Chapter Text
“Stiles!”
Stiles jerked awake, grimacing as a piece of paper was painfully peeled from her cheek where it had been adhered from her drool. She glanced blearily around her, frowning at the papers and books strewn across the desk she had fallen asleep at.
“Mieczysława!” Her dad bellowed up the stairs again.
Stiles jerked to her feet and scrambled from her bedroom. Her dad rarely used her real name, only ever when she was in deep shit. Why the hell was he yelling at her? What had she done?
She found her dad in the kitchen, hands on his hips, staring out the back door. She peered out, but couldn't see past the pack, all of whom were clustered on the small back deck.
“What? What did I do?” Stiles asked, staring at her dad.
“Just - look outside,” he murmured, sighing softly.
Stiles frowned, but obeyed and pushed her way through the pack, only to abruptly halt and gape at what was on the back lawn.
Gnomes.
Dozens of calf height garden gnomes were scattered across the back lawn. Erica, Isaac, and Boyd were leaning over some of them, inspecting them thoroughly.
“They felt your power,” Deucalion said, looking amused by her utter shock.
“What?” She blurted, turning to gape at him. “Me? They're gnomes!”
“Yes, sweetheart. Gnomes are of the fey,” Peter explained, a fondly amused expression on his face. “They may look like garden ornaments, but it's merely a self-defense mechanism.”
Stiles turned back to look at the gnomes, flinching when Erica yelped and began waving her hand, one of the girl gnomes clutching her finger tightly.
“Oh, my God. What is my life?” Stiles muttered, stepping down the deck stairs. “Uh. Hello?”
One of the gnomes wearing dungarees and holding a pitchfork over his shoulder seemed to shake himself out of his..frozen state and peered up at her. “Hallo!” He chirped, then dissolved into incomprehensible German.
Stiles blinked. The gnome was speaking German. “I don't speak German,” she said a little helplessly.
The gnomes’ mouth opened and he nodded, clearing his throat. “Sorry,” he said, voice shockingly deep. “I am Albrecht, of the Mossfoot clan! We have sensed your power and that of your Alpha and have come to form a treaty!”
Stiles plopped down on the ground, legs crossed. “Okay,” she said, glancing at Derek, who looked immensely amused. She scowled at him.
Albrecht beamed at her, flashing very white and very sharp, pointy teeth. Stiles kind of wanted to let loose an incredulous laugh, but managed to hold it back by the skin of her teeth.
What was her life?
***
Albrecht, it turned out, was a master diplomat and had calligraphy skills that Stiles was immensely envious of. After he had haggled out a treat with Derek, he gave a jaunty salute and vanished along with the rest of the Mossfoot clan.
“What even is my life?” Stiles bemoaned, clutching a cup of coffee like a lifeline.
Deucalion chuckled at her. “It is likely that many magical beings and creatures will appear in the coming months to meet you, Mieczysława. A Spark of your power hasn't been seen in centuries.”
“Great,” she mumbled, putting her mug down so she could massage her palm. Albrecht had sneered at her laptop, insisting that human technology would not work around him and his clan members, so she had to write out the treaty by hand. “What kind of beings and creatures?”
“Your performing Kanyū sent a shock wave of power across the world, little Spark,” Ennis explained, voice deep and rumbling. “Your fellow guardians of other Nemetons shall wish to meet with you, as well as any packs or clans they may be Emissaries of.”
“So, get ready for guests, then?” Her dad asked, looking utterly bewildered.
“Indeed.” Peter nodded. “And there is the possibility that…less than friendly guests shall appear.”
“Oh, goodie,” drawled Erica, looking sarcastically joyful.
“Just what we need, more enemies,” Isaac grumbled.
Stiles heaved a sigh and stood up to refill her coffee, smiling up at Peter when he gently took it and turned to the coffee machine.
“What about the guy who was murdered the other night?” Boyd asked lowly, glancing at her dad.
