#steter fic

Friends, allow me to present my 2025 @stetersecretsanta fic for @nerdherderette. Thank you for the wonderful prompts! I selected two to play with: Peter being Stiles' gay awakening, but because he is friends with Derek Peter is off limits, and Neckz N Throats verse. I've never written anything for Neckz N Throats, so it was fun to figure out how to put my own spin on it.

Huge thanks to @punchedbymarkesmith @lucky-bishop @midmorning-bomb @vmures for the cheerleading and encouragement.

Title: You Were All I Ever Longed For Paring: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, mentions of both with others Rating: E Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Pining, Neckz 'n Throats Magazine (Teen Wolf), Masturbation, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Knotting Summary:

There wasn’t anything overtly sexual about the picture, not like the Playboy that Scott once stole from his dad. That Playboy had been exciting because they both knew they shouldn’t have been looking at it. The picture of Peter feels exciting in a wholly different way because it makes something stir inside of Stiles. And maybe this attraction doesn’t feel all that new, maybe it’s a thought that’s been lurking somewhere inside of him: this thing that has been slowly coalescing inside of him might be starting to solidify and form. And that form now has the shape of Peter Hale.

OR the one where Derek's Uncle Peter is a Neck N Throats model, and seeing his cover shot awakens a years long obsession in Stiles.

Stiles walks down the long dock that juts out over the lake. His hands are in his pockets as he takes purposefully slow steps toward Peter, who is sitting near the end of the dock. He’s wearing a white button down shirt, popped open a few too many buttons at the neck, and his dress pants are rolled up to allow his feet to dangle in the water. Perfectly shined black dress shoes sit on the dock behind him. Also, he's smoking a cigar.

“Well,” Stiles says, finally strolling up beside Peter, “This is unfair.” 

Faint music drifts across from the reception hall, as he curls his bare toes against the wood under his feet. He’s dressed up too today, at least by his own standards. The breeze moves nicely through his light blue linen shirt, but he feels a little claustrophobic in his khaki dress pants. He’d slipped off his own shoes at the reception hall because the wide expanse of green grass stretching down to the lake had been too inviting to miss. 

Peter blows a smoke ring out across the water. “What’s unfair?” He says. He looks up at Stiles with those blue, blue eyes and swishes one foot against the gentle waves. 

Steter Fic Recs

creature!stiles steter recs

Im open to requests for Steter and Sterek Rec Lists, let me know which tag i should do next!

Toothed Morality (Send Me Flowers)  (T) 16K by rightsidethru

“The world is a dark place, moje kochanie; it is one filled with monsters, always ready to gobble you whole. Be wary of the promises they give: seal every vow with blood and bone and Name. A True Name, one that will bind them to their word.” “But how will I know that they’re telling the truth, Matka? Couldn’t they lie…?” “You’ll know, mały płomień.”

Wait For Me (T) 8.2K by CheshireSense (cywscross)

Peter escapes. The pack forgets. And the Wild Hunt moves on. Peter never gives up though. He’s never abandoned those he calls pack before, and he isn’t about to start with Stiles.

If We Could Start Again (M) 4.9K by  kiranightshade

Stiles finds Peter. Scott doesn't exist. And Erica just wants her best friend to be safe. Or Stiles visits Peter in hospital meets Stiles gets bitten instead of Scott with a detour to Polish heritage Stiles Stilinski. I do love my season one rewrites.

Drowning on Dry Land (T) 3.4K by  Triangulum

At first, Peter thinks he's the only one that notices the rash of bizarre drownings, which in itself is strange. A man who recently got off on a charge of assaulting his wife, even though everyone knew he was guilty, drowns in his sink. A murderer that had been let out on good behavior and due to prison overcrowding ends up drowned in a puddle outside a bar. A woman who was abusing her children is found in her shower, lungs full of water. Stiles usually would pick up a pattern like this, so when he says nothing, Peter's immediately suspicious.

The Taste of You (E) 14K by Bunnywest

New fic!!

I'm back! Sorry to my Hannigram moots, this one is Teen Wolf, but don't worry more Hannigram is being written!

Writing this basically turned into therapy for me LOL, hope you enjoy! <33

A Whole Lot of Love

Stiles would do anything for the pack despite thinking he only belongs on the fringes. When he starts to spiral, Derek and Peter realise just what they'd do for him in return.

(Bingo entry for Writer's Pride Month Bingo 2025 - Coming Out)

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“Are you lost, little lamb?” Peter purrs from the open doorway, one arm leaning intimidatingly against the door frame.

Stiles realizes his mistake the moment Peter’s lips curl into a sinister smirk, but he can’t back down now that he’s finally found the courage to take the elevator all the way up. It’s no surprise that Peter lives in the building’s penthouse, but Stiles is still generally awestruck by the elaborate wall sconces that light the hallway leading to Peter’s front door. “You’re the last person I’d ever think to ask this, but I don’t exactly have anyone else who’d be so…willing. I think.”

