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starshipsofstarlord · 11 months

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Little Rascal

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

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

peter hale masterlist main masterlist more teen wolf

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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hawkeyetrained · 1 year

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Bait

Derek Hale x Fem!reader

Other Characters: Peter Hale, Stiles, Lydia, Scott, Malia (mentioned), Liam (mentioned)

Warnings: angst, fighting, cuts and scrapes

Summary: When girls are being killed in Beacon Hills, and looks just like her, she gives the idea of using herself as bait.

Word Count: 2,427

Summer in Beacon Hills brought on a heat wave this year, making everything in the supernatural world that much harder. Lydia and I had gone shopping a week or so prior, so the two of us had gotten lucky with some clothes prepared for the heat, but the rest of the pack didn’t think to plan ahead. Most of the boys had traded in their long sleeves and flannels for t-shirts fairly quickly, opting to get out of the werewolf heat along with the heat from the sun.

The pack and I had been close since Scott first turned. I basically grew up with Lydia as my best friend, and Scott and Stiles were always around. When I first met Derek, I was in the woods with the boys when they had lost Scott’s inhaler. Ever since that day, the former alpha and I had been inseparable.

Now, we were halfway through our summer break before senior year and facing the latest big bad that decided to terrorize our little town. Stiles had noticed the pattern far before any of us did, alerting us to the bodies of young girls who had begun turning up in the woods, all having one scary connection. The four bodies that had been found were all going into their senior year here at Beacon Hills High and had H/C hair and E/C eyes, just like me. When Derek heard of the connection, I was no longer allowed to go out into the woods at all or be left alone anywhere. I was to be watched 24/7 until we caught whatever was killing the girls. I was alright with his plan, wanting to make him happy, but I was also scared that I would be the next body in the woods that Sheriff Stilinski would find.

“Hey.” A voice snapped me from my daydream on the couch in Derek’s loft. “You alright?” It was Peter, knelt down in front of me, his eyes full of worry.

I nodded and gave him a soft smile. “I’m ok.” Of his relationships with the rest of the pack, he and I got along the best. Peter could sense the love Derek and I held for each other, basically from day one, and was very protective of that. He never snapped at me, would bring me what I needed if I asked for it, and had volunteered to stay with me when I worked or needed a ride if Derek happened to be busy.

“You’re lying.” Damn the werewolf hearing. “Your heartbeat changes when you lie, it almost literally skips a beat.” He had a soft smirk on his face to show me he meant no offense.

I ran a hand through the ends of my hair as the last of the pack finally showed up for the meeting. “Just worried, I guess.” He stood and held his hands out to pull me to my feet, allowing me to drift over to Derek’s side as the meeting began.

“Any leads?” The true alpha asked, earning shaking heads and shrugs from the rest of the pack.

The werewolves went back and forth for a while, exchanging ideas on how to catch the new creature, trying to figure out what exactly it was, while Lydia and I shared looks between the two of us, almost having a silent conversation.

So, when I spoke up, she wasn’t all that surprised. “We know what it goes after.”

“We do.” Peter nodded, trying to see where I was going with it and wanting to see if he’ll need to calm his nephew down when I made my point.

“What if we set up a trap?”

“And how do we do that?” Derek’s eyes locked on me with his arms crossed over his chest.

I took a moment to square off my shoulders and hide the fear creeping up in my body that nearly everyone in the room could smell. “You need bait, to draw it out.”

“We can’t just send some random girl from the school, that knows nothing of the supernatural, out into the woods and hope they don’t get killed before we find our monster.” Stiles retorted, throwing his hands in the air.

I rolled my eyes and watched as Lydia smacked the back of his head. “She doesn’t mean someone random.”

Her comment made every set of eyes land on my face, my cheeks going red from all the attention. “What? We know that whatever this is, likes girls going into senior year here with H/C hair and E/C eyes.” I waved my hands to my face. “I kinda fit the description if you don’t remember.”

“No.” Derek growled out quickly. “No way in hell are you going to play bait for this monster.”

“Derek’s right.” Peter agreed with his nephew.

I groaned. “I can’t just sit around and wait for another body to drop when I know there’s something I can do! I get it, I’m human and therefore have no chance against this thing, but I’m also not saying I’ll be alone. Scatter yourselves through the woods, keep an eye on me as I walk around. This could be the only chance we get to stop this thing before it kills another girl we’re supposed to graduate with!”

“Not going to happen.” Came from Derek again.

I was about to speak again when Stiles’s phone rang through the loft. He answered quickly and had a quiet conversation with whoever was on the other end. “So, that was my dad.” My movements froze and I could feel Derek stiffen up next to me. “There’s another body, a lot closer to town this time.”

“Who?” Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Caroline Mathews, I think he said. She’s been missing for three days.”

Caroline and I had the same chemistry class back in sophomore year, we were even lab partners for the better half of the year. “I knew her.” I mumbled.

This was the first girl to die with one of us truly knowing her. It had just been newer girls to the school that we all hadn’t met yet, or ones that we never shared classes with throughout the years. “Really?” Lydia came over to my side as I gave her a nod.

“She was my lab partner in chem two years ago. We used to joke around with Miss Mitchel that we were each other since we looked so alike.” Lydia wrapped an arm around my shoulder comfortingly. My eyes flashed up to Derek. “Please, you have to let me do this. I don’t want more families suffering because their daughter was killed. It’s bad enough we’re up to five now. Please.” My eyes were wide, and my heart pounded in my chest, waiting for the next “no” to leave his lips.

He hesitated before dropping his crossed arms and grabbing my hand. “Can we talk a minute?” I nodded, taking his hand tightly and following him out onto the balcony and into the summer heat. “You really want to risk your life on something we can figure out soon?”

“I know you’re scared, ok, I’m scared. But I also don’t want anyone else dying when there’s a chance that I can help stop this. Please. I’ll do everything you say and stay within eyesight. I swear to you.”

A deep sigh left Derek’s mouth and he suddenly pulled me into his chest tightly. “You do exactly as I say, and we do this tonight and tonight only. Anything goes south, you yell for help, even if we’re right there.” I nodded into his chest, hugging him back before we both went back inside to tell the pack of the plan for tonight.

Six hours later, I had added a green jacket to my outfit and had begun walking around the woods. The sun was slowly setting, and the rest of the pack was spread through the woods, Derek and Peter closest to me, flanking both of my sides about 500 feet away. The rest of the pack was spread out, listening for any strange sounds that shouldn’t belong or any odd scents. My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered around the woods, trying to keep track of where I was and where I had come from. I knew Derek wouldn’t let me get lost, but I wanted to make sure that I could run if I needed to.

My phone buzzed in my jacket pocket, my fingers flying to the object and pulling it up. A text from Lydia lit my screen up. Anything yet?

I quickly typed a message back. Nothing.

A message from Derek was next, popping to the top of my screen. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. Only a little longer before we call it a night.

My eyes flickered in the direction I knew Derek was following me, my eyes searching impossibly in the dark for him. I left the message open, not really knowing what to say or how to tell him that I was absolutely terrified being out in the woods, even though it was my idea to start.

Suddenly, there were heavy footsteps coming up from behind me, and moving fast. I quickly locked my phone, trying to slide it back in my pocket. Just as I was about to yell out for Derek and Peter, a body slammed into mine, sending me crashing to the ground and my phone flying away. Fear gripped me like a vice, squeezing my chest tighter and tighter as my brain tried working on what to do. I knew I needed to call out for the two Hale’s in the woods, to get up and run as fast and as far as I could, but nothing was working.

Deep growls filled the woods next, hands gripping onto my arms and pinning me into the dirt. I finally managed to crack my eyes open to get a look at what was huffing loudly, only to come face-to-face with an unfamiliar werewolf. His face was shifted, deep brown hair ruffled around his face and fangs barred at me with glowing blue eyes.

My chest tightened as his claws started digging into my skin. God, where were Derek and Peter? I struggled in the wolf’s hold, trying to pull my hands free, kicking against his weight but it was useless. Then I remembered Derek’s rule; yell, even if I knew he and Peter were close.

Taking the deepest possible breath, I finally managed to get my head together. “Derek!” My voice came out as a shriek, piercing through the air. “Derek, Peter!” I screamed, pulling as hard as I could against the weight. The hand that had been wrapped around my right wrist was suddenly squeezing at my throat, cutting off any other screams.

“No one’s here.” The wolf taunted. “It’s just you and me.” A sick smile crossed his face, enhancing the supernatural features. His claws pressed harder into my wrist and throat, a gasp of pain leaving my lips as he seemed to toy with me. “No one’s coming for you.”

The clawed hand at my throat raised into the air above me, making to slash at my throat, but before he was able to, a body crashed into him. The strange wolf and someone else went tumbling a few feet away from me, allowing me just a moment to sit up and huff in a few breaths of air before hands were wrapping around my shoulders.

“No! No, let me go!” I screamed, smacking at the hands on me.

“Hey, hey.” A familiar voice soothed. “You’re safe. I got you.” Peter turned me in his arms, grabbing at my chin to make me look up at him. “Look at me. You’re ok.”

I took a shaky breath and finally looked up to him. “Peter.” My word fell as a whisper.

The older Hale nodded, pulling me against his chest as new growls filled the air. Peter pulled me a bit farther from the space he had found me in. I turned as we got to the side of a large tree, Derek, Scott, Malia, and Liam were all stood in a line between me and the other wolf. I could hear Scott trying to talk with the wolf, but Peter’s gentle hands on my wrists distracted me.

“Are you alright?” He asked, voice low and very quiet. I nodded shakily, glancing down to the half dozen moon-shaped cuts along my wrists. Peter’s arms were laced with black veins as the pain subsided, his eyes looking at the scratches on my neck.

“Thank you.” I shuddered, no longer liking my own plan, but I was glad that the pack had found the wolf, and not another girl I was to graduate with this year.

A loud roar seemed to shake the ground, and I managed to catch sight of Derek slamming the wolf into the ground. It seemed like he had tried making a run between him and Liam, aiming for me yet again. Peter was in front of me the moment he caught his nephew’s movement, his teeth bared and a growl rumbling his chest.

“Leave.” Derek hissed, his teeth shining in the moonlight. A threat that I couldn’t hear left his lips, the wolf on the ground seeming to come back to himself a little. “You three, make sure he leaves.” Derek pulled the wolf up and shoved him towards the werewolves and werecoyote. After the wolf and our three pack members were far enough into the woods, Derek finally turned to me, his fangs retracting and his eyes softening from their bright blue back into his usual eyes. “Are you alright?” He asked, coming up and instantly wrapping his arms around me.

I nodded carefully into his chest. “I am now.”

He pulled back and gently took my hands into his, turning them over to check the cuts. “He did this? He say anything to you?” His hand then cupped my cheek as he raised my head to look at my neck.

“His claws.” I answered the first question. “And nothing important. He tried scaring me more than anything. Said no one was coming.”

“I should have come faster. He set traps in the woods to draw our attention away.”

My head shook at him. “You saved me. I’m sorry I had this plan. I know you didn’t like it.”

“It’s fine now. But you’re never playing bait again, you hear me?” He started leading me out of the woods, back towards the pack.

“I hear you.”

@thetallassgirl @hallecarey1

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #peter hale #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf one shot

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goldeneyedgirl · 6 months

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AILess Whumptober Day 27: Locked Up/Immortal

The final entry, late but complete! I figured that I put Alice through the ringer all the time, it might be Jasper's turn. I had a very specific image of how this would look in my head that did not want to be translated to the page. I've also looked at this so long that I cannot look at it any longer.