Noah leaned against the island with a tired sigh. “He had no priors, nothing to explain why someone wanted him dead.”
“The darach chose him because he was a virgin,” Derek explained, looking tired. “He was wearing a promise ring.”
Stiles swallowed the bile trying to rise up her gorge. “What's so special about the threefold death?”
Peter handed Stiles her coffee and leaned against the counter next to her, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly. “Threefold death rituals used to be used as punishments back in medieval times.”
Derek nodded, continuing the explanation. “Yeah, but they were twisted and used by dark magic users like the Darach to boost their power. ‘Threefold’ means that the victims died of three distinct fatal wounds.”
“Blunt force trauma, a cut throat, and strangulation,” Noah murmured.
“Why virgins?” Erica asked.
“The old wives tale of virgin blood being powerful has a measure of truth to it,” Deucalion explained. “But not in the sense that the victims never had sex, but rather were pure of heart and soul. This Darach is using the rather literal definition of virginity, it seems.”
“So the Darach will kill three virgin's, then they will kill warriors,” said Kali, looking vaguely disgusted. “healers, philosophers…it all depends on how much power they need, and what they need it for.”
Stiles wiped a hand down her face, subconsciously leaning into Peter's side. “A lot of people are gonna die, basically, if we don't stop the darach.”
Ennis nodded slowly. “Yes.”
****
After the explanation about threefold deaths, Stiles felt inexplicably dirty and went to have a scorching shower, standing under the near scalding spray for almost fifteen minutes before she half-heartedly washed herself and her hair.
Stiles stared in the mirror afterwards, her favorite towel - a fluffy Spider-Man one her dad had bought her for Christmas last year - wrapped around her. She didn't look different, despite being different now on a cellular level.
The only thing that had changed about her appearance was her hair, which now hung in messy waves to her shoulders rather than her preferred pixie cut. Her skin was still abnormally pale, and moles and freckles dotted her body. Her eyes were the same light brown, the same as her mom's, but she felt different.
Stronger. Older, perhaps, and wiser due to Inei's memories.
Sighing, she turned away from the mirror and stepped into her bedroom, abruptly pausing when she saw Peter sprawled on her bed reading.
His eyes lifted from the page he was on, and they began to glow electric blue. She shifted awkwardly, clutching her towel closer to her chest.
“What -” she cleared her throat, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “What are you doing?”
Peter put the book aside and stood smoothly from the bed. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer, making her sigh as his scent enveloped her. “Waiting for you,” he murmured, nosing at her temple.
“Wh-where's everyone else?” She stammered, feeling awkward. She was so woefully inexperienced with boys, let alone a man like Peter.
He leaned back, raising his hands to cup her face. “Hey,” he said softly, stroking her cheeks. “I'll never do anything you don't want, sweetheart.”
Stiles huffed softly, meeting his gaze. “I know.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her heart racing so hard she was half worried it'd burst from her chest or something.
Peter reciprocated the kiss immediately, his lips moving against hers. She stumbled closer, arms wrapping around his waist.
A somewhat embarrassingly pornographic moan rose in her throat when Peter deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping over her lips, making her open her mouth to him.
Peter kissed her very thoroughly, coaxing her into the movements slowly and deeply. Her entire body felt as though she was being electrocuted, tingles spreading across her skin and down her spine, making her shudder and push closer to her mate.
Stiles growled low in her throat when Peter tore his mouth from hers, but it turned into an odd, purring groan when his mouth latched onto her throat, teeth nipping and tongue soothing.
She panted, gently scraping her nails through Peter's hair. He growled, the vibration making her shiver in delight. “Peter,” she murmured breathlessly.
He pulled away from her, eyes glowing and flashing a hint of fang. “Mieczysława,” he purred, and she'd never loved her name more.
“Who's here?” She asked, clenching her thighs together.
Peter smirked at her. “No one but us.”
Stiles bit her lip and tugged at her towel, breath hitching when it fell from her body and pooled on the floor.