A curious brow cocks itself on Peter’s forehead. “Should I be so honored being your last resort, then? Or do you plan on turning with your tail between your legs now that you’ve arrived?” He steps aside, nodding towards the inside of his apartment, and for a second, Stiles heavily debates leaving. There’s no reason he can’t just find someone else - some random person - to help him out, but he’s already here, and Stiles figures asking wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

All Peter has to do is say no, and then he’s out of there. First, though, he has to step inside - which he does after Peter shifts in the doorway, stepping away just enough that they wouldn’t risk rubbing up against one another while passing through. Inside is just as grandiose and fancy as the hallway and lobby downstairs, but the simple furniture and casual design are very Peter.

“Beacon Hills is a small town, and there aren’t many people I could ask, but - ” He probably rambles on for too long, but Peter doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.

Only when Stiles starts to repeat himself does he interrupt. “I’d love to watch you dance in circles around the point all day, but I think it’d be more beneficial if you tell me what exactly it is you need from - ”

“K-kiss me.” The words blurt themselves out. Stiles refuses to take responsibility for them now that he’s said them. Or rather, barked them, at Peter. “I - I need, no - I was thinking - uhm - fuck, I need to f-figure some things out and I can’t ask Derek or - shit - definitely not Scott.”

The amusement on Peter’s face is slowly draining, and Stiles can see his mistake even more clearly. It was dumb, so dumb to think he could come here and ask this of Peter Hale. Why? Why did he-?

“You came all the way here to ask me to kiss you?” His eyes squint, as if he’s trying to really focus on what Stiles is saying. His scrutinizing gaze is enough to make his face flush - heat rising as rapid levels of embarrassment fill him up from toe to tip of ear.

Stiles quickly mumbles an apology and makes for the door, but he only gets two steps in before Peter grabs him by the arm and tugs him around to face him again. “Just forget about it, dude.” He wants to leave, too busy mentally kicking himself over and over to realize that Peter has stepped into his space. It’s too late to pull back now.

Peter’s mouth is already on his, lips soft and gentle as large hands reach up to envelope Stiles’ face - holding him in place. It’s not as if he thinks of going anywhere just yet. He’s still too stunned that this is even happening, but when Peter’s thumbs begin rubbing small circles against his ears, Stiles can feel himself properly melting into the heat of it all.

He reaches up to grip Peter’s arms, worried he might fall as his knees begin to shake, but it seems to set Peter off. A rumble starts in his chest, a low hum as he licks his tongue along the tight seal of Stiles’ lips. It’s his mistake again when he opens his mouth to tell Peter to wait, only to have that dangerous tongue delve inside and shut him up.

It’s not as if Stiles doesn’t know how to kiss, how to roam his hands on another person’s body - how to deepen the intimacy between him and his partner, but up until now, it’s only been with women his own age. Kissing a twenty-one-year-old is different than kissing someone in their thirties. At least, that’s the age he’s going with for Peter. The wolf has never been clear just exactly how old he is.

Peter has quite the skill over Stiles here, but Stiles isn’t complaining. Only when Peter pulls back does he make a sound in protest, a soft noise from the back of his throat as he tries to chase Peter’s lips. “You - you just did it without asking why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

Something pinches in Stiles’ chest. His heart already feels like it’s going to erupt from his body, but now it feels more like he can’t quite breathe. “And it doesn’t bother you that - ” He tries to collect himself, his mind already beginning to numb in an effort to disassociate from this awkward conversation.

Peter tilts his head a little, waiting patiently until it’s obvious that Stiles isn’t going to finish the question. “That you’re a man? No,” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as I can feel good whilst doing it.”

Stiles stands there in front of him, words forming in his throat - threatening to bubble up. He wants to say them, to unload this burden that’s been weighing him down for a while, but they’re just lodged inside him. Burning a hole.

“I can kiss you again, if you think that would help, Stiles.”

His name on Peter’s lips makes the pinching feel worse, because while he desperately wants to kiss Peter again, he’s not sure if it’ll hold all the answers he’s looking for. “Help me with what?”

Shrugging, Peter crowds the space before him again, budging Stiles up against the wall near the door. “With whatever it is you need help with.” Stiles’ back hits the wall, his hands pressed flat on the solid surface. He can’t keep his eyes from flitting between Peter’s gaze, trying to find the joke somewhere in that head of his. There is none. Peter’s always been an enigma to Stiles, but right now he seems like the safest place.

“I think I’m gay.”

----- @writersmonth

@stetersecretsanta2025 for @meggie-stardust

A witchy treat for a snowy season!

Featuring:

🐺 young narcissistic asshole Peter who somehow still does the right thing, sigh

🧙 lonely little witch Stiles in his lonely little witch house

🏡 family feels ❤️❤️❤️

🏒 yes this was inspired by a Hockey RPF fic no it is nothing like Heated Rivalry

Excerpt:

Peter moved back to Beacon Hills shortly after his thirtieth birthday, nursing his wounds from a relationship that had blown up dramatically. Talia didn't welcome him in as much as begrudgingly allow him to stay but James made him his favorite meal and hugged him tight.

