#he fucks stiles until he loses control of his magic

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Thoughts on this as a Sterek AU?:

The vibe of the children librarian is definitely stiles but I think it would be cute if Derek was the children librarian so instead we have this:

Stiles wanted to work with children like his mother did, and the library was the best place. It had become his safe refuge during his mother’s sickness and he hoped to make it a safe place for other children. But he was also hired to keep track of the more magical books.

Derek has hired by the sweet old lady, Ms Beatrice, who ran the beacon hills library. Derek was pretty sure she was immortal. She took one look at him and decided to ignore all the gossip surrounding his name. He was put to work on the front desk because Ms Beatrice thought that would help the rumours and force Derek to interact with people. But also as a werewolf he would how to direct other supernaturals on what research they would need.

When stiles was hired Derek was definitely curious. As there was this bright eyed human who had the softest voice when working with children, but could turn around and insult you with the most venom Derek had ever heard. Stiles wore the most outlandish outfits but somehow looked absolutely ethereal in them. Not to mention seeing the stunning man working with children with his neck on display was ruining Derek’s control of his wolf. Beatrice thinks this this is completely hilarious.

Stiles knows how he acts compared to the other librarians, where he worked. Especially Derek hale, who brightest outfit that stiles had seen him wear, was a medium grey shirt. Not that he looked bad in it. Stiles had struck up a conversation with him a few times, but Derek alway responded with one or two word answers before he turned away. Most people would be off put by this but not Stiles.

Stiles had seen the way that Derek would interact with the quieter kids who didn’t feel comfortable enough around Stiles. With his small smile and bunny teeth, Stiles was so completely over his head. He also saw how Derek would curl in on himself when parents rushed their children away from him with nasty glares - or how his eyes would go blank when a women came on to strong. Stiles was an observer and knew he could be overbearing but there was something about Derek that made it so he couldn’t stay away.

Derek never knew how to answer stiles when he tried to make small talk. His tongue got tied standing so close to stiles in a small area; where all he could smell was ink,snow,home,lighting cinnamon, mate that made his chest hurt. Derek fleas from their conversations before he could embarrass himself by saying something like “hey, I’m a werewolf and I’m pretty sure you’re my mate do you want to get married”

This comes to head when there is an attack on the library, some dumbass tried to get to the magical section and summons a demon (this is beacon hills what did you think would happen). Derek is badly injured after saving Stiles and some of the kids there. Stiles manages to exorcise the demon despite being in shock that his coworker derek hale is Derek Hale, with a capital W. So Stiles, being Stiles decides to big him back to his apartment and heal him with his spark.

(Fuck yeah, getting to the good stuff). Derek wakes up the next morning, just wrapped in Stiles scent, warm and the most well rested he’s been since he was 16. Derek hears stiles in the kitchen and is prepared for judgement, disgust, fear and the worst reaction. Cue his surprise when stiles brings him a tray stacked full of food with a worried look on his face. His wolf goes insane at the sight of his mate courting him and Derek breaks.

Stiles was beside himself when Derek wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t sure how long it takes and werewolf, Alpha werewolf??? To heal from injuries given by a demon. So he made pancakes, everyone loves pancakes right?? He also made hash browns, bacon, eggs and waffles but that wasn’t important. He stacked the tray with as much food as he could carry and hoped Derek would wake up soon. So sue him if he was a little shocked to see Derek, sitting up (Awake) looking at him like Stiles was the greatest thing to happen to the earth since Star Wars.

The two of them end up talking (over each other in the beginning, but a+ for that communication)

“I’m a werewolf / spark”

“WHAT”

Once they both calm down they actually manage to have a conversation and Derek confesses that he was too scent drunk on stiles to have a conversation and stay in control. This makes stiles blush bright red and Derek is obsessed. He really wants to know how far down the blush goes. And it that moment, Derek just upfront asks to court stiles.

Stiles is an absolute gay mess right about now. He tries to tell Derek that he shouldn’t feel obligated to “reward” him after Stiles saved his life. Completely missing the point. Derek sees how insecure Stiles is in this moment and lays everything out on the table.

“No stiles, you’re my mate”

“Oh, Oh”

“Yeah, so please let me court you, let me take care of you.”

Stiles of course says yes!! They court for a week and a half before stiles breaks and demands that Derek has his wicked way with him. So Derek does.

Repeatedly.

The next morning they are officially a couple. Beatrice is so proud. She goes around beacon hills telling everyone that she single handedly got them together. She also goes around telling everyone that she is super excited to be a grandmother.

The sheriff is not amused.

Stiles and Derek get married three years later. Beatrice walks Derek down the aisle. She also tells an embarrassing story of the time when Derek got jealous over a child who declared that they would steal Stiles away from him and stiles would marry them instead. She cries over “her children” getting married and reminds them she wants grandchild before she to old to play with them. She spends half the evening snipping back and forth with the sheriff.

When Beatrice retires, stiles and Derek become known as the heart sickening couple who runs the library.

Thanks for the ask!! This was super fun to right!

[ereborne]

For the WIP asks, please tell me about 'full werewolf off the buckle' :D

Oh man, full werewolf off the buckle. This is actually a concept I came up with maybe...four? five? years ago and occasionally I take it out and revolve it in my mind, you know how we do. The title comes from "Werewolf Gimmick" by The Mountain Goats, which is a delightful song about a pro wrestler who loses his shit and performs egregious violence.

Basically, you know the trope where there's a love spell or curse or something, and everyone is suddenly obsessed with the main character except, gasp, the love interest is magically immune! But no, they were never immune, they've just been in love the whole time! (I feel like this sounds more biting than I mean it to, I do unironically love that trope very much) This is a similar concept, except what they're in love with is bloodshed.

My default pack is early seasons (Erica and Boyd, my beloveds) so usually I blame Peter or some generic witches, but any bad guys could do--a curse is set upon the pack, and everyone's violent instincts are heightened. Scott and the puppies (and Allison, our girl bloodbath herself) become volatile and incredibly dangerous, but Derek and Stiles are more or less the same as always. Derek makes sense, because he's been getting a lot of practice in self-control with his new alpha strength and his violent instincts are basically only defensive anyway, but Stiles throws everyone for a loop. Until they figure out, in proper trope form, that he lives his life one millimeter from murder at all times and the curse doesn't really change anything for him. Delightful!

I have a hard time imagining Lydia feral enough to do violence with her bare hands and yet coherent enough for dialogue, but if she did violence not with her hands then everyone would actually die and that wouldn't make for a very good story, so she tends to be either immune or handily offsite when the curse is laid down. Scott has the least practice with his negative emotions and with his werewolfy violence, so he's correspondingly least controlled and most dangerous, which makes him very uncomfortable. The betas, however many of them are around, get to be very smug when they're not assaulting one another. And I trade off who figures out the secret of Stiles' apparent immunity, but I tend to go for either Derek has always had an instinctive recognition of Stiles as a potential danger, maybe with references to how Laura felt growing up, or else Scott provides a very loving and accepting casual 'oh yes, Stiles wants to maim and mangle everyone around us always'. It's very fun for me.

"And you? Still no--" Derek has no idea why he's still pushing this. They have bigger problems, objectively, than how terrified he is to find Stiles suddenly the least dangerous packmate in the room. "No uncontrollable urge to maim and murder?" "Not uncontrollable, but if you keep fucking asking, I'm sure you can get it there!"

[thebigoblin]

Sterek Fic Recs Part 3

[You can find the first two lists here: Fluffy Sterek Recs & Sterek Fic Recs. Also here's a special fic, check it out]

First off, thank you all for a 100 followers!! As of September 7, 2021 you've made me feel really, really good about my obsession with two oblivious idiots (with sprinkles of the hale pack and other fandoms), and this is my way of thanking you ♥️

If you're on PC, you can see that there is a page dedicated solely to fic recs, which caters to other ships & fandoms too. So don't feel left out if you're looking for something other than Sterek!

Without further ado, let's get to it then!

an awful curse

Isaac is asleep in a chair. The angle of his neck makes Derek wince in sympathy.

"Isaac," Derek says.

Isaac snaps awake immediately.

"You're-"

"Where's Stiles?"

"Stiles?" Isaac asks.

Jesus. It's not like they know more than one.

AU - Canon Divergence | 6.3k | By blinkiesays

Throw Away The Key

Stiles knew it was stupid to go to the hunters’ headquarters all by himself, so when he finds himself caught, he can really only blame himself.

It shouldn't surprise Stiles when the situation quickly goes from bad to worse as the hunters throw him to a feral werewolf waiting to tear him apart.

Sucks that it's Derek, though.

AU - Canon Divergence | 5.9k | By mommymuffin

Whatever Happened Last Night, Why Did Glitter Have to Be Involved?

Derek rolled out of bed in search of his phone - quickly finding it in the pair of jeans that had evidently been tossed aside haphazardly on the way to the bed. Seeing the pants sparked flashes of memories - wolfsbane-laced alcohol, loud music, multicolored lights.

Peter’s new supernatural-friendly club - the pack had gone to the opening night party.

He unlocked his phone and opened the pack group chat, which Erica had affectionately named ‘Moon Sluts’.

>>Derek: What the fuck happened last night

[or: Derek wakes up with three things on his mind: he feels like he was punched by a troll, his mate is missing, and there's glitter covering his bed. Oh, and the pack group chat is mildly helpful]

**

Prompt #159 - “Also, my bed has glitter in it for reasons I do not recall.”

Crack Vibes | 1.2k | By ash_mcj

Good to Eat

So if Stiles married Derek Hale, he could become Jewish too? Perfect. It was settled. Stiles gleefully shoveled a forkful of cheesy shells into his mouth.

"Uh oh. I know that look.” Claudia shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Mom, ” Stiles said, reaching for his plastic Batman cup.

"I’ve got a plan.”

"Good luck, Derek Hale,” his mother muttered.

Rude.

AU - Childhood Friends | 1.7k | By Jmeelee

Murder Brows and Avoidance Tactics

Derek gets the wrong end of the stick.

Written for prompt: "You're jealous, aren't you?"

AU - Everybody Lives | 2k | By Dragonink13

Double Vision (only registered users can read this one)

"So what caused my hearing and sense of smell to dull?"

Deaton's brow furrowed, all amusement vanishing from his face. "What do you mean?"

Derek snapped, letting loose all of his anger and fear at the man before him. "I mean I can't hear your heartbeat or the cars down below or the birds in the attic! I can't smell the flowers in Mrs. Everett's apartment, I can't smell the rotting burger in the fridge that Isaac left in there a month ago, I can't smell or hear anything like I normally can!" Deaton mouth was pressed into a thin line. "Can you explain that?!"

 Tumblr Prompt: Derek jealous of himself.

AU - Everyone Lives | 6.1k | By Novkat21

Kiss?

Derek likes kissing Stiles, honestly he does. Until he doesn't.

Fluff | 3.6k | By clotpolesonly

Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.

Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?

--

(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)

AU, Supernatural is real but not known by everyone, Alive Hale Family | 11.2k | By Little Spoon

Call Me (Cliché)

When the sheriff's sister ends up in a wheelchair for the duration of summer, Stiles' dreams of three months full of pack bonding, late-night video games and bro-time with Scott come crashing down. He's temporarily relocated to Redford, a three hour drive away, and he can already tell he won't be getting many visitors.

Sure the pack will forget about him while he's gone, Stiles is determined to make the most of his summer of isolation, training his body and mind - and his magic - so he can come back with a bang, and maybe catch a certain Sourwolf's eye.

Then Derek shows up at his window one night with a flimsy excuse about needing research done. Suddenly, his summer away is looking a whole lot more interesting.

AU - Canon Divergence | 84.6k | By Orphan_Account aka the author has dissociated themselves from the fic

Shiver

Stiles has really, really cold hands. Luckily, Derek knows just what to do about that.

Established Relationship | 1.7k | By canistakahari

Derek Hale's Possible Heart

An anon sent me a sterek prompt for Laura teasing Derek and Stiles joining in, then somehow sharing their feelings for each other in the mess of things.

AU - Canon Divergence | 4.3k | By loserchildhotpants

What's a Secret Identity?

Stiles sipped at a mug of coffee, absently watching the news play in the break room. Because of course a news station couldn't play anything other than its own content, even in the one part of the office that was supposed to be a safe space from work. His interview with Superman was making a rerun and Stiles glanced at Derek before commenting absently, “I’d totally let Superman fuck me.”

Derek, who had been in the middle of a swig of coffee, choked violently, “That’s not something I needed to know at nine in the morning, Stiles.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “What time would you prefer I tell you about all of the things I would let Superman do to my body?”

AU, Derek is Superman | 7k | By Chrystie, imabignerd and kate882

i see that you've come so far [just like them old stars]

But her big brother’s unwillingness to touch anyone, like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it isn’t the only thing she notices. She also notices how Stiles doesn’t touch him.

Everyone reaches for Derek in some form or another, but Stiles- Stiles is something different altogether because he reaches for Derek but he never makes contact.

He’ll be trying to shimmy past Derek and instead of putting a hand on his arm like most of them do, he’ll reach out with a hand and stop it scant centimeters away from Derek’s skin.

Or they’ll be walking alongside each other and Stiles will hover a hand on Derek’s lower back.

It’s both fascinating and tragic to watch, like NASA lost control of one of their robots and instead of it landing on the moon it’s fated to gravitate around it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 2.3k | By crossroadswrite

Déjà Vu

There’s a shop in Beacon Hills that no one knows anything about except that the mysterious proprietor, a witch in whispered circles, knows what you need before you do and that the things given are always just what you need.

Derek, lost after a breakup, heads into the shop to see if he can find something to help him forget his ex. The witch gives him a potion to drink, and when Derek wakes up, he finds he’s sixteen again and there’s a new student at his school, Stiles Stilinski.

Everything is familiar and yet not, and Derek finds he’s strangely drawn to Stiles in a way that is entirely supernatural.

AU, Supernatural is Real | 8.8k | By gremlins-came-and-got-me and StaciNadia

Start Small, Like Oak Trees

The months following Allison's death have passed Stiles by in a haze of monotony. He sleepwalks through days that seem to lose their color, an unwilling passenger in a body he no longer trusts. Eventually, he thinks, he'll just fade away. He isn't sure anyone would notice. Then, during a spur of the moment grocery run, he stumbles upon Derek Hale attempting to console a lost child, and for the first time in recent memory the world doesn't seem so awful.

He's not sure what he'd been expecting when he eventually convinces Derek to move into the Stilinski's spare bedroom, but a newfound passion for weeding and topsoil certainly isn't it.

AU - Canon Divergence | 24.2k | By SmallBirds

Undercover K9

As it usually goes, Derek acts before he thinks. This time he has a good reason, though-it's all Stiles' fault. Mostly.

Or, that time when Derek volunteered to spend all his spare time as a wolf with the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Office K9 Unit, just to protect Stiles' dumb ass.

Future Fic | 17.9k | By Cobrilee

Rose Colored Glasses

“Obviou—um, what? Derek?” Stiles managed. “What? You’re not colorblind. You’re colorblind?”

“Yes.” Derek said gruffly. “And?”

“And? What do you mean and? You can’t see colors?” Stiles demanded, thrown. “Does it—what kind is it? Red-green? Blue-yellow? Why doesn’t—oh my god, is this why your entire freaking wardrobe was completely black until like two years ago? Oh my god!”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a favorite color, Stiles.”

Established Relationship | 2.2k | By SassyStarboard

1,460 Days (gotta clean my slate)

Two years after Scott becomes Alpha and Derek gives it up for Cora, Stiles gets hurt during a fight and ends up in a coma for two weeks. According to the nurse, a guy has been visiting him every day and, as much as he wishes it were Derek, it sounds a lot like Scott. Except he and Scott aren't even friends anymore.

AU - Canon Divergence | 10k | By army_of_angels

This is it for now. Happy reading y'all! ♥️

[blush-and-books]

sun's gone // but you always liked this time of day

angsty, hurt/comfort with a happy ending, juke canonverse. title from Place In Me by Luke Hemmings. special shoutout to my dear @unsaid-emily who loves this lyric as much as i do.

warnings: luke is just going through a lot and its scientifically proven that anger destroys brain cells so just be ready

----

Finding out that Rose's death day was on the same day as his mom's birthday was... Not easy, for Luke.

Him and Julie both mourning different things. Both of them felt different things surrounding their mom situations, and Luke knew that his job as Julie's "Luke" was to be there for her. He had been there for Reggie when his dad was leaving home every night to go sleep wherever his mom wasn't, and when Alex's parents turned into apathetic losers post-coming out.

He should be a master at all of this parent shit.

Unfortunately, there's a difference between losing love for or from your parents, and losing that parent to a force out of your control. Luke was used to the tension that was easy to complain about; to criticizing what his friends' families were doing wrong.

From how Julie talks about her, it doesn't sound like Rose Molina was doing anything wrong.

He can't help the way that rage smolders in a deep pit of his stomach. He hates that Julie's sad, and he hates that he didn't have a mom like Rose Molina, and he hates that the universe was cruel enough to give his favorite person such a wonderful mother and take her away before Julie was even an adult.

Sometimes, especially today, he's reminded of the hate he felt for his mom. When he was fifteen and wrote her a real song, one of his first when he started to improve his writing skills, and he could see the twitch in her eye of disdain.

That night, she told him to start looking at jobs. He was old enough, after all.

He went to the closest place he could find - a local diner - picked up an application, and cried.

She didn't care about his art; she didn't realize how his art meant more than anything he could buy with money. What was starting to sting was the fact that she probably would never care. And as he got older, she made it increasingly clear, and...

Yeah. Emily's birthdays were bitter.

Luke was bitter.

Julie was depressed.

He went to see her that day, it was a Saturday, and tried to talk to her. His hand softly ran up and down her side as she curled under the comforter, and when she invited him under the blankets he gratefully accepted the invitation.

Maybe Julie, the girl that made them whole again, could heal this little extra wound, too.

They talk. Julie cries; he avoids it.

"It's just really hard to be without her, you know? Sometimes shit just happens and it feels like a time she needs to be here, and she's not, and I don't know what to do."

Luke misses feeling like that. But it stopped about a month after he left home.

"Well, I mean, I've gone this long without a mom, and I'm fine. You can live without her. You're gonna be fine."

He says it with the same apathetic tone he always uses when he shifts into Emily-mode, and it isn't supposed to be like that, but it is.

Painfully.

And his mistake is obvious when Julie's frowning lips part open in horror, and her eyes are welling fresh with tears that illuminate the red around her irises.

Carelessly, with his eyes wide open, he's torn her apart.

Under the comforter, he feels cold. Even Julie's body next to him feels cold, and-

"Julie-"

"Get out. Please."

"I'm sor-"

"Luke, please- Leave me alone."

When Luke finally sobs, he's alone. It's dark outside and the garage is empty because the boys respect that it's a rough day for many people in this household, but the sadness and anger overcome him until he's opening his mouth to scream and nothing comes out, and when he's so dehydrated that his body is void of any tears, he sits on the couch with a damp face and plucks the chords of Emily's birthday song from 27 years ago.

He tries not to feel the numbing depression very often. But you can only push down such strong emotions for so long before they choose to ignore your fighting attempts.

Julie made it easier to battle the fury he felt towards his mom. That woman will always have a grasp on him, a place in him - probably because he never properly processed it. He's stuck with all of it now. The internal playlists of songs that remind him of how mad he is or sad he is, for him to listen to whenever his temper towards Emily seethes.

Tonight, he doesn't have a choice but to face it.

----

The next morning, there's a note for him.

Please give me the day to myself.

No author claims their identity, but the loopy "y" is a dead giveaway that Julie wrote it, let alone the content. His chest does that shitty thing where his ribs feel as though they are compressing against his lungs and breathing is hard.

He feels like that all day, but he still waits.

But he barely makes it to sunset before he is poofing to the hallway and standing before her bedroom, fist raised to knock.

The sunset was pretty tonight. He hopes she enjoyed it. Her favorite time of day is dusk, when the air only feels fresher because it carries a chill with it, and the world begins to slow down.

Luke knocks.

Julie answers.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out before she has the chance to interrupt or he has the chance to say something stupid. "What I said- That was my stupid, stupid anger at my mom. It was her birthday yesterday." Julie looks surprised to hear this, of course she didn't know, but she doesn't say anything.

"I don't know what it's like to go through what you did. I wanted to support you yesterday, and I didn't, and I know that. My feelings got the better of me, and that isn't fair. And I am so, so sorry, Julie."

She remains still in front of him, but only for a beat. Eventually, she moves aside, wordlessly, and stares at him expectantly.

He takes exactly four steps inside, and plants his feet once again.

"It's not stupid," is the first thing she says. Her voice has a piercing edge to it that he rarely hears, and he hates it, but stays quiet. "How you feel about your mom. Don't call it stupid. I don't think it's stupid."

She takes a deep breath. A tear slips through her lashes.

"But what you said was really fucking insensitive. All I needed from you was to be there and hold me and let me ride this wave, not try to relate or compare our problems. How would you feel if I tried to guilt you for running away because 'at least you had a mom'?"

Shitty. He'd feel shitty, because they are two different situations and she has no right to speak on something that she hasn't gone through.

He answers with that, verbatim. And he throws in another apology for good measure, making it clear that he understands where he went wrong.

"Good. You understand. Thank you."

Her eyebrows twist together. It's a tell that she wants to say something too.

"If you ever need to talk about your mom, you know I'm here for it. I didn't know her birthday was yesterday."

Understanding, he nods. He didn't tell her it was Emily's birthday, because the day was supposed to be about Rose, and then it wasn't.

"Thank you."

The two of them fall silent.

Luke doesn't want to leave, but feels like he should; Julie hasn't asked him to leave, but he doubts she wants him to stay.

They're just two kids with gaps in their hearts, left by the absence of their mothers.

Sometimes - all the time - Luke feels Julie filling that gap. Not as a mom, of course, but as another person; someone to love him and support him and make him happy.

Emily might not ever go away in his head. But Julie Molina, over anyone, will always have a place in his heart, in his head, and in his soul.