Peter inhaled sharply, closing his eyes briefly before they opened, glowing electric blue. “Stiles.” His voice was a deep, guttural growl that made her entire body clench with desire.
His hands ran down her sides and over her hips. She gasped when they traveled to her ass, squeezing briefly before he picked her up and turned, placing her reverently on the bed.
“How far do you wish to go?” He asked, kneeling over her.
“Not - fuck,” she blurted, staring as he pulled his shirt off. She raised her hands, gently running them down his chest and abdomen.
Peter preened, leaning his weight on his hands either side of her head to kiss her filthily.
She loved it.
“You smell divine,” he groaned, planting wet, open mouthed kisses down her throat and between her breasts. “Can I-?”
“Yes,” she hissed, staring as relief flashed across Peter's face before he cupped her breasts in his hands and promptly sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
Now, Stiles was eighteen. She'd discovered porn young due to being best friends with a boy and an insatiably curious little shit. She'd explored her body thoroughly with her hands by the time she was fifteen.
That was nothing like having Peter's mouth on her, alternating between breasts, sucking and gently nibbling.
Stiles fervently wished that no one would hear her as she tried - and failed - to muffle her moans of pleasure.
She subconsciously spread her legs, and Peter settled between them, and she began unknowingly grinding against him, desperate for any kind of friction.
“Fuck,” she gasped in Polish when one of Peter's hands dragged down her stomach, his fingernails gently dragging over her skin.
Peter followed his hand with his mouth, and Stiles grasped handfuls of the bedsheets when she glanced down to see him laying between her legs, eyes glowing. “I want to taste you.”
She whimpered, nodding weakly. Fucking hell, he was going to kill her.
Stiles nearly flew off the bed when he slowly licked into her, dipping his tongue tantalisingly inside her before dragging it up and around her clit. She sobbed as pleasure rocketed through her body, ten times more intense due to her heightened everything.
“Peter,” she gasped, reaching for him. She slid her hand into his hair, half wanting to grind against him, half wanting to yank him away because of how overwhelming it was.
Peter growled against her when she curled her fingers into his hair and tugged. He slid his arms around the outside of her thighs and grasped her hips, sucking her clit into her mouth.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she shouted, giving into the urge to grind against him, her nails on her left hand turning to claws. They shredded her sheets.
Peter shifted his right arm, and she jolted as his fingers teasingly stroked her slit. Her breath hitched at the question in his eyes, and she nodded.
He slid his index finger in slowly, gently, and curled it upward, searching. Stiles cried out and thrashed her head when he began rubbing the pad of his finger against her g-spot while his tongue curled around her clit.
She wasn't going to last at all.
Peter slid a second finger inside her, and thrust at the same time he sucked her clit into his mouth again, and Stiles’ back bowed off the bed when her orgasm shot through her, making her entire body tremble uncontrollably.
Peter coaxed her through it, only letting up when she whined pathetically at the overstimulation and closed her legs around his head.
He crawled up her body and kissed her before laying next to her. She looked at him, breathing heavily, and changed a glance down to see a…very large bulge in his jeans.
“You don't have to-”
Stiles shifted and sat up then straddled him, staring down at him. She felt as though someone had given her a shot of adrenaline; she wanted nothing more than to see Peter fall apart.
“I do,” she murmured, shuffling backward down his legs. “I've just never done this before.”
Peter looked utterly wrecked by that admission. He heaved a breath. “I'll show you.”
Stiles unbuckled his belt - Gucci, of course - then with slightly shaking hands unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, breath hitching when she began to wiggle his jeans off.
Peter lifted his hips - and her, fucking christ that was hot - to help her. She stared at the bulge in his underwear and met his gaze, biting her lip.
“Fuck,” he groaned, growling when she pulled his underwear down, his cock bobbing free.
Stiles had never seen a dick in person before, but she was sure Peter's was perfect - or more likely she was biased because he was her mate, but she didn't really care.