He moved into the room he'd vacated a decade before and sat on the end of his old full-sized bed and tried not to feel like a complete failure. Most of his things were in storage, back in the city. None of his clothes were appropriate for rural Beacon Hills. He fit what he could into the closet— had it always been so small?— and changed into his running clothes and thought he might go for a run around the Preserve, just to try to shake things loose in his brain.

The pack lands didn't match the Preserve exactly, and so the perimeter runs always missed out on a small sliver at the other end of the forest from the Hale house, but Peter wanted to go a little further, though he could not say why until he got to the furthest edge and saw the witch's house– or not the house, but the garden around it, tight hedges forming a wall hiding the house from view. The garden took up more land than it used to, Peter thought, coming to a stop and leaning against a tree just in view of the witch’s hedge. He wondered what the witch was like– except for the noise about them moving in, he'd never heard gossip about the witch, despite the normally loose lips of the gossips that made up the small town. Didn't the witch go to the grocery store? Didn't they get bored of this small, confining house?

He'd encountered witches in New York. You could somehow always tell they were witches, no matter how they were dressed, no matter their age or race or gender. They could look like a wall street broker or a hippie teenager or one of the innumerable homeless people and you could still tell they were a witch. Even humans could sense them, even though their senses were pitiful and their noses were practically dead.

Even the unshakable, unimpressed New Yorkers hadn’t been comfortable around them. Peter had seen people get up from their seats on a crowded subway car so they wouldn't have to sit next to a witch, disguising their actions as having to get off at the next stop or wanting to peer at an advertisement. A little rude, perhaps, treating them as if they smelled nasty, but he hadn't been quick to take the vacated seat either.

He considered the house for a while, then sighed and ran back home.

🎄 Merry Christmas, Everybody! 🎄

Today is the day! The final installment of my "Emphasis on Step-Father" fanfic series is finally here!

For those of you who don't know, I started this series all the way back in 2013. "Briefcase" (the first fic in the series) was my most viewed fic that I had ever published. Unfortunately, it hit a hiatus in 2017 and I was almost certain that it was just going to be one of those things that I never finished.

BUT SURPRISE, SURPRISE!

2025 hit me with a major writing bug and I got to writing the 5th and 6th installments of this series. I released the 5th installment, "Milk", back in October and kept the grand finale in my back pocket just in time for Christmas as a little present for you guys.

Some of you have followed me for quite some time, possibly since the beginning of my fanfic authorship time. And some of you might have been around when I first published the beginning of this series. Some of you might have actually been secretly waiting around for me to update the series.

Well, I'm so grateful to everybody who reads my fics and I'm really excited for everybody to check out the closing addition to "Emphasis on Step-Father".

What a fucking beast of a project, huh?

PART 6: "The Dark Makes the Lies Go Away" | 14k words

Summary: Although Stiles' hatred for his stepdad's uncle has softened, his boner has only gotten that much harder. Now, even though he's technically helping to ruin his father's marriage, Stiles has two hot older men that he gets to play with behind closed doors.

Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski/Peter Hale

AU: Derek is Stiles' Step-Father

Threesome (Hale Sandwich)

For those of you that want to start from the beginning of the series, you can check that out right here!

PART 1: Briefcase | 6k words

PART 2: Tales From Under Derek Hale | 5.1k words

PART 3: Reckless Business | 5.4k words

PART 4: Drenched in Mileage | 10k words

PART 5: Milk | 10k words

PART 6: The Dark Makes the Lies Go Away | 14k words

Again! Thank you guys for following along! And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everybody! 🎄

I've been tagged over the last few days by the lovely @diazheartsbuckley, @daffi-990, @exhuastedpigeon, @bekkachaos

i'm knee deep in the steter kidnapping fic so here have a snip snip

By the time Peter returned Stiles was half mad, shaky and desperate.

“Well you don’t look so good,” Peter observed, walking into the room with a tray of proper food.

Stiles was hunched over, his arms wrapped around his legs as he rocked slightly. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes and his skin was incredibly pale— which was quite the feat given that he was very pale to begin with.

Stiles stared at him, blinking slowly as Peter held out the tray of food for him to take. When Stiles didn’t move Peter looked at him confused. “What, are you not hungry?”

“Are you real?” Stiles whispered brokenly.

Peter straightened up in shock. “Of course I’m real, Stiles.”

“Prove it,” Stiles challenged, shakily getting up and approaching Peter.

Peter stared at him, calculating what to do next. He sighed and placed the tray down on the desk next to the few rations Stiles had left from what Peter had given him before he left. Then he turned back to Stiles and said, “How do you want me to prove it?”

Stiles was silent for a minute, his eyes roving over Peter and hungrily taking him in. Finally he reached out a trembling hand and placed it on Peter’s chest, right above his heart.