She's just magic like that.

So magic that she finds it in herself to step forward, and he is roped in by her gravitational pull, and they're falling into each other's arms.

Luke imagines that if he ever went to a heaven instead of coming back to the modern day, that this, Julie's arms around him, is the feeling that would greet him at that end.

Everything feels better here.

----

tags: @bluefirewrites @lydias--stiles @sylphrenas @wlwcarries @ruzek-halstead @willexx @sirena-de-lunas @babydagger28 @phantomsandsunsets

[asterekmess]

honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.

[chbslove]

i am steter trash so i wrote an au where stiles is a spark that lives in the forest because he killed his dad in an accident back when he was a kid and couldn't control his magic and his moms family was just made up of mages and he is the first one to actually be a born spark with loads of power so she raises him and teaches him everything she knows

and in this au sparks are being hunted and put down like animals so claudia builds a house in the forest with stiles where he can live and study magic on the land of their family and after she dies stiles moves there.

(and yes hes a lot older in this because it makes me antsy to write about eighteen year old stiles and adult peter. sorry. I'm a pussy okay.)

and stiles meets his gang! and scott is a dryad, lydia is a mermaid, jackson and danny are mermen (and jackson and danny are together by the way), i planned allison as a regular human that meets scott on a walk in the woods and falls in love with him later in the story because the hale fire storyline is still happening, and kira is an ancient kitsune who also lives in the forest and is good friends with stiles, and erica, boyd, isaac, liam, theo etc are not there yet but thats cause stiles is pretty alone.

he just minds his own business and takes care of the dryads and meets fairies (who live in the forest) and makes a deal with them that they'll stop screwing around with humans and stay in the forest and he'll protect them and take care of them because sparks are powerful and the fairies appreciate that instead of being afraid of him.

and stiles just does his thing for a couple of years until the fairies go a little bit too far and peter hale, who is stupidly a little too far in the forest on his patrol, gets caught in a storm they cause and gets lost in the woods, and he finds stiles' house and stiles takes him in and gives him dry clothes and then guards him back so peter won't get himself fairy'ed

and then a week passes and stiles is kind of anxious peters family will tell him to fuck off the woods (even though it's stiles' heritage to take care of the forest, the hales just live there) and then: the actual plot

a little apple dryad tells him scott found a dying fairy. this fairy apparently told scott in her dying breath something wolfish killed her, and stiles wrongly thinks peter and his family did that, and he goes to find scott to ask him about it, but scott is just gone. stiles can't find him and gets worried and checks his wards, and when he gets to the wards around the hale property, he meets laura. he asks her if she's seen scott, and she saw him going back into the forest, but stiles still can't find him.

laura leaves and stiles finds the ward to their territory broken, and it stinks like druid, so he figures it was this deaton guy because werewolves aren't sneaky like that.

stiles visits lydia (because he still can't find scott and lydia knows how to calm him down) and finds out jackson and danny saw a monster while making out under the surface of their lake and from then stiles knows that the hales have got nothing to do with this because what lydia describes Is Not a werewolf.

so he gets pissy, and then ultimately is enraged when he finds a dead stag this monster killed, and because he's pissy he visits the hales to tell talia he's rightfully going to kill their emissary for being a bitch and breaking his wards and letting some monster walk his territory.

and talia is all "what the fuck how do i not know you." and stiles is all internally "i see my darling peter kept his promises" and then he's internally like "wait fuck i'm not really in love with this guy am i" and then he's like "oh. OH."

and talia convinces him not to kill deaton because shes awesome and stiles grumpily agrees because... not agreeing would be a dick move and it would mean. War. Basically.

so the hales offer their help looking for scott and stiles finds this monster thing on his search and its a wendigo yay, and scott has been following this thing around for days now because he's a dumbass and wanted to help, and they bro out

and the hales and stiles kill this thing, which means magic action. and stiles is awesome. and everyone knows that now.

what follows is just steter get-to-know-eachother and the hale pack are the biggest wingmen (wingpeople) ever and there's fluff and magic and a lot of flowers because stiles is a person that can't for the life of him say the words "i love you" and gets incredibly anxious when people say "i love you" so he mostly displays his feelings for peter in hanakotoba, the traditional japanese flower language that kira taught him, and peter eventually catches onto that and they get together in a load of angst and fluff and they have sex. because of course they have loads of sex. bold of you to think peter can keep his hands off stiles for longer than a day and likewise.

and there is like a load of stiles/hale pack friendship dynamics because i love them all and then suddenly yeehaw. hale fire.

So paige has already happened in this timeline before stiles and peter met, and derek still meets kate and she does her scum thing and uses him. a bunch of hunters show up to the hale house, shoot them with wolfsbane bullets and gather them so they can burn together.

stiles wakes up in a rush because something bad is happening to his wolves but then his eyes fall closed again and he can't get out of bed for a solid time because someone freaking poisoned him and he's fevering and weak and everything is dizzy, but he forces himself up because something. bad. is happening. to his. wolves. he stumbles into his kitchen and almost dies right there and then, because the poison is wolfsbane and he feels like he got tons of it shoved down his throat by the person that poisoned him. his life starts flashing in front of his eyes and he fights back at it and vomits the wolfsbane out, believes it out of his system and when it's gone, he's just left raging.

because i hate kate, stiles loses control when he meets her at the hale house and kills her. he gets the pack and gets them out of the house, breaks the mountain ash circle and they leave. the hales can't go back to their house because the place is swarming with hunters

and peter and stiles figure out it was deaton who told kate everything she needed to know to set this trap and the mountain ash circle also stinks like druid, so deaton gets revealed as being the bad guy all along. stiles figures that he also poisoned him so he wouldnt interrupt, and that deaton wanted thalias alpha spark. the wendigo was a test and deaton put it there on purpose to see how strong stiles was and if he would care about the hales, because deaton knew stiles would feel the hunters killing them and ever since peter and stiles got together the druid knew he would have to murder him too to get the hales dead.

and stiles is just half feral in his wrath and the aftermath of the wolfsbane poisoning, and derek is sobbing and muttering about this being all his fault, and peter has two bullets stuck in his knees and has to be held up by his niece and his brother-in-law, and every one of them is shot and hurt and crying and talia does her best to comfort derek while shaking as well

and stiles just closes his eyes. takes a deep breath. and takes care of his family-in-law, because fuck if he isnt gonna marry peter after this. he takes them in, gives them clean and comfortable clothes, patches them up, lets them shower, yeets his living room so they have space for a big puppy pile, gives them food and water to drink and then draws a ward around his house that is strong enough deaton won't be able to find them unless he sells his soul to the king of hell.

when he's done with that, he locks the hales in and asks kira to take care of them and make sure they're okay while he's gone. she agrees and stiles goes and because he's angry and kind of more dark than i let slip until now so he just. slaughters the hunters that are left. and he enjoys it.

then he shows up to chris argents house, shocks the living hell out of allison because he's still covered in blood and ash, and goes talk to gerard, who is there for alibi purposes. he just flatly tells the truth and asks gerard how many times they've done this now. and the second the old man lets slip the hales weren't the first, stiles goes full Older Derek Hale Mode and slams him against a wall to threaten the living shit out of the man.

by threaten i mean he says that he'll kill him and there's nothing the guy can do about it, cause stiles will find him, no matter how far he runs. yknow bamf dark stiles shit. i am living for writing this scene right now bye

and then he looks at chris and allison. allison looks scared out of her mind and then she asks if thats true. if her family really did something like that. and chris has to look her square in the eye and tell her through gritted teeth that, altough he didnt know about this, yes, they did that to innocent people.

and stiles looks at chris and gives him a nod, because he knows the guy can get this right, he knows allison is strong and fierce and will be fine no matter what. he looks at gerard and sneers at him in disgust. then he leaves like the dramatic bitch he is, but not without ensuring chris will clean this mess up and make an alliance with talia.

he goes back to the house and the only one still awake is peter, and stiles breaks down completely, covered in blood from head to toe and scared out of his mind too. peter holds him, gently leads him into the shower, and helps him get cleaned up, washes his hair, picks out clothes for him, and they go to sleep together.

then, recovery. stiles organizes therapy for derek because lord knows the boy needs it, he nurses the hales healthy, shows them around in the house, they meet his friends, cora and lydia take a particularly special interest in each other, scott is sad because allison broke up with him but stiles visits the argents and talks to her a lot and they become friends too, and he knows scott will get over her eventually, just as she's getting over him.

and stiles shows the hales his life for a while until everyone is recovered, and then they go back to the hale house that he cleaned up already (because, uh, corpses had to be buried, floors had to be cleaned from blood and the smell of magic and mountain ash had to be erased)

and then peter proposes to stiles and they have a beautiful wedding by the lake where cora can talk to lydia, and derek ends up talking to scott quite a lot because scott is nervous and sweet and falls head over heels for the quiet werewolf, and guess who allison ends up with? nobody. because allison is fucking awesome and in the hunter business and she takes it upon her to start cleaning up the community and goes against hunters that are like her aunt just killing innocent people and a relationship with anybody would just be annoying. maybe she realizes she isnt even into relationships, i don't know that yet. aro ally would be interesting, dude.

And then in the end stiles goes to live with the hales and they mend their territory together so he can still visit his friends and he leaves the house to cora who eventually moves there as an adult so she can live with lydia. he and peter move out as well and they go back to town when stiles is ready, because he's lived so freaking long in the fear someone will hunt him down and kill him for his power, and now everything is peaceful. so he puts down his weapons, stops fighting, and lives happily ever after.

and has loads of sex with peter. just because.

[ascottywrites]

Best...Friends?

That Bad Friend Scott McCall tag really gets to me sometimes because even though the fandom kind of pushes it to an extreme, even before the whole Donovan and Theo business I can see how much of a suck-ass friend Scott could be. Like I don’t mean that friends should be up in each-others assholes during every given moment of the day but it is a horrible feeling to be cast aside like so much trash or easily forgotten and in cannon that happened more often than it should have for two people who call one another ‘family’. 

And I know, extenuating circumstances, storytelling, ‘poor story telling’...yada yada, but I’m also a petty ass and sometimes I need to consume the distortion in the fandom to thrive. 

**Also, lets be honest, sometimes the fanfiction is truer to the characters portrayed than the actual cannon. ijs 

This whole post is also known as “I’m a petty asshole who lives in the south so doesn’t get enough opportunities to actually be a petty asshole.” 

Anyway! On with the list! : 

Steter: 

On Edge by Bunnywest (Complete: 8/8| 23,707) 

“What do you mean, Stiles is missing?” Peter demands, scowling at the phone. "Missing, Hale! Can you help find him or not?" The sheriff's voice cracks, and Peter can tell he's out of his mind with worry. Peter doesn't blame him.

In which Stiles gets bitten by a rogue alpha and bolts into the preserve, terrified and out of control. Peter's the one best qualified to find him, because Stiles is Peter's mate. Peter maybe hasn't quite gotten around to telling him that part yet, but Stiles is his, and he's damned if he's going to lose him to some feral alpha. He's going to find his boy, bring him home, and as for the rest? Well, Peter has a plan. It's Peter. He always has a plan.

pack of two by ScarSacrifices (one-shot| 1,735) 

“You’ll be alright. No one can hurt you now,” Peter breathed out clutched the sobbing boy to his chest. Peter took a shaky breath and smoothed his hand down the boy’s hair making low shushing sounds as he did so. “Just listen to my heartbeat sweetheart, I’m here. You’re not alone,” he clutched him tighter, “not anymore.”

A Blowtorch? Really? by MysticMusic (Complete: 2/2| 4,757) 

“He’s homicidal,” she sputtered.

“No, Allison. The witches are homicidal. He’s smart,” Stiles hissed, “and if you took your narcissistic head out of your ass for five minutes, you’d see something called self-preservation instincts. Seriously what the hell is wrong with you? A blowtorch? Really? How fucking stupid are you?”

Or, Stiles defends Peter when Allison attacks him with a blowtorch like a lunatic.

I'm Only Heard During the Silence Between My Screams by Irukashi_Narukib (wip: 42/?| 52,721) 

Stiles thinks no one is listening, so he just... stops talking. It's just like that asshole Peter to refuse to take the hint.

Infinite Space by DiscontentedWinter (Complete: 13/13| 32,124) 

Stiles needs Peter's expertise to help stop the latest threat to Beacon Hills. And, as the pack falls apart around him, he might even need Peter for more than that.

Black Fire by Green (one-shot| 10,934) 

Deaton is all about the balance of the universe, about order. Stiles's new magic - gifted to him from the Nogitsune - is the complete opposite of that. Deaton calls Stiles's magic "dark" and seeks to imprison him in Eichen where he's no threat to the balance. Peter and Stiles go on the run - but they can't run forever.

The Only Sound by Elpie (Horribibble) (one-shot| 4,407) 

Stiles becomes acutely aware of the weight and vibration of his voice in his throat. He knows what volume feels like, and understands the intricacies of modulating it through context clues. If his voice shakes at first, no one seems to notice much.

Except Peter.

What It Takes To Not Be Broken by Whispering_Sumire (one-shot| 17,410) 

He's pretty sure Death is nipping at his heels at this point.

But he has to stay awake, has to keep Gerard away from Erica and Boyd, the two Betas still tied up with mountain ash and electricity on the other side of the room, and it looks like they're trying to scream through their duct-tape, still, but he can't hear it, not anymore.

The terrible, all-consuming, staticky silence had over taken him after about the third time Gerard's lackey- Ben, he thinks his name was- had stuck a military grade taser to his ear, a low enough voltage not to cause brain damage, he'd said, because the point of this was for him to talk.

[Or: The one where Stiles is kidnapped and tortured by Gerard, and his injuries lead to a complete loss of hearing, among other things.]

Sterek: 

Something With a T by Futureworldruler (wip: 10/?| 22,723)  

It started when Derek showed up at his house with a car full of plants.

Or Derek gets help, moves in with the Stilinskis, and slowly builds a new life for himself

Alpha, Mage, Pack by Foxfire2018 (wip: 36?/| 401,116)   

Set at the end of Season 2. Stiles was kidnapped and tortured for hours. Yet no one came for him. Hurt and cast out of the pack by people he thought cared for him, what is he to do? He finds himself accompanied by someone he never expected and someone he is eternally grateful for. Derek feels betrayed and foolish for what he allowed to happen. Out of anger and hurt he forced a valuable member he really started to care for out of his pack. With the pack scattered and people hurt, what will come of them? Will they bond together again in time for the next big bad?

User Error by Poison_Love_Words (wip: 10/?| 37,767) 

Given enough coffee and a few flirty texts from Mr.Bookish, Stiles could rule the world from his basement office at Triple S. That is until the day his best friend stabs him in the back for a pretty face and the (false) promise of fame and fortune.

Based on the Prompt: Omega Stiles is the real brain behind the up and coming tech company but Scott the public “face” starts to believe his own press and falls in with his new girlfriends bigoted family. He lets them talk him into kicking Stiles out of the company. And then Stiles gets revenge by going to work for the Hales.

I'll Bare My Back (If You Hold The Whip) by Kinkubus (wip: 5/?| 16,435) 

After the fiasco with the Nogistune, which Allison barely survived, Stiles is pushed to the fringes of the pack. Alienated from his previous friends and abandoned by the Sheriff who can't deal with his broken son, Stiles slips further and further into a pit of despair. That is until he finds someone even more desperate than he is, and together they forge a bond that will revitalise both their lives and the lives of Scott's crumbling pack.

So this is my first fic and it's unbeta'd so any mistakes, please feel free to correct me. That being said, I have not paid attention to canon at all in this story. Allison lives. Gerard is dead, and so is Victoria but the Alpha pack hasn't arrived yet and to be honest the timeline is shot to pieces. Therefore please suspend your disbelief. This is primarily a story about Stiles fighting through all the odds to adopt the entire pack and cuddle them to death, whilst also feeding them healthy food because yes I know you've got werewolf metabolisms Peter but good eating habits are still important ok!

Choose! by Skeleton_Wolf (one-shot| 1,437) 

Scott made him pick between his best friend and the pack that treats him like family. Is he really his best friend if he makes him pick? Can Stiles choose?

Thunderstorms & Polish Lullabies by Whispering_Sumire (one-shot| 10,057) 

Boyd is there, hovering over his claws, Isaac looks devastated, Jennifer looks bewildered and concerned and horrified, Kali looks smug, the twins are carefully keeping their faces blank but they're playing along, and- Gods, he's really going to be forced to do this, isn't he? Pack, his Pack, the make-shift family he'd all but accidentally gathered is going to die by his hand, and even if it's forced, it'll still be his fault, for wanting them, for needing them, for biting them.

Loving them.

He wants to close his eyes but he owes Boyd more than that.

And then, abruptly, in this saturated technicolor still-picture moment of chaos and violence- the eye of the storm- the door to the loft crashes open. With the water and the metal and the force of it, the sound is almost guttural, and far too loud- even Kali seems startled.

[Or, the one where Stiles time-travels just in time to save Boyd and Derek from the Alphas, and manages to heal everyone, including himself, just a little in the process.]

The One You Choose by Livinginfictions (Complete: 7/7| 13,440)  

Stiles hadn’t seen Scott in over a week, except for glances he caught during school hours.

Not Too Late to Learn by bubblessunshinedelight (wip: 20/?| 30,596)  

After 14 years Stiles realizes Scott doesn't really know him.

or Scott finds out Derek and Stiles are dating and is a dick about it...for a while.

You Belong with Me by halcyon1993 (Complete: 4/4| 19,656) 

Derek is tired of watching Stiles get treated like crap by his so-called friends. When both the Hale Pack and the McCall Pack end up in the same nightclub, Derek decides it's finally time to convince Stiles that he'd be better off with him as his Alpha.

That thin line between right or wrong by orphan_account (Complete: 7/7| 15,718) 

An AU based on the Donovan-storyline from Season 5A. After Stiles is attacked at the library and accidentally kills Donovan, he’s in shock, panics and runs. Hurt, confused, ridden with guilt and depressed, he wonders how it ever came to this point where nothing will ever feel right again. So, he decides to call the one man who knows won’t judge him. But will Derek arrive on time to save Stiles’ life?

This story basically alternates from most of Season 5, ignoring the rest of the series. Since I hated what they did with Stiles’ character after Donovan’s attack, I decided to change it all. This story is completely written from Stiles’ POV.

A Heavy Price by Estellestafford (one-shot| 4,202) 

Every Emissary wants to work for the Hale Pack, Stiles just wanted to be Scott's but then Allison happened to get some magic so that was out the window and now he finds himself in office with some hot guy offering to make him an Emissary in exchange for fulfilling his desires.

Go Away, Scott by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (Complete: 45/45| 66,227) 

After the incident at the warehouse, Stiles is fed up with Scott. He finds himself drawn into Derek’s pack and in the process, drawn to Derek himself.

With the Alpha Pack closing in, Derek needs to learn how to trust his pack and those around him. And who better to help him than Stiles?

A Healing Silence by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere (Complete: 28/28| 36,329) 

Stiles is slowly pushed out of the pack following his fight with Scott about Donovan's death. After receiving a phone number from an old friend, Stiles is surprised to find that it belongs to the one person who may be able to bring him back to himself.

[luulapants]

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 4

Based on @shey-elizabeth​‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

May 2018

“Not that close,” Laura fussed, leaning forward and grabbing Stiles’s shoulders to shift him away from Peter’s body. Peter started to pull his arm back, but she clicked her tongue and grabbed his wrist to keep it in place. “There. Comfortable, affectionate, but not intimate.”

“God forbid the public should suspect we have sex,” Peter drawled, shooting her a cold smile.

His niece scowled at him. “Don’t do that smile during the interview. That’s your murder smile.”

“How else am I supposed to smile under these conditions?” he snapped.

Stiles reached over with both hands and pressed them to Peter’s cheeks, pushing upwards so the corners of his mouth lifted. “Just think about how many assholes are going to be upset about this interview,” he advised, “and how I’m gonna blow you in the limo on the way home.”

“Stiles!” Laura hissed. She waved her clipboard at him, looking over her shoulder at the few crew members milling about the set. “Great, that’s going to end up in a tabloid…”

Peter laughed, not sure if it was Stiles’s absurd behavior or Laura’s upset that wrung it out of him. “Laura, come on. I know how to do an interview. Stiles knows how to do an interview.”

“And they’ve never gone badly for you before,” she shot back with acid. She sighed and straightened up, looking down at their placement on the interview couch like she was tempted to fix something else. Instead, she just shifted her clipboard in her hands. “We’ve confirmed all of the questions, so there shouldn’t be any surprises. Stick to what we talked about and try not to get cute?”

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Stiles assured her. Peter didn’t hear a blip in his heartbeat, which meant Stiles truly believed the dirty lie he had just told.

Peter rolled his eyes and waved her off, watching her retreat to the other side of the studio just as Leanne Mitchell, entertainment journalist and professional terror, stepped in. She had been the interviewer for Peter’s infamous coming out, and he suspected she was harboring a vendetta under that ridiculous pile of bleach-blond curls.

“Are we ready to roll? We’ll start with introductions,” she called as the crew members scrambled.

The first five minutes went by uneventfully. They recounted the proposal for her, which they had already done for half a dozen different news outlets. Peter noticed that Stiles had a bit of a script down for how he told it now, repeating the same phrases each time. Part of him wondered if the magic and joy of that memory grew thinner with each poised, practiced retelling.

“Now, the venue has gotten quite a bit of attention,” Leanne said. “Most people were expecting the ceremony to take place at a druidic temple, either Temple of Blodeuwedd, where most of your family has been married, or perhaps Gwyddion Temple in San Francisco. There was even speculation that you might choose a human house of worship for Stiles.”

He and Stiles had both had a good laugh over those news articles when the PR department presented them. They didn’t even specify which human religion they purported Stiles to follow, as if they were all equally nonessential and absurd.

“So why a non-religious venue?” Leanne asked. “Why the winery?”