So, enjoy whatever this is! I hope you all enjoyed Whumptober and were suitably depressed after my contributions to this event my loves <3

iron & stone. (day 27: imprisoned/immortal).

twilight, alice/jasper, pg, one-sided vampire alice/demon jasper.

very non-graphic wound description

She finds him in an old church in Tulsita, Texas. It’s a tiny place, one that has less than thirty people.

It’s a grim little town, with worn buildings and cracked roads; the air is thick and hot, even late at night. It’s the perfect place to be forgotten about, to be trapped. It’s a place that feels like it isn’t part of the real world, and like maybe time has frozen.

There’s an edge of dread in the air, and she has to wonder about that.

But mostly, she just feels anticipation.

It’s taken her thirty years to find him, she’s looked everywhere. She’s read everything. She’s recorded all her visions and made all the notes. She’s learned Spanish, Italian, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin for him. She’s practically a scholar on him and his kind now.

She’s still nervous.

(There are three kinds of demons - the oldest ones who have existed for always, those are the ones that should never been disturbed or called upon. Then there are the ones that are born naturally - very rare but possible. And then there are the ones that are made. Not like vampires - in the demon world vampires are half-breed cockroaches, endemic to humanity, according to the books she’s read. The change isn’t half the pain and suffering that being turned into a demon is - she knows that.)

She walks through forest surrounding the building carefully - it’s unlikely that anyone will see her, but she prefers to err on the side of cautious. Especially since it’s very, very clear that someone does visit regularly (relatively speaking, of course - time moves very differently for immortals.)

The church is thoroughly abandoned, the pews rotten and broken and the floor tiles cracked and scattered - what would have been an expensive point of pride lost to time and neglect. What is left of the prayer books are ruined cardboard covers covered in mould. The altar is pulled right down and destroyed; all but one of the windows is boarded up. Glass crunches underfoot - a mix of the remain window’s panes, and broken beer bottles scattered around.

And as she stands there and looks around, she wonders how anyone set foot in this place, even just to hide and drink, when she can feel his presence right here? That boiling rage, that uneasy feeling in the air - the gift of animal fear, that whatever this place contains is dangerous and they need to run. It’s all around her, yelling at her to leave and never come back.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Edward and Carlisle would be furious she’s come here by herself. When she’d worked it all out, when she’d told them what her visions had shown her, they’d acted like he was dead and gone and she’d just have to get used to walking the world alone. They expected grief and she’d been confused - Carlisle had insisted that he was as good as dead, and Alice needed to make her peace with that.

Alice could never bring him home. That the Cullen residence, the Cullen name, had no place for monsters and terrors and the things that little children hide from. And she had agreed with them politely, told them that she understood. And she did. They had thought she was mourning, taking her time to adjust to what her life would look like now.

Esme had tried to talk with her, but Alice had refused, and just closed herself up in her bedroom. And they had let her be.

They hadn’t expected her to pack her things in the same satchel she arrived with, to leave behind her locket with a letter thanking them for their hospitality; shedding the Cullen name and creed like an unfashionable winter coat.

If there was no place for monsters amongst the Cullens, then she certainly wasn’t welcome. They forget that she was a nomad, a vampire before she arrived at their house with a smile and golden eyes. They forget that she has a whole story before she ever found them, and that it’s not all pretty and kind.

(No place for monsters, when Carlisle went and changed four innocent people without consent? When suicide is a sin and so is murder? That she loves them fiercely but to be a family is to realize that none of them are perfect and holy and unsullied by their nature? The House of Cullen is so beautifully monstrous, she almost feels sorry for them for not seeing that.)

She had made herself once, exactly how she wanted, and she could do it again. Maybe one day she’ll visit them. See if they forgive her. Esme will. Emmett will. Rose might. But Carlisle and Edward… well, it depends on a lot of things.

Like what lies beneath the church.

It takes her a while to find the little trapdoor down into the earth behind the altar, covered with broken wood and tile, and chained up with a shiny new padlock that crumples like paper in her determined hand. The steps down are mostly rotten - slats of wood wedged roughly into the earth - but she is small and light, and slips down easily, down into a cellar dug too deep and too precisely to be created for anything but a very specific purpose, with the little alcoves in the wall with wells of oil to light the way - only a few of them are still barely burning, throwing bizarre shadows onto the walls.

Everything about this is screaming for her to turn back. Every instinct, every sign is telling her to go home. Except…

She saw him so many times, in hundreds of moments that will weave between them. The laughter and the jokes and the love. She’s seen the way he’ll protect her and change her, and she’ll do the same for him. He’ll look at her with loathing and then tolerance and smug power, and finally, soul-binding love and adoration. The scars she’ll bare will be in the shape of his jaw. She’ll trace his scars with her fingers and her mouth and her tongue; she knows all the little pieces of his story - the boring and the ugly and the difficult, as well as the fragments that are light and precious.

She can’t wait.

But this… this part she’s never seen properly and maybe her brain was protecting her.

The room is small, and little more than dirt and stone held up with rotting beams - buckled and warped, but holding steady for now. It smells rotten down here, almost burnt.

And then there is him.

He lies in the middle, on the stone, his head thrown back like a sacrifice about to be cut open in the name of some ancient god. His eyes are closed and if she didn’t know better, she would think he was asleep. She can see him properly like this, the muscular lines of his torso, the tendons in his neck, the strength in his arms and legs. He looks like a classical Greek sculpture celebrating rapture.

Except… there’s pain. The pain radiates off him like heat; most of the scars are old but the wounds are not. Or maybe they can’t heal. Burns and cuts and bone-deep gouges cover every part of him. There’s a tremor to his body that she doesn’t understand.

And then he hears her shoes on the stone floor and he lunges in one swift move, alert and ready, a snarl echoing in the space.

…Or what should have been one swift move.

Instead, it’s messy and horrific and takes her a moment to process, as she tumbles backwards, losing her footing as he comes at her.

He rips himself from the stone, pieces of skin from his legs sticking to the floor when he moves, leaving open wounds that looks almost like burns on every piece of skin that the stone touched. His legs buckle and shake at the sudden movement, evidence that he has not stood in a very long time.

His eyes are so black they look like empty sockets as he looms over her. Blackness spreads up his hands and arms, spidery black veins stretching from his eyes and throat. For a moment, she thinks she catches a glimpse of the wings; ghost-like and ephemeral in the corner of her eye, tattered void stretched over ancient bone, cracking into place no longer than his arm span.

(He’s magnificent.)

And just as suddenly as he hovers over her, he is ripped backwards and hits the floor with a hiss and the heavy clank of chains pulling tight and recoiling. She gasps at his visible pain, the way he struggles to get up, the demonic visage fading back into the skin of a man. A man in the worst kind of pain she’s ever seen.

“Get out.” His voice is hoarse, the kind that hurts to listen to, and he turns away from her. She can see the chains properly now - ankles, wrists, throat, and thighs, all connecting to a back-brace of iron. The wings have sunk back into his flesh, deep scarring almost outlining them on his back, and she hates to think how painful it was to stretch them imprisoned like this.

How long has he been here, like this? As beautiful as he is, she can see every hour, day, decade he’s spent here in the gaunt shadows of his face, in the decay in his clothing, in the layers upon layers of scars and open wounds. His eyes are hard; there is no hope or trust in them at all.

She always knew it would be difficult, but she never counted on what seeing him in this state would be like. How much it would ache to see this bitter shadow of a man, and the suffering he has lived through.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she says, sitting up. Her bag has survived the fall, but she prepared for it. Nothing in the bag is breakable, for good reason. He’s liable to get angrier.

“Oh?” He looks at her. “You long for death so badly?” His voice is mocking, but she can hear the strain, the rasp of his agony. He shifts to see her better, and she can almost see ghost of his future self.

“Only of a certain kind,” she murmurs to try and lighten the mood, but it falls flat - he’s giving her the kind of look Edward reserved for fawning classmates, so she feels adequately stupid and regrets being so flippant and crude. “You’re hurt. I want to help you.”

He is so badly hurt. The fresh burns smell like alcohol, raw and weeping blood. It’s oddly matte with no shine, but demon blood isn’t like human blood. There’s also a mottled black mark on his torso that she hopes is some terrible bruise and not broken bone just beneath the skin.

“Go away.” His voice is hard, no trace of the pain or misery he’s experiencing. There is a power and a rage there that makes her skin crawl and every instinct is telling her to run. He glares at her, and his eyes… she’s seen them red and gold and black, but right now they are demonic - a black sclera and pupil with churning red iris. But there is no shine to them, just a void. They scream of danger and she understands a little better why Carlisle warned her so grimly away from him.

“No.” She rummages in her bag. Aro had allowed her to use the library for a whole summer, to learn about demon physiology and healing. He’d been amused by her request - and by the discovery she’d left Carlisle’s family in pursuit of this demon. She knows that he’s already plotting, that nothing he offers is without strings attached, but she’ll worry about that later. She has the knowledge, and that is what is most important. “Let me help you.”

“Why do you want to help me? What do you want?” He’s holding himself oddly, and she realizes he’s trying not to touch the stone again, only the soles of his feet.

“To help you. And to talk.” She checks the bottles have not split in her bag; she’d used old water bottles, and a few of them are warping from the chemicals inside of them. But she’d gone over it a dozen times at least, and these will work. He just needs to let her help. “If you don’t like what I have to say, you can leave. Nothing about this is conditional.”

He stares at her. “You don’t want to be remade?” He asked suspiciously. His breathing is labored. “You don’t want all the secrets of the underworld? Wealth? To live again?”

She shakes her head. “I have money and a home of my own. And I have no memory of ever being anything else but what I am right now. The only thing I want is to help you.”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “You say that. But you’ll expect things. Everyone who comes here does. They always want. Humans are greedy creatures and vampires are parasites. You’ll want something, they all do,” he snaps at her and then he smiles, cruel and sharp. “Not many survive being remade. Maria tried to make a dozen of us. I was the only one of my batch that made it through. You have no idea what pain can be.” He scoffs. “Especially if the change was so overwhelming for you that you blocked it out.”

“I know.” She does. She’s read all the written accounts of being remade into a demon right back to some scraps of information from the Roman Empire; the rituals are mostly anecdotal. There was nothing about how it was done; even Aro didn’t have a full copy of how to remake someone. Several of the leads pointed towards the possibility of the remaining instructions being locked up in the Vatican, but even her visions couldn’t decipher if they were genuine or just a rumor.

The fact Maria of Monterrey had found a record and managed to translate it into a ritual that actually worked was awe-inspiring. It made her one of the most dangerous people on the planet - and one of the most powerful.

But the cost of it… how many people had she killed to create Jasper? To create her army? There were the newborn recruits, the blood for the army, and the ones that she tried to remake… that was thousands, more than Alice could comprehend in the scale of human life.

No, she’s not interested. Perhaps she even fears physical pain a little, because she has no memory of human pain, of the change. She’s never bled, never ached, never really suffered like that. And that unknown void of pain, a universal emotion understood by every living thing on the planet… she doesn’t have that.

But maybe…

“I’ve never been hurt,” she says softly. “Not that I remember. I can’t stand the thought of it. That something can feel like that. If I can stop it, I want to. That’s all.”

His gaze burns into her.

“Do you know how many people have come here and promised me things?” He sounds angry but tired. “They’ll free me, they’ll give me money and food and bandage me up. My own army. Girls. Boys. Anything I goddamn want. Do you know what happens to them?”

She sits cross-legged. “Don’t pretend you killed them.”

“You don’t think I could?” The look on his face is dangerous.

