but Stiles doesn’t know what he could have possibly done in the span of a few minutes to incur such a steely tone.

“I-I’m sorry? Who did what?”

Her expression softens as she ushers him inside. “Parlor sweetheart,” she instructs Spencer. Still dazed, Stiles doesn’t resist when his cousin guides him into a small room just to the left of the house’s entryway. He'd almost call it beautiful and quaint although such a simple word does the reality little justice.

As he reaches the settee, his knees begin to buckle from some unknown force, a weight pressing in on him from all sides. He collapses onto the antique furniture piece and heaves a weary sigh. Something feels off and alarm bells ring in his head but he’s so tired all of a sudden.

“Miko? Don’t close your eyes.”

The voice is so commanding Stiles almost listens but then his chest feels like it’s on fire and he screams.

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Peter has never before run so fast in his life. The trees blur and with ease he races up to the gates, snarling at the scent of wolfsbane. He can feel the man’s pain and quickly throws his head back to howl.

The gates open and he carefully slips inside, forcing himself not to jump when they clang shut behind him. “Stiles?” he says and rushes towards the house.

A large oak door polished to perfection opens swiftly upon his arrival and he doesn’t hesitate to push through. Nose in the air he searches for his mate’s scent and once he’s found it, he bolts in that direction.

The sight he is greeted by has him whimpering. Stiles is laying on a small antique covered in sweat. He’s shaking, his pale skin even paler but his heartbeat is somehow stronger. It’s very confusing and disorienting for the wolf.

His gaze falls on the woman sitting in an armchair with a serene look on her face as if the former Left Hand of the mighty Hale Pack isn’t standing there looking at the state his mate is in with barely concealed fury. “What happened?” he demands and then whips to the side when a more exotic scent hits him.

“He’s been touched by great evil. It was eating away at his spark. Mother cleansed him.”

Peter glares at the man who must be the cousin Stiles mentioned. The wolf can see the resemblance. He is unimpressed by the feline eyes glinting at him though. “Werecat.”

Ivory daggers glint as they form what is probably meant to be a threatening smirk. “Always heard that Peter Hale was the smartest of them all.”

“I would like to be flattered but currently my only concern is my ma—is Stiles.”

The older woman gives him a small knowing smile. “He is your mate, wolf. No need to hide such a thing. It is an honor to be mates with a spark.”

Peter narrows his eyes, refusing to look away. “He doesn’t know.”

Spencer frowns. “You haven’t told him.”

“No!” Peter snarls. “He’s been through enough. He has no one out here that he knows and trusts. Fuck it if I am going to let my feelings come between him having someone and having no one.”

“He also feels for you,” the woman says, her eyes on her nephew. “I am his aunt. Klaudiya is—was my sister.”

“Surely you mean was?” Peter replies drily.

Klarysa and Spencer exchange a look that makes Peter growl threateningly.

“Hush wolf.” The old woman waves a dismissive hand at him.

The action pisses him off. “Don’t tell me what to do. I know what you are, and I also know that he may be your cousin,” he says gesturing to Spencer. “He may be your nephew,” he says, pointing to Klarysa. “Yet I’ve never heard of you in regard to him. Mighty Gajos ye may be but you’ve not been there. So, you had better figure out whether to use past or present tense when referring to the woman whose absence broke him in ways that will probably never be mended. You can’t give even a smidgen of hope when there is none.”

“Pe’er?”

The wolf’s electric blue eyes zero in on amber eyes flooded with tears as lithe arms reach for him. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Stiles chokes back a sob. “Pe’er?”

“Yes darling. I’m here. You’re safe. Shh. I’ve got you.”

Warm arms wrap around the trembling spark and for the first time since leaving the apartment earlier this morning, Stiles feels safe. He lets the tears fall and doesn’t fight the shudders that wrack his body. He just melts into the wolf needing to be as close as possible.

Peter rumbles soothingly in his chest as he nuzzles his nose against the spark’s temple. “I’m here, little fawn.” His tone is soft and as soothing as the rumbles in his chest. Peter smiles softly full of affection as he cradles Stiles close.

When the amber eyed man’s scent shifts to pleased contentment, the wolf feels something inside him ease slightly. He doesn’t get scared, but he was terrified when he felt Stiles’s pain. It makes him hold onto his mate that much tighter.

Klarysa shoos a reluctant and curious Spencer out of the room. Then she conjures some chamomile tea. The two mates need a little privacy understandably but unfortunately, she can’t go far. It is good the wolf is here. Her nephew will need his mate as there is much left to discuss.

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Slowly, about fifteen minutes later, once he’s calmed down, Stiles sits up and stretches with a groan even as he stays glued to Peter’s side. His eyes settle on his aunt, and he narrows them. “What was that?”

“Tell me, Miko…Do you know what you are?”

Stiles scrunches up his nose. “Uh…”

“Supernaturally, dear boy.”

“Oh. Uh, no? I mean Deaton said–”

“Cryptic motherfucker,” Peter snarls.

“That I am a little spark.”