“Well, when you own a wedding venue...” Stiles joked, and Peter squeezed his shoulder, silently reining him in before he could wander too far off-script. He couldn’t help the grin, though.

“We spend a lot of time there, and it’s a beautiful location,” Peter explained. “We like that it’s a little more secluded – a royal wedding is always going to have a lot of flash and publicity, but we want there to be a sense of…” He searched for the right word, glancing off to the side.

“Intimacy,” Stiles filled in. “We want it to feel like our wedding, not just a royal wedding.”

Peter turned and kissed the side of Stiles’s head. Laura would like that.

“Besides, Peter really loves the winery,” Stiles continued. “It’s his labor of love. It wouldn’t feel right if it wasn’t there with us.” He was quite good at these soundbites when he put his mind to it.

“It does look like a spectacular location. I think we have some photos we can run for the viewers,” Leanne said, looking toward the camera. She paused, then turned back to them.

“And will you have a druid officiating the ceremony or will you try for something more… multicultural?” she ventured, fishing for some sign that Stiles was going to muck up royal tradition with weird human shit.

“My family isn’t very religious,” Stiles explained. “My parents were both raised Eastern Orthodox, but I think I went to mass maybe five times as a kid.”

“Our pack emissary will be officiating, as he did for my sister and niece,” Peter added.

Looking unperturbed by the lack of scandal, Leanne changed the subject. “So, Peter, tell me a bit about your suit. We all know you have quite the refined fashion sense.”

Peter couldn’t glance over at Stiles, could only pray that he wasn’t making a derisive face at her words. “It’s slate gray, and we’ve found a really talented embroidery house out of Los Angeles, so it will be embroidered with navy...” He went on about the designer, the ethical manufacturing, the locally sourced artistry. All of the bits Laura had put bold and underlined on his talking points.

Leanne turned to Stiles with a sweet smile, and Peter smelled blood in the metaphorical water. “Of course, the fashion questions here are a bit different than your typical royal wedding. What will you be wearing, Stiles?”

Not ‘tell me about your suit.’ Not ‘will you be wearing the same thing?’

“Any surprises?” she added.

Peter knew it was about to go sideways before Stiles even opened his mouth, but he made no attempt to rein him in this time.

“Well, you know, I was gonna go for the white dress, but I just don’t have the hips for it,” he said. “Besides, have you seen how pale I am?” He held out an arm and pulled up his sleeve in demonstration. “They’ve got flash filters for the werewolf eyes, but nothing’s going to tame all of this pasty goodness dressed in white.” Peter bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

On the other side of the room, he could hear the clipboard in Laura’s hands creaking under the strain of her grip. She thought this was going to be over quickly, or was hoping. Peter knew better, could hear the way Stiles’s tone was ramping up as the indignation and sarcasm and pettiness churned at one another. Once he got going, he would keep going until stopped.

“Plus, there’s all that historical nonsense with white being for virgins -”

The clipboard snapped in half.

“So obviously that was out. Then I started thinking, you know, what’s the opposite of that? And then I thought, leather.” Peter’s battle against his composure was steadily losing ground, his shoulders and chest shaking in silent hysterics. “Leather pants, leather vest – no shirt, of course.” Leanne’s mouth had dropped open, and it seemed she had forgotten how to close it again.

Peter cracked and had to press the side of his fist to his mouth to stifle it. “Sweetheart,” he chastised through laughter, figuring he really should cut this off before Stiles dug himself deeper than even he wanted to go.

Stiles glanced at Peter, sheepish but not half as sheepish as he should have looked, considering. He shook his head and sighed. “I have a matching suit. It’s navy with gray embroidery.”

God, this was a disaster. Talia was going to flay him alive. Peter, for the life of him, couldn’t get his laughter under control. “Why don’t you -” he attempted, but he was still laughing as he spoke. He tried again, still laughing, but powered through. “Why don’t you ask us about catering?” he suggested.

Beside him, Stiles snorted and abruptly broke into wheezing hysterics of his own.

It was the last wedding interview Laura would ask them to do.

----

“Oh my god, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking,” Stiles laughed against Peter’s shoulder. “I thought I was going to drop that fucking candle and burn down the altar.”

They had retreated to the cottage on the east end of the vineyard, where he and Stiles would get thirty whole minutes to catch their breath between the ceremony and the reception. Cameras had followed them on the winding path through the rows of grapevines. Peter, for once, had barely noticed, Stiles’s hand warm and firm in his own, both of them tense and exuberant and giddy with relief all at once.

The second the door had closed behind them, Stiles had pressed into Peter’s space, clinging to him with hysterical little giggles.

For once, Peter didn’t find himself wondering how the optics had turned out, if anyone had made an inappropriate expression during the ceremony, if he hadn’t looked regal enough or if the personalized vows would be well-received.

“Come here,” he said, tugging Stiles over to the sitting area. He pulled back just long enough to take off his suit jacket. Someone had set out a rack with coat hangers for them. God forbid they should arrive to the reception with wrinkled fabric. They sat curled together on the couch, quietly willing their jitters away. “So how does it feel?” Peter asked.

“You mean aside from the crippling anxiety?” Stiles joked. He snuggled in and kissed the spot just below Peter’s earlobe. “Not very different. Just feels like being with you. Feels normal.”

“Yeah, but now you can’t get rid of me,” Peter reminded him with a smirk.

“I already couldn’t get rid of you.” He settled his head against Peter’s shoulder, and Peter could hear his jittery heartbeat steadying.

----

It seemed like hardly any time had passed at all before an attendant came to fetch them for the reception. The cameras trailed after them on the walk to the main hall. Peter could scarcely recognize the place under the layers of fabric and flowers and chandeliers. The decorator had really gone all out to turn his chic, modern winery into a traditional, romantic royal venue.

Peter had expected polite clapping as they entered the room, but Stiles’s contingent of guests broke into raucous hoots and hollers that at first seemed to startle the royals. Then, after a moment, he heard a few familiar voices breaking out in cheers as well – Derek, Laura and Marco, Cora. Talia couldn’t, he knew, but she grinned at him like she wanted to all the same.

The lights dimmed, leaving them with nothing but the summer sun as it streamed through the plate glass windows. The music came up.

A few months before they got together, Peter had showed up at Stiles’s apartment one night to the sound of The Four Tops crooning I’m in a Different World. Stiles had been at the stove in a pair of jeans and an apron, waving a spatula as he sung along. He turned around and grinned at Peter, still swinging his hips and dancing like an idiot.

“This is a change of pace for you,” Peter had commented. Normally, Stiles listened to club music, pop, electronica.

“My dad and I found a bunch of my mom’s old CDs when I was helping him move,” Stiles explained. He removed a pancake from the skillet, then turned the stove off. “She was obsessed with Motown. I’ve been listening to it for, like, three days straight.”

The song ended, and soft piano came on, a song Peter didn’t recognize.

“Oh man, she loved this one,” Stiles sighed. He turned and wandered toward Peter.

Then, Gladys Knight’s soft voice joined the music, singing,

“I've had my share of life's ups and downs

But fate's been kind, the downs have been few

I guess you could say that I've been lucky

Well, I guess you could say that it's all because of you”

Stiles’s arms settled over his shoulders, and Peter gripped his hips, helpless to do anything but sway with the music while Stiles sang along. It felt silly, but then Stiles looked him in the eye as he sang, “Cause you're the best thing that ever happened to me.” And it didn’t feel silly at all.

The first dance song would be called out in most of the endless blog lists of ‘surprises and unforgettable moments’ from their wedding. Another that made the majority of the lists came just after dinner.

Talia, seated at Peter’s right, stood and tapped her fork against her glass. She hardly needed the noise, though. The moment she rose, every eye went immediately to her, the room falling silent within moments.

“I want, once again, to thank everyone for being here to celebrate with us today,” she said, her tone poised. “Peter, Stiles, I can’t express the joy I feel when I see the two of you together, how happy you make one another. I know it’s traditional for wedding gifts to be opened after the wedding, but I have one which doesn’t come wrapped in paper. If you don’t mind, I would like to present it to you now.”

Peter lifted his eyebrows at her and nodded. He had a pretty good idea of where this was going. There had been quite a lot of buzz over whether Talia would carve out part of the crown’s territory for Peter and Stiles or whether she would leave them without titles beyond succession to the crown. There had also been quite a lot of talk over whether two men could hold the same title.

An attendant came to Talia’s side and supplied her with a scroll of paper, tied with a blue ribbon. “Peter, Stiles, it is my honor to grant you title over a part of our family’s territory. And it seems fitting to make the announcement here, in a place you have made yourselves so much at home.”

It was Santa Rosa, then. A small city, to be sure, but notable enough in name that it would give some measure of respectability.

“By my decree, I now grant to both of you the title Duke of Sonoma County.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. Not just Santa Rosa but the whole county. While Talia was the queen of the entirety of the United States and Canada, the crown held direct rule over ten counties surrounding San Francisco Bay. By land area, Sonoma County was the largest of the ten. He looked over at Stiles and found the same stunned look on his face.

Belatedly, Peter lurched to his feet, and leaned in to take the paper and kiss his sister on the cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured.

----

Of the blogs and tabloid articles and Youtube videos recounting the surprises and touching moments, the ending of their vows made an appearance in every one.

He and Stiles stood at the altar, hands held together, wrapped in a white cloth. They had gone back and forth, exchanging the vows one by one.

Do you promise to protect me?

I do. Do you promise to protect me?”

I do.

Do you promise to be patient?

Finally, Peter said, “Do you promise to love me always, even when I get on your nerves?”

And Stiles grinned and squeezed his hands inside of the cloth. “Peter, I promise to love you always. Especially when you get on my nerves. Do you promise to love me always, even when I get on your nerves?”

“Especially then.”

----

The real surprising moment, which none of the tabloids would learn about, came at the end of the night, when half of the guests had retired to their hotels or homes. A buffet of Indian food had been brought in as a late-night snack. Stiles was sitting with some of his friends, his head resting on Kira’s shoulder as he stuffed pakora into his face with half-lidded eyes.

Peter felt as tired as Stiles looked. He had been warned that wedding night sex was essentially a myth. Talia had advised him to leave the comforter off the bed in the cottage. By the time everything was over, they would be too exhausted to even pull back the blankets.

“Peter,” said a voice to his left, and he forced himself to smile as he looked up. Archduchess Iris was his great-aunt, on his father’s side. She had been around quite a lot when he was a child, but less so since his parents passed in his twenties. He remembered her as being old back then, her face creased with wrinkles, hair gray and white. The only difference now was that she had lost the bits of gray.

“Aunt Iris,” he greeted, standing and kissing her cheek. “I’m so glad you could make it. And impressed that you’re still out partying at this hour.” Most of the older guests had made their exits already.

She smiled and sat next to him. “Well, I wanted to give you my personal congratulations before I leave,” she told him, and Peter couldn’t help but feel touched. Most of the older generation had seemed affronted or at least mildly uncomfortable since his coming out. Marrying a commoner human hadn’t helped matters. “You seem very happy.”

“I am,” he agreed. “Thank you. It means a lot, knowing my family is happy for me.”

“It’s been a difficult adjustment, for a lot of the family,” she conceded. “They worry what it means for our species, for our titles, our culture.” She patted his hand. “They’re not malicious people. They just fear change.” Iris sighed and reached into her purse, pulling out a small slip of paper. “I know that you will be able to uphold our way of life as well as anyone, Peter. You’re a good man.”

She passed him the paper, and Peter felt his heart lurch as he looked it over. Epona Surrogacy Services: surrogacy specialists for weres, kitsune, and others. He looked up at her, not sure what to say.

“You didn’t think you would get out of the baby nagging just because you’re gay, did you?” she teased.

“Honestly?” Peter breathed, looking back down at the card. “I sort of did.”

----

As Talia had predicted, they barely managed to get out of their suits after they retired to the cottage for the night. They slept until nearly noon the next day, lazy and warm in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Stiles lie on top of him, rutting against him with two of Peter’s fingers curled inside of him. He came with a quiet moan against Peter’s lips. Once he had recovered, he sat up and rode him at an agonizingly slow pace until Peter thought he would lose his mind.

“Your first act as my husband is to torture me,” Peter whined. He tried again to grip Stiles’s hips, though Stiles had already batted his hands away twice. This time, he grabbed both of Peter’s hands and laced their fingers together.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” Stiles replied.

Afterward,  they opted to shower separately, if only because they had a plane to catch that afternoon. Peter was still rinsing the shampoo from his hair when Stiles came back into the bathroom and leaned against the counter.

“Surrogacy services, huh?” he called over the sound of the water.

Peter froze, then hastily finished rinsing before sticking his head out of the shower door. “My Aunt Iris gave that to me last night,” he explained. “She said we weren’t going to get out of the baby nagging simply because we’re both men.”

Stiles stared down at the card thoughtfully. “And this...” He waved the card toward Peter. “This is something you want to do?”

He hesitated. It was a big discussion, one that they had touched on in more vague terms. A conversation he thought they would start having much, much later than this. The last they had left it, they were both open to the idea, but neither of them felt that they needed children in their lives to be fulfilled. “I don’t know,” Peter admitted.

“Me neither,” Stiles agreed.

Peter reached back and turned the water off. He could use leave-in conditioner. Reaching for a towel, he suggested, “Would it be okay if we tabled this until after the honeymoon?”

Stiles’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Definitely.”

----

An attendant had left them a newspaper to read on their way to Bali. Peter glanced through it while Stiles played games on his computer.

Smiling, he nudged Stiles’s arm and turned the paper to show him the headline of the Society section:

Princes Peter and Stiles Buck Tradition with Style

[serendipitioussurvival]

Queen and Gentry - Steter

His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.

Oh. Fuck.

It started with small things; brief touches against his arm that could be mistaken for her trying to shoulder check him, or offering him meals and little desserts that she had made. Then she started to show up at his address - how she had gotten it made him proud and annoyed, it was his home dammit - and made sure he came to pack meets. Because she gravitated towards his side during pack meets so did Erica and Vernon until they, too, were scenting him as pack. It was insulting and beautiful at first until he began to feel the pack bonds with them form. Stiles had saved them, they followed her as if she were their alpha, and because she was including him - for whatever reason - he was a part of their small pack. 

Because Peter rarely took anything without giving something - though that something was often in the form of scathing replies, sarcastic wit, and dramatic eye rolls - in return, he made sure to start ‘leaving’ books around on magic for the little Spark to read up on. It went from small things to a very real, very important thing the moment she, Erica, and Vernon stood up for him when Scott and Derek found out that he was teaching them how to fight and defend themselves, how to work as a unit. Scott, as expected, was pissed off that they - his pack - were doing something that would promote violence behind his back.

Derek was pissed off that his sired beta’s had not asked him to teach them, especially when he had tried before. 

“You tried, sourwolf? I’m fairly certain that what you did was literally throw around three betas without giving them an idea of what they were supposed to do and or focus on, and then - when they were hurt, you broke their bones to get the healing factor to kick in faster!” Stiles raged, standing in front of the three betas with a glare that was equal to that of an Alpha. “Peter told them how to use their senses, how to get their healing to kick in faster without extra pain. He’s been at it longer, he’s been a Beta longer, he knows how to teach other Betas to control their shift and find their anchors.” then, with a fury that made her breathtaking, she rounded on Scott. 

“And you! You expect everyone to just lay down and not cause a fight because you’re a fucking ‘True Alpha’?! You’re still a teenager, Scott, people will see that before they see you as the ‘True Alpha’ you’re trying to keep as a claim. What if another Gerard shows up, Scott, huh? What if he takes Erica and Vernon again, what if they decide that they want to shoot up some of our pack after they agree to a peace treaty? Huh? What then?!” 

“We still have to give them that option for peace, Stiles!” he urged, confused as to hell why she was so adamant on siding with Peter when she normally was on his side with certain arguments. “Gerard was a mistake, but -”

“Allison was the one who shot them full of arrows!” Stiles was a spastic, energetic, and loud girl. Such was why her calm, curt, still fury was so worrying for those in the room. “Allison, Scott, and I love her like a sister, but it was Ali who shot them full of arrows, repeatedly, because Gerard manipulated her.” 

“Gerard was evil-” Scott tried, angry for her bringing up Allison but also sad because she had. 

“There are more people like Gerard than you know, Scott.” and maybe it was because his friend, his sister, was looking at him like he was a moron or a child, but it had Scott raging. 

“People like Peter?! He killed people too!” and maybe that wasn’t exactly the right thing to say, because now Derek was edging towards Stiles, choking on her anger and wanting her to calm down because Erica and Vernon were tensing for a fight behind her. 

“Peter killed guilty people who deserved to fucking die.” Peter had never had anyone he wasn’t openly manipulating angry for him. For Stiles to be so on his side, to agree with what he had done… “Peter didn’t take a human fucking girl from the middle of a Lacrosse win to beat her senseless so she could be made into a message to the Alpha and her werewolf best friend.” and to that the entire room stiffened.”You knew,” she spat,  “You just didn’t want to believe it.” 

“You-you're lying-” before he could finish the half-hearted attempt to regain control of the situation - his mind, honestly - Erica and Vernon both growled and shifted with intent to hurt him. 

“No.” All it took was for Stiles to look at both of them for them to remain where they were and calm down, burning cinnamon cooling down and releasing its grip on the ‘were’s in the room. “Scott, are you ordering us as Alpha to stop these training sessions?” she was furious, but there was a calm acceptance to her that actually scared the ‘were’s. This felt like a charged moment, like whatever Scott said would change everything. 

“I -” Scott wanted to say yes, he really did, but he understood the need for everyone to learn how to protect themselves. Ever since that lacrosse game, Stiles had quit and gone to some self-defense classes that a few of her dad’s colleagues were putting her through. Now she was learning how to fight werewolves from Peter and Scott - Scott only saw Peter as using this for an opportunity to turn his friends against him. 

“He’s turning you against me, can’t you see that’s what he’s doing?” He tried again, needing his friend, his sister, to see reason. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Is that an order, Alpha McCall?” it was in instances like this that Peter saw how truly remarkable of a wolf she would make. Her fury was calculated and directed with a level of intelligence that would make other Alpha’s blush. She knew just what to say to utterly demolish her opponent and she could say it with a ferocity that rivaled a raging Omega. 

“No.” Scott bit out, shoving his hands into his hair to try and relieve the pressure that was building there. 

“Good, then we’re not going to discuss what I do in my free time with pack members you neglect.” In a movement that could be taken as a challenge to any other Alpha Stiles spun around, openly rubbed her cheek against Erica’s, then Boyd’s, and finally, with a narrowed glare that dared Peter to try and deny her, rubbed the other side of her cheek against his previously scarred one. She smelled of rain when he actually moved his face into the motion, scenting her back despite how stunned he still was. “You are the Alpha, Scotty, but I am the Emissary and this is my pack.” 

After that she and Scott got into arguments frequently, most of which devolved into screaming matches that had the other pack members flinching away from the table. Lydia and Allison were, surprisingly enough, on Stiles’s side, despite saying that Scott still had some good points to his arguments. Peter never needed to be dragged to another Pack meet again as he went willingly. 

It was a month later that she called a pack meeting, asking for everyone to show up. When everyone - including Chris Argent - was present in the room - including one confused Alan Deaton - Stiles entered the loft smelling of Peppermint and ash. 

“I’m adding one more to our pack.” and, as expected, confusion and alarm broke out. 

“Who?” Chris asked her, drowning out the questions of ‘What have you done’ and ‘what do you mean?’

“Deucalion.” she stayed standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiant and completely set in her decision despite the two shouts that were immediately aimed at her. Scott being the loudest. “You granted him mercy, but you also made him an Omega. Omega’s go fucking crazy, you really want to deal with a crazy Deucalion?”

“I agreed with her,” Derek told him when he stood by her side, surprising Scott further. “He learned how to fight while he was blind, Scott, he learned how to utilize his senses in a way I’ve never even heard of. Stiles, Erica, Boyd and I already met with him a couple times.” 

“You already met him? You already decided on this without asking me, without-” 

“It’s what I’m doing now, Scott. Pack meet, pack discuss, pack decide. I started checking on him to make sure he wasn’t losing his sanity, that was three months ago.” and Chris, god bless him, was the voice of reason right alongside his daughter and Lydia. 

“Erica, Vernon, you’re okay with him joining the pack?” because he had been the one who had taken them captive and held them captive for months until Stiles had found them. 

“He stopped Kali from torturing us,” Erica announced with a shrug from her spot on the spiral staircase beside Peter. “Honestly I think he’s the only reason I’m alive, Kali was especially pissed off that day. He’s… he’s not the same.” 

“I think it’s because he got his eyesight back,” Boyd agreed, arm wrapped tight around Erica while she sat between his legs on the staircase, just a few steps below Peter. “If he tries anything, well, we’re a large pack, we can take him.” 

“He’s another Alpha!” Scott distressed, “he could just kill me and take over the pack!” Stiles rolled her eyes and looked to Derek, as if asking for him to take over. Peter was too awed at the way Stiles had changed, at the way she seemed to no longer be trying to actively hide her true self from everyone and instead embraced it with conviction that had him hungry for her. When Derek put his hands up in a ‘It’s all on you’ motion she sighed heavily and turned her champagne gold eyes on Scott.

“Scott, no offense bud, but I could kill you, and take the Alpha spot. You don’t come to training, you don’t try to run with the others on the full moon, and you’re actively denying your wolf’s instincts.” of course he had, he never wanted to be a werewolf! “See, that’s exactly my point!” ah, this was the point where it would divulge into a screaming match. “You don’t want it, never wanted it, so you’re denying it while trying to keep the authority of it! You can’t be an absent leader, Scott!” 

“You don’t know what it’s like!” it was funny how he became the flailing ones whereas Mieczyslawa was the calm, collected hurricane she was always meant to be. 