“I know you could. I know that if you really wanted to, I would have been dead before I saw you move. I know that you were the most dangerous man in Texas and Mexico for decades before I was even born - before you were remade.

“But I don’t see any bodies. No bloodstains, no bones, nothing left behind. There’s nothing here. Whatever they offered you, you didn’t kill them for it.”

“When I didn’t give them what they want, they left me here,” he says finally. “All of them.”

“Were there many?” That she is curious about. There are a hundred reasons to seek out a demon, but few people are brave enough, and fewer still with the information to find one.

“More than I expected.” He looks at her, his gaze hard and bitter. “What do you want?”

“To help you,” she says obediently. “To get you out of the chains and upstairs; maybe look at some of those wounds? I’m no doctor, but I think I know what to do.”

“And what is your price?” He sounds testy again, and she’s getting annoyed that he won’t listen.

“I’m a cheap date - maybe you can just not kill me? Once you’re free, maybe we could talk for a little while? I have a house we can go to where you can recover safely, if you want to. Otherwise we part as friends.” That would be a disappointing outcome but one she is prepared for. “As long as you’re okay to be alone. I didn’t go to all this trouble to let you go off on your own and keel over in the street dead.”

The surprise on his face is genuine. “I cannot die from this. That’s the whole point of being down here,” he said slowly. “I can only suffer. It would take much, much more to end me.”

He looks sad and tired when he says that, and she wants to hold him. To reassure him that it will get better. It can be wonderful, if he gives her a chance.

“Good. Then if you want to leave me, you can. Just let me help you, and everything will be okay, I promise.”

They stare at each other for a long time, neither of them flinching before he nods his head once.

“I hold a grudge. If you double-cross me…” he begins but she’s already moving closer.

“I understand.” And she does - she’s had visions of him in battle, and the sheer violence and blood-lust had scared her. He is a dangerous creature. But she’d be more likely to rip off her own arm than intentionally harm him.

“You’ll want to take off your shoes.”

It’s an odd request but she takes off her boots and moves forward.

One foot on the stone and she can feel the warmth inside of it; when she looks down, her stockings are already being to singe from the heat.

“Keep moving, or you’ll stick,” he warns and she’s horrified.

The stains on the stone that she had assumed were age were patches of blackened skin still stuck to the stone - his skin - that had torn away from him every single time that he moved.

And then there was the sudden awareness of that fact that his feet have been resting flat against the stone since they’ve started speaking, and she wants to scream, to pry him off the stone herself. She looks at him in naked horror and his lip quirks in quasi-amusement at her expression.

“It’s consecrated ground - no matter how deep it goes, it will always burn the likes of us - me worse than you, but I wouldn’t linger. And no, your shoes wouldn’t protect you.”

Consecrated ground. Fucking consecrated ground. She’d read about it - Europe was lousy with it, but much of it has faded away forgotten and unsanctified in the last couple of centuries as religion has lost its grip on the population. It’s much rarer in the states - most of it is in New England, allegedly. But this perfectly built little prison, complete with consecrated ground… she wants to ask a million questions about the how and the why, but she knows he won’t answer. Not yet.

Right now, she needs to get him off of the floor and out of this evil little room as soon as possible. And the first step is to break the chains embedded in the wall - where a single panel of rock is placed.

She’ll worry about getting the brace off of him once they’re out of here.

He watches her, almost entertained, as she tries to break the links, inspecting the chain carefully for flaws or weaknesses. But even with all her strength, they don’t even bend. They are stubborn and as cursed as this entire basement.

She can feel it - they cannot be broken. She can’t see a way around it.

But when she looks down at him watching her, at his dead-eyed stare of acceptance that he will not be leaving, she feels the weight of what she’s promised him. That he still believes that she will fail and leave him to his fate.

But she was Emmett Cullen’s sister for nearly three years, and Emmett had never met a law, a riddle, a trap or a rule that he couldn’t find a loophole for.

Which is why she brought a screwdriver. An entire toolkit, actually. Whilst vampire strength and speed could fix so many problems, there were some things that required the precision of a toolkit or a lock pick. And maybe the last gift Emmett ever gave her was a mini pink toolkit, and she’d taken that when she’d left.

If there was one thing that all her research had taught her was that magical laws are rigid and precise. The chains will not and can not be broken - that is clear to both of them. She probably isn’t the first that has tried over the years - she could only imagine that he’s tried to free himself hundreds, probably thousands, of times.

So they cannot break them.

She doubts anyone bothered to stop them from being dismantled.

He stares at her incredulously when she pulls the screwdriver from her bag, like maybe she’s some kind of fool. And maybe she is.

But when the first screw hits the stone, she smiles brightly at the look of shock on his face.

“Pick all of them up, I don’t want anyone knowing how we figured this out,” she says bossily, hopping between her feet - her stockings have burnt through, ragged blacked edges having stretched back up above her ankle. She has more clothing at the house, but she’s mildly annoyed at the architect of this building for ruining them. It’s an uncomfortable heat, an odd sensation, but it doesn’t feel too bad as long as she keeps moving.

He fumbles for the screws as each of them fall - they are smaller than it feels like they should be for the size and weight of the chains, but there are so many of them.

And then…

And then the heavy chains drop free of the wall, and he is free. He stares at them in total bewilderment before he looks back up at her.

“Now you’re free,” she says breathlessly, jamming the screwdriver into her bag, and goes to help him stand. He’s unsteady but takes a deep breath as he begins to peel his feet from the stone. It’s horrific as the skin of his soles tears away, blistered and raw but not yet blackened, thankfully. He lets out a groan of pain, one that makes him sound every single day of his age, every single day of his pain.

She doesn’t say anything, she just supports him until they are finally, finally back on the dirt floor.

“Do you want to sit?” She asks quietly and he shakes his head.

“I want to get out,” he says stiffly, and she nods, as they move towards the exit.

It’s an awkward trip back up the stairs; the staircase is narrow, but he needs her guiding support for now, his legs shaking with each step. It takes twice as long as it should, with him pausing every so many steps, as she half-shoves him onto each step. His movements are made awkward from the brace, and she’s already trying to figure out how she’ll pry that thing off him.

And then…

She shoves open the trap door, the wood splintering. And even the feeble moonlight shining down from the broken window feels like someone has just lit up the room - the darkness of the cellar feels inky and oppressive in comparison; the oil-wells dimmer than they were when she descended.

He lets out a shuddering breath as he climbs out, into the fresh air, his eyes darting around the space.

“It’s okay, it’s only us,” she soothes. “You’re safe.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look at her. He’s staring at the boarded-up windows, at the broken glass and rotting pews and forgotten prayer books.

The look on his face reminds her of herself, when she awoke that first time in the woods alone. She knew nothing, had seen nothing in person… just the appreciation and awe of being there, in that place. A moment of simply being alive and in the world.

She remembers it well.

—

They sit inside the old church in silence for a while.

After a while, she begins to pull out first aid from her bag. “Let me,” she says softly, and he doesn’t protest - though he refuses to let her see the wounds under his threadbare clothing. She hasn’t got anything that will stitch his wounds, but she can clean the wounds and bandage them so that they at least stay sanitized and protected. The chemicals she has to use burn her nose, but they seem to work.

“Now, let’s have a look at the brace,” she says soothingly, the screwdriver back in her hand. He eyes her with suspicion but nods once for her to continue.

It’s not as easy as the chains. The brace is too tight and has bitten tight into his skin. The screws come out slowly, ad she doesn’t care that they roll amongst the glass and the debris.

The brace doesn’t fall away. Instead, she has to peal each piece away, skin and scar tissue tearing, leaving raw open wounds in their wake. But he doesn’t make a sound as each piece hits the floor. He just stares up at the piece of sky he can see.

And then it is gone. The wounds will scar, she knows it. But he has movement back, real movement again. His neck, his arms, his wings… Free again, a little bit more.

“Done,” she says softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” he finally says hoarsely, and looks back down at her, as she packs everything back up.

“Alice Cullen,” she says, and thinks about correcting herself. She’s not sure what surname she should be using honestly. She never had one of her own, and nothing else feels like it would fit. She was supposed to be Cullen for a while and then…

Well, she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Cullen was fine.

He nods in acknowledgement before looking back up at the sliver of sky visible through the broken window.

“I want to leave this place,” he says in a steady voice.

“Of course.”

She wants to offer to burn it down. To tear it down with her bare hands for him. But he won’t understand, not yet.

“Let’s go.”

—

He finds his strength as soon as his feet hit the grass, enough to stand on his own and move away from her support, onto the grass, shivering as his feet sunk in for the first time… in so very long. His turns in a slow circle, just staring up at the clouds and the trees and the world outside he’s hellish, cursed little dirt prison.

He… to call it a scream is not accurate. It is a scream, a roar, a holler, a flood of grief and rage and resentment. It is pain and loss, swearing revenge against the one that did this to him. It is regret and heartbreak and relief.

He is free.

His wings stretch out reflexively, the black staining his hands and face faintly, and the full horror of what the brace has done to him is revealed beyond the splitting and tearing and stretching of the wounds - his wings only open as long as his arm-span; the humeral and secondaries appear to have been crushed from the brace. And the humerus bone appears to have been snapped and reset so that it cannot extend. Half of his wings are limp and crumpled against his spine, a dead and mottled colour.

He has been crippled, possibly forever.

Except…

She’s never really been in the business of giving up. Of looking at something and accepting a bad roll of the dice. She looks at his wings, slack and broken, and she wants to fix them. She’s already considering it, mentally adding splints and bandages, breaking and resetting bone, stitching back together the thin flesh that stretches over them. It would be painful and miserable and it would take a long, long time. And it might not work.

But she already knows that if it didn’t work, she’d take him to Carlisle. She’d take him to Carlisle and use every single trick in her book to convince him to help. She’d promise that Carlisle would never see her again, that she’d never bother any of them, if Carlisle would just fix him. She’d take him to Carlisle, to Aro, to goddamn Maria, if it meant helping.

Anything he needed. Or wanted. She would get it - she had waited for this for so long.

He’s silent now, and he turns to look at her with confusion on his face.

“I looked for you, you know. For almost forty years.” Her voice is soft, and his gaze turns wary. “I get …visions of the future. Of the path that I’m on. And you have always been in them. I saw you with Maria in the south. I saw you when you left with Peter and Charlotte. I never saw what happened, and how you ended up down there but I tried so hard to find you. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

And he stares at her, the black receding from his body, the wings folding back into his body.

“What did you see?” He asks, and he sounds exhausted.

“That I love you. All of you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He shakes his head, and for a second, he looks so young. “Did you see what happened when she remade me? When she worked out how to make her army more powerful?” He asks. “Did you see what it took to become this? Did you see what I became?”

“I did.”

“Ninety days. Of pain and sacrifice and being ripped into pieces and put back together. To feel the rage boil and burn until your skin,” he murmurs, looking back up at the cloudy night. “Of having this fresh, feral monstrosity of yourself fit itself inside of you and this… clarity of the world and how everything fits together. I’m not the man you want, Alice Cullen.”

“Yes, you are. And it’s … not Cullen anymore, not really. I left them because they wouldn’t let me find you.”

He’s silent, staring at her.

“They said I should think of you as good as dead and that wasn’t… you were still here. I just had to find you. I wasn’t going to mourn you just because you weren’t a vampire anymore. What Maria did to you didn’t change our future, so it didn’t matter to me. But it did to them. So I left them.” She shrugs. “I had enough money saved that I have my own home now - our home if you want it. But it’ll just be us.”

He looks at her hard, like he’s trying to look right through her.