It was above average length, but thick with an angry looking vein on the underside she kind of wanted to lick, but instead she gently wrapped her hand around the shaft.
Peter moaned, head tilting back. She stared at his face as she leaned over him and lewdly spat on his dick, smirking at the strangled groan that erupted from his lips.
His hands settled on her hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as she twisted her fist around the head of his cock and thumbed at the slit.
Peter whined. “Are you sure this is your first time doing this?” He panted in disbelief.
“Does it feel good?” She asked, slowly rolling her fisted hand down, then up, then down his cock.
“Good,” he groaned, staring at her hand fisted around his cock, chest heaving.
Stiles slid her left hand up his chest and gently rolled his nipple between her fingers, biting her lip when Peter growled lowly.
She shifted, leaning toward to lick at the head of his cock. Peter moaned and swore loudly, hips giving an aborted jerk upward. She wrapped her lips around the head of his cock and gently sucked, hand still moving up and down the length of him.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Peter swore, breathing hard. “Mieczysława.”
Stiles lowered her mouth more, opening her jaw as wide as she could, and was mindful of her teeth. She tugged at his nipple one last time before running her nails over his hard abdomen, staring at his face.
Peter looked as though he was in pain, but she could smell his arousal. Likely he was holding back from thrusting into her mouth, which she appreciated.
Stiles glanced at his jeans and underwear, and with a mere thought they vanished from his legs and onto the ground.
Peter sighed in relief, shifting his legs apart slightly. Stiles slid between his legs and gently cupped his balls in her left hand, tugging and squeezing them softly as she lowered her head further.
“Fucking-” Peter stared down at her, shocked. The head of his cocked nudged against the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, lifting her mouth off him, a string of saliva dripping lewdly from her lips. “Fuck, baby, you're a marvel.”
Stiles sucked her spit back into her mouth and spat it into her hand, wrapping it around his cock again. “I'm a fast learner,” she rasped, voice hoarse from having his dick in her throat.
Peter moaned as she twisted her fist around the head of his cock and squeezed his balls again. “I'm gonna cum, baby,” he said, running a hand through her hair and tugging lightly.
She shivered at the sensation. “Where d'you wanna cum?” She asked, licking the head of his cock.
“On you,” he growled lowly, a feral sound that made her own animal hind-brain perk up in interest.
He wanted to mark her as his. She preened, nodding, and gasped when he moved fast, gently pushing her to lay down, which she did gladly; he straddled her hips, his own hand fisting his cock.
“You gonna mark me as yours?” She asked, breathing hard. Peter's face shifted, and he snarled, flashing a mouthful of fangs. “Mark me as your mate?”
Peter growled ferally, a groan mixing with the animal sound, and Stiles inhaled sharply as thick ropes of cum splattered over her chest and neck and as far up as her chin and lips.
She curiously licked it off, not minding the taste. Peter groaned, shuddering as he gave one last jerk of his cock and braced himself against the headboard of her bed.
He trailed his fingers through the cum on her chest, then began massaging it into her skin, a deep, purring growl coming from his throat.
Stiles tilted her head, giving him more access to her throat where her scent was strongest. He made a happy noise and shifted to lay next to her, wrapping her up in his thick arms.
“So, the cum thing?” She murmured.
“Mates do it,” he explained, kissing her cheek. “Now you smell like me, and I smell like you.”
She huffed. “Now I need another shower.”
Peter growled. “Not yet.”
“Okay.” She turned in his arms and curled into his chest, pressing her nose against the hollow of his throat. “Peter?”
“Hm?”
“I'm pretty sure I’m falling in love with you,” she whispered.
He kissed her head, tightening his arms around her. “I love you, Mieczysława.”
“Is it normal for everything to happen so fast?” She asked, slightly afraid of how quickly and intensely she had grown to care for Peter.
“Yeah,” he told her, stroking her back slowly. He nuzzled against her temple. “My mom and dad were mated within two weeks of meeting.”