“Scott, you don’t have Asthma anymore, you’re basically always fucking ripped, you can literally feel familial bonds, you’ve gained more attention from the female Populus in these past two years than you ever had, and you made first line as well as Captain of the Lacrosse team!” her hand slapped harshly into her chest and drew a flinch from those that cared about her. “You could still be asthmatic getting chunky with me on fast food and snacks spending every Friday night binging video games and sitting on the bench during lacrosse games while we lament about how we wish things were different. You found your anchor, your mom literally told you to fucking stick it to someone who could kill her because she believed in you. You’re only problems are because you’re denying that wolf side of you that you keep seeing as a monster!” 

“Well why don’t you ask me to bite you then so you can be a wolf!” and there it was, the question Peter had been asking himself ever since she had denied him in the parking garage what felt like an eternity ago. 

“Because it would hurt too fucking much to realize you don’t need me as much as I need you.” and that… well, Peter understood that. It brought the whole situation into perspective for him and brought a whole new understanding to her reaction when he had asked her. She didn’t want to be like him, that had been a truth and a lie, because if she turned into a werewolf she would’ve been like him. Bondless, alone and on the road to insanity that most likely would’ve resulted in her death. “Pack vote on Deucalion.” amidst the awkward atmosphere the majority vote was for Deucalion joining, Scott was too stunned to put his own vote in, let alone deny said vote. 

Erica and Vernon flanked her when she took her leave, putting all attention on Scott as he stood, flabbergasted, in the same spot he had been in. Few people glanced to Allison, as if to gauge her reaction to hearing that - was it a confession? - declaration from her best friend toward her ex-boyfriend. 

“Well, it was about time for that.” Lydia expressed with a dramatic sigh as she pushed away from the table. “It’s not a romantic confession, Scott, so don’t go thinking too highly of yourself. Honestly,” she smacked her lips and eyed the room with a hint of distaste. “I hoped she’s snap sooner or later, called me out at the Homecoming but didn’t care that she was hiding her real personality from everyone.” She sniffed derisively and flicked her hair over her shoulder, glaring at Peter with a tone of acceptance that hadn’t previously been there. “Hm.” and with that high pitched huff of approval and acceptance, she sashayed her way out of the room. 

Peter wasn’t sure how he was supposed to actually react to the current scheme of things. Not only had Stiles openly declared that Peter was a part of her pack, but she would also openly fight Scott for his current placement in her scheme of things. Her pack, which consisted of Deucalion, peter, Erica, Vernon, and apparently Lydia. From the look that was shared between Chris and Allison, the two were in favor of what Stiles was saying. It was then that Peter made sense of the little touches she made sure to do to him, the way she made meals or gave him little baked goods. How she was always, always trading sneers with him and openly challenging him. The entire time she had been scenting him, considering him pack, showing him he had a place with her. 

He was strangely touched and insulted that a teenage girl thought that she could force a pack bond on him just because she didn’t want to deal with him going omega crazy again. In the same breath he knew that wasn’t why she had done it, she would’ve told him outright if that had been her reasoning, instead she showed up at his house so often that her scent could always be found in some corner of his apartment, left a few of her jackets - there was even a cover she used when she showed up very suddenly declaring that she was going to use his couch to sleep and if he touched her she would wolfsbane mace him. He had been too stunned at her brashness to even react before she was curled up on his couch with a fluffy cover curled around shoulders. 

When he had recovered he had wanted to bang his pots together, toss her off the couch, play the T.V at its loudest volume. Instead he found himself walking softly, barely using the oven, let alone the microwave in case the sound was too loud to wake her up, and checked on her frequently to make sure that she was fine. 

Little tart took that as permission to do it frequently too. Still, through all this he only knew of Stiles being ‘Stiles’ - he didn’t want to make her presence seem permanent in his life by hiring a P.I to find out her real name (since none of her fucking friends knew it, thank you Scott) - and was utterly floored when it was Deucalion who called her true name out in the middle of a sparring practice. 

“You’re doing good, Mieczyslawa, this time focus on the way the air feels against your skin. You’re not a werewolf, but you can feel the change, every human can. You just have to attune yourself to it.” she nodded and vanilla sprouted from her in her pleasure at having her true name called so perfectly. “I’ll go slow and progress the more successful you are.” another nod but neither were ignorant of the stares centered on them. Stiles was not a werewolf but she was doing better than Erica and Vernon when it came to the training Deucalion implemented. She was doing so well, in fact, that it often meant she was doing lessons with him on the side, or during breaks in between their training sessions. 

She didn’t dodge the first time Deucalion shoved her though she did follow his movements when he stalked around her. After the first three shoves she managed to dodge or swipe his hand away, then after that she stumbled only twice, managing to keep up pace with him until he started using his werewolf speed. 

“Okay,” she sighed heavily and settled into a stance, captivating them all with her pure ozone that leaked from her. “Deuce, try again.” to his credit he did without hesitation. Where she once fumbled she was now sure in her movements, where she was choppy she was now graceful, and the pace with which she moved had increased until both their limbs were nothing but blurs. “I’m fucking NEO!” she shouted in glee after the session, cackling madly with Erica at her side, questioning just how the fuck she had done that. 

Peter, however, was trying to remember how Deucalion had pronounced her name, tried to form it without being too obvious. He would never admit, even under the threat of torture, that he was jealous that Deucalion knew what her real name was and, from the way they were talking in another language that sounded harsh and beautiful, could also speak whatever language it was she was fluent in. 

“It’s Polish,” Deucalion answered his unasked question when Erica and Vernon left with Stiles hours later. Peter tried not to seem too interested when he looked at Deucalion but felt his eyebrow twitching when the man was wiping his hands on a rag, grinning slightly every time he glanced at Peter as if he were amused. “Her name and the language.” he wondered how he knew but refused to ask it, he didn’t want him to think that Peter owed him for answering simple questions. If he elected to talk without being asked anything then that was his business, Peter was just enjoying his confusing day. “We looked into the human who taught a sireless Beta how to control himself, though we thought she was a Druid at first.” with a shrug Deucalion tossed the rag on his shoulder and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can imagine our surprise and suspicion when we found she wasn’t a Druid and was purely human.”

Purely human? Yes, that’s what he had thought at first too.

“Then she trespasses onto our territory, charms Ennis, and takes our hostages before they can even be utilized.” yes, he had been shocked all to hell and back when she showed up at the old Hale House with two twitchy Betas and a ghost. The ghost being his niece whom he thought was dead, another one who had been abandoned like he had. She had recently gone back to South America - Beacon Hills was ‘too cold’ for her - but she and Peter kept in touch through Skype and phone calls. 

“Erica says you stopped Kali from torturing them,” to his credit the Alpha sighed heavily and sank into the pillar of the porch. “Why?”

“Because Derek was supposed to kill them, if they perished before they got the chance then that was one less beta who’s abilities he could absorb.” He was honest, at least, so points for him. “Now… now I think it would’ve been a great loss to involve her any more than she had been.” it most definitely would have been, Stiles had the severity of loyalty that made her put her own life in front of those she cared for. 

Peter didn’t expect him to be one of those people, especially since he could fucking heal. 

“You stupid, idiot girl!” he panicked and clutched her tighter to his chest while Chris drove them to the hospital. “What gave you the right!? I can heal but you can’t you -” her pinched expression turned wry, even though the pain he was trying to drain from her but couldn’t because the little tart was somehow stopping him from doing it. “Let me take your pain!” 

“You’re-” she groaned and shut her eyes tight, “So dramatic, it’s just a - just a bullet.” Just a bullet, yeah for him maybe! It had been intended for his heart but she had fucking jumped right in front of it and took it instead. He would kill her, he would save her first and then kill her and then bring her back just to kill her again for causing this pain in his chest. He hadn’t even wanted her fucking pack bond and now he could feel the pain she was denying him from taking through it and he couldn’t- “Peter, breathe.” and with her calm placations he raged. Her, who was currently bleeding profusely into Chris’s back seat, was going to tell him to calm down when she could be dying!? 

“Fuck you.” he snapped, then - “Let me take your pain damn you!” her brows furrowed even deeper at that, as if she didn’t know why he couldn’t. 

“I’m not - not stopping you from doing it.” and it was hard to tell if she were lying or telling the truth because her hummingbird heartbeat was fucking normal and that did absolutely nothing for his control. “An-anyway, hunting season, I just, rounded a mend when - someone took a shot.” she grimaced and sank into Peter’s hold. “Didn’t - didn’t-”

“My daughter and Isaac stuck around to try and find the Hunter while Peter and I rushed you to the hospital.” Chris finished when she started coughing, jaw tight every time he looked at her through the rearview mirror. “We were tracking the deer when we came around the cliff face overlooking the city when the shot rang out.” she sagged completely against him and nodded briefly, eyelids lowering slowly as the exhaustion set in. “The hunter used a 30.06 and that’s a common hunting rifle caliber. It’ll all be plausible.” Chris was impressed with her ability to come up with an alibi even through her pain, that didn’t mean he was calm. He didn’t have a werewolf’s sensory amplification but he could smell her blood as if it were covering him. The normally fair-skinned girl was now sickly pale with sweat making her hair stick to her forehead and her eyes - which were regularly black - now looked sunken. 

“Peter, don’, don’ wolf out, kay?” she breathed, “‘m fine. ‘n don’ wolf out ‘n Scott, either. Chris, don’ le’ em.” she cleared her throat and hissed when Peter jumped out of the car the moment Chris pulled it up in front of the Emergency entrance. “Hi, ‘lissa!” she chirped when several nurses motioned for Peter to put her on a gurney, beaming even though her eyelids were drooping shut again. “Fancy meet’n you here.” 

“I just thought I'd stop by.” Melissa offered through the tears that had started to shed at the sight of Stiles covered in blood. Chris was rushing in the exact moment they wheeled her away, leaving two panicking adults while another nurse tried to get answers from them. He took over easily enough, especially when Peter completely froze at the sight of her blood on his hands. Chris could only assume what was going through his head - he was certain that it had to do something with the darkest part of his memories -  and didn’t want to push him too far less he snap and wolf out. 

It was strangely easy to get Peter to one of the showers in an empty room they’d been led to so that he could wash his arms and hands. Nothing could be done for the shirt, but then again Peter would still be able to smell her blood. Erica and Vernon came later, breathing hard and immediately gravitating near Peter. Jeorek came minutes later and was immediately dragged away by Melissa and a doctor. 

Peter was furious, he was sad, he was enraged and he was so fucking confused. He couldn’t take her pain but she wasn’t stopping him from doing it. She had taken a bullet meant for him and he was covered in her fucking life blood and he didn’t like it. She had placated him even though she were in pain and he didn’t fucking know what all of this meant. 

He knew his bond that he had with her hurt, that it was aching and dulling the longer time went on - he wasn’t sure if that was because she was dying or because she was sedated, he hoped beyond hope that it was the latter. If it was the former he- well, he wasn’t sure what he would do, or how he would react. He knew, faintly, that his thoughts were calm and hectic, that he had underlying thought processes ranging from several ‘what ifs’ to dozens of ‘but this could happen’, none of it really went focused on for more than a second overtop the large, terrifying thought, of ‘She could die.’

She could die. 

She could die.

She was probably dying.

She was - and it was because of him - maybe not directly but indirectly. She, she forced the bond on him without asking! He had asked her if she wanted the bite and now she was taking him down with her and-

“Peter,” he curled his hands into fists and dug them into his abdomen, not wanting to look at them any longer, not when he could still smell the blood that had once coated them. “She’s going to be okay,” he looked up them, glaring at Chris and his calm freaking demeanor that had him wanting to rip his fucking throat out. “The bullet nicked an artery but she’s okay.” 

“It wouldn’t have nicked an artery if she hadn’t jumped in front of me.” he growled, fists pressing tighter into his abdomen so he wouldn’t run them through his hair or into someone elses throat. 

“You’re pack, of course she was going to jump in front of you.” Erica growled, pacing in front of Vernon - who was standing by the wall with his arms crossed across his chest. 

“I never asked to be pack!” 

“You never told her no!” Erica snarled at him, flashing her eyes and challenging him in a way that had his ass slamming right back into his seat before he could flash even a hint of fang. “She claimed you as pack over and over and you ever once told her no!” Peter rose with the calm fury he’d perfected all his life, truly on the edge now that this Beta, this beautifully protective and ignorant beta had tried to challenge him. HIM. 

“I don’t want to be part of her pack.” he didn’t, he really fucking didn’t, not when she could get hurt and die at any fucking point, Spark or no. She could heal, she’d heal faster than a regular human, but she couldn't heal a bullet to the heart or head or throat. She was human and he couldn’t deal - he wouldn’t be able to take it if she died. Not when it made him feel every single one of his pack bonds burning all over again as his family died. As they suffered. 

“Then tell her.” Jeorek challenged, arms crossed tightly to prevent himself from reaching for his gun to shoot the bastard that would dare leave his daughter now. “You don’t want to be a part of her pack then you tell that to her face and break that bond instead of letting it be drawn out.” how dare them, how dare all of them do this to him, try to keep him in a place he didn’t want to be! 

He had stormed out with full intent to come back and tell her that he didn’t want to be a part of her pack. 

He never did. Never went back or went to visit her despite every nerve in his body and every urge of his wolf telling him he needed to go see her, to make sure she was okay, to confirm that she was healing. Instead, he focused on researching what he could about the hunters that would dare hunt in Argent territory and avoiding the general populous. 

Mieczyslawa, of course, had to take that plan and just fucking wreck it. 

“You are the most idiotic mother fucker this side of Beacon hills.” Stiles Stilinski groused, standing in his doorway, looking as emotionally wrecked as she was physically. Damn him he couldn’t actually look at the brace on her arm that kept it slung against her chest. He couldn’t look at the bandages and wound dressing that peaked out from beneath her loose top. “You want to be emotionally stunted for the rest of your life? Fine. You tell me right now you want out of the pack and I’ll leave you alone, forever.” 

“Just like that?” he snarked, claws coming out to impale the wall of his door, not that she could see it anyway. “After dragging me to pack meets for months and dragging me into your little group of misfits you’ll let me go, just like that?”

“Yes.” damn him he loved that she could tell the truth and lie all with a single word. He loved and hated that her eyes were like gold, burnt and broken but so defiant that it made him hate her all the more. “I won’t force you to be somewhere you don’t want to be, but only if you really don’t want to be there. I’m not going to take half-assed excuses or reasons, Peter. You’re a grown-ass man, if you give me some bullshit excuse then I’m going to tell you to fuck off until you give me a better one.” who the hell did she think she was. He didn’t need to give her a reason or an excuse. If he said he didn’t want to be in her fucking pack then that was all he had to say!

“I don’t,” he growled out, knuckle deep in his drywall. “Want to be,” cinnamon began melting with brown sugar, gold eyes turning to a dark russet brown in her acceptance and grief. “In your pack.” he expected her to fight, was ready for it, but that cinnamon and brown sugar turned too sweet, too rich for him to take too many deep breaths. She stared at him for a moment, then two until he was finally ready to snap at her. 

“Fine.” his heart dropped to his stomach when she turned around and marched away, quickened steps doing nothing to take away her scent from his doorway. He hadn’t been able to bask in her scent for a week, hadn’t been able to see her or appreciate the small things about her habits that actually made him yearn for her. Now, with her scent so potent in his doorway, he found he wanted to just stand there, breathe her in even though it was physically painful to do so. Cinnamon and brown sugar, the too-sweet warmth that made his throat close up and his eyes burn. The scent that had built and built until it was overpowering her natural scent and leaving him with it saturating the area of his apartment. 

The smell of her heartbreak. 

He didn’t run after her despite every molecule in his body telling him to - if he were being honest it was because his body and wolf were telling him to go after her that he fought it so hard. He got three noise complaints that night and, by the morning, had a new living room table ordered to be shipped to him. 

He thought she’d message him at least once within the next week. 

She didn’t. 

He didn’t hear anything until he dragged his ass with the conviction that he didn’t care, he was just trying to figure out what his Nephew and true Alpha McCall were planning, to the pack meeting. 

There was no pack meeting, only Derek and - surprisingly enough - Cora were chilling out in Derek’s loft. They seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Then, then there was anger. Anger from Cora. 

“Now you show up.” she stalked towards him with a fury that was both impressive and confusing. Why it was directed at him he had no idea. “After a whole month, Uncle Peter, you are just now showing up?!” and then she was punching him right in his solar plexus, catching him off guard with how fast she went from confrontational to physical. 

“Cora, he doesn’t know.” Derek groused, sighing heavily over the dozens of open books laid out on his table. “Stiles isn’t in Beacon Hills.” that, that had taken his breath away far quicker than Cora’s punch had. She wasn’t in beacon hills? Why the fuck wasn’t she in Beacon hills? Where was her father, what was being done, why wasn’t he - why couldn’t he -

Well, he wouldn’t really have to be informed if they weren’t pack, would he? He wouldn’t have been able to feel if she were near, not with the aching chasm that was once the bond between the two of them. Still, he had pack bonds with Erica and Vernon and nothing felt off, they knew where he lived and he hadn’t been told by them that Stiles was gone. He hadn’t seen anything in the news about missing persons and there was no way in hell that Scott wouldn’t be currently lording this over him if something had happened to her. Not when all his theories about Peter being the biggest asshole since fisting became a thing were proven true. 

“Where is she?” he didn’t care, he didn’t care he didn’t care. 

“France.” Cora bit out, “Chris, Allison, Erica, Vernon, and Isaac all went. You would’ve been with her, would’ve known, if you hadn’t screwed up somehow!” the rest was far too many expletives about his character, personality, and his lack of dedication to things he was attracted to in Portuguese for him to give much thought to. 

“Deucalion went too, Peter.” that stung even though it shouldn’t have. He had told her he didn’t want to be a part of her pack, hadn’t visited her while she was in the hospital, hadn’t reached out to her first. Even so, even despite all that, Deucalion had gone and Peter hadn’t, not even to make sure she was safe, not to look over the betas who had become pack to him without even having meant for them to. 

“When are they due back?” Cora shut her brother up with a glare when he went to answer Peter. 

“Why don’t you ask her yourself, Uncle Peter? Or are you scared?” the growl he centered on her was worthy of Alpha status. Peter, of course, did not do that. Not until it was nearing the two-month mark and the silence of his apartment was overwhelming. No amount of nights out could fill the silence, running never exhausted him as much as he needed so he could just pass out when he went home. Home that was now empty, home that was no longer home. Home with jackets that weren’t his and a cover that no longer smelled like Stiles, a place that no longer had traces of her or pack, a place that suddenly seemed much too big and much too quiet. 

‘You’ve reached the voicemail of ‘Name here’-” he hated that her voice alone made his every limb settle, hated that it filled the ache that had been in his chest. Especially when she was snickering and giggling while trying to remain serious, he could practically see her in front of him making faces while recording the damn voicemail. “If you’ve important business, leave a message, if it’s important call again, hang up, and call again.” so, of course, he did just that, only it wasn’t Stiles that answered. 

“I am unsure who this is, as you’re listed as ‘Big Bad’,” Deucalion rumbled, sounding as if he had just been woken up. “What is it?” Peter hung up. 

Deucalion had answered Stiles’s phone, Deucalion who sounded as if he had been asleep had answered Stiles’s phone. Deucalion who had to be around Stiles for him to be near her phone, asleep, in Paris, together. 

His cell phone vibrated in his hand, he actually hesitated to answer it when ‘Little Spark’ flashed across the screen. “Is everything okay in Beacon Hills?” a very groggy Stiles urged, causing his stomach to hollow immediately. She had been around Deucalion, they had to be in the same room, and they were most definitely sleeping together. But were they sleeping together, or sleeping together? Why did his wolf lament and his heart ache at the possibility?

“Why are you in France?” he countered, refusing to play to her tune and instead demanding she play to his. He heard the shuffling of covers and the creak of a mattress that was obviously of poor quality, and then her heavy sigh that had his anger rising. 

“Why do you care?” she sounded so tired and defeated that he almost asked if she were okay. Damn the habits he had developed when she had been present in his life, like a leech or a tumor. 

“The Pack meant to be protecting Beacon hills just ups and vanishes without finding suitable replacements? Fairly certain I should be aware of that much, at least.” not the wisest thing to say, considering the fact that she was frustrated with him. 

“We have suitable replacements. Derek, Cora, Scott, my Dad, and the Police are all protecting Beacon hills.” He really should just leave it at that, lest she think he cares more than he actually did. Or showed that he cared as much as he did? He clearly cared for her, even if he didn’t actually want to. “I’m not - is there anything else?” didn’t have any time for him, did she? Not when she was busy with Deucalion and her pack in France. 

“When are you coming back?” it was snapped and curt and definitely dangerous in ways that let on more than he had been comfortable with. 

“I don’t know.” she sighed again, “Hopefully before school starts again.” he heard her heartbeat clearer and a muffled ‘Yeah, yeah I know, we’ll be fine. We’ve got time.’ and then another person joined her on the bed, or rejoined her. “Peter, was there something else?” she was dismissing him? As if he didn’t matter?

“Of course,” he purred, “wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with Deucalion.” he heard her intake of breath and felt minute satisfaction with the fact that she seemed so affected by his barb. Then he felt guilt, and not because he was wrong or because he had so obviously hurt Stiles, but because he could feel the protective anger through the bonds he had with Erica and Vernon. 

“Too late,” calm, calculated, and with the force of a fucking freight train. “Goodbye, Peter.” 

He crushed his phone when he heard the dial tone.

He contemplated flying to France just so he could throttle her and promptly decided against it incase she saw it as him going out of some kind of affection for her. Still, staying in Beacon Hills was out of the question. He needed to go somewhere, needed to get away from every memory that haunted him and the ghost-like laughter that tickled the back of his head. He had a plane ticket to Ohio booked and his bags all packed and ready in under eight hours with only one stop in mind. He just wasn’t expecting Derek and Cora to be skyping Stiles in their dining area. 

“-ay, that’s what the Druid’s here are saying. They’re going to give me a sapling from their Nemeton to take to ours, it should purify whatever dark energies are polluting it and give it enough power to start being able to draw on the currents once again.” she sighed and ran a hand over her face, the black sling contrasting ominously against her skin and tank top she wore. “There’s also another Spark here, they’re apparently common, but not whatever I am. If we find out whatever it is that I am I’ll end up coming back once school is over and spend a couple months learning how to do… whatever it is that I do?”