“I was going to destroy you, you realize,” he says finally, his knees buckling but he sinks into the soft ground with dignity, leaning against a tree. “I was going to devour you whole.”

“I mean, with a safe word…” she begins and he lets out a chuckle.

“You aren’t what I was expecting,” he says finally, and she moves closer. She can smell rain on the air. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t want to be remade like me as payment.”

She’s seen it. In a few decades, he’ll offer it as a form of protection. That the only thing more dangerous than a mated vampire and demon would be two mated demons roaming untethered to a master or mistress.

She’s seen futures where she accepts and they are … sublime. Glorious and terrible and so very, very happy. And she’s seen futures where she’s content with herself, and they are just as happy, just as fantastic and beautiful and fatal. It was never about the venom or the magic that flowed in their veins. It was always them.

“If you don’t want to stay with me, I can help you find Peter and Charlotte,” she offers. “You can recover in my home until then, and we can part as friends.”

He looks back up at the sky as the rain begins to fall, a smile stretching across his face as the water hits his face.

How long has it been since he’s seen and felt rain?

“I think I’d like to stay here for a while,” he says finally, and she can feel how tired and confused he is.

He doesn’t trust her yet - it will be a long time until he does, she knows that. Long after his wounds have healed - she’s certainly got some ideas for his wings, but it’ll be a while before he’s willing to hear her out - he’ll still treat her with suspicion. And that’s okay. She didn’t bet everything on him to be scared off so easily.

Sitting down beside him, she’s careful not to touch him. His eyes are glazed and dreamy as he watches the clouds and the rain, the darkness swallowing them up in the woods behind the church.

“You should rest,” she says softly. “We’ll have to leave before dawn, but we have a few hours.”

“I’m fine,” he corrects, but his words are slower and easier, and she doesn’t say anything else as he slowly drifts off, the cool rain on his face.

Jasper Whitlock. Major of the Confederate Army, turned by Maria of Monterrey back in 1863. The love of her life, who was supposed to show up at a diner in Philadelphia but never made it. The scourge of the South, a mythological monster forged out of pain and horror that most people couldn’t imagine, let alone survive.

And her reason for everything.

He looks… peaceful as he sleeps, the rain clinging to him and not even disturbing him. All the stress and pain and rage slipped off his face. He looked like a different person.

She doesn’t remember what sleep is like, and it’s strange to think of just not being for a while. To just be so vulnerable.

It’s a strange feeling, waiting for so long, and now being here with him. Watching him sleep in the rain, broken up into little pieces but somehow still standing.

The real thing is so much more than she ever anticipated.

Nothing will hurt him again. No one will imprison him again. He is free. She found him. Anything he wants, anything at all.

“I’ve got you, Jasper. I’ve got you."

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wolf-knights · 2 years

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Is it just me or someone else also loves Ian bohen

@candlelight-letters this is what I was talking about this-him he is killing me.

#elliot talks #ian bohen #I'm going to write a one shot for him soon.#men #peter hale #I would let him do anything to me tbh

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

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Happy Saturday! Enjoy these brilliant fics. 🩷

I don’t know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 17.8K

“You smell like me,” the guy says, scowling as he crowds in and Stiles staggers back between the coats and finally hits the wall. “Why do you smell like me?”

He barely lets out a garbled sound as the blood rushes to his cheeks. “No reason,” Stiles yelps, struggling to get his footing and grasping at a whirlwind of puffy fur.

His Only Defense by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 78.7K

Stiles had just accidentally challenged an alpha.

Oh God, and Scott had just stood by and let him do it. He was the worst best friend ever. Stiles was going to kill him. Except, oh right, the alpha was going to kill him first. Like beyond dead, ripped into tiny little pieces dead. So far dead that his dad would not be able to identify him, dead.

Laying Groundwork by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where Scott and Stiles go clubbing and there’s this broody Bouncer out to get Stiles-

Or get into his pants. Thank God it’s the latter.

Give you that thing you can’t even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 10.9K

The one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he’s about to find out he’s very, very wrong.

Shot Through The Heart by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 64.8K

The one when Stiles and Derek work for rival assassin companies and are sent to kill each other. It definitely doesn’t go as planned.

Foolish devouring things, build your castle in me by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 23.1K

“I will marry you,” he declares. “But should any more harm come to my father or my people, I will raze the earth itself until I feel the lifeblood drain from your corpse and paint my skin with it.”

It is not an idle warning, but from the princeling it has none of the desired effect. Derek feels no fear, but in this instance at least diplomacy triumphed over the spilling of more blood. It is all the same to him anyway. But Regent Peter was most insistent they avoid a drawn-out, gruelling war.

“Then we have reached an accord.”

Oh baby give me one more chance (to show you that I love you) by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 54.7K

“You like Derek,” he says slowly. “Derek Hale.”

His father grimaces at the accusation there. “Look, Stiles it’s complicated-“

“So when I was married to him,” he continues, voice rising. “He wasn’t good enough. He was taking advantage of me. ‘He’ll never be able to love you like you want, Stiles’. That’s what you said-“

Or the Sweet Home Alabama AU that nobody asked for.

I'm at one, and I've been quiet for too long by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 11.4K

“All in favour of Derek not dating for a full year so he can get his shit together and stop romancing people who want to kill us?”

Everyone raises their hands. Every single pack member.

Or the one where the pack insists Derek can't date anybody for a year but he ends up finding romance much closer to home anyway.

I know that you love me, even when I lose my head by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 135.5K

“We’re not mates, Cora,” he insists. “I mean look at him-“

“Ouch,” the kid says, no longer pushing that shit eating grin.

“He’s- he’s,” Derek tries, at a loss of how to explain why this can’t be possible. Why it shouldn’t be possible.

When sparks fly by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 87.5K | Abandoned

“Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek’s head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

I'll wrap up my bones, And leave them by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 65.1K

The sign on the cage actually reads Beware: The Beast! in that crappy horror movie red paint that trickles down the paper in a failed attempt to appear like dripping blood.

And it would seem stupid if not for the living supernatural creature currently trapped behind its bars. Little hard to dismiss the big, hulking werewolf as a poorly constructed horror movie prop.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Dude, cannot catch a break.

How long have I been on the hunt for you? by LunaCanisLupus_22 | 20.3K

“Well I guess accidental kidnapping is not so bad then,” Scott decided brightly after the others had finished describing their ordeals. “All’s well that ends well, right?”

“HAHA,” Stiles practically shouted, loud and unsettling enough that everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, yep. For. Sure.”

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #lunacanislupus22 #author appreciation

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fandomnsfw · 1 year

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Pack Mom - Derek Hale x Reader

Pairing: Derek x Reader

Prompt: You’ve always been the mother figure to everyone in the pack but when the pups start calling you mom they also start treating you as Derek’s mate, awkwardness and confessions ensue.

Warning: Smut! and other shit! :D

ENJOY!!

*****

You hopped out of your newly bought Mustang, you knew the pack would be shocked at your new car but the moment you saw the sleek black vehicle you knew it was the one. Your last car got trashed in a car chase with the Calaveras but you dug into your inheritance and decided to get something nicer. The moment one foot stepped out of the new car Stiles was on you with a million questions.

“Ohh my god when did you get this!? How does it run!? How much was it!?” You rolled your eyes but answered all of Stiles’ question calmly because you adored Stiles he was like a brother to you.

“Wow that is one beautiful car.” You heard a gruff voice say from behind you, you knew who it was but you turned around anyway with a nervous grin.

“I know she runs amazingly!” You exclaimed cheerfully which made Derek crack a small smile.

“Did he just smile?” Stiles stared at Derek with wide eyes.

“Yes Stiles I have the ability to smile.” Derek deadpanned.

“How come I’ve never seen you smile at anyone except Y/N? Well unless you count that deputy at the police station who you flirted with. Why don’t you smile at me?” Stiles rambled his arms flying around in an exaggerating manor.

“I smile at Y/N because she is about 5 times more attractive and 100% less hyperactive spaz.” Derek replied easily but when he said you were attractive your mind went blank, your heart started racing rapidly and you knew your cheeks were most likely bright red.

“Ooo Derek and Y/N sittin’ in a tree K I S S I N G fir-”

“Stiles shut up before I rip yo-”

“First comes love!” Erica popped up out of nowhere and started singing along.

“Then comes marriage!” Liam exclaimed as he burst out the door with a grin on his face.

“Then comes a baby in a baby carriage!” The three of them shouted together, at this point you knew your face was bright red so you buried your head in your hands willing it to go away.

“Then comes a divorce because she finally realises how grumpy Derek is.” You heard a cheerful voice at which made you look up to see Peter.

“Derek’s not grumpy.” You huffed at Peter which made everyone turn to you.

“Oh so no divorce?” Peter smirked knowing he’s caught you red handed.

“No! I mean-We’re not…And he’s not-Fuck my life!” You screamed storming into the house the pups soon following behind you.

You sat down next to Isaac and Liam as soon as the pack meeting started, they were both sat very close but you knew it was because contact made them calm. As Derek went through everything he needed to you stared at his chiselled face, the abs that you could see through his tight shirt and his ice green eyes as they darted to and from each pack member who asked question.

As the meeting came to a wraps Liam already had his head on your shoulder and Isaac had his on your lap you glanced at both of them smiling but knew you had to move if you wanted to get started on making dinner.

“Liam honey I need to go start on dinner.” His head shot up, nodding before running off to play video games with the boys.

“Isaac sweetie I need to go make food.” You giggled when he nuzzled into your lap more, you ran your fingers through his hair softly before looking down at his face realising he was sleeping. You lifted his head gently and set it on a cushion once you had moved. His face twisted in one of a lost puppy and he reached for anything he could.

“M-Mama..” He whimpered as his hand touched mine. Suddenly you were aware almost all the packs eyes were on you. You wanted to be embarrassed but you couldn’t be because it didn’t feel weird to be called that by the pups.

“Can I ask why everyone feel like that is something to gawp over?” You snapped in a motherly tone which soon made them lower their heads. As so finally got round to making tea you could hear Isaac shouting at the tv which you assumed to be because of a video game, suddenly Jacksons voice cut through the conversation.

“Aww is mama’s boy losing? Why don’t you go-”

“JACKSON JOHNATHAN WHITTEMORE!” you screamed as you shot out the kitchen door straight into the living area. Jackson froze and dropped his controller.

“Apologise right now!” You shouted as everyone seemed to freeze. Derek seemed ready to jump in but you knew he didn’t need to.

“Sorry Isaac..” You dipped his head slightly as if he’d been scolded by his mother.

“Now who’s a mama’s boy?” Stiles snorted which made your eyes shoot to him.

“Mieczyslaw Stilinski! Get in this kitchen and help me make food!” Everyone stared at you wide eyed making Stiles flush.

“How the hell did you pronounce that so perfectly!? I can’t even pronounce it and I’m his best friend!” Scott exclaimed as everyone stared at you then Scott. You ignored Scott question and followed an embarrassed Stiles into the kitchen.

After you finished making dinner you had the pack set the table and carry the excessive amount of food to the table. You all sat down, staring at the various foods you had made. You sat to Derek’s left and Scott was on his right. You noted that everyone let Derek eat the first bite which was normal because he was the Alpha but when everyone stared at you, you looked to Derek for help.

“Why is everyone looking at me?” You asked confused by everyone’s actions.

“The first person to eat in the pack is the Alpha then his mate, then the Alpha’s second.” Lydia stated calmly as she smiled over at you.

“But Scott is Derek’s second not me?” You replied, your left eyebrow raised slightly.

“But your Derek’s mate. Right?” Isaac asked from the seat next to you.