Klarysa’s eyes widen and then she scoffs. “Głupi druidzi. Nie odróżniłbym iskry od pieprzonej wiedźmy! Przeklęta obsesja na punkcie równowagi. Śmieszny.” (Stupid druids. Wouldn't know a spark from a fucking witch! Blasted balance obsession. Ridiculous.)

Stiles snorts and then giggles. “At least someone else finds him so.”

She smiles and sighs. “You are not a mere little spark as the stupid druid said. You are a Gajos Magick Elite Spark. There is a huge difference. One is having an affinity but the other is being. You. Are. A. Spark.”

“Oh. So…what does that mean?” he asks.

Peter grins. “It means you are stronger than a wolf, smarter too and have unlimited potential.”

Stiles tilts his head and glances from his aunt to the wolf and back. “Really? But I’m just Stiles.”

His aunt shakes her head. “No. You are Mieszko Gemini Gajos, Elite Magick Spark, Shadow Mage and—” She cuts off and glances at Peter who tenses slightly. “—and more.”

Amber eyes narrow, assessing the wolf and his aunt before snorting. “Okay. So then what are you?” he asks, needing a moment or five to process.

“I am a Wrażliwy na aurę,” she replies with a smile. “As was your mother.”

“Matka was a Wrażliwy na aurę? What does that mean?”

Hazel eyes glaze over, shifting into pearl eclipses as she speaks. “It means I can see auras whether I want to or not. I saw yours and felt sick at the way such muddy yellows and greens seemed to coat what should be a glowing amethyst inferno.” Her eyes shift back, and she takes a seat.

Stiles chews his lip. “Would um d-demon p-possession result in such a th-thing?” His voice is barely audible, and Peter has to suppress a whine as the man burrows further into his side. He settles for scent marking him.

“Void left traces of evil behind and because there was no true mage near you, there was no one to cleanse those traces. Therefore, they grew like a virus and had I not intervened, they would have consumed your spark.”

“Would that have killed me?”

Klarysa nods. “Yes. It would have.”

What could anyone say to such a thing? How does one respond to the knowledge that they almost died? Long lithe fingers twitch as Stiles starts to rake his nails against his skin. Peter grabs his wrists and shakes his head. “No.”

Stiles stiffens and then goes pliant. “I’m sorry.”

The wolf says nothing but gathers his mate into his arms. He sees the woman mouthing at him: ‘Tell him.’

Peter shakes his head.

Unfortunately, the spark has always been quick and clever. Without pulling away from Peter, he flicks his gaze towards his aunt and then back to Peter. “Peter? What are you doing here? How are you here?” He looks at his aunt. “Did you call him?”

“No.”

“Did Spencer?”

“No.”

“Then how…?”

Peter sighs and swallows thickly. “Sweetheart?” he says softly. A feeling of gratitude rushes over him when the older woman leaves them for a bit.

Stiles glances up and tilts his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Just hear me out. Okay?”

“Uh. O-Okay. Is this the part where you tell me you’re leaving?” he whispers.

The wolf frowns and shakes his head. “I won’t leave unless you order me away. Even then I’ll just lurk.”

Stiles chuckles. “Okay then, Derek.”

Peter gives a playful growl and smiles. “I hope you still tease me once you know.”

“Know? Know what?”

Warm hands take Stiles’s as light blue eyes meet amber eyes. “You are my mate.” He tenses waiting for Stiles’s reaction.

Instead of disgust, fear or any other reaction Peter was prepared for, he gets a sly smile. “Took you long enough to tell me.”

“What?” the wolf says dumbly. “You knew?”

“Course I did. What do you take me for? An idiot?”

Peter laughs and shakes his head. “Hardly. There is no one more clever or more amazing than you are darling.”

“Flatterer,” Stiles mumbles with red cheeks.

“It’s true.”

Suddenly a pair of soft pink lips brush against Peter’s and the wolf stills. Then before Stiles can second guess or pull away, Peter nips at the amber eyed man’s bottom lip and tugs, making him gasp. It provides the wolf with a perfect opportunity to claim a mouth he’s dreamt of, desired and wanted for so long.

They only part when they hear a soft: ‘Mrrwow.’

“Awww!” Stiles coos. He tilts his head and then feels his eyes heat up which is odd as fuck. “Spencer?”

The cat purrs and brushes against Stiles’s legs.

Peter growls unamused and starts scent marking Stiles like crazy to get rid of the feline fumes.

Stiles laughs and then glances up to see Klarysa watching with a soft smile.

“Good wolf,” she says softly, a hint of amusement in her tone.

Peter blushes—fucking blushes—and only relaxes when Stiles threads their fingers together. “Now what?” the amber eyed man asks.

“Now? Well, now we tell you what else you need to know, but only if you promise to hold your questions to the end.” She takes a seat in her armchair and quirks a brow at him.

Stiles huffs. “The furniture is antique, but I know this isn’t a museum. So, there’s no need for the tour guide introduction. I can—believe it or not—actually listen and not say anything.”

“We’ll see.”

The cat—Spencer—hops up onto the arm of her chair and curls up purring softly, his gaze on the two mates. With a smile, Klarysa begins.