“Stiles,” Derek began, concern clear in his tone and on his features. “You look like shit. Are you sleeping any?” 

“Uh, I think we all got like four hours last night?” Erica pushed her way into the screen, glaring darkly at the side of Stiles’s face for even trying to lie. 

“Stiles slept an hour and has been taking her Adderall left and right like they’re fucking hard candy.” Peter stepped further into the Loft without much thinking about it, his pesky wolf clearly wanted to see Stiles. “Hello asshole.” Erica greeted with a sniff then, with a level of sass Lydia would approve of, flicked her hair over her shoulder and stalked out of the screen’s frame. 

“Yes, well, my shit sleeping habits aside.” Stiles groused, frowning angrily at her arm as she readjusted her sling. “That’s everything that’s happened so far. We’ve got another week or so and then we should be on our way back. I’ll have to plant the new sprout into the current Nemeton and purge whatever is blocking the energy flow before school starts,” she fidgeted a bit with her sling, then glared once Deucalion snapped at her to stop messing with it. In Polish. 

Peter did not learn Polish for Stiles, he had learned it so he would know if they were talking about him to his face. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he could now perfectly pronounce her name. Hearing the two of them bicker at one another in Polish had him wanting to put his two cents in just so he could see her reaction.

“Stiles, find you a Euro boyfriend and get fucked.” Derek and Stiles, simultaneously, inhaled their drinks and fucking spat them everywhere. 

“Cora!” they spluttered inbetween hacks, glancing at her in abject horror while Erica cackled like a witch in the background. “Not only is that a fucking awful idea, but I actually have to stay a virgin for the ritual I’ve got to do for the Nemeton Sapling.” not sleeping with Deucalion then, interesting - not that he cared either way. “And I’m not going to end up getting anyone in Beacon Hills after either. People aren’t interested in me.” she shuffled a bit in her seat, “None that I’m interested in, anyway.” He almost whined at how sad she sounded and caught himself from correcting her that plenty of people found her attractive. Every time he, Erica, Vernon, and Stiles went out she’d get multiple stares of lust from multiple men. 

“Okay, what about Derek?” 

“I don’t see him like that and he definitely doesn’t see me like that, even if my age wasn’t a factor in his decision making.” yes, she and Derek had come to a mutual fondness for one another after she rescued his Betas and, as such, were at a mutual understanding of the other. Cora huffed and crossed her arms. 

“Well, then I’ll find someone from South America. You should date someone, Stiles, get you someone to temper you out or urge you on. You’re fucking amazing.” Peter wondered briefly if Mieczyslawa Stilinski was like a drug to Hale’s. Derek hadn’t liked her at first and neither had Cora, now both were friends and advocates for her. He loved it and hated it, they were his family and yet they were friendly with the one who had manipulated him into being in a packbond with her when he was fine with his solidarity. 

“Am I not an option?” Peter drawled as he rose from his train of thought, having meant it as a teasing remark that came out much too curious for his liking. That had Derek and Cora both turning to look at him despite his attention resting solely in Stiles’s dulled iris’s. 

“You’ve already made your choice clear and I’d rather not hear it again.” his choice? About her? Was he missing something? “Der, Cora, I’m heading off. Take care of one another and please watch out for my dad.” she hedged a moment before murmuring a quick goodbye and ended the call, leaving his niece and nephew to stare at him with a level of interest that had him defensive. 

“Do you want to be an option for Stiles?” Cora, damn her, inquired with a gleam in her eyes that reminded him far too much of Stiles when she was teasing him. Of course he wanted to be an option, he always wanted to be an option when it counted for things that would give him a leg up in situations. Stiles, however, was like a laser straight through the fog of his bullshit that could cut straight to the heart of things with him. He hated that she had that effect over him, as well as the fact that she seemed to never react the way he wanted her to when he was messing with her. 

Still, did he want to be a genuine option for Stiles? His life was empty without her, his chest always felt hollow without her. She enraged him like no other and made him feel so fucking vulnerable that he worried she was his weakness. In the same breath when she smiled at him so genuinely it made him feel like he could rock the fucking world. When she had been hurt, however, it made him feel like he was lost at sea in the middle of a typhoon or hurricane. And when he had been too lost in his thoughts it was her gentle calling of ‘Big bad?’ or ‘hey assface!’ that had him returning.

Oh. Fuck. 

She anchored him, she anchored him and took the foundation of everything he knew and just wrecked it because she was his anchor. 

“Uncle Peter?” She had become his anchor, she had somehow wormed her way into a bond with him and taken his interest in her motives to make him complacent with her plans! The devious little minx! She was his anchor, how the fuck - why was she his anchor? She was like a fucking hurricane, hardly anything about her was stable like an anchor should be! Why - what- “Uncle Peter!” he snapped his jaw and growled, brought back to reality by Cora standing right in front of him. At some point he had dropped his bags and was now breathing hard, heartbeat thundered through his ears and raising his rage. 

“I’m leaving!” he snarled, grabbed his bags, and fucking ran. She was his anchor, Mieczyslawa Stilinski was his anchor and he - 

Loved it. Hated it. Did she know? Had she intentionally -?! 

It had taken him five minutes to get his temper in check and not put his claws through his steering wheel. No, he couldn’t deal with this, he couldn’t - he needed to get away. Time away would help, it’d give him the chance to put his thoughts in order. He needed time away from everything that reminded him of Stiles, he needed time away to try and get her out of his head and to get the festering wound that replaced where her bond once had been healed. Yeah, yeah, he would go to Ohio, he’d take that flight, now he just needed to get there. 

He spent all of a month in Ohio before he could no longer take it. Every brunette he saw made him think it was Stiles, every time he heard the audio of any Marvel movies he immediately expected to hear ten facts about the movie from Stiles. Whenever he heard tinkering laughter, or smelled vanilla, he immediately thought of her and he couldn’t take it. His month away forgetting her had been spent in agony remembering every little detail about her. No one had her skin tone, no one looked as good with moles and freckles like she did, no one smelled as honest and sincere as she did. 

No one reminded him completely of Stiles but everyone reminded him of the little things about her. He hated it, he saw her in everyone, almost like a ghost he couldn’t escape. It was why he was surprised all to hell that she greeted him at the airport, pale and with blackened eyes but sporting a smile that was absolutely mischievous. He should’ve been angry at seeing her waiting for him or even joy, anything but the sinking feeling that something was wrong, that this wasn’t Stiles. Not his Stiles. 

“Peter,” she purred, eyeing him with a hunger that was not what he was used to associating with Stiles. “welcome back home.” he approached her slowly, suspiciously, and then out of a need to control the situation when her sandalwood and vanilla smelled burnt. “I missed you.” that sounded wrong, almost like whatever was in front of her was twisting her around in an attempt to twist him. 

“Missed you too.” he drawled, willing to play the game so he could try and catch whatever this was off guard. “When did you get back?” 

“Week and a half ago,” her pout was adorably wrong, whatever this thing is was trying too hard to be her. “I missed you.” she went to hug him when her whole body froze, fury and abject horror clashing like tidal waves. “Not him,” she growled, clearer now than earlier, “Not him you fucking -”

“Stiles?” her eyes shot up to look at him, one black and broken while the other was her champagne gold. It was like she was frozen in that moment, half her features contorted in fury while the others were contorted in pain and sorrow. Something was possessing her, clearly, and she was fighting it so valiantly but -

“Yes,” she drawled, black flashing to bleach white as a single tear fell from her eyes, “but none of my loved ones.” his phone rang the same moment the lights to the entire airport shut off, encasing Stiles and the way black bled into her gold as the last image of her he’d see for a while. 

“What the hell,” Peter ground out as he answered his phone, lights back on and Stiles nowhere to be seen. “Is going on?”

“I assume you’ve met the Nogitsune, then.” Chris sighed through the phone, “Are you injured?”

“No,” what an insulting thought, “but I do believe that she agreed to a full possession just now.” a very sharp, angry ‘What?’ came from the backseat of whatever vehicle Chris was currently driving. “Nogitsune, then we’ll just need darling Alpha Scott McCall to bite her so we can recapture the Fox.” if only it had been that easy. Stiles, possessed or no, was still Stiles in that she took everything they knew and just flipped it right side down. 

“Oh,” the Void Stiles cooed, eyeing Peter with hunger and distaste. “You’re so lucky, little wolf, you have so much anguish and pain that I’d grow fat if I fed off of you.” she sighed, wicked gleam in her eyes glittering roughly against the low light in Derek’s loft. “Not my loved ones,” she mocked, irritation mixing like ash with her scent.

“Which is why you were able to break Noshiko’s tails, but now why you can’t hurt me, Jackson, or the twins.” gold eyes flicked to him at that, surveying his features for some hint of a lie before she broke out in a wide, malicious smile. 

“You don’t know. You didn’t leave the pack and Beacon Hills and her, because you didn’t know!” he hated that whatever he had said was the wrong thing, hated that it brought it such glee. “She was so sure! Beautiful, turgid little pieces to my game. Erica, tell him, tell him what little Stiles told you.” it was cooed in a faux sexy sneer with hands that were not supposed to be grabbing at her hips the way they were. 

“Stiles doesn’t love with just a little of her heart, she loves with everything she is. When she heard the story of how the twins were abused it reminded her too much of when her mother got sick and she vowed to give them a better chance at life, to show them kindness.” Erica began immediately, smile like poison when Void Stiles seemed to deflate with how easy she began spilling the secret. “She sees what she could’ve ended up as in Jackson, alone and trying hard to be noticed, to do everything perfectly. She hates that she sees that in him and hates that he hates her, but she still wants to show him that he’s enough.” Void actually looked a little angry at how easily these dark secrets were being exposed, even if the reactions of those around them would have normally satisfied it. “You, she would’ve helped you originally with your plan, Peter. She’s said so multiple times to anyone whose cared to listen to her. Then she fell in love with you, and you told her to fuck off.”

Void seemed energized at his reaction to that particular bit of information. When had she told him of her feelings? When had he told her to fuck off with said feelings? Why did his chest feel like it had dropped into his gut and his heart had stopped dead?

“She chose you.” Void cheesed, “She chose you but you didn’t choose her! Oh! She would’ve went insane before I’d even gotten a hold of her if she didn’t have her pack.” disgust was in its tone even as its eyes slipped to the doorway and it began grinning awfully when Noshiko and her daughter appeared. “Now it’s a party! Tell them, Noshiko, how you summoned me and then betrayed me, tell them how this was the necessary outcome!” it threw her arms wide in indication of the scene, it was then that Derek and Scott struck, resulting in Derek being thrown into a pillar and Scott latching onto his friends arm with his teeth. 

The oni appeared the moment Stiles’s skin dried up and cracked, advancing immediately on the downed girl before the Nogitsune could leave her. 

“No!” Peter roared, launching himself at one of them to buy her time. He didn’t think to do so he just naturally threw himself in front of her, threw himself at the danger so he could give her time. He couldn’t think about her confession, nor his denial of it, nor why he felt so fucking hollow. Chris and Deucalion immediately took up arms to assist while the twins - startled as they were - tried to launch themselves into the foray, slivers of pack bonds shimmering in their chests that felt so sweet they ached. 

Try as they might two Oni broke through just in time to place its hand into a fist by her face, catching the escaping Nogitsune Firefly. One Oni stayed behind as the rest converged into one to check Stiles, even as her skin began falling away like a clay outer layer to show a pink-skinned Stiles with frazzled hair and wide, tired gold eyes. 

Unlike the rest, however, it drew its knife down the length of Stiles’s bitten arm and promptly disappeared, leaving Stiles to fall to the ground and break the rest of the clay that had been around her body - including the mark that used to be on her arm. Scott’s bite, too, was gone, with no blood as evidence that it had ever been there in the first place. 

“Stiles!” Jeorek cried, clutching his daughter to his lap so he could search for a pulse and relaxing only when he found one. “C’mon baby girl, wake up.” he pleaded, tapping his fingers against her cheek a few times to bring the light back to her wide-open eyes. It didn’t sit right with Peter, seeing her looking up with dead eyes as if was a foreshadow into her future. He didn’t care that he was projecting his turbulent feelings to those around him, didn’t care that he knew this feeling as the panic and desperation he felt when his family had burned, knowing he felt no familial ties to the spark. 

“H-hey pop,” she greeted, voice raw and barely above a whisper.

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Sterek but Merlin au

Derek Hale is the werewolf prince of beacon hills, a place that outlawed all types of magic. ( I was having trouble deciding who was the prince before I realized the stiles would have figured out Derek in a WEEK) Werewolf’s are naturally distrustful of it.

Stiles is the son of the commander of the city watch. Being a spark, a creature of magic. One cannot exist without the other. He is close friends with Derek and works with his father and doctor Deaton (He would be gauis)

Stiles being absolutely distraught that his very existence is a betrayal against the person he loves. But he cannot handle the idea of betraying Derek, not after Paige and Kate and Jennifer.

Going to him on his knees and confessing, crying out that he would never harm Derek or his family. To not harm his father because he had nothing to do with his magic. Begging him to spare his father and to not let him watch stiles burn. And lastly he begs for Derek to kill him, one last mercy. he doesn’t even care if it’s quick as long as it’s by Derek’s hand.

I’m struggling with picturing with Derek’s reaction, because betrayal is something he would abhor but this is Stiles. Stiles has always been and forever will be an expectation to every rule for him. Stiles no matter who or what he his, is Derek’s. And fire would never touch a lick of stiles skin. Derek would coo at how adorable stiles is being begging on his knees, he would wipe the tear from his face before making stiles vow by magic, unbreakable in every right to belong to him. (Ooh I see you master manipulator, getting your mate) binding stiles to him in every sense of the word. What does Derek care of the rules, of the kingdom against stiles. He is a second son. He won’t even be king, he’ll have a plot of land and he live there until his end of days with stiles.

This binds them even further together. Stiles killing anyone who even breathes a word of treason or assassination against his prince. Derek hunts down anyone who even looks in the direction of stiles with even a little bit a malicious

Them having a happy ending because I can’t handle angst

Their networks were cowards

[graciebirdie]

Steter week day...*checks hand* ugh 2 and 6?? (alpha peter and daddy kink)

***

Peter's day had been fairly boring, right up until he heard a very familiar heart beat.

And wasn't that annoying. Heart beats weren't supposed to be that unique, especially not when it came to someone he wasn't particularly close to.

But that didn't stop him from knowing that Stiles was hovering nervously outside of his door.

He waited for a few seconds to see if the boy was going to knock, or maybe even go away, but nothing happened.

Stiles just kept standing in the hallway.

He wasn't even pacing.

Just standing there with his heartbeat going a mile a minute.

Peter rolled off of his couch to go stand in front of his door a wait.

Stiles showing up randomly on his doorstep when he shouldn't know where Peter lived in the first place was intriguing enough for him to open the door at all.

If Stiles decided to leave without knocking Peter would open the door and embarrass him. And if he did eventually knock Peter could still open the door and embarrass him. A win win situation. For Peter, not Stiles.

Finally, after several long minutes of Stiles seeming to be having a silent heart attack he quietly knocked on the door.

Peter instantly swung the door but any snide remarks about Stiles' lack of courage died at the sight of him.

Peter realized it had been almost two months since he'd last seen Stiles and the time had obviously not been kind to him.

He was paler than normal, with considerably darker bruises under his eyes, and he'd obviously lost quite a bit of weight.

Suddenly Stiles showing up to see Peter went from being mildly interesting to very disconcerting. If something was so wrong with him Peter would not be the first person he went to.

Peter stared at him, waiting for Stiles to say something, to give him some hint for why he was there.

Stiles seemed to draw himself up, for a moment he was the same boy who had looked at Peter's alpha shift and told him he wasn't scared. He'd been lying but Peter loved his tenacity.

"I need your help." he said, and for some reason there was absolute certainty that Peter would help him.

Either he was just that desperate or he needed help with something that he knew Peter would enjoy doing. Or maybe he had a tantalizing offer to exchange for Peter's help.

Either way he'd caught Peter's attention and he wasn't about to turn down such amusement.

"Please come in." he said with a smile that he knew showed off too many teeth and stepped out of the doorway, sweeping his arm out to gesture Stiles in.

Stiles didn't even seem to notice his smile, just seemed to sag in relief and quickly slipped past Peter into the apartment.

As he passed Peter caught his sent, strong enough to suggest he hadn't had a shower in a few days but that wasn't what caught Peter's attention.

It was the heavy scent of sickness and stress sadness that hung around Stiles like a fog.

Oh yes, something was terribly wrong with Stiles.

Peter knew he wasn't anything like some avenging angel sent from heaven to save Stiles from his problems but suddenly he found his motives for helping changed from just the entertainment value to a genuine desire to help.

How annoying.

He closed the door and turned to look Stiles over again, this time with his new knowledge.

He still looked exactly the same, but now it was obvious whatever stress he was under steamed from whatever sickness he was suffering from.

It seemed like Stiles' confidence was wavering for some reason, whether that was because he was face to face with Peter or because he was suddenly having self-doubt Peter couldn't say but he felt his fingers twitch with the strange desire to grab Stiles' hands to stop his thumb nails scraping hard against the sides of his index fingers. He was pressing so hard he'd actually managed to draw a tiny bit of blood on one hand.

"How can I help you today, Stiles?" he asked, and he knew he was coming off like an asshole but that was kind of who he was. If he suddenly acted concerned for Stiles' well-being Stiles would instantly become suspicious of Peter.

Stiles bit his lip hard for a moment, no doubt questioning his life and his choices that had led him to Peter of all people.

Finally he quietly said "I want you to give me the bite."

It was like a punch to the gut for Stiles to show up in his home and ask him for something that Stiles himself had made sure Peter couldn't give him.

"I see you've forgotten that I'm no longer an alpha." Peter said with a sneer.

Strangely, Stiles flinched back like Peter had physically struck him.

It took a moment for Stiles to compose himself but when he did determination had come back to him. His eyes were practically shinning with it.

Or maybe that was just tears.

"I know that. But I also know that Deucalion hasn't left town yet."

Peter felt his breath actually catch at Stiles' implication.

It took all of Peter's considerable self control to stop himself from instantly agreeing.

After all, if Stiles was willing to go to all the trouble it would be to make Peter an alpha again when he had a perfectly serviceable alpha for a best friend, there must be more going on.

"What would your dear alpha Scott say if he heard you suggesting I kill someone that he pardoned?"

Suddenly Stiles was furious. It welled around him, almost completely covering up the sickness in his scent. He bared his teeth and puffed up like he might attack Peter for daring to ask questions.

"Scott" Stiles hissed, so harshly spittle actually came out of his mouth, "Said that everything would work out on it's own."

Peter felt his own rage on Stiles' behalf.

What sort of person looked at Stiles when there was so obviously something wrong with him and thought 'oh he'll be fine eventually.'?

It infuriated him that Scott could magically become some jumped up little alpha and still do nothing to help someone who was obviously suffering.

All Scott would have to do is take one single sniff of Stiles' scent to know that there was something going on.

And while it was entirely possible that Peter was missing an important piece of information on why exactly Scott wouldn't want to give his best friend the bite, Peter was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't going to turn down Stiles' request.

Becoming an alpha again would be enough for him to agree, but add to that the possibility, slim as it might be that Stiles might want to join Peter's pack after Peter had bitten him was a truly tempting idea.

Peter regretted several things in his life and biting Scott McCall over Stiles was just another in a long list. Not taking the opportunity to bite Stiles when he could have was less a regret and more of a wistful thought. Peter hadn't known very much about Stiles when he'd offered him the bite but he'd known enough to not do it without his consent. Peter had forced the bite onto two people Stiles cared about and while Stiles seemed to accept Peter's 'I was insane' explanation Peter knew if he'd bitten Stiles when he had been expressly told no it would be one step too far over the line and Stiles was ruthless enough that he would have put Peter back into the ground the moment he'd gotten up.

As it stood Peter might want to instantly agree but he also didn't want Stiles to suddenly lose his sense of desperation and resent Peter for taking advantage of him, despite him coming to Peter in the first place.

"What about Derek? Or those two little murderous twins Scott adopted?" Peter asked, just to cover all of Stiles' other options, even though he knew exactly why Stiles wouldn't ask either of the twins for the bite.

Stiles frowned at him like he couldn't quite understand what Peter was doing, which just helped to reinforce how awful he must feel. "You and I both know why I don't want any fucking thing to do with those two murdering fuck heads." he paused and looked a tiny bit upset when he added "Derek hasn't been answering his phone and I have no idea where he is and I'd rather get this done and over with sooner rather than later."

So Peter was Stiles' third choice. At least that was better than fifth.

"Alright." Peter said calmly and Stiles' head snapped up like he couldn't believe Peter would agree with him. "Do you have a plan for how to deal with Deucalion?"

Stiles' mouth dropped open, shocked. Peter had no idea why. Stiles wanted Peter to be an alpha again so he could get the bite, he would obviously have a plan for how to go about doing that.

Suddenly the tension Stiles had in his shoulder disappeared and scent of relief and a tiny little bit of hope curled around him. He pulled his hand out of the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, holding a ziplock bag of what Peter was positive was wolfsbane.

"It's a pretty straightforward plan." Stiles said with a grin that was already wolfish.

Peter didn't hesitate to grin back.

***

The plan went off without a single hitch. Stiles had texted Deucalion from Scott's number, and that fact that Scott had Deucalion's number at all made Peter's stomach turn, told him that Stiles was sick and Scott was worried that in his inexperience he would accidentally hurt him and could he please help?

Deucalion had almost instantly replied that of course he would help, it wasn't any problem at all.

And while Peter showing up instead of Scott would clue Deucalion in that something was up, Stiles' obviously sickness would just make him think that Stiles had contacted Deucalion behind Scott's back.