“What?” You looked back to Derek who was staring at Isaac with the same confused look.

“Guys we’re not dating…” Derek shifted awkwardly in his seat as he spoke it made your heart clench painfully at the fact he was uncomfortable with the idea of dating you.

“Oh sorry the idea of dating me seems so farfetched to you.” You growled at him making everyone freeze for what felt like the millionth time tonight.

“That’s not what I was saying Y/N.” Derek stated softly as he stared into your Y/E/C eyes.

“So what were you saying Derek?” You sneered and everyone seemed to shrink into their seats.

“Well I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with everything they were saying…” He whispered his voice trailing off slightly.

“In what world would anyone be uncomfortable with dating Derek Hale?!” You screeched staring at him like he’d grown another head.

“Well if you wanna play that game fine! In what world would anyone be uncomfortable with dating Y/N Y/L/N!” He retaliated harshly.

“So then why aren’t you guys dating?” Liam spoke up softly, everyone turned to look at the youngest of the pack his head held high as if he’d knew he’d said something smart.

“Because Derek doesn’t like me the way I like him and you know this!” You whisper yelled to Liam but realised that you’d said it loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You like me?” Derek asked making you turn your attention to him, your face now bright red.

“Can we talk about this after diner please? I’d like to at least enjoy the food I cooked before you flat out reject me.” You mumbled softly before pushing the food around your plate. You looked up to Derek who was now out his seat. Before you knew what had happened you were yanked out your seat, one of his arms firmly wrapped around your waist and the other hand cupped your cheek.

“Do you like me?” He asked again with more heat and curiosity in his voice, his green eyes stared into yours making everyone else disappear. You nodded softly as your eyes flicked from his to his lips. His lips met yours in a soft yet passionate kiss, after a few seconds of small kisses that stole your breath away you were pulled out by the sound of Isaac’s voice.

“Ew it’s like watching your parents make out.” You pulled away flushing slightly before looking up at Derek who sent you a pantie melting grin which made your knees weak.

“Can we eat now I didn’t slave over a hot stove to eat cold food?” Stiles grumbled which made me turn to him with a raised eyebrow daring him to take all the credit.

“I mean let eat this delicious food mama made and then make sure to give her a foot massage later?” He grinned over at your cheekily.

“Stiles shut up or I will rip your thr-” Derek stopped mid-sentence as you shot him the same look.

“I mean let’s eat then put on Y/N favourite film?” Derek mumbled his eyes wide.

“See now you’re getting it. Okay time to eat.” You giggled pressing a gentle kiss to Derek’s cheek.

After dinner you all put on a film and cuddled on the giant L shaped couch. Everyone was touching in some way with and Derek in the middle of what could only be classed as a puppy pile. You could stop to scared thought that this could just be another one of your dreams about Derek but every time you count your fingers and thumbs you had ten altogether. You buried you head into Derek hard chest which was surprisingly comfortable. You drew shapes absently on Derek’s chest as your listened to his heart beat. Every now and then it would rise and become louder but other than that it was a calming tempo.

Eventually everyone started leaving until you were the last on left in the newly re-built Hale house. You shuffled about as Derek walked you to the front door. As you were about to put your shoes on Derek stopped you grabbing your face and kissing you with so much emotion and roughness you knew your lips would bruise. When he pulled away, you let out a small whine from the loss but opened your eyes to look into his.

“God I’ve wanted to do that all night but I felt like I’d scar the pups.” Derek sighed softly as he started regaining his lost breath.

“Derek…What are we?” You asked softly as his hands made circles on both cheeks.

“You’re mine and I’m yours.” He responded calmly, his hands slipping into your hair. When he gripped your hair slightly you let out a whimper now thoughts of him claiming you, his eyes glowing red as he made you submit, made their way into your head. You soon started to feel your panties grow damn which as soon as Derek took a deep breath through his nose you knew he smelt because his eyes changed from icy green to crimson red.

“Stop.” He growled as your arousal got worse as his red eyes stared into yours.

“I can’t stop the fact that you turn me on Derek.” You chuckled softly, biting your lip so stop another whimper escaping when you felt his hand grip your hair tighter.

“You smell so sweet.” His left hands moved to grip your hip as he drew you closer towards him.

“If you don’t leave now I’m going to take you upstairs and claim you.” Derek growled into your ear, his fangs grazing against the shell of your ear.

“Then do it.” You panted as his mouth moved to your neck.

“You sure that’s what you want I mean we only star-”

Before he could continue rambling you grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a bruising kiss. Both his hands gripped your waist in a tight hold but you didn’t care if he left bruises it just meant that Derek wanted you that much he couldn’t control himself and to you that felt empowering.

“Yes I’m sure I want Alpha to claim me.” You whined softly as you pulled away from the kiss.

He didn’t answer with words instead chose to growl at my choice of words, there was something extremely attractive about his red eyes and growls that went straight to your core. You step back from him and pulled off your baby blue summer dress you were currently wearing, leaving you in your underwear, a strapless nude pink bra and matching panties. His eyes roamed over you hungrily as you made your way up the large set of stairs, swaying your hips seductively as you went. He was soon chasing after your almost fumbling like a horny teenager to get his shirt off.

Once you reached his room, you crawled onto his bed on all fours. He made his way over to you gripping your hips tightly. His right hand slowly made its way down your back pushing softly on your shoulder blades so you were face down with your lace clad ass in the air. You giggled shaking your ass at him playfully making another feral growl emit from his chest. He playfully slapped your ass making you playfully moan at him. You knew at this point you were so wet that your panties were likely soaked. His right hand made it way down my back to my ass before skimming over your lace cover pussy.

“Jesus you’re so wet.” He groaned as if this fact caused him and his dick physical pain.

“Mhm because Alpha makes me wet.” You gasped as he moved your panties to one side and ran his index finger through your wet folds.

“What does Alpha’s little kitten want?” He whispered as his lips gave small kisses to your ass cheeks which made you whine softly.

“Want Alpha’s tongue.” You managed to whisper, your hands gripping the sheets tightly in anticipation. Instead of responding he ripped your panties off, his tongue delving into your pussy as soon as the shredded panties were thrown away. You let out a breathy moan as his tongue dipped into your hole, fucking you roughly with his tongue before moving his attention to your clit giving slight kitten licks making you whimper before trying to push back on him. His hands gripped your hips keeping you firmly in place as he continued his ministrations on your dripping core. Soon his fingers entered the mix, his two fingers slowly pushing in and out making your moans louder. He started sucking on your clit making your orgasm start towards the edge.

“D-Derek am gonna’ cum.” You stuttered out barely able to even form the sentence but these words only made his finger go faster and his licks and bites get rougher. You finally felt yourself fall gripping the sheets, his name repeatedly falling from your lips over and over. Finally as you started to come down his attention stopped and you were flipped onto your back.

“Would like to stop now Y/N?” He asked as he hovered over your body his shirt gone along with his jeans leaving him in boxers with a very large noticeable hard on showing. He tucked some of your Y/H/C hair behind your ear, his actions soft and loving making you smiles up at him tiredly.

“No I want you to make love to me.” You smiled at him lovingly as he leaned down kissing your forehead. He nodded as he grabbed a condom from the nightstand, carefully rolling it on. He lifted your legs gently wrapping them around his waist, his tip now teasing your entrance. He looked at you one last time as if asking once again if this was okay but instead of answering verbally, you brought him down for a reassuring kiss. He entered you slowly your back arching softly as you gripped onto his bicep with one hand, the other gripping the sheets. You had only had sex once when you were 17 but he was a lot bigger than the guy who took your virginity. He stopped as soon as he was fully inside of you he looked down to make sure you were okay.

“You okay baby?” He asked softly caressing your face.

“Y-Yeah this is only my second time ever having…” You drifted off yours cheeks flushing tenfold.

“You should have told me I’d of prepared you more!” He whispered yelled his voice full of panic and apologies.

“It’s okay Der I’m fine now you can move.” You whispered bring him down for a chaste kiss.

He looked uncertain with your words but you moved your hips up letting out a gasp followed quickly by a moan. You moved your arms to rest around his neck pulling him down for a slow yet passion kiss as he began with slow thrusts that made you moan into the kiss. He supported himself on one arm and used the other to run his fingers through your L/S hair. He kissed the corner of your mouth as his thrust got harder but not faster. His lips placing a trail of kisses to your neck.

“Shit Y/N…Feels good.” He moaned huskily into your ear.

Your moans were gentle and worn out as you felt yourself building again. When you clenched around Derek slightly brought his hand down to draw circles against your clit. His panting and gasps getting heavier as his thrust became more uneven and messy. His other hand gripped the sheets as he felt you finally cum around his shaft.

“Derek!” Your voice shouted out as you felt yourself cum for the second time.

“I’m cumming…” He gasped as he thrust into deeper than before, making you rasp out a quiet moan. As he came his thrust became more uneven and slowed down before coming to a stop. You were both panting as he took the condom off. He tied it throwing it into the bin before he collapsed next to you. He pulled the covers from under both of you making sure your naked body was covered as he drew you in until your head was on his chest.

“I love you Y/N.” He whispered as he kissed your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too Der.” You murmured before you felt sleep take you.

I guess being pack mom isn’t so bad after all.

-> Part 2

#derek hale #derek hale x reader #derek hale x you #reader insert #reader #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #smut #fluff #pack mom #pack mom reader #hale pack

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buckybarnesss · 5 months

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Someone recently called Derek a "whiny edgelord" and I was like, wow, so you've seen two gifsets and not the actual show then.

Literally everybody else complains more than Derek. I think Derek complains one single time and it's when he points out that Allison and Lydia screwed him over and never apologised.

Dude is literally dying during season 4, and is like "well, i'm 23, it's clearly my time to go" and just naps.

derek has peak millennial energy but what's so funny to me is that one of derek's major character features is that he refuses to discuss his traumas with anyone. ever. at all. he would rather die. it's a huge plot point that no one knows that kate argent was the one who killed the hales. except derek.

like, laura goes back to beacon hills and begins looking into the fire. she does the footwork that peter later uses for his killing spree. they don't know it was kate. derek does.

the fire was never a mystery to derek but he didn't tell anyone because of the guilt he felt for the role kate forced him to play in what happened. he never told a soul what kate did to him.

only stiles and peter figure it out once they have enough of the puzzle. neither of them advertise the information.

derek doesn't even speak to kate all that much when she taunts him in the tell and later when she captures him.

the closest we ever get is in code breaker when he says to scott in the strongest case of projection beacon hills has ever seen:

"you want me to risk my life for your girlfriend? for your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing? you're not in love, scott! you're sixteen years old! you're a child!"

derek hale never talks about paige. other people talk about paige. not him. he never, ever says her name to anyone. jennifer and peter are the ones who co-opt the tragedy for their own purposes.

he doesn't talk very much about what's happening to him in season 4 and when this man is on his deathbed he tells stiles -- someone who means a lot to him and clearly is hesitating to leave him -- to go save scott.

derek hale don't talk about shit. sure he does get vocally angry about things and annoyed like you mention. he does with scott and stiles all the time and with lydia and allison in chaos rising:

this one [lydia], who used me to resurrect my psychotic uncle--thank you--and this one [allison], who shot about thirty arrows into me and my pack?

it's why his pants are so tight. they're holding in all his trauma. i mean what's he gonna do? talk about it? hell fucking no.

it's why stiles being derek's secret keeper is such a fascinating choice this show made. stiles learns all of derek's darkest secrets such as his involvement with kate and what happened to paige without derek having to explicitly tell him.

but derek knows stiles knows.

derek letting that lie and stiles not only never telling anyone else but never really confronting derek over these things is an act of trust.

anyway none of these characters were really whiny. not even jackson. they're just traumatized and that makes people uncomfortable.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #derek hale #derek does stare out the window to kelly clarkson's hit breakaway but that's just the millennial experience

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justanothersterekficgirl · 6 months

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some favourite fics

Emancipation by HarleyJQuin

Mature | 144k | 40/40

There are legends that in times of approaching chaos the Nemeton will create an Alpha Pack.

