“Is there a problem, sir?” the boy asked him, with a note in his voice that said ‘there better not be.’ Oh. Interesting.
Peter bit back the instinctive ‘Are you sure you’re in the right place?’ on his tongue...
Yeah, no. He wouldn’t be that cliche, thank you very much... he prefered to leave dynamism to the plebs.
“Sti… how do you pronounce that?” he asked finally, making the kid’s eyes go round with surprise. He went red as every single person turned to look at him, and Peter tried to act like he didn’t find it charming.
“Um. It’s Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski.”
Peter nodded and made the checkmark.
This would be an interesting year.
Bookmarked by reikachu
14 Dec 2017
"As much as I love seeing you in the shirt I bought you," Stiles says, nodding down the plaid button up Peter has on, "I thought I told you to stop making the neighbors cry?"
"He isn't crying," Peter says. "He'll probably wait until he's in the comfort of his own home to do that."
Pointless fluff inspired by Ian's damn GMC commercial.
- Part 3 of Dahlia Emmeline Hale
He's a green spark. It's in his nature to nurture. And this… this nemeton, she needs him. He's never been so sure of anything in his life.
John Stilinski's hands were Pacific Ocean broad and soft, like friction worn suede and threadbare linen. He gave hugs that reached your roots and shook down your acorns.
He whispered his son's name like gospel, like poetry, like wind.
This isn't what they say in his eulogy.
When the worst of the worst happens, Stiles is taken in by the Hales.
He just wants to learn how to use his Spark, to protect the people he loves. It turns out, everyone wants something from him first.
Stiles swears as the car hits another pothole dead on and he goes flying out of his seat, hardly restrained by the seat belt, smacking his head on the roof.
“Language,” John says mildly, turning the page of his newspaper. Stiles grumbles, rubbing the back of his head. He can feel a lump developing.
“Every year,” Stiles says, “every goddamn year, the Hales send their craziest driver to pick us up. Every year we hit every pothole and every year I get a lump on my head. In the same place! How this hasn’t damaged me permanently I don’t know?!”