Peter sat in the car to help lull Deucalion into a false sense of security while Stiles went up to knock on the door of the little rental cabin that Peter was pretty sure Deucalion wasn't residing in legally.

Peter's hands flexed rhythmically on the steering wheel to stop himself from flinging himself out of the car and stand threateningly behind Stiles, to make sure that Deucalion wouldn't be able to do anything before Peter had his claws in him.

Stiles acted his part beautifully, calming Deucalion's suspicions enough to make him lower his guard just enough he didn't see the handful of wolfsbane coming before it was in his face, blinding him and choking him and Peter was out of his car and on top of Deucalion in seconds, claws ripping into his throat before he could even blink the wolfsbane out of his eyes.

Peter felt the power and the heaviness of the alpha spark flow over him, through him, fill him up with that little piece of himself he'd been missing ever since he'd dug his way back from the dead.

And the fact that he wasn't just doing this because he wanted to make the feeling that much sweeter.

He hovered over Deucalion's corpse for several long seconds, breathing deeply, trying to ignore the little bits of wolfsbane floating around him and the strength of the scent of Stiles' sickness.

Finally he felt more in control of himself.

The thought that soon, very soon, he would have a beta, a beta that chose him. Just because Peter wasn't his first choice didn't nigate the fact that Peter had been a choice at all.

He stood up and walked across the little cabin to the tiny kitchen and washed his hands. Peter might find the blood satisfying but he thought that Stiles might appreciate the gesture.

Hands clean again, metaphorically at least, he turned to look at Stiles.

Want coursed through him with an intensity that almost blew him over. Emotions coursed through him, almost too fast for him to identify before they were replaced by something else. Want, need, protectiveness, rage, desire all mingled together for a moment and felt himself start to shift without conscious thought, something that hadn't happened since he'd come back.

Let himself calm back down while he struggled to understand what exactly he was feeling and why he was feeling it in the first place.

The want was easy enough. The combination of Peter already wanting Stiles to be in his pack, both because of the boy's clever, sharp mind, and because he'd always been the kind of person who saw something someone else had and wanted it for himself. It was very rare he felt that way for a person but the abysmal failure Scott turned into he wasn't surprised that he wanted to take away his toys.

He had to forcibly remind himself that Stiles had asked for his help, that, while he might not have another choice he still went into it with his eyes wide open to Peter's faults.

Need was relatively easy to understand. He was an alpha again, he needed a pack to keep himself stable and Stiles was offering that to him on a silver platter.

Protectiveness was odd, but not shocking. Stiles was sick and needed help and he wasn't getting it anywhere else. Peter wasn't very surprised he would feel protectiveness over him.

Even the rage made sense. Stiles had helped kill Peter the last time Peter had been an alpha. There was a very slim possibility that once the bite took Stiles would decide he didn't need to deal with Peter anymore and kill him again. Well, if that turned out to be the case Peter was sure he could figure out a way to either make himself invaluable to Stiles or be able to convince Stiles that he wouldn't use his powers on him the way he'd used them on Scott.

It was the desire that shocked him. He'd noticed, in a general sense that Stiles was attractive, or maybe alluring. Intriguing? Whatever the word was there was something about him that caught Peter's attention. But it had never been desire before. Stiles was a teenager, admittedly a smart, world weary one, but still much younger than Peter was.

But of course Peter wasn't a saint. The situation he was in wasn't one that happened every day. And while the want for Stiles to be pack outweighed Peter's desire for him Peter wouldn't turn Stiles down if he wanted to eventually change the dynamic of their relationship. Really, the best Peter could do was let Stiles set the pace for them.

Finally satisfied that he at least had some idea of what was going on and what he was going to do about it Peter let himself walk up to Stiles, only just managing not to touch him.

When he felt himself sway even closer he forced himself to ask once more. "Are you still sure this is what you want?"

Stiles licked his lips nervously and Peter couldn't stop himself from following the movement.

"I'm sure." he said quietly. His heartbeat was fast but steady, no lie this time around. With a deep breath Stiles pulled up the left sleeve of his hoodie to hold his wrist in front of Peter, determination clear on his face.

Peter smirked in amusement and curled his hand around Stiles' wrist and tried not to gasp at the shock he felt as their skin met.

Stiles did gasp, his mouth falling open in shock and oh, he'd felt it too. That was interesting.

Without breaking eye contact Peter brought Stiles' wrist up to his mouth, very gently ran his nose over the veins there, taking in Stiles' scent one last time before it changed forever.

He heard Stiles' heartbeat skip and a new, interesting scent curled around him, barely there, just enough to make Peter's mouth go dry.

But Peter wasn't going to let himself get distracted when he was moments away from making his first real beta.

He carefully fit Stiles' wrist in his mouth, fangs breaking the skin, and Peter didn't even try to stop himself from licking away the blood that had welled up when he finally pulled his teeth away.

The scent grew and he could feel Stiles' hand trembling in his grip. He nuzzled his cheek against Stiles' skin and the two of them stood there in their own little bubble of silence for several minutes.

When Stiles suddenly jerked away from Peter it almost made him jump out of his skin in shock.

For a moment the scent of sickness grew stronger, and then Stiles was stumbling over, falling to his knees and vomiting black thick viscous mucus onto the floor.

Horror filled Peter at the sight. There was absolutely no reason the bite shouldn't take, and it definitely shouldn't have affected Stiles so quickly.

Peter quickly knelt next to him, his hand coming up to uselessly touch Stiles' back. He was shaking hard when he finally seemed to calm down.

He scrubbed his  sleeve over his face, wiping away tears and spittle and the black bile. "What the fuck." he said, the words barely even a whisper, voice hoarse from the strain.

Peter carefully pulled Stiles away from the puddle, leaning over to look at it even though he very much did not want to.

His nose wrinkled at the scent of it but he realized there was something... off about it. Something other than it's very existence.

He leaned closer, frowning at what was in the center of the puddle. He reached out, and even though he didn't really want to, he carefully picked the thing out.

He stared at it, struggling to remember why it was important. And then he realized what it was he was holding.

It was a fly.

Stiles hadn't just been sick with some terminal human illness.

He'd been infected by something.

"What is that?" Stiles whispered, voice shaking hard with fear.

"It's what was making you sick." Peter muttered distractedly.

"That was in me?!" Stiles yelped, grabbing Peter's hand to bring it closer to his face. "Is this a fucking fly?"

Peter looked up at him, saw the horror and fear on his face, and stood up, very carefully bring Stiles up with him.

Stiles leaned hard into his side, no doubt in shocked over having to reevaluate what had been happening with his own body.

He gently guide Stiles to sit down at the tiny little kitchen table and set about finding something to put the fly in, not wanting to lose it before he figured out what it was or why it had been inside Stiles.

He settled on a glass and some cellophane with a rubber band to make sure it stayed inside the glass.

He washed his hands again and filled another glass up with water to give to Stiles.

Stiles blinked at the glass for a moment, before he took it and carefully drank it down.

Satisfied that Stiles would eventually sort himself out Peter went about cleaning up the scene of the crime.

He found some garbage bags under the sink and went around the cabin picking up Deucalion's personal belongings and putting them in the bag to dispose of later.

They'd decided in the car not to just leave Deucalion's body lying around for anyone to find and part of that was making sure no one had a reason to look for it in the first place.

Scott would be the only person who would care even a little bit if Deucalion went missing but Stiles had been sure Scott would be so distracted by Peter becoming an alpha again and Stiles' turning that he wouldn't notice for some time, and no doubt by the time he did he would probably just assume Deucalion had left town like he should have the moment he could have. It had been very foolish of him to linger when there were still people who cared about the ones he had killed. And someone who wanted an alpha spark.

Peter found a little bonus sitting right there on the bedside table. Two very old, very rare books that he currently didn't have in his library.

He'd take those home with him. He was sure as long as Stiles got to read them he wouldn't mind. Stiles was pragmatic like that.

Satisfied he'd picked up everything he paused to check on Stiles only to find he methodically scrubbing the floor to clean up the blood and vomit.

He glanced up at Peter and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Feeling better?" Peter asked, pleased by how fast Stiles was handling things.

"Nope." Stiles said, obnoxiously popping the p. "But I'm a stress cleaner so this works out well for me."

Peter huffed a little in amusement. He shouldn't have expected anything else. He held the books up with a smirk. "Found something fun you'll like."

Stiles almost initially lite up in excitement. He grinned, pleased and actually starting to look a little better. Even though the room was starting to smell like bleach Peter could still catch the sweet scent of relief in the air.

He took everything out to the car before coming back with his little travel shovel. He picked up Deucalion's body and heaved his over his shoulder.

"You going to be okay alone for a little bit?" he asked, because he knew Stiles would like it. And maybe a little because he was genuinely worried.

Stiles gave him a little smile, like he could read Peter's mind, and said "I should be okay. I'll just finish cleaning up and then take a nap in the car if you take too long."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Have fun." he snarked and he could hear Stiles chuckling as he walked out into the woods to bury the body.

***

Peter was a very thorough grave digger so it took him more than an hour to find a good place to dig and then to actually dig the grave. Even with werewolf strength it was back breaking and time consuming work.

When he finally got back to the cabin, covered in grime and probably blood, Stiles was curled up in the passenger seat of his car, fast asleep with the sweater Peter had left in his backseat curing him, his nose buried in the fabric.

Peter did one last quick walk through of the cabin, just to triple check neither of them had missed anything before he climbed into his car.

He stared at Stiles for a long moment, taking in the way the car was slightly warm because of his body heat and the heavy scent of his exhaustion that hung in the air.

There was something else in the air alongside it. Peter thought that it might be contentment. The thought made him reach his hand out and gently stroke over Stiles' hair.

He almost couldn't believe the night had happened at all.

He was an alpha again, he had a truly lovely beta, not just any beta, but one that had chosen him.

And the way Stiles nuzzled into his hand even in his sleep made satisfaction curl hotly through him.

Stiles made a sweet soft sound and squinted his eyes at Peter.

"Done?" he slurred and Peter couldn't help the little smile he felt on his lips.

"Everything's all taken care of." he said quietly. "Go back to sleep."

Stiles muttered in agreement and burrowed deeper into Peter's sweater.

Peter stared up the car and smiled as he pulled away from the cabin. He had an uncharacteristically optimistic feeling that everything would work out.

***

Stiles was still obviously exhausted by the time Peter pulled up to his apartment building.

He worried for a moment that it would be a trial to get Stiles inside but the moment he was standing he practically fell against Peter's side, curled a little so he could tuck himself under Peter's arm.

It took basically no time at all to get Stiles into his home, to steer him gently into his bedroom.

He carefully let go, waiting a moment to see if Stiles would collapse now that he was standing on his own but he just swayed gently for a moment before he seemed to shake himself awake.

Peter pulled a pair of drawstring sweatpants out of his dresser, along with one of his plain t-shirts, the kind with a regular neckline instead of a v-neck.

He knew Stiles would just feel uncomfortable if he thought Peter wanted him to wear something he would consider revealing.

He handed the clothes to Stiles and watched in amusement as bafflement crossed his face before he looked up at Peter with his beautiful eyes wide with confusion.

"Planning to sleep in your jeans?" Peter asked, eyebrow raised challengingly.

A slow pleased smile crossed Stiles' face and once again he felt strangely satisfied.

Peter pulled out his own sleep clothes and went to take a shower.

He moved more by rote, once again pondering his reactions to Stiles.

Last time Peter had been an alpha he never felt satisfied. Not even when he'd killed the people responsible for his family's deaths. Not even when he'd torn out Kate Argent's throat.

The most he ever felt had been viciously determined. Concentrating fully on his goals, only being distracted by his unhelpful beta and his little sidekick that Peter never should have underestimated the way he did.

Was this a side of being an alpha he never felt before? Because he'd never had a real actual beta or even a true pack mate? Derek could pretend to be pack all he liked but it had never felt like it did with Stiles.

Stiles, who's bite hadn't even started to take yet. What the hell had that fly been? He'd set the cup down on the kitchen counter with his two new books.

He picked the glass up and glared at the little black smudge in the bright lights of his kitchen.

It was still just a dead fly.

In the morning he would have to start making calls.

He walked back into his bedroom and stopped dead in the doorway.

Stiles had dropped his clothes right on the floor but he barely even noticed, too distracted by the sigh of Stiles curled up Peter's bed.

It was a truly lovely sight.

Something that Peter thought he might be able to get used to.

Certainly something he wouldn't mind getting used to.

He absently picked Stiles' clothes up and pulled everything out of his jeans pockets, setting it all down on the bedside table closest to Stiles.

He dropped the clothes into the dirty clothes basket and then took the whole thing to the hall closet the washer and dryer were kept. He put everything in the washer before he went to find his laptop.

Once he had that he went back to his bedroom to stare at Stiles some more.

He was probably being creepy but Stiles was asleep and probably wouldn't care anyway.

He very carefully slid into bed, moving slowly so he wouldn't accidentally wake Stiles up.

Once he was settled he opened up his laptop and started writing emails.

***

Hours later a phone ringing woke Peter out of a deep sleep.

He fought back a snarl of annoyance at the rude interruption.

Anyway Stiles was making enough noise to distract him

He watched in bleary amusement as Stiles struggled to find his phone, slapping uselessly at the mattress in front of him and then managing to knock his wallet and keys off of the side table before Peter took pity on him and leaned over him to pick the phone up.

He handed it to Stiles, who took it with a grunt that might have been thank you.

Peter shamelessly stayed right next to Stiles, letting his hand lightly brush against Stiles' arm.

Stiles made a garbled sound that vaguely sounded like hello and Peter heard Scott's voice over the line.

He fought back a groan.

"Hey, where are you?" Scott's voice came out tiny from the phone speaker.

The scent of pure fury rolled off of Stiles, even stronger than it had been the night before when Scott had been brought up.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd care about where I am." he hissed out, and even Scott, as oblivious as he was wouldn't have been able to miss how angry Stiles was.

Scott made a sort of impatient noise. "Look, I'm sorry I upset you, okay?"

Stiles took a long deep breath, no doubt fully prepared to tear apart Scott's terrible half assed apology apart but Scott didn't give him enough time to say anything.

"I talked to my mom and she said I really fucked up...She told me I needed to call and make sure you didn't do anything rash."

The oh mighty True Alpha needed his mommy to tell him when he was being a terrible friend. How pathetic.

"What did she think I was going to do?" Stiles asked, voice suggesting he knew exactly what Ms. McCall expected him to do but wanting Scott to say it.

"She went over to see your dad and you weren't there but he was...you know. So she thought that maybe you...panicked... and hurt yourself or something."

Peter felt rage on Stiles' behalf. 'He was...you know.' wasn't the least bit enlightening to Peter on what exactly Stiles' father had been doing but whatever it was Stiles knew what it was, because Peter could smell the salt sweet scent of tears. He couldn't help reach his hand out to Stiles, to remind him that he wasn't alone. That Peter was there and listening and would help him if he needed it. Or at least he hoped that was what the light touch of his hand against the back of Stiles' free hand meant.

The fact that Stiles instantly turned his hand over to twine their fingers together helped.

"It sounds like I should be talking to your mom, not you." Stiles finally said, voice quiet. Peter silently agreed.

Scott made an indignity sound. "You're my best friend! I wanted to make sure you're okay!"

"Wow, Scott." Stiles murmured. "Where was this concern when I was in the hospital scared out of my mind over dying a slow and terrible death?"

"The bite could kill you too!" Scott yelled.

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "Certain death vs fifty percent chance of death. I know which odds I like more."

"We're not talking about this again Stiles! The tests came back negative! There's nothing wrong with you!" Scott yelled loud enough to make Stiles flinch back from the phone.

Peter was moving before he'd even realized it. He slid the phone out of Stiles' slack grip, hanging it up without taking his eyes off of Stiles.

He was visibly shaking, fear and doubt filling his scent and making his heartbeat skyrocket.

How dare Scott say something like that.

How dare he make Stiles question himself. Question Peter. Question Stiles' whole damn world view.

Stiles looked up at him, tears still clinging to his eyelashes for a moment before they were falling.

"You can call him back later." if he's still alive, Peter didn't add. Not that he would ever kill Scott without Stiles' permission. He was sure that no matter how badly Stiles had just been hurt killing Scott would be a step too far for Stiles to accept.

Peter slowly pulled Stiles up so he was sitting up, he reached out, oh so gently cupping Stiles' face in his hands and letting his eyes flash for a moment, something most betas found reassuring, a reminder that their alpha was there and would help them.

"Stop that train of thought. I could smell the sickness on you in minutes. Just because Scott doesn't use his senses the way he should doesn't mean that you're going crazy. The fly's in the kitchen if you need to see it." he said quietly, but fumly.

Stiles sniffled and seemed a little bit calmer but he was obviously still very upset so Peter let his face go picked up his hand instead.

He'd spent hours the night before doing research on what could have been wrong with Stiles. He'd gotten several replies to the emails he'd sent out and he'd crossed referenced everything he'd learned to make sure he was right about what he thought had happened.

He carefully pushed the sleeve of Stiles' sweater, Peter's sweater, up his arm so they could both look at his wrist. And that confirmed Peter's theory.

"Do you see this?" Peter asked, running his finger so very softly over the still visible bite mark.

Stiles' heart skipped a beat.

"I have a theory." Peter stared and Stiles huffed softly at him, the visible sign that the bite hadn't taken but wasn't going to kill him proof that something had been going on. "The fly was some kind of magical creature that was trying to possess your body."

Stiles made a deep wounded sound. He instantly curled closer to Peter, hiding his face against Peter's shoulder.

"Sweetheart, I have to ask." the endearment fell from Peter's lips without conscious thought, but he wouldn't take it back, not when Stiles' scent with sweet and his heartbeat skipped. "Did you wake up in strange places? Or waste time?"

Stiles almost instantly started crying and Peter pulled him closer, pressing him tight to his chest and rumbling soothingly, one hand stroking up and down his back.

That reaction alone was enough to tell Peter he was right.

Eventually Stiles' tears slowed and he tilted his face away from Peter's shoulder to ask "Why did the bite get rid of it?"

"That's a bit of a gray spot I think. The general consensus I could gather seems to think you can't be two different things at once. Although I'm not sure why that would mean the bite didn't take."

Stiles' grip on Peter's shirt tightened suddenly. "I'm not-" he took a shuddering breath before he stared again. "I'm not disappointed, that I'm not going to turn into a werewolf."

There was no lie in his heart beat this time.

"That's alright sweetheart." Careful, gently, don't scare him away.

Stiles sat up, their faces inches apart. "You're okay with that?"

"Choosing to be a werewolf instead of dying is different than wanting to be one in the first place."

"Am I still-" Stiles cut himself off before he could finish his thought but Peter knew what he was asking.

"Do you want to be?" he asked neutrally, even though every part of himself was screaming yes.

Stiles seemed actually thought about it which made Peter feel better about the whole thing.

"I had a lot of time to think while you were off burying a body." he paused and licked his lips but Peter hardly noticed, he was actually holding his breath to better hear what Stiles had to say. "I thought... if we could work so well together like that... then maybe we could make it work the rest of the time."

That was a relief to hear even if he'd hoped that was what Stiles would say. "I'm very willing to put in the effort Stiles."

Stiles swayed closer, so close Peter could feel the heat of his blush, tantalizingly close-

And of course Stiles' phone rang.

Stiles jerked back as if he'd been shocked, eyes huge. He gave a relieved little laugh as he realized what the sound was and put his hand over his heart and.

He really was sweet, wasn't he.

Peter couldn't his smile, not when Stiles smiled at him, a little awkward, a little shy but his scent was full of contentment and Peter felt that they would have plenty of time. He wasn't in a rush, he wasn't going to rush Stiles.

Stiles picked up his phone hesitantly to check the caller id.

He sighed softly. "Ms. McCall..."

Peter slid out of bed and held his hand out for Stiles to take. "I'll make breakfast." he said neutrally.

Stiles looked amused but let Peter pull him out of bed. He glared down at the phone but did eventually decide to answer it.

Peter walked down the hall towards the kitchen, Stiles right behind him.

"Stiles." she said, and he could hear the relief in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing better." Stiles, the adorable brat, said vaguely.

Peter started pulling out breakfast food while Stiles bypassed the bar stools to drop his phone down onto the counter and then unceremoniously pull himself up to sit right on the counter.

Peter stared at him for a very long moment, trying to decide if he was annoyed or not. Eventually he decided he wasn't because he didn't know a single other person who would dare sit on top of his kitchen counter. It was just proof that Stiles wasn't the least bit afraid of him.

It actually felt...nice to think that.

Ms McCall wasn't done talking yet though so Peter listened while he started on making omelets. "Stiles... Scott said that you were worried enough about what was going on that you asked him for the bite."

Stiles hummed noncommittally. "Did he tell you what his answer was?"

She hesitated for a moment before she answered. "Yeah, that he said no because you were obviously not thinking about the consequences of being bitten by a werewolf."

Stiles was quiet for a moment, no doubt furious at Scott for making it seem like Stiles had been panicking. Obviously he'd been desperate but Peter didn't think he'd panicked. It helped that he already knew Stiles had weighed all of his options before deciding on Peter.

Well now that I've had some time to think about things I've realized that being a werewolf would only add to my problems so I think it's a good thing Scott turned me down when he did."

Peter turned to look at Stiles, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Stiles winked at him. Ah, he was making a joke at Scott's expense.

Ms. McCall sighed in relief. "I'm glad you feel better Stiles. You should probably come home and check on your dad, he isn't doing as well right now."

Peter was still facing Stiles and saw the way he flinched hard at Ms McCall's words.

There was obviously something very serious going on with Stiles father, but for some reason loyal to a fault Stiles, who would do absolutely anything for his father, wasn't interested in dealing with him.

Which meant that Stiles knew exactly what was wrong with him.

"Well, he has you to take care of him so I'm sure he'll be fine." Stiles said bitterly cheerful.

And didn't that tell Peter quite a bit.

Stiles viciously jabbed the button to hang up the phone and then carefully set it down on the counter next to him.