Stiles leaned her head back so she could meet his sleepy, loving gaze. “Mated?” She queried.
Peter kissed her chastely. “Penetrative sex,” he explained, smirking softly at her blush. “I understand you're not ready.”
“Was…” she hesitated briefly. “Was what we did…good for you?”
Peter kissed her softly. “More than, Stiles. You could have insisted all you wanted to do was hold my hand and I'd have been over the moon.”
She smiled bashfully, then grimaced. “I really need to shower,” she said.
Peter heaved a sigh. “Oh, fine,” he murmured.
Stiles pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We can shower together?”
Peter scooped her from the bed and stood with her in his arms. “Let's go!”
Stiles cackled.
***
Every single wolf knew what had happened between Peter and Stiles when they all returned, and Stiles valiantly fought the urge to blush, especially around her dad, who eyed her and Peter suspiciously due to how much more touchy they were.
Deucalion winked at her, Kali merely smirked. Ennis clapped her and Peter on the shoulders, expression stoic as usual. The twins nodded to them, murmuring soft congratulations.
Erica demanded details, looking far too interested. Boyd pulled her away from Stiles, who thanked him profusely. Isaac was adorable and gave her a shy hug, beaming when she ruffled his curls and promptly pressed a mug of hot cocoa into his hands, cooing over him.
Her dad figured that something had happened and poured himself a whiskey, looking constipated as he tried not to think of his daughter and sex in the same sentence.
Derek looked intensely amused and pleased, and took a moment while they washed up the dishes to hug her tightly. She flailed momentarily at the show of affection from the Sourwolf before hugging him back.
“Welcome to the family," he murmured softly.
Stiles blushed. “I didn't - we didn't - I -”
“Breathe,” Derek told her, amused. “I don't want to know what you did together, but you smell like family, and you and Peter are mates. You're a Hale now, Stiles.”
She smiled brightly despite her blush. “Thanks, Derek.”
He ruffled her wild hair, making her squawk in protest. He laughed at her, and she swatted him with the soapy spatula in her hand. “Respect your aunt!”
Derek looked abruptly horrified while laughter erupted in the living room. “Gods, you are my aunt now, aren't you?”
Stiles grinned evilly.
***
Noah snorted as Stiles swiftly and expertly disarmed Derek, looking severely unimpressed as she rendered the gun useless by ejecting the empty magazine and the chambered blank bullet.
“That was…really sad, Sourwolf,” she muttered, shaking her head slowly.
Derek growled playfully. “Im a werewolf, Stiles; I've never had to use a gun.”
“Yeah, that's why it's perfect. No one would expect a werewolf to whip out a gun when hunters historically expect a werewolf to use their teeth and claws,” Stiles explained, flailing her hands.
Noah thanked whatever gods existed that the gun wasn't loaded, even if he knew Stiles took gun safety seriously. It was one thing he'd demanded of her from a young age.
Claudia had been hesitant to let their daughter learn how to use a gun, but after seeing her at the shooting range and how respectfully she handled firearms, at how the discipline of using weapons had helped calm Stiles’ - then undiagnosed, but suspected ADHD - she herself had asked to learn.
Stiles had been a nearly expert shooter since she was twelve. She'd been helping Noah clean his guns since then, too, and respected weapons for how dangerous they could be in the wrong hands.
“It feels wrong to use a gun,” Derek muttered, accepting the firearm from Stiles’ hand.
“I know,” she said, nodding. “It feels weird for me too, now, but it'll be an advantage over enemies.”
“Did you teach Stiles all this?” Deucalion asked, watching as Stiles began to thoroughly school Derek on how to disarm someone.
“Yeah, and the deputies at the station. I taught her hand-to-hand as well,” Noah explained, sipping his beer.
Deucalion hummed. “Its been a while since I brushed up on my skills.”
Stiles looked over, having overhead them. She grinned a little ferally. “You wanna spar, Deuc?”
Deucalion looked pleased. “Yes, I would.”