Derek has no idea that the worst day of his life was the start of the best thing that ever happened to him. Abandoned by his family, his mother, his alpha, as an omega Derek remained with his comatose Uncle Peter, forging what bonds he could with two humans who fully accept him for who he is. A werewolf.

I Was A Teenage Werewolf by HaleHathNoFury (My_Trex_has_fleas)

Explicit | 456k | 50/50

Stiles just knows he’s going to get lost in the woods. There must be a Laura Palmer reference in there somewhere.

A fork in the road retelling of Teen Wolf where Stiles is the one to get bitten.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

Mature | 70k | 10/10

“There …” Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. “There’s really nothing left. For me. Everyone is … gone, and it feels like I haven’t thought of tomorrow in years.” His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. “I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them.” —–

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi

Mature | 156k | 29/29

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

#sterek fics #ao3 sterek #sterek #derek hale/stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #derek hale #stiles stilinski #eternal sterek #sterekrecs #jasfgrecs #sterek au #jasfgfavs #sterekrecslists

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specialagentlokitty · 1 year

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Peter hale x reader - safety

Sitting in the hospital bed you sighed to yourself as you turned your attention to the window on the other side.

Sunlight was beaming through the blinds, if you focused hard enough you could see it creating small rays of soft golden light across the room.

Shuffling a little bit, you groaned slightly as pain shot through your entire body, and you drew a sharp breath as you tried to push it all to the back of your mind.

You didn’t want to focus on the pain, you didn’t want to focus on the events of the previous day or how you ended up in the hospital you didn’t want to focus on anything.

Even if you wanted to focus, you weren’t sure that you could, everything seemed to be running through your mind a thousand miles a minute.

You turned your attention to the open door and watched as a few people walked by.

“Melissa…?” You called weakly.

You didn’t even know if she was nearby, but you were sure hoping she was because you couldn’t find your call button.

“Melissa…?” You called again.

Again there was no response and you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, and you slowly tried to stand up.

Your legs were weak, and you immediately collapsed to your knees, letting out a cry of pain as you hit the ground.

You hand went to your waist, holding it lightly as you took deep breaths, trying to work through the pain.

“Woah, hey, hey, you shouldn’t be out of bed. Come on.”

Melissa quickly and carefully helped you up and back into the bed, resting her hand on your shoulder as you heaved for breath.

“That’s it, just breathe, just breathe. I’m going to give you something for the pain.”

You groaned a little and nodded your head, you couldn’t feel Melissa giving you the medication but after a few minutes you could finally breathe through the pain.

It was still there, but it was nowhere near as bad as what it was.

“You can’t be walking around (Y/N), I’m sorry. After what happened you’re just lucky to be alive.” She sighed.

You didn’t say anything, you simply turned your head away and took a deep, shaky breath.

You knew she was right. You were lucky to be alive, incredibly lucky. But with the pain running through your veins, coursing through every ounce of your body you wished you hadn’t made it out.

Anything was better then what you were feeling right now.

“It hurts…” you whispered.

Melissa sighed, sitting in the edge of your bed as she looked at you.

“Do you want me to call someone? Scott? Derek?” She offered.

You knew why she offered to call those two, because they could help ease your pain. Scott was her son, she trusted him, and he was like a brother to you.

Derek would come without question, because he always did, and she knew you were close to the fired Alpha, you grew up with him, he was your best friend.

You simply shook your head though, you didn’t want either of them.

“Can I call anyone?” She asked softly.

“The one person I need… I don’t.. I don’t think he’ll come…”

“Who?” She pressed.

You slowly turned your head to her, taking another shaky breath as a jolt of pain shot right through you.

“Peter…”

Melissa nodded her head, and placed her hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slightly as she gave you a small smile.

“I’ll ask Scott to try get him. But for now, you need to rest, I’ll give you some more morphine and something to help you sleep.”

“Thank you…”

Melissa gave you the medication before she left, and it didn’t take long for it to take control of your body, your pain vanished to nothing but a full ache, and you quickly fell asleep.

Melissa called Scott, asking him to try get ahold of Peter before hanging up and going to check up on you.

Even in your sleep you looked in pain.

A few hours passed and Melissa made sure to check up on you before her shift ended and she had to go home.

She made sure to tell your next nurse what to do.

“Is anyone coming?” The nurse.

Melissa looked at him.

“Hopefully. If he does his name his Peter, only him, Scott and Derek are allowed in that room. No other visitors.”

The nurse nodded and Melissa went home.

You woke up to a jolt of pain going through you, and you took a deep breath and groan, trying to move but your body felt frozen in place.

Melissa got home and turned to Scott who was sat waiting for her.

“Anything?”

“No, he didn’t answer our calls. But Derek texted him, is (Y/N) okay?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

When you woke up, you were flooded with pain again, and you fought back the tears as you groaned trying to sit up.

It felt like hours had passed when you finally managed to get in a semi comfortable position and you reached a shaky hand out to grab your phone.

You had a few texts from Scott’s pack asking if you were okay and if they could see you, and a text from Derek saying he’d stop by in the afternoon to see you.

Sighing, you set your phone back down and placed your hand gently over your injury, other hand fumbling with the call button to get whoever was on shift.

“It’s good to see you’re awake.” The nurse smiled, “I came earlier but you were fast asleep. Do you need anything?”

“It hurts…” you mumbled out.

He nodded his head and gave you something for it, giving you a check up while he was there before leaving.

You fell back asleep not long after, but you woke up to the sound of someone opening the door.

Slowly turning your head, you stared at the person who had just entered the room, and tears started filling your eyes.

“Peter…”

He walked over and placed his hand on the side of your face, gently running his thumb along your cheek.

“Who did this?” He asked lowly.

You shook your head a little.

“He didn’t.. he didn’t mean it…”

“Who?” He asked again.

“Peter don’t hurt him… please…”

Peter looked into your eyes and he sighed, wiping a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek and leant down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You brought a hand up to place on his arm and you closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know if you would come…”

Peter chuckled softly.

“I made a promise (Y/N). I took an oath and I’m sticking to it till the very end.”

He walked around the bed and carefully climbed in, taking your hand in his he took some of your pain and then guided your head to rest on his shoulder.

You let out a shaky breath looking up at him.

“I told you I’d be here forever…” Peter whispered.

You nodded your head and closed your eyes, and he held you as you fell asleep once again.

Peter ran a hand up and down your arm, resting his head atop of yours as he listened to the sound of your breathing.

Peter laced his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up he softly kissed the back of your knuckles and sighed, holding your hand close to his heart.

He didn’t need to focus to see the bruises and scratches.

He was furious.

Not only with the young werewolf that did this to you, but with himself for not being there to protect you. You asked him to come, you asked him again and again, but he was so focused on finding out who stole his money he forgot about everything that was going.

Sure, Liam didn’t mean it, he panicked thinking you were one of the people trying to kill him and the pack, but that didn’t mean anything to Peter.

He wanted to find the kid and tear him apart.

Looking down at you, the way your brow furrowed a little and shuffled, letting out a small noise of discomfort as you moved again.

Peter took some more of your pain, kissing your head as a small smile spread across your lips as you relaxed again.

Peter sighed, groaning a little as he realised he over done it a little bit, but he didn’t care.

“You’ll be okay…” he whispered.

Holding you close, he closed his eyes and rested his head on yours as he drifted into a light sleep.

You woke up not long after he fell asleep, and you didn’t move, you didn’t want to wake Peter up, and you rested your head on his chest.

You focused on the sound of his heart beating, and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

You were in pain, but being with Peter made it a little more manageable. It made it easier to forgot the nightmare that was a few nights ago, and you felt safer.

You were scared of Liam, and even though you knew them you were scared of Derek and Scott too, even though you knew they wouldn’t hurt you there was no shaking that fear.

But Peter?

He was your comfort.

He was your safety.

And you knew even if the whole world was crashing, even if he was offered all the power and all the money in the world he would never lay a hand on you

#teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you #teen wolf imagine #peter hale #peter hale x reader #peter hale x you #peter hale imagine

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starshipsofstarlord · 11 months

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Rekindled Dawn

Nothing more than a relaxed morning with your fiancé Peter Hale - 0.8k

Warnings - extreme fluff, brief mention of The Hale fire, engagement

main masterlist peter hale masterlist more teen wolf

There was something so tranquil about watching you be peaceful in your slumber, the once alpha felt content whilst he laid in the large bed tightly beside you. Your legs were entangled with his own, the heat his body radiated keeping you warm beneath the egyptian cotton of which laid over you from below your toes to the top of your relaxed shoulder.

This was it; all he had ever wanted. Peter Hale was finally in control of his own life, and not by rash and violent means, but rather instead the best things in his life were conducted by his own happiness.

You knew all that the man had done in his past, and unlike others it hadn’t scared you away, you were still very much by his side, with your head resting upon his broad and bare chest, at peace whilst you slept. He had asked you to marry him, a few nights prior, and the large diamond on your engagement finger reminded him of your answer.

He was internally shocked that you had agreed to be his fiancé, although he hadn’t let it show as his troublesome reaction would no doubt ruin his usual cocky and arrogant demeanour. But he was far more than glad, he was ecstatic and over the full moon when it came to the bouts that he saw in his future with you.

It was difficult even with his smooth and enhanced abilities to not awaken you whence he slipped out from the bed, though he felt relief when he saw your eyes were still closed and he heard your heart beat remaining steady as you experienced an otherworldly reality that you viewed from beneath your tightly shut lids.

Peter adjourned his path to the small yet homely kitchen in the apartment that he had long ago convinced you to move into with him, grasping a pan to place upon the top of the oven before he made way to the fridge and grasped multiple items that you both could devour together when he was done cooking.

It was one thing of many that people did not know of Peter, he loved cooking, especially for you. It was the only time he felt comfortable sparking a fire within his own home, after having lost most of his family in the infamous Hale fire. But this, it was harmless and thoughtful and therapeutic knowing that it was one way of many that he wished to take care of you.

He fired up the ingredients in the pan, slicking it with a spat of olive oil to temper up the marination of store bought products, humming softly to himself as he became lost in the task at hand. All of his attention was focused on brewing a breakfast that was fit for his queen, that was until his ears attuned to the gentle rustle of sheets.

Then there was soft foot falls from the bed to the hall, until they finally landed behind him, a soothing palm running down the back of his shirt, warming a smile onto his face. “Good morning my beautiful lady.” He allowed the heat to consume the food on its own as he turned to face you, cradling your gracefully warm face within his rough and work weathered hands.

“Morning to you my big bad wolf.” You joked at him, falling into his chest that was a never ending abyss of safety and comfort. He pressed a fine and firm kiss onto your hairline, inhaling the honey like scent of your shampoo, before collapsing his lips atop of yours, not needing to take a breath as you were all the fresh air that he needed.

“Are you ready for breakfast my Mrs Hale?” He enquired lovingly, pulling back to see the revelling nod you gave to him which made a chuckle burst from deep within his chest. “And you’re already answering to my last name.” He teased you, pulling heat to form in your face from your normal reaction.