The omelets needed to cook more so Peter stepped close to Stiles, close enough that Stiles' knees brushed Peter's hips.

Peter leaned closer and Stiles' legs fell open naturally. He put his hands on the counter on either side of Stiles' hips and felt Stiles' thighs close around Peter, pulling him closer.

Stiles' arms came up and slid up Peter's back, his face dropped onto Peter's shoulder and he hugged him tightly.

Peter hugged him right back, trying not to be too annoyed that this was the second time in an hour that two different McCall's had so greatly upset Stiles.

"You want to know what's going on." Stiles said sounding a little monotone. His fingers were rubbing rhythmically against Peter's shoulder blades, and it was distracting.

"You'll tell me when you're ready." he said confidently.

Stiles huffed a gently breath against Peter's neck.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up but not in the way that meant he was in danger. He'd never felt that before.

Stiles started slowly at first but then the story of his mother seemed to spill out of him, completely unable to stop them.

At some point the omelette in the pan started to burn but Stiles had refused to let Peter go, had clung to him like a koala so Peter had just picked him up one handed so he could pull the pan off the stove and turn the burner off.

Neither of them were feeling particularly hungry anyway.

He carried Stiles back to his bedroom, and Stiles almost instantly started talking again, wiggling himself around so he could sit in Peter's lap while Peter leaned back against the headboard.

By the time he was done Peter wanted to murder several people, being with Stiles' father and ending with Stiles mother.

He was so angry his claws had come out. Stiles stroked the backs of them with his finger tips, being careful not to cut himself.

Eventually Peter calmed back down, and thought that he might be able to get used to Stiles' rhythmic stroking. It was obviously a form of self-soothing that Stiles' couldn't seem to help but Peter didn't mind. It helped to ground his attention on Stiles' hands, to distract him from his desire to change the past.

Well, at least Peter could do something about the future.

He could scare the shit out of the sheriff, threaten him within an inch of his life.

But of course Stiles had a better idea.

"It's really a bit of poetic irony." Stiles said calmly, but there was mischief in his eyes. "A bit of 'You were so unhelpful I had to go out and find a new daddy.'"

And while Peter was sure Stiles was trying to make a joke after how heavy the discussion had been the desire that hit Peter was shocking.

Stiles' eyes widened, something must have given away Peter's reaction to him.

"Oh." Stiles whispered, mouth dropping open.

And, well, Peter already knew he wasn't a saint.

The kiss was so gentle, he could feel Stiles trembling under his hands.

"Oh." Stiles said again, when Peter pulled back. He grinned, eyes bright and beautiful. "Oh, I can work with that."

And pressed right back in for another kiss.

And Peter wasn't going to stop him when such a perfect opportunity had fallen literally into his lap.

Stiles slid his mouth to the hing of Peter's jaw, kissing his skin sweetly.

"I think Daddy has a pretty nice ring to it." Stiles murmured against his skin, mouth sliding lower and-

He felt teeth scrape hard against his neck and maybe, just maybe, Peter hadn't been as in control of the whole situation like he'd thought.

But, of course, that just made him want Stiles all the more.

Stiles giggled softly when Peter rolled, pinned him down. He looked up at Peter, so innocent, but not innocent at all.

Peter's perfect boy.

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Blood is Rare (and Sweet like Cherry Wine): 8/8

Short Ficlets in a Witcher!AU for Sterek Valentines week

Beginning: tumblr / Ao3

(also, this one has a readmore cuz it got a lot longer than the other installments. whoops. sort of.)

For valentine’s, a bit late, First Kiss

(also I had a prettier twilight-on-river shot initially, but i figure the misty element probs matches the witcher show tone better. I’ll throw the pretty one on the end.)

7- Destroy with a Sweet Kiss

The fight goes sideways.

Derek was not supposed to be there, was supposed to be safely away, but the kikimore they’d been tracking had clearly turned and decided to track them, and it had caught them. Derek got out of the way fast, hauling on Roscoe’s reins to keep her clear of the fight while Stiles engaged, and slapped her into a short run once he thought they were unlikely to attract the attention of the embattled pair.

Stiles was holding his own, but twilight was falling, and the monster clearly had better vision (and more limbs). Derek knew Stiles had a potion he normally took to improve his vision during the hunt, but he hadn’t had a chance and, though Derek had seen a hand go for that pouch several times, it looked like he might not get one. Not seeing a better option, and not able to stand there and watch the person he loved be dragged into death, one small gash at a time, Derek got a stupid idea.

He picked his way around to the opposite side of the fight from where Roscoe had run off, collecting moderate sized stones on his way. Once on the other side, and with his eyes on his escape route, a clear path and large tree, much taller than the kikimore, Derek began to lob his projectiles at the monster.

By the third rock, it worked, Derek saw it lose focus and begin looking for him, saw Stiles get a hand into his pocket in the gathering dark… and realized he needed to make a run for it.

He tried.

Even as fast as he could be when he really made the effort, Derek was not fast enough, and not experienced enough still, clearly, to know better.

The creature caught him in midair, just as he was leaping for the lowest branches of his chosen tree. Derek had one profound moment to recognize the impact and change of trajectory, to wonder why there was force but no pain, before he hit another tree, and knew no more.

The next thing Derek was aware of was wetness on his face, and pain in his ribs, back, his whole torso. He tried to draw breath and it caught and he coughed, white-hot agony coursed through him.

He opened his eyes. Stiles was staring at him.

“You- you’re alive? How…”

Derek forced himself to look, to acknowledge the fucking tree branch protruding from his miserably destroyed doublet, grimaced and tried to get his breathing under control enough to say something, anything.

“Get. It out.”

Stiles looked so sad.

“Derek. It’s, you’ll bleed to death. If I pull it… you’re going to… there’s no way…”

Derek shook his head, coughing and spitting blood once more.

“Won’t” he managed to grind out.

Stiles just shook his head mutely.

Derek reached out with one hand, limply grasped a shoulder piece on the Witcher’s armor.

“Please.”

Stiles looked so resigned, so regretful. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength. Opened them with determination.

“Are you sure? I mean there’s no… you’re not going to survive this either way, but… there’s maybe time…”

Derek shook his head, grabbed Stiles weakly with both hands, and tried to pull himself off the spike of wood.

Stiles made a noise almost like a sob, partially drowned out by Derek’s deep grunt of pain, slid his hand up Derek’s back, braced the other on the tree, and pulled.

With a sickening sucking sensation and sound, Derek came free, nearly passing out again in the immediate blood loss Stiles had known was coming, but Stiles, despite clearly believing it was futile, clearly believing he was witnessing his friend’s last moments, still did his best to apply pressure to the hole in Derek’s chest cavity. Derek clung to consciousness by his finger tips, focused on breathing.

Several minutes passed, and though the Witcher was still stooped with agony and grief, Derek cradled in his lap… Stiles’ look of desolation began to be edged out by confusion, and then, with the realization that the blood pool had stopped expanding, and Derek still wasn’t dead yet… maybe even a little hope?

After twenty minutes, twenty minutes of lying in Stiles’ lap, trying to figure a way out of the coming conversation and failing, Derek finally decided he was patched enough to talk without tearing something open.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles gaped.

“Am I? Am I okay? You ass. You utter… how are you alive??”

Derek offered a little smile.

“Destiny?”

“Shut the fuck up. You are so full of shit, you… seriously. How. What… what are you?”

And it was Derek’s turn to look away. All this time, and he still didn’t know how to say it, but it looked like his time was up.

“You, do you,” he paused, cleared his throat, and sucked it up. “When we first met, do you remember. The song?”

The witcher paused.

“Bisclarvet. The lai of Bisclarvet.”

Derek nodded, waiting for it to sink in, knowing he was probably healed enough to sit up, being completely unwilling to.

“You’re…” Derek could practically see the wheels turning. “You’re a werewolf.”

Derek forced himself to nod in a way that did not betray how badly he wished he could run. He turned his head at least, not wanting to see the moment his friend’s surprise turned to anger at the lies, hatred of what Derek was. Had always been.

He was surprised a moment later, when Stiles touched his face, gently, turned him back so there was no hiding.

“You can’t… I don’t know how you hid that from me all this time. I can usually…”

Derek smiled, a tiny bitter thing.

“I’m not just fastidious by nature.” It was mild, but the herbs he added to his personal oils and soaps had natural scent-suppressive properties. A decent enough feature in products meant to keep one smelling fresher and cleaner than one was, and as long as he didn’t do anything to enhanced that part of his scent, transform, or anything… “And I’ve a charm.”

Stiles frowned, touching his witcher pendant, “I would know…” his eyes went distant. “It’s on Filivandrel’s Lute, isn’t it?”

Derek nodded. He had figured, correctly it appeared, that the elf lord’s instrument was magical enough that Derek’s little notice-me-not charm would, indeed, be overlooked in the general swell of enchantment.

Stiles looked back at him, and Derek could quite clearly see the hurt in those normally guarded golden eyes. There was a song in that somewhere…

“Why… did you never… do you have that low opinion of me, that you would think I’d, I’d find out and could ever…”

Not really, but Derek couldn’t, it was a risk he could never… He sighed. Stiles had earned the whole story, many times over, and if he chose to depart Derek’s company after, then that was more than understandable.

Derek took a deep breath, and was distracted coughing again. Stiles, now fairly confident Derek was not about to die, propped Derek up against the faithful tree, whistled Roscoe back, and was offering Derek a water skin by the time he could breath again.

Fairly sure all his internal organs were intact, Derek drank greedily, realizing suddenly how desperate he was to replace all the fluid he’d lost.

Stiles sat in a sad silence until he’d drained the water completely, and then held out a compressed cake of nuts, fruit and honey, which Derek gratefully accepted.

Finally, Derek could put it off no longer.

He told him. He told him about falling out of trees as a child, about long golden afternoons on his family’s estate, rolling and frolicking, and being so happy and alive in their skins, he and all his siblings, safe in the knowledge that nothing could ever harm them, that no one would ever cross their mother.

He told him about the growing political tensions as he grew, and the thread of instability that crept into the pack when his uncle left, the fights he was not supposed to hear… and the woman in town to whom he went when it all became too much.

Derek forced himself to tell Stiles of his great mistake, how foolish he’d been, and what a price had been paid, by everyone but him, half the pack dead, their secrets aired to the world, their target hung neatly in the hunter halls for any newcomer to try to make his mark.

How, when he was old enough, he did what his remaining family could not bring themselves to ask him to do.

He left.

He’d always been drawn to music, had a good ear for it, liked the way performance and composition could let him forget sometimes, take him out of himself… he joined a bardic college, and didn’t go home.

He told stiles about his plan, his sorry little dream, his hope that, between the coin he sent home, and the sympathetic and nuanced portrayal of folk like himself he tried to spread, he could begin to pay back the damage he’d done, in his youth and arrogance.

His surprise to meet stiles, but the instant knowledge that this was it, this was how he made that difference, this was how he learned what could nt be found in books of men, and how he reached the far reaches of the known country.

Derek faltered a little, Stiles’ face betrayed nothing once again, and Derek decided enough damage he likely already been done. He took a swig from the new skin Stiles had passed him partway through the tale, and went for broke.

“And, I know that sounds like I only valued you for what you could do for me professionally, and it may have started out that way, but it hasn’t been like that for a long time. For a long time now, I’ve… And I know I’ve no right to ask for, for forgiveness or understanding, but I want you to know, that you are… you are everything. You have so much integrity, you’re kind and generous, and funny and brave, and, and beautiful, lords, and if I could ask one boon of the universe, it would be to be always by your side, in whatever capacity you would have me. I lo-”

And Stiles lunged forward, and kissed him.

It was not a gentle kiss, but Stiles was still clearly using every bit of his Witcher strength not to press upon any of Derek’s so recently knitted flesh, and Derek, as his brain finally caught up with his mouth (okay, he had a limited supply of blood to work with at the moment), decided his did not give a shit about guilt, or pain, or whatever, and he was going to take what was on offer, apparently. Goddamnit. He mustered his strength, and shoved back at Stiles, taking one moment to appreciate the look of surprise on the Witcher’s face as he fell on his ass, before following him down, claiming his mouth again, and laying them both out on the rocky ground.

—

Eventually the pain, and thirst was enough that they had to come up for air. Also Derek found he could only ignore the putrid mess of kikimore stuck to Stiles’ outfit for so long. Also, did he mention, really needed to be having a greater blood volume than he had if he wanted to be taking things much further. It took little persuasion, though a deal more coordination than Derek was prepared for, to get them both stripped and in a river (thank all gods it wasn’t winter).

Derek himself had drunk about half his weight (and made stiles go back for the rest of the honey cakes and jerky), by the time he deemed them both clean enough to not foul their fresh(ish) clothes and bedding, and began to make his way out of the water, when Stiles pulled him back. Derek would have been all for some swimming hanky-panky in other circumstances (his self-imposed celibacy/punishment on the circuit had not, in fact, diminished his libido, or increased his modesty a bit), but he really was still a little too light-headed to be sure of his ability to stay upright on the slick rocks for anything more than they’d already been up to… but the look on stiles face wasn’t lustful. There was a hunger there, Derek thought, but… oh.

Stiles was gently tracing the fresh pink skin on Derek’s torso.

“I had wondered,” the witcher began, swallowed, began again, “I had noticed that you had no scars to speak of. Your being genteel was not a surprise, though I had also wondered why, for as much as you play, your hands were still soft.” There was wonder in Stiles’ voice, as he traced the shape of Derek’s light musculature, traced the slight protrusion of collar bones, up his neck, finally across his face. Derek closed his eyes instinctively, as Stiles’ rough fingertips, only slightly softened in the water, glided across cheekbones and eyelids, thumbs joining a moment later to smooth the length of Derek’s brows. There was a long pause, and Derek let his eyes flutter open again, surprised, as ever, by the way the witcher practically glowed in moonlight.

“Show me?” Stiles whispered, and Derek knew what he meant. And for the first time in decades, it was easy, first to let the blue bleed into his eyes, and then to let the rest of the beta shift flow over him.

Stiles gasped a little, but didn’t pull away. His hands resumed the soft caress, and Derek had never felt so whole, complete, and seen, in his entire life.

--

fin

--

--

End notes:

Who knows, we could come back to this, I feel there’s still a lack of witcher/werewolf sex, which can’t help but be good (mutual scent kiink anyone? Also neither having to hold back, because they are well matched in physical strength/durability. But also also probs some real tender lovin’ at some point, probs at least once when stiles truly processes the idea that he might have found a partner whose lifespan could match his own holy shit he might not have to bury Derek). But also, I felt like Derek needed some sleep first, and didn’t want to start a new section. So that’s it for now!

Bits that didn’t make it in:

Stiles being grumpy over the idea of spoiled, genteel werewolves. Derek coming to their defense, explaining that Laura and Cora, his two surviving siblings, were actually much more, uh, physically inclined than he was, Laura training to be the next alpha, presumably, and Cora, a knight, in service to a bit of a warrior queen (lydia, absolutely).

Stiles insisting that derek needed:

1. Fighting clothes

2. To learn how to fight properly. Like, stiles was not intended to subject him to the worst of the hunts, but the showing derek had put up with the kikimore was pitiful, and even a werewolf probs couldn’t survive being beheaded or eaten, so. Self-defense at least.

Eventually, Stiles helps Derek decide to go home again. Cue teary reunions, forgiveness, and maybe Derek getting called out on having found his mate and not telling anyone. Including, oops, well, now the witcher knows. XD

[Masterlist]

[dearericbittle]

Sterek masterpost

So, now that I’ve written 30 (!) Sterek fics, I figured it was about time that I made a masterpost of my stories. You can find the full list on my Tumblr as well!

Been here before and it just feels right (strangers tonight) - (T, 3.4k) Summary: Derek Hale was an awkward teenager, but he grew into himself. He grew out of that pulling pigtails phase. Shame that being reunited with his old crush brings it all back. Even worse: Stiles doesn’t even seem to recognize him. Or does he?

Better that I break the window (than miss what I should see) - (M, 9k) Summary: Someone opened Stiles’ window. But he’s all the way on the 7th floor - how the fuck did that happen? Spoiler alert: werewolves are real. And really hot.

Bring on the monsters (bring on the real world) - (E, 11.1k) Summary: He was supposed to be making an impression on Lydia, but instead he’s making fun of a terrible werewolf costume. To be fair, those mutton chops remind him of Michael J. Fox in the worst way, and the guy didn’t appear to be too offended. He was too busy smelling Stiles for some reason. He really shouldn’t have forgotten cologne.

but that’s just a first impression (I could be totally wrong) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: Derek is on a really awful blind date (Laura will pay for this). But the waiter is really cute.

The coolest wolf in the whole wide world - (T, 8.3k) Summary: Stiles is surprisingly good at being a wolf. Like, super good at control, loves the drama of making weird entrances, and determined to try all the things. Because he has to find out what’s different about being a wolf. And Derek is going to be his Yoda, whether he wants to or not. Only Stiles is pretty sure Yoda never smelled this good.

Detective Stiles Stilinski and the Case of Derek Hale’s Mysterious Mate - (T, 5.6k) Summary: Mates are a thing. A werewolf thing. Which is fine and shit, but finding out that Derek fucking Hale has a mate? That gets to him. And seeing as Derek won’t tell him who it is, well… Guess that means this is a job for Detective Stiles Stilinski - if he’s not too distracted by his traditional banter with Derek.

Everything mixed up (and baked in a beautiful pie) - (T, 6/6, 42k) Summary: Stiles’ friends are more of a pain in the ass than usual around the holiday season. Just because he spends all of his time at his bakery, doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. So hiring a fake boyfriend seems like the perfect, simple solution. Instead Stiles stumbles onto a stupid quest to make Derek Hale happy. But surely that will all work out in time.

Fit hot guys have problems too (don’t objectify us with your male and female gaze) - (T, 1.7k) Summary: To Cora, 1:24 AM: im tired of guys just wanting to hook up with me. im like, guys, i know im pretty and i have a slammin bod and i love making out, but cant someone treat me with respect?? Derek is tired of being objectified. Enter Stiles Stilinski, hot mess who has an opinion about everything. Derek is surprisingly intrigued.

Gymnophoria - (T, 0.9k) Summary: Stiles is paranoid - he keeps feeling someone’s eyes on him. Surprisingly, no nefarious plans happen.

He got lost in my DMs (wanna be way more than friends) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is somewhat of an online hero, providing candid pictures of himself to anyone who wants persistent suitors to just go away already. Stiles… is suddenly surrounded by assholes who apparently really want to hear about how great his fake boyfriend is. Part 1 of Slide into those DMs

Heard you were tough (but you don’t look it) - (T, 3.6k) Summary: Derek is a protective Alpha, and whenever he sees a human in danger, he has to step in. Usually people are grateful. This guy? Not so much. 3 times Derek saves that ungrateful magic user’s life, and 3 times the ungrateful asshole saved his in return

Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark) - (T, 6k) Summary: Stiles is only at this masquerade party for revenge. Theo Raeken has taken everything from him, and this is the only way he can get close enough to ruin his fucking life. He gets sidetracked by a mysterious stranger who’s looking for revenge of his own. Maybe they can help each other…

I might never be (your knight in shining armor) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: So, in Stiles’ defence, he didn’t actually know that the woman harassing the dude-sel in distress was an actual witch. Or that the dude in question was an Alpha werewolf who claimed to be able to handle himself. Stiles agrees to disagree on that one.

I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover) - (T, 6k) Summary: Derek is pretty happy with the mate he’s somehow chosen, even though Stiles has no idea - and no interest in Derek. But that’s fine. Except Peter just has to open his big mouth, because he clearly wants to ruin Derek’s life. Part 2 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’d be a fearless leader (I’d be an Alpha type) - (T, 7.8k) Summary: Most teenagers would run off if they found a bleeding half-wolf, half-lady with red eyes snarling at them. But Stiles’ fight or flight response has always been a little fucked, and Laura Hale looks like she could use a break. Part 1 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’m gonna light a spark (gonna hold my breath until the morning) - (T, 2.5k) Summary: Derek hates the bus, hates how people use it as an excuse to sit close to him and bat their eyelashes at him. And then this stranger who smells like home just falls asleep on his lap.

Lie under different stars (I’ve not seen you in the flesh for so long) - (T, 3,4k) Summary: In which Laura Hale is a queen of holding on to childhood mementos and seeing things her brother won’t, and Derek Hale rediscovers his love of Mischief.

The man who’s gonna marry you (make you feel alive) - (T, 4.2k) Summary: Only Finstock could marry the wrong people. Only Greenberg could fill out the papers wrong, but Finstock didn’t even check. It was like he wanted Stiles to be married to Derek Hale. And no one would want that, except maybe… Stiles.

No more dark sad lonely (k)nights - (T, 2k) Summary: Derek is an Alpha without an emissary, so his nosy betas made sure he attended the convention. Stiles is clearly in the wrong convention hall, because his Batman cosplay does not appear to be going over well.

Old you in the garbage (new you in display case) - (T, 13.4k) Summary: Stiles is lonely and desperate and suffering from a crush on the grumpiest librarian. So what’s a boy to do but cook up a ridiculous plan to get himself dated and/or finally get laid before the holidays? He just wants his She’s All That moment, okay? He never expected that the plan would actually help him get the guy.

Real life isn’t a movie (life doesn’t make narrative sense) - (M, 11.6k) Summary: Somehow accidentally insulting a hot guy in a coffee shop leads to pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a house full of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski is living his best life and making the most of his Hallmark movie moment.

Shoot your shot when you see em (he’s already in my DMs) - (T, 3.9k) Summary: Derek may or may not be falling in love with one of Laura’s employees, and he’s only ever spoken to him on the phone. Stiles doesn’t even know his name! But apparently, he does know how to slide into his DMs. Part 2 of Slide into those DMs

Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with mistletoe) - (T, 9.5k) Summary: It’s the same thing every time. Derek Hale comes home, the town is in a snit, and Stiles Stilinski polishes his metaphorical armor and gets ready for a battle of wits. Not that he considers Derek’s comments particularly witty. Their friends are just tired of the sexual tension and the rampant egos, and they’re ready to do something about it.