Noah smirked faintly as Deucalion stood and shed his blazer and turtleneck jumper, leaving him in a plain white t-shirt. Derek eyed the man appreciatively, moving to sit down with the other wolves as they shifted excitedly.
Everyone underestimated Stiles due to how she acted, but Noah knew it was mostly on purpose. His daughter was naturally uncoordinated due to how swiftly she'd grown, all limbs and a bit like a newborn foal, but she was a dab hand at most things she put her mind to, and now she had supernatural strength and abilities, so Noah was looking forward to this spar.
Stiles pulled her hoodie off, leaving her in a cropped Iron Man shirt and her jean shorts. Noah valiantly ignored the look Peter was giving her, and leaned over to grab another beer from the cooler next to him.
Stiles and Deucalion faced one another on the lawn, both grinning at one another. “Ready?” She asked, curling her hands into loose fists.
Deucalion mirrored her stance. “Indeed.”
“Posh prat,” she muttered fondly, then sprang into action.
Noah smirked into his beer as Stiles immediately put Deuc on the defensive, even if he did manage to block all of her hits and kicks.
Erica and Isaac were whooping and clapping for Stiles, who managed to break out of the sneaky headlock Deuc had twisted her into; Noah gaped when Stiles wrenched at Deuc's arm around her neck and launched him over her head, sending him flying into a tree, which creaked alarmingly.
Deuc was up in a flash and sprinted at Stiles, growling audibly, though there was a gleeful grin on his face. Stiles planted her feet and Noah jolted when Deuc lowered his torso, as though he was going to tackle Stiles with all his strength behind it, but then - to his stupefaction - Stiles launched upward and twisted mid-air, landing on Deuc's back with her clawed hand around his throat.
Erica and Isaac exploded into cheers, both of them clinging to each other as they jumped up and down happily.
Deuc grunted as he faceplanted, then broke into chuckles.
Kali and Ennis applauded, the former looking immensely impressed. “Well done, Stiles.”
Stiles sprang off Deuc and offered him her hand. She wasn't even panting, and Noah shook his head incredulously at the whole situation. “Thanks,” his daughter chirped happily.
Deuc ruffled her hair, smirking when she scowled at him. “Well fought, little spark.”
Noah pulled a face when Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and kissed her.
He heaved a sigh and chugged his beer. He wasn't truly against Peter and Stiles being together - being mates - but it was odd seeing his daughter in a relationship; his girl was growing up, and he dared any father out there to admit to not being a little bit weirded out about it.
“That was awesome,” Erica cheered, tackling Stiles in a bear hug.
Stiles laughed, barely stumbling an inch under Erica's weight. “Thanks, Catwoman.”
Noah couldn't help but be glad his daughter had found these people. It was clear she was in her element, even if their lives had faced an upheaval that rarely anyone else faced in their lifetimes, and had found her place in life; and wasn't that what all parents wanted? For their children to find something in life that was their niche?
Yes, it was dangerous, but Noah was comforted by the fact that Stiles had so many people behind her, in her corner, and he had a feeling that Peter would tear anyone apart that wanted to hurt her, and that was more comforting than Noah thought it'd be.
Noah jolted from his maudlin thoughts when his phone rang, and he dug it out of his pocket, sighing when he saw Parrish's name on the screen. He answered. “Stilinski,” he said.
Parrish sounded apologetic. “Sorry, Sheriff, but there's been another body. Lydia Martin found this one, too. Can you bring Derek?”
Noah met Derek's eyes across the yard and nodded. “Yeah, we'll be there in fifteen.”
“See you. Sorry to call you on your day off, Sheriff,” Parrish murmured.
“No rest for the wicked, as they say,” he remarked dryly.
Noah hung up with a sigh, feeling abruptly exhausted. They had to find the Darach, and soon, or more of the people in his town were going to die, and he wasn't about to let that happen.
He had a few questions for this Darach, and none of them were pleasant.