“Well it is to be our last name, Mr Hale.” He pressed another kiss upon your plush lips before continuing with preparing the food, turning the strips of protein and fat over to roast on its other side before slipping it from pan to plate. Ghostly steam lightly trailed over the solid meal, before he dragged both you and the tray of coffees and food to the small yet cosy dining table, pulling your seat out for you before he took the opposing seat for himself.

“I love you Y/N Hale.” He spoke before cutting into his bacon with a knife and fork, enjoying every moment of normalcy that he shared with you. If he hadn’t been born with wolfish instincts, then maybe he could have had all of this with you much sooner. But he wouldn’t change a thing.

Everything was perfect as you looked at him without an ounce of hatred in your Y/E/C eyes, there was no fear, no resistance, he lulled his mind in your chemo signals and for once in his life only felt a ray of nothing but love.

#peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #peter hale x you #Peter hale oneshot #Peter hale fluff #Ian bohen x reader #peter hale x y/n #peter hale imagines #teen wolf fluff #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader

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ryrywrites · 8 months

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Key: *(ns): no smut

ₘᵢₗₒ ₘₐₙₕₑᵢₘ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Wally Clark

➡ Zed Necrodopolis

➡ Ben Plunkett

➡ Nico (Doogie Kamealoha)

Cᵣᵢₘᵢₙₐₗ ₘᵢₙdₛ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Dr. Spencer Reid

➡ Emily Prentiss

➡ Jennifer Jareau

➡ Derek Morgan

➡ Aaron Hotchner

➡ Luke Alvez

➡ Matthew Simmons

ₛₐₘ Wᵢₙcₕₑₛₜₑᵣ & Dₑₐₙ Wᵢₙcₕₑₛₜₑᵣ

➡ One-Shots

➡ Drabbles

➡ Headcanons: Sam

➡ Headcanons: Dean

ₘₐᵣᵥₑₗ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Peter Parker *(ns)

➡ Steve Rogers

➡ Bucky Barnes

➡ Thor Odinson

➡ Natasha Romanoff

➡ Scott Lang

➡ Sam Wilson

➡ Wanda Maximoff

➡ Pietro Maximoff

➡ Peter Quill

➡ Dr. Stephen Strange

➡ Ned Leeds *(ns)

➡ MJ Jones-Watson *(ns)

ₕₐᵣᵣy ₚₒₜₜₑᵣ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Hermione Granger

➡ Harry Potter

➡ Ron Weasley

➡ Draco Malfoy

➡ Luna Lovegood

➡ Neville Longbottom

➡ Cedric Diggory

➡ Ginny Weasley

➡ Fred Weasley

➡ George Weasley

➡ Oliver Wood

ₜₑₑₙ Wₒₗf cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ *(ns)

➡ Scott McCall

➡ Stiles Stilinski

➡ Allison Argent

➡ Lydia Martin

➡ Derek Hale

➡ Isaac Lahey

➡ Malia Tate

➡ Theo Raeken

➡ Liam Dunbar

➡ Kira Yukimura

ₜᵥD & ₜₒ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Damon Salvatore

➡ Stefan Salvatore

➡ Elena Gilbert

➡ Caroline Forbes

➡ Bonnie Bennett

➡ Jeremy Gilbert *(ns)

➡ Katherine Pierce

➡ Niklaus Mikaelson

➡ Elijah Mikaelson

➡ Rebecca Mikaelson

➡ Enzo St. John

➡ Kai Parker

➡ Alaric Saltzman

➡ Hayley Marshall

➡ Kol Mikaelson

➡ Finn Mikaelson

➡ Freya Mikaelson

➡ Davina Claire

➡ Marcel Gerard

ⱼₐcₖ Cₕₐₘₚᵢₒₙ cₕₐᵣₐcₜₑᵣₛ

➡ Miles "Spider" Socorro *(ns)

➡ Ethan Landry

➡ Dwight Schrute

➡ Jim Halpert

➡ Pam Beesley

Kinktober '23

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goldeneyedgirl · 1 year

Text

Late V-Day Space-verse Fic: Better Than Nothing

Six days late, but it's done!

A little Unimaginable Things-verse fic, because I love me some space drama.

Holidays are a quiet thing on the Olympia.

There is Carlisle, who is so augmented and been away from Earth for so long that his classification of ‘human’ feels very much like a technicality. Once, in another life, there were a pair of children whose birthdays were celebrated with much fanfare. But those times had passed.

Edward staunchly refused to celebrate anything, arguing that he is not a person but simply a program. Carlisle still makes sure to buy him huge quantities of music and software around the end of June, without comment.

Rose had little use for the traditional holidays of her people, only bringing them up to ridicule them. Whatever she celebrates, none of them know of it. Emmett celebrates with his family, carefully logging leave three times a year. And Esme’s ceremonies are solemn, uplifting, and intensely private moments.

And few other cultures have holidays like Earth - casual ones propped up with commercialism and novelty. More than once, he’s tried to explain them to his friends, Esme curious but bewildered, Rosalie quietly superior, and Carlisle chuckling in memory.

Alice had been intrigued, never knowing Earth or the little cultural touchstones. Maybe he liked the opportunity to get a little bit closer, explaining those missing common links carefully and greedily soaking in her presence.

But of all the things that left a mark on them, a scar that would never heal clean, neither of them would have ever imagined it would be something as harmless and cliche as February 14.

—

before.

In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have been stranded in Cesset - the capital city of a planet called L’im - for a week straight. It’s a huge, sprawling city divided into sectors; more than half forbidden to tourists, travelers, or anyone without citizenship.

The rain comes down in bright sheets, and she settles in the doorway of a pick-up bay for the night; the last job she took turned into a scuffle and her lens is offline until her appointment with the technician in two days, once the bruising around her eyes heals more. Which means she might have money but no way to use it.

The stoop of the building keeps her out of the rain, and the night is still. She might even be able to snatch some sleep.

She rifles through her pack for something to eat - some half-finished cereal or a protein drink. There’s not much in there - food is so heavy to transport, and street vendors are always better than long-life snacks. But they are handy and the three bars, two gels, and one water will have to see her through.

(Does she think about going to the nearest comms center and getting Carlisle to wire cash onto a card for her, so she can get out of the rain and buy some food, get a bunk to sleep in? The gels are a slimy mass in her mouth as she takes a drag from the sachet, a gooey lump that is hard to swallow and artificially sweet, leaving a film in her mouth. She dismisses the thought of asking Carlisle for help quickly. She’s caused enough trouble. It's only two days. She’s lived through worse.)

Absently, she slides her hand into the back of the pack, searching for her slate. Old-fashioned, cheap, and well-loved, it was the first frivolous thing she’d ever bought herself, loaded with hundreds of books. It might have gotten her enough for a hot meal if she sold it (not a good meal, just one of the oily soups with a few tough cubes of meat that the city favored and sold at every store), but the sentimental part of her couldn’t part with it.

As she pulls it out, she freezes, seeing what is slipped into the front of the cracked cover.

It was an odd thing for her to bring with her, after everything. She doesn’t know why she slipped it into her pack instead of into storage. Maybe to remind her of better times. Or maybe that once, just for a little while, she was loved.

Paper is expensive and hard to come by - most planets use fabric or digital surfaces for art and letters. The planets that do use paper reserve it for books, mostly. It’s not easy to acquire privately. The old newspapers that Carlisle had bundled in storage should have been handed over for some credits but instead, Jasper had cut out squares, had folded them precisely into triangular shapes that had glided when he tossed them out. And she had laughed out loud, delighted as the little creations caught onto the draft leaking in from the departure bay. He had folded two whole sheets of newsprint for her in dozens of paper airplanes of all sizes; had shown her how to fold her own. Something all children on Earth knew how to do, apparently.

(The lie falls easily from her lips - “I was born off-world. I’ve never been to Earth.” But it’s not really a lie. Except she knows he’s picturing a story like his - adventurous parents, a tragedy - so it really is the worst kind of lie.)

All eight of the airplanes are folded flat in one of her boxes. They would be mistaken for trash now, she supposes.

What she kept is small, it fits in the palm of her hand. Rough pink speckled paper - probably bought from an artisan, because it’s too nice to be something that was just found - cut in the shape of a wonky heart. ‘Love you - J’ written on it in red ink.

For a little while, she was loved. That’s why she keeps it. No matter what happens next, she can remind herself that he loved her once. That he cared enough to make her smile.

Carlisle warned her when he arrived. Who he was. What had happened to him. And she thought...

She thought that it was romantic, a forbidden romance that could overcome anything that life threw at them. After all, the Jasper who teased her and bought her drinks and danced with her was sweet, kind, understanding. And Carlisle had smiled at her and let her walk away believing that things would work out and she’d get her happily ever after.

The stupid little Valentine he gave her sits in her hand mocking her, sitting in an old pick-up bay in the rain. She can feel the rain seeping in at the seams of her coat which is a cherry on top of this terrible day; Pro-tex is expensive and hard to track down on this planet, especially in her size. If the water is getting in, it needs replacing.

But it’s better than nothing.

—

after.

Carlisle talks him through Systemic Failure in the first two weeks, even lends him a few texts to go over.

By the end of the first weeks, he’s having nightmares of all kinds. Of finding her dead and cold back in Viltri, her eyes clouded over and the blood gathered under the tissue around her eyes and nose and mouth. Of waking up in a pool of blood as she silently hemorrhages out beside him, blood seeping through her skin. He dreams of her dead on the ground, her insides hollowed out, his father holding him back from her because it was ‘better her than them’.

“This is the one downside of the design of the Synths,” Carlisle sighed, as he looked over the notes he had downloaded from Alice’s lens. “There was a petition to take the earliest sufferers to Earth, to run genetic panels and see if there was something missing, maybe a transplant or donation that could offset the imbalances...something we could correct. We were denied rather forcefully.”

“A donation?” His mouth is dry as the voice in his head volunteers. Blood, bone, tissue, anything she needed.

“Unfortunately, your system has been compromised simply by leaving Earth. We tried with many local humans in the day, and there was nothing they could do for us.” Carlisle frowned, circling something in Alice’s notes. “None of us could supply the donation, and even then, it would take months and years of experimentation...”

She lies behind them in a capsule, wearing surgical modesty garments, green med-patches keeping her eyes closed. Spidery wires and tubes run from multiple arteries and places. She barely looks to be breathing, even though the readout says she is.

The first surgery was a week into her return, a hotspot on her thigh that Rose picked up with the handheld scanner. A thirteen-hour surgery that ended up with her losing more than sixty percent of the bone in her left thigh. Infected and eating away at the surrounding, healthy bone and getting ready to jump into her tissue and bloodstream. Carlisle had replaced the bone with titanium (he’d physically flinched when he heard that; titanium was one of the most expensive medical implants; almost all human implants were done with cheaper Med-fil and needed replacement every ten years. The idea that Carlisle had fucking titanium for surgery made him feel nervous). But the external support - the augmentation - would be waiting for them with the new supply pick-up.

Carlisle reassures him that everything is fine - more serious than he’s used to, but nothing that they cannot get on top of. They’re running her bloods twice daily, to make sure the infection doesn’t spread, and antibiotics feed constantly into her.

(The cost makes him feel sick. Alice will never get on top of this debt and he cannot even help her until his own debts are paid off. He’s got nothing of value to sell, and he just feels sick at what she’s going to wake up to.)

He leaves Carlisle alone in the med-bay when Esme makes dinner, picking at his food, and staying quiet. He’s still lingering over it when Rose and Emmett have cleaned up the kitchen and left, trying to wrap his head around everything.