Such great heights (corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces) - (T, 3.3k) Summary: In which everyone in the pack is together and alive, because fuck canon. In which Stiles is surprised that Derek’s super hearing fails him. He just wants to know how tall Derek is, why is that such a big deal?

Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: Scott was cool now - the Squip had made sure of that. Stiles? Not so cool. All he has left are his cryptic conversations with perpetually wasted Derek Hale as he desperately tries to get an evil computer chip from taking over Beacon Hills.

We were young once (innocent and fun once) - (T, 5,3k) Summary: So maybe making Lydia jealous is just an excuse for him to finally talk to Derek Hale - it’s been ten years and clearly that high school crush is not over. There’s just a lot more to Derek than he was expecting.

We’ll put on a show (Scotty has to know) - (T, 7.7k) Summary: Stiles is a stubborn asshole, determined to have fun in Europe even though Scott stays behind in Belgium because of a girl. So asking a stranger to make out with him for the ‘Gram? Totally the best decision he’s ever made, and not just because that’ll totally show Jackson (and Scott!). Shame he won’t see the guy again, though.

What it looks like to forget (it’s easier that way) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: He has no idea who he is, but the stranger with the whiskey eyes is calling him Derek. And the guy has been sitting at his bedside for three days, so he’s got some credit. Especially because the guy smells like he should be his - though that is a supremely weird thought that he probably needs to figure out first.

You want forgiveness (I’ll give that to you) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

You’re moving me around you (I said darling hold me) - (T, 14,5k) Summary: Derek is the only beta in a pack of two, blaming himself for the loss of their entire family. When his sister pays someone to get him used to human contact again, Derek preps himself for a couple unwilling handshakes before he kicks the stranger out of his den. Stiles is… not what Derek expected.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @thisnewjoe!

*****

Feel The Magic

Derek is chained to the wall. The rough edges of the bricks dig into his bare back. Not that it matters, his skin is cut up and oozing blood and has been for God knows how long now. A little extra pain is inconsequential at this point and he barely registers it anymore.

The witch is pacing around in front of him. He doesn’t think of her like that because of her personality (he could use a lot more choice words if that were the case), it’s because she’s an actual witch. Spells, incantations, the whole shebang. Before her appearance in town and his subsequent kidnapping, Derek didn’t know the witch trope was so blatantly true. He always assumed that magic in the world was more subtle. At least, that’s how it has always been… until now.

“Just tell me where they areeeee,” she whines, her voice twinged with immaturity and impatience.

Derek spits blood at her feet. “Eat shit.”

The witch raises her hand and clenches her fingers in response. Derek feels a twisting sensation in his chest, a gurgling sound escaping his lips as more of his blood is displaced inside his body. She waits a few moments, watching him suffer, before finally releasing him from the pain. Derek’s body falls slack against the wall.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She leans in so close; her breath is hot against his ear. “Just tell me where they are, and I’ll leave you be.”

He almost believes her.

“That’s… a lie, and we both… know it,” he mumbles. It takes a lot of energy. Her torture is taking a lot out of him.

“Maybe, but the only way to find out is to give me what I want!” She clenches her fingers again and Derek lets out a guttural scream as the pain washes over him once more. This time, it’s blinding. Every nerve in his body is on fire. He sees white, and the sound of his own fading screams carry him into unconsciousness.

—

The book in Stiles’s lap is large. Impossibly large. The words blur in front of him, his eyes struggling to focus. He’s been reading for what feels like forever, his mind trying it’s hardest to focus but ultimately too distracted by the situation at hand. Every muscle in his body wants to run out and find whoever did this, whoever took Derek… but logic (and Lydia) are right. They need to be prepared, and that means Stiles needs to go into this with some new tricks. Unfortunately his brain isn’t cooperating, and he’s tired of making it try.

“Okay!” He exclaims, shutting the book closed with a loud clap. “I think I’ve got this as down as I’m gonna. I could probably get Derek back by myself even.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Scott replies from the other side of the table. He’s been itching to go for a while now too, but forced to play practical leader. He sided with Lydia when she insisted they hold back to figure out a strategy before running in all-guns blazing.

This strategy, of course, turned out to be Stiles and his magical abilities.

“This is Derek we’re talking about!” Stiles stands up, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. “We need him back, we can’t live without him."

Scott and Lydia share a look that Stiles can’t read.

"I just mean,” Stiles continues, clearing his throat. “That he’s a part of this pack now and we don’t know what’s happening to him. We need to get him back. Now.”

"And we will, man, don’t worry.” Scott walks over and puts a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. It’s meant to be reassuring, but it doesn’t help much.

How can I not? Stiles thinks to himself. We don’t know who or what has him… and we might already be too late...

Over the last year, Stiles has been studying an ancient book, the same book he was reading just minutes ago. He’s been learning how to harness the natural magics of the world to do his bidding. It sounds so dramatic, but that’s how it is. Ever since the pack faced a group of magic-toting Druids last Christmas, he’s been going over their book, learning their tactics and spells. He may not be a werewolf or a banshee, but he’ll be damned if he can’t bring something to the table that helps his friends.

It’s also not something he’s shared beyond Scott and Lydia (and Derek, one night when the two of them were alone and shared a deep conversation full of truths and secrets that neither has addressed since). He didn’t want to go public with this new skill to the rest of the pack until he was sure he could control it. But now someone has Derek and he has no choice.

“We need to go. I’m not going to glean anything new from these books in the next hour that I don’t already know, and Derek could be… he could be already…” Stiles pauses. He’s unable to say it out loud. “We’re wasting time.”

Before they can respond, Stiles turns and walks toward the door, knowing they’ll follow after him.

—

The pack arrives at an empty apartment building. It’s condemned, and a little on the nose as far as Stiles is concerned.

"Okay, we can’t just barge in,” Scott whispers. “We don’t want to rain hell down all at once and force their hand, not while they have Derek.”

“Is it just the one in there?” Lydia asks.

Scott takes a large sniff of the air and nods. “Yeah, I only got one scent, but if they were powerful enough to take Derek down then we need to be careful.”

Just then, Derek screams. His voice is haggard and cuts through the air. It’s not loud enough to alert anyone who might be nearby, but to a group of supernaturals, it’s piercing.

Stiles raises his hand and the front doors of the building explode inward. He strides forward without a second thought, too fast and determined to be stopped by Stiles or Lydia, who are still standing in place, mouths agape.

Door after door flies open as Stiles storms down the hallway. He won’t stop until he finds the one that has Derek behind it. Finally, the last one bursts open, and he’s found his target. The witch turns, raising her hand. A wave of energy moves Stiles’s way, but he raises his own hand in return and the wall of energy parts around him and slams into the wall. The room shudders, dust and plaster falling to the floor from the rickety ceiling above them.

Behind her, Derek hangs limply. His arms are chained above his head and his sweat-soaked hair covers his eyes. The scarlet color of his blood will haunt Stiles for the rest of his life. Seeing Derek like that… seeing him dead… something inside of Stiles breaks. It breaks more than Stiles ever thought a part of him could break. An angry sob threatens to bubble out of his throat, but he holds it back. He doesn’t think about anything else—definitely not the fact that this is the first magic user aside from himself that he’s run into since the druid attack—all he can focus on is taking the bitch down.

Stiles extends his hand and a ball of fire blasts out from his palm, straight toward the witch. She ducks, rolling out of the way at the last moment. The fire slams into the wall beside Derek, jerking him awake.

Awake. He’s not dead.

Stiles doesn’t have time to feel any relief, because the witch is already clenching her fingers closed. A sharp jolt of pain explodes in Stiles’s chest, causing him to lose his breath. He gasps, struggling to stay standing. It hurts… it hurts so fucking bad. It’s like his ribs are being peeled apart.

”So… you’re the magic-user in town,” the witch smirks, climbing to her feet. She has the upper hand again and is relishing in that fact. “Here to save your friend. How quaint. Just when I thought—”

Scott bursts into the room, growling loudly as he shifts into his werewolf face. The witch gasps, losing control of her spell and setting Stiles free from it’s hold. Clearly she’s never seen a werewolf before, let alone thought one was here in town. Lydia comes up beside them too.

”Cover your ears.” She says quickly, and then screams.

The witch is thrown backward, slamming into the wall beside Derek.

She growls. ”You have no idea who you’re—” 

Stiles lifts his hand and jerks it in a circular motion. The witch’s neck snaps. Her body falls to the cold, hard ground.

Stiles runs over and manages to unchain Derek from the wall using a small bit of magic. He falls into Stiles’s arms, unable to hold himself up on his own. Stiles slowly lowers himself to the floor so Derek is laying in his lap.

“I thought she killed you…” Stiles whispers, rubbing his thumb along Derek’s forehead.

“She was going to,” Derek replies before breaking into a stream of coughs. A little bit of blood drips out of his mouth and leaks down his chin.

Tears prick at the corners of Stiles’s eyes. “Oh, fuck… why didn’t you just give her what she wanted?”

“Because she wanted you.”

Derek looks up at Stiles for the first time. His eyes are tired, rimmed in darkness and bloodshot. He looks like hell and feels like it too. Stiles smiles, just so happy that Derek’s alive. He’s fucked up, but he’s alive. That’s all that matters.

”You’re an idiot,” Stiles whispers, wiping the blood of Derek’s chin with his sleeve.

”I know.”

They smile at each other… and then they kiss. They’re not really sure who started it. Maybe they both did. Their lips touch, and it’s everything they’ve both wanted for so long but never admitted, not even to themselves.

Scott coughs. Lydia subtly slips him a tenner.

Stiles and Derek break apart, misty-eyed and dazed. They’d clearly forgotten they weren’t alone.

Scott walks over and lifts Derek’s arm around his shoulder.

”Come on, you two, let’s get out of here.”

—

“She wanted me, Scott.” Stiles says, his hand entwined with Derek’s as he sleeps on the bed next to Stiles’s chair. “She came here looking for me because I can use magic. I only wanted to be able to help you guys, and now there’s probably lots of witches out there gunning for my head.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Scott replies.

“I know… but Derek got hurt because of all this magic stuff. Maybe it’s not worth it. I couldn’t live if you were taken next, or Lydia… my dad, or anyone.”

Scott thinks about what happened. He can’t get the image of Stiles snapping that witch’s neck without a second thought. Sure, she was trying to kill them all, but he did it so easily. He can’t help but wonder if Stiles is right and that maybe magic isn’t worth it, no matter how useful it can be. Would the Stiles from last year have been so cavalier about ending an enemy’s life? Yes, Derek was in danger, but he’s still not sure… maybe magic changes too much.

“Just focus on being here for Derek. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

Stiles looks at Derek. He’s so peaceful when he sleeps. The hard lines of his face are relaxed, the usual sharpness softened by his ordeal. He’s already healing. Stiles loves him so much, and he can’t believe it took a kidnapping and magical fight to make him finally admit that to himself.

He squeezes Derek’s hand.

Derek squeezes back, and smiles in his sleep.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Orange Haze

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

Stiles had dolls. 

Little, perfectly cared for dolls, with specially made doll clothes, and doll shoes, and doll hair. 

Not made from porcelain, but a nice cloth. 

He generally kept the dolls out of sight, tucked away safe. Not because he was ashamed of having dolls, fuck you very much. Dolls as creative outlet or comfort item are appropriate for anyone at any age. No, these specific dolls he kept out of sight so as to avoid any... misunderstandings. 

They were voodoo dolls, you see. 

Of the pack. 

Well, they weren’t “voodoo” dolls. He didn’t know much about actual Vodun practice or any of its magical variants found around the world. However, he’d found a way to create dolls that functioned in basically the same way that Hollywood said voodoo dolls worked, so the name stuck. 

They were reciprocal models. When serious injury occurred to a pack member, it showed up on the doll as a little black mark. Stiles also found that he could influence small things about their physical state. 

For instance, he had several sweaters on standby for Lydia. When the weather got cold and she found herself constantly freezing because werewolves literally never think to turn up the heat, Stiles put an extra sweater or two on her doll. It wouldn’t save her from hypothermia or anything, but Stiles noticed that she didn’t shiver quite as much. 

A few weeks later, Derek got into yet another shouting match with Erica over the way she’d handled a minotaur. Derek got there just in time to prevent her death, but paid the price by getting gored in the back. Afterwards, in pain and terrified of losing her, he yelled some less than choice words. Ashamed and defensive, she yelled back, threatening to leave the pack again before stomping out of the loft with a snarl. 

Derek kicked everyone out of the loft, demanding they go home to their parents. Stiles’ last view of him was shoulders hunched, back tense. So Stiles did go home. Not to his father though, who was at work. He went home to his dolls. 

He immediately pulled out Derek’s, seeing the slowly fading mark on his back. Stiles pulled out a healing cream and dabbed it on to the mark, gently rubbing it in. Across town, Derek felt a wave of relief, and managed to fall asleep. 

Stiles pulled out Erica’s doll next and checked her over for any black marks. When he found none, he sat her doll next to Derek’s, petting her hair slightly and making her lean on him. He had no idea if it would have any affect on her state of mind, but it made him feel better to have her there. 

The dolls were more or less left alone for a few more weeks after that, until Peter dropped Stiles off after rescuing him from yet another coven. 

He limped into his room, Peter following with agitation in his step. Stiles had been lucky; only bruises this time. Peter wasn’t quite so lucky. The witches knew the Hale family history and had been perfectly willing to play against that trauma in order to keep him away from Stiles until he could be sacrificed. 

The line of fire between Peter and Stiles had given him pause, Stiles yelling for him to turn around and get out of there before the fire spread. Instead, Peter gathered himself and dashed through, snatching Stiles and covering him with his jacket before crossing the fire again. By the time they were free he’d been burned mildly, healing in just a few minutes. 

Of course, lingering trauma doesn’t really know mild from severe. 

“I’ll kill him,” Peter growled, pacing Stiles’ bedroom. 

“No you won’t,” Stiles said tiredly. 

“If Scott had killed those witches in the first place like I said he should, they never would have had the chance to take you. They never would have-” he choked on his words for a moment, turning his head away. “That entire row of buildings must have burned down by now,” he finally finished. 

Stiles didn’t doubt that. The fire had gotten out of control quickly.

“You’re still not going to kill Scott. At least not over this,” Stiles said anyway. 

Peter continued to pace. 

“’They just want to visit family,’” Peter scoffed in a mocking tone. “They were dripping with blood magic! I fucking told him-”

“Yeah, I know. So did I. He still thinks everyone deserves a chance. He’s idealistic, Peter.”

“So am I. I have amazing ideas about how to kill-”

Stiles interrupted him by suddenly falling sideways on the bed, having completely lost the will to stay upright. 

“Just-” Stiles’ voice was muffled into the mattress. “Just don’t kill him until I wake up, okay? We can argue some more then.”

Peter paused in his pacing, his face softening, and then tightening again with the new view of the bruises on Stiles’ arms. But he sighed, and walked over to Stiles, pulling a blanket over him and running a hand over his hair, unable to stop himself from scent marking him. 

“If you insist,” he said quietly. Stiles grunted and poked one hand out of the blanket, giving a thumbs up to indicate he’d heard. Peter chuckled and then turned off the light, letting himself out of the house. 

Stiles was already asleep. 

Unfortunately, he only stayed asleep for half an hour before a nightmare had him shooting upright out of bed, scrambling for the light. He panted, checking his surroundings, checking his fingers, checking his closets. His heart rate finally began to slow when he was sure he was home and safe. He stood in the middle of his room, far too anxious to go back to sleep now. Instead, he pulled out his dolls, needing to assure himself that everyone was safe. 

Lydia was fine in her extra sweater, as were Boyd, Erica, and Derek. Allison had a fading spot on the ankle that Stiles knew she’d twisted a week ago. He kept her where she was, with her foot propped on a tiny pillow. 

Scott was fine. 

A buzzing sound caught his attention, and he noticed a mosquito was hovering around the dolls. He considered for a moment, and then let his petty side reign free. He held up Scott’s doll and pulled the band of his pants wide. A few magically infused words coaxed the mosquito into the pants, and then Stiles firmly allowed the band to snap closed again, trapping the mosquito inside. 

He gave it several minutes, allowing the mosquito as much time as possible to search for blood, and then let it go outside. With a slight smirk, he placed Scott’s doll back with the others. 

Finally, he checked Peter’s doll. 

The entire left side was an ashen grey. 

Stiles hadn’t seen anything like it before, and he immediately worried. Grabbing his phone, he called Peter while trying not to freak out. 

“‘Lo?” Peter answered. 

“Peter? Are you alright?” Stiles asked urgently. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Peter’s tone was confused. “I thought you’d still be asleep for at least another ten hours. Are you alright?”

Stiles glanced back at the doll. The left side was still grey. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just had a bad dream.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Peter asked casually, in a way that Stiles knew was deliberate. 

“No, I think I’m just going to try to go back to sleep.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Those flimsy human bodies need an absurd amount of rest, you know.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Goodnight Peter. 

“Goodnight Stiles.”

After hanging up, Stiles picked up Peter’s doll, taking a closer look. 

Could psychological injury manifest on the dolls? 

And what could Stiles even do about it?

After a moment, Stiles got up and put the doll on his window sill, left side pressed up against the cold windowpane. Slowly, the grey began to recede. It didn’t vanish entirely, but it was lighter than before. 

Stiles yawned so wide his jaw cracked. Groaning, he climbed back between the covers, leaving the lights on this time. 

The next morning, Peter was so distracted that he didn’t even think about killing Scott for more than a minute or two. 

When he’d left the Stilinski’s the night before, his entire left side had burned like it had years ago. The memory of his nerves burning and slowly trying to heal only to burn again was seared into his skin, felt on every inch of skin despite not being real. 

Now, however, it was gone, replaced by a soothing cooling sensation. 

Was it a curse? It was a luckily pleasant curse, if so. Had the witches done something? Would the cooling sensation slowly turn back into a burning sensation, or slowly freeze him from the left to the right?

He got up and headed straight for Stiles, partially to check on him after last night, and partially because he knew (slightly) more about curses than Peter. 

As soon as he arrived at the house he knew Stiles was still asleep. His slow, even breathing was a balm to Peter. He quietly let himself into the house, unconcerned with the second slow heartbeat behind the sheriff’s bedroom door. 

He slid into Stiles’ bedroom, a slight tension in his chest easing with the visual evidence of Stiles’ wellbeing. He glanced around the room, wondering if Stiles had changed his laptop password since the last time he guessed it. There might be a few files on curses in there-

Suddenly he noticed the doll. An unmistakable miniature version of himself sitting on the windowsill, leaning on the glass. He crept over, fascinated, and picked himself up. Suddenly his left side warmed. Not burning, but no longer pleasantly cool either. His eyes widened, and he put the doll back up against the window. The cold sensation returned. Peter’s mouth dropped open and he picked up the doll once more. 

He’d never say what possessed him, aside from the need to be absolutely sure, but he grabbed hold of the doll’s arm between two fingernails and pinched. 

“Ouch!” he hissed, rubbing the sharp pain on his own arm. 

Stiles suddenly stirred, blearily alarmed eyes scanning the room before falling on Peter. 

“Pet’r?” he mumbled. “What’re you doing here s’ early?” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. 

Peter said nothing, just waiting for Stiles to finish waking up and notice what he was holding. 

It only took another moment. 

“Oh shit,” Stiles said. Peter raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t gonna stick pins in you or anything,” Stiles blurted. 

“I can see that,” Peter said, looking back down at the doll amazed and curious. “Why was he leaning up against the window?”

Stiles fidgeted for a moment before answering. 

“Your left side hurt,” he said quietly. Peter stilled. “It looked different from a normal injury, so I thought- well. I thought the window would help.”

Peter stood quietly for a moment. 

“It did,” he finally said, and sat his doll back on the windowsill. He turned bright eyes on Stiles. “You’re truly amazing, you know that?”

Stiles tried to fight down a blush, but it found its way to his face anyway. Peter took a step closer to the bed, bringing himself within touching distance. 

“Incredible. Wonderful. Brilliant. Stunning-”

“Oh my God,” Stiles groaned, face getting pinker with every word. “Why are you doing this?”

Peter leaned down closer.

“I just want you to know all the reasons I’m about to do this.”

And then he kissed him. 

Stiles let out a startled little gasp, allowing Peter to slip his tongue in, bringing his hands up to cradle Stiles’ head. Stiles moaned into the kiss, tilting to deepen it and grabbing on to Peter’s wrists with his own hands. The press of their lips seemed to last an eternity while also only lasting a second, the licks and bites in between marking movement of something other than time. 

When they finally parted, Peter pressed his cheek to Stiles and whispered into his ear, “It’s not because of gratitude. It’s because of you.”

Stiles shuddered, gripping onto to Peter more tightly before moving to gently pet down Peter’s side. They stayed that way for a while, but eventually Stiles’ bruises needed attention. 

As he rubbed an arnica mixture into them, he showed Peter the rest of the dolls. 

“Amazing. Truly exceptional, except where’s yours?” Peter asked. 

Stiles stalled out at that. 

“I... don’t have one?” He shrugged. “I dunno. Seems weird to take care of my own voodoo doll.” 

“Hm,” Peter said, the wheels already turning in his head. 

Scott stopped by later to check on both of them and bemoan the lack of honesty in blood witches. 

If Stiles noticed that he couldn’t sit still for itching, then he said nothing. 

Peter eventually convinced Stiles to make a doll for himself, and then swiftly took it into his own care. He kept the doll tucked away safe most of the time, although on days Stiles couldn’t be there, it came out at least twice a day for a kiss good morning and kiss good night.

And when the others saw, they said nothing, because Stiles was sure to inform them that dolls as a creative outlet and comfort item are appropriate for anyone at any age. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: For @nobodyinparticular98, who was going to die unless I did something with this, and @bookwormcheerleader who was totally right that this is a steter idea.