1 - 20 of 62 Works by NihilisticEnd
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On a winter planet, Jack and Rose share a introspective moment while the Doctor gets distracted by science and nature. Really, just another average cozy Thursday morning.
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A man - truly the most beautiful man he had ever seen - had sat next to him at the bar and turned to him with a smile; that much he's sure of through the drunken haze. The man introduced himself, though Stiles didn't remember exactly what he had said, and they talked for a while. Most of it was lost to the alcohol-induced memory loss, but he remembered the feeling of a pleasant conversation and very strong arousal.
However, there was one sentence the man had said which remained vividly in his mind to torture him: "I'm working on a body-art piece depicting a landscape and you have the perfect body type for it." There were a few more words said after that which Stiles tuned out in favor of watching his lips move, and then the man had said, "-and of course I would pay you for it."
And then, without hesitation, Stiles' drunk ass had answered, "Hell yeah, I'm down. I'll be there."
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Peter begins writing novels to stave off the homicidal boredom, and doesn't expect it to become a thing. When writers block hits, he searches desperately for something to fix him. Then Stiles breezes into his life and suddenly, everything changes.
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Peter had many muses: the Aurora in the sky, creating surreal colors and patterns above a snowy landscape; tears running down a stranger's face while a gun rests in their hands; the daunting height of a massive cliff above turquoise water; dark storm clouds and lightning over bright, sun-lit trees.
And none of them were working.
He sat staring at his computer with his fingers resting uselessly over the keys, reading over his last few chapters, reaching the end of the last sentence and... nothing. His mind spawned no new scenes. The characters on the pages paused in time and he couldn't push them on... The dreaded so-called "writers-block".
Peter grimaced and reached for his glass of whiskey, positively disgusted at himself. Then groaned and ran a rough hand through his hair, disgusted at himself for caring about his writing enough to be disgusted at himself in the first place.
This just wouldn't do.
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Stiles works alone to figure out how to kill the undead terrorizing Beacon Hills - not because he wants to, but because the pack seems to think he doesn't need anyone's help. After a thankless job-well-done and injuries that would take weeks to heal, Stiles finally lets the pack know how he feels about how they treat him. Peter is there to mend him, offer some words of wisdom, and when Stiles admits he's tired of the pack and wants to leave, Peter proposes a shift in the pack dynamic.
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"What the hell are you doing here?!" Stiles hissed. Peter raised a brow at him as he sat down in his chair.
"I'm undercover, Stiles," he said with a cocky fucking smile, leaning back with his legs parted just a little too wide for Stiles' comfort. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm teaching."
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There's a shapeshifter at the school causing all sorts of trouble, and the Sheriff puts the Hales undercover as teachers to catch them. Much to Stiles' frustration, Peter ends up as his A.P. Bio substitute, and not necessarily by accident.
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He'd seen it on the Nature Channel: Yellowstone National Park, one of the greatest marvels of nature, nestled right nearby in the good ol' Western States. And on a complete whim, he'd decided to pack the car and hit the road to get the hell away from customers and bosses and traffic and bills.
He never expected to come face to face with a wolf. Or, rather, a werewolf who'd had very similar thoughts to his own, and who was much worse at social interaction.
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A total therapy fic about escape and freedom and achieving a better life that I hope you might enjoy as well.
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Peter had made sure to make tonight last.
He had long since decided that if he was lucky enough to be the one to take Stiles' virginity, he'd provide the boy with a night of gentle exploration and rough force that positively, thoroughly ruined him for anyone else for the rest of his life.
It was only the right thing to do.
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Just porn, really, with a sweet touch.
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Derek's POV: It's cold out and Stiles forgets a jacket. Peter offers his own, and Derek knows exactly what that means.
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Stiles bristled slightly, but stood strong. "What are you still doing here."
It was a question that had been lingering in the back of the boy's mind for about a month. Distant, quiet. But after tonight - after Scott mouthed