The chime of his lens brings him out of his maudlin thoughts (he knows what happens to the people with debt they can’t pay off, that after death their bodies are broken down and sold off to recoup what they never managed to pay off. He’s been at those auctions and the idea of knowing the people behind the pieces on the block makes his stomach churn uncomfortably).

Memories: Six Years Ago Today!

The photo flashing up is of him and Alice together in a bar somewhere, cheek to cheek. Her make-up is all red and pink, with a glittery heart next to her eye. There’s a sticky, pinkish outline on his cheek of a kiss.

There’s a wire flower in her hand, iridescent and shaped like a rose and that’s what places him. Valentine’s Day. They’d gone out, she’d remembered the date, and he’d bought her the rose. They’d eaten and drank and come back to the empty ship - everyone else in the dock dorms - and had a rare night together, completely alone.

If his eyes well up at the sight of her, bright and smiling and so very happy, no one else sees.

He feels like an old man as he shuffles his dishes into the washer, as he slips down to the little room near the airlock that Esme keeps for her plants - the ones associated with her faith are in hand-painted pots and kept high so no one touches them. But there are a cluster that are free to use, and he plucks a spring of a flower, a short brown stem with tiny greyish flowers.

It’s easy enough to offer to watch Alice whilst Carlisle gets coffee and stretches his legs. Rosalie’s shift doesn’t start for three more hours, and Carlisle seems grateful for the respite.

Her pale, lifeless face is unchanged, unaware of anything. And he can see the scar near her eyebrow, the one he can’t think about too hard or he’ll remember the worst parts of himself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Alice.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and he tucks the little stem in between the hinges of the capsule.

There is nothing but shame and regret and grief whenever he’s with her, and bringing such a paltry offering - one no one will ever notice - feels more like an insult.

But it’s better than nothing.

—

Who said V-Day fics had to be happy and romantic? When you can have regret and pining?

Lenses are both an arm and eye implant, and the user can set whether the ‘screen’ appears on their arm or over their vision. When Alice got punched in the face on a job, it definitely fucked up her lens.

Esme’s species is very plant-and-nature focused, and that is evident in their faith. I’m still figuring out her full backstory, because she and Carlisle are very much in love but agreeing its a bad idea and they need to remain friends.

Alice’s slate would essentially be an old Kindle type device without internet access.

I am at a crossroads with where to take this verse. Both versions are valid and good, but have different outcomes. I will continue to contemplate it.

I don't think I've mentioned it in-verse, but Carlisle is not Edward and Edythe's biological father.

I am having a good time with the world-building in this verse.

#jalice #twilight fic #alice cullen #jasper hale #the twilight saga #my fic: better than nothing #my fic: unimaginable things #space-verse #i think we need a one-shot with maria and peter and charlotte #just a thought for the future #prison break? maybe so #haven't even introduced the pack or bella

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lycoperdales · 6 months

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People that think Scott would ever abandon Stiles because of what happened in season 5 or season 3b make me cackle. Scott??? Turn away from a possible murderer?????? Let me just give you his track record.

- Peter Hale: Tried to make Scott kill all of his friend by forcing him to shift against his will, wake up in the middle of the forest with no recollection all while Scott was trying to understand what werewolf even was. = Amicable relationship, never forced him to part from his nephew, only ever truly fought him when he wanted to hurt others.

-Jackson: All round asshole, killed people in his sleep, literally bullied Scott and threatened to ‘out’ him to a family of werewolf hunters. = More than amicable relationship, Scott defended Jackson more than once and was the one of the only people that fought to save him.

-Gerard: do I even need to say anything.= Found a way to subdue him without killing him (#chemist Scott), didn’t harbour any bad feelings towards Chris when he healed his father in season 6

-Chris Argent: Shot him in the fucking arm for no reason, threatened to blow his brains out for being together with his daughter= literal besties

-Victoria Argent: tried to suffocate him to death= didn’t say anything to ANYONE because he didn’t want to tarnish her memory

-Deucalion: calls himself “The Demon Wolf”= besties, Scott’s trust in his goodness turned him into a pacifist and an ally on multiple occasions.

-Theo: isolated him from his pack before killing him= Didn’t completely freak out on Liam for reviving him even though Theo killed him less than six months ago. One can argue that he would’ve totally housed Theo if he knew Theo was homeless

Y’all think he would kick Stiles out for supposedly bashing one dudes brains out with a wrench??? One pesky murder??????

Scott is the walking personification of “but mother I can fix him”, he was overwhelmed at the moment with a bunch of teenagers dying and Malia wanting to kill her mum and Kira wanting to fight everyone and now Stiles supposedly killed someone. His reaction was understandable and he handled it like a champ I’d say. But he would NEVER EVER abandon his brother, murder and miscommunication be damned.

#teen wolf fandom #teen wolf scott #scott has my heart #scott mcall #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf season 5

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sterekmpreg · 11 months

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Did Stiles have to hide during his pregnancy or his one of those dudes who can get pregnant?

p.s: what was toddler eli like?

I have such mixed feelings on that topic…. Like if you headcanon Stiles as Trans (FTM) then I guess he wouldn’t have too. But me personally, I’d say yes, Stiles had to hide his pregnancy from everyone outside of the supernatural world. His pregnancy only being possible really through being Derek’s mate and the strong magical power that has tied it’s self to Stiles through out the years of just being a human in a werewolf pack… but I have headcanons for both but mostly magical werewolf pregnancy that has to hidden.

Magical Pregnancy:

1.) Seeing as men getting pregnant isn’t ‘normal’, Stiles has to take a break in his college years in order to hide his pregnancy. They say it was a family health emergency to the school, his Dad was having a hard time with his heart again. And with the sheriffs history, it’s not a long shot for many to believe when they ask why Stiles wasn’t back off at college when he’d just started.

2.) Stiles has to steal some of Derek’s clothes are baggy in him around the fourth to sixth months as his tummy really begins to be way to obvious under his own clothings. Sweat pants and sweater or just over sized tees was Stiles usual look to the public in that time frame. And although, yes, Stiles is having a hard time handling his depression and anxiety with his medication dose changed and it’s effect be visibly seen on Stiles physically, when people start speculating that Stiles had dropped out of college and became a depressed pot head his dad and Derek basically went Feral. Shutting down anyone, mostly other moms, who give Stiles judgmental glares or rush their own kids away from Stiles when they’d pass them in the stores or streets, because really that was just un-fucking-fair and, “what, you’ve never seen someone struggle with their mental health? You’ve really been that privileged? Then maybe you should just mind you’re own fucking business, Bitch!”

3.) Derek is quick to get a home out in the sticks of Beacon Hills before Stiles pregnancy gets past the sixth month. He’d been working for his father-in-law at the police station anyways and had quite a lot of money between that and the money he’d had left from the Hale family funds that hadn’t been stolen or burned. The house is perfect, kinda reminds everyone of the Hale house before it’s destruction. It’s big, and spacious, but just in the right ways to make it homey and comfortable. At least all the way out here Derek could get Stiles outside later in the pregnancy for walks or to get some sun and fresh air without the judgmental eyes of the neighborhood.

4.) Deaton, Melissa, Peter, and Chris are given the task to set up a room with everything needed to delivery the baby in one of the spare rooms of the house. They go above and beyond with any and all possible out comes, it looks like a straight up medical heaven in there. Anything and everything all in the spacious room.

5.) thankfully, Stiles survives the birth of their son even though he gave everyone a great scare, and when people around town start to notice Noah and the rest of the pack members around town with a baby the cheating rumors zoom through the neighborhood. But thankfully, Cora steps up and says she was a surrogate for them, which quiets the town down enough.

7.) When they file the birth certificate, Noah simply adds adoption papers for Derek to have rights to make decisions for his own son and be legally just as much a parent as he was biologically. Derek and Stiles were so thankful for that, couldn’t imagine if something happened to Stiles and the courts tried to take their son from his father.

Eli as a toddler:

1.) Eli is a ‘wild child’ as Noah puts it. Always energetic and loud…. Just like his mom was as a toddler. He likes to run in the yard and the house even though his dad like to reminds him ‘inside feet! Inside feet!’ As he zooms from room to room squealing in delight with his father chasing behind him with wide, terrified eyes.

2.) Eli is a picky eater…. Really picky. He won’t eat any food that isn’t made by his mommy, claiming it just tastes different when it really doesn’t but his little toddler Brian tells him it does. Derek has a hard time getting him to eat while Stiles is away on work and it becomes common for takeout after the meals Stiles preps before he leaves for his trips runs out.

3.) Eli gets sick a lot a child, his werewolf abilities not active yet, and this makes Derek a panicked mess of a man. Stiles can handle his sick child with ease and typically ends up sick with him. He knows how to get Eli to take his medicine without crying, what foods Eli can keep down when his tummy hurts from the flu, and how to get the curly haired boy to fall asleep with no fuss. Derek, on the other hand, tries his best. Whenever Stiles isn’t home he usually ends up on Noah’s doorstep at midnight crying because he just doesn’t know what he could be doing to fuck this whole parenting thing up so bad. Noah sighs and helps his son-in-law take care of his grandchild and reassures Derek he isn’t hurting Eli, it just takes some practice, especially when werewolf’s don’t get sick so how could Derek even begin to know where to start.

3.) Eli likes to get dirty. Rolling around outside, playing in his finger paints, chewing on markers…. Stiles can’t even remember how many times he’d tried to let Eli use the markers and would get up to grab Eli a snack not even 3 feet from his child and turned back around only to find Eli have half a face of blue with a disgusted face as he spits the markers tip from his drooling mouth. No white shirts are used in the child’s wardrobe because Eli would just get them stained with dirt, grass, and mud after playing on his play set in the yard. Stiles has learned how much some simple dish soap and hot water could do after started drawling on the walls and smashing play dough into the carpet… he’s also learned that tears work great on stickers stuck on the rugs.

4.) When the pack of coyotes had broken into the house because Derek had left the door open, Stiles grabs Eli off the floor and rushes into the kitchen while gripping his and Derek’s child to his chest tightly. When Derek enters the kitchen where Eli is sobbing and clinging onto his mom Stiles stares at Derek with wide eyes and moves back when Derek reaches a hand out towards them. “Don’t touch him,” Stiles warned, his instincts where off the charts and he wasn’t mad at Derek, just needed to hold his son to calm him down. When Eli has calmed down enough he screams when he sees his father next to his mother and calls Derek a monster. This breaks their hearts and Stiles graves Derek’s hand before he can rush out of the kitchen. The spend hours reassuring Eli that his father wasn’t a monster and would never hurt them. Eli insists on sleeping their bed for weeks to make sure his mother wasn’t in danger and Derek can’t help but cry when it’s just him and Stiles because Eli’s at school. He never meant to traumatize his son by keeping him safe.

5.)Eli loves spending time with his mommy and typically helps Stiles make dinner by clinging onto his hip with his head resting on his mothers shoulder. This, of course, has made Stiles pretty skilled in the kitchen compared to before Eli was born.

6.) Derek and Eli spend a lot of time together when Stiles is gone and Derek kind of feels guilty that his glad Stiles isn’t home all the time, because then Eli would probably hate him. Eli magically dismissed that fear though when he was getting bullied for having two dads and he only wanted to talk to Derek because “Daddy is tough. Daddy is the strongest person alive! Daddy will know what to do, mommy! ‘Cause Daddy will ask Mommy first cause Mommy is the smartest person alive too!”

I have so many more head cannons for Eli as a preteen and such. But these are just a few of my headcanons for Stiles's pregnancy and toddler Eli. Hope you love them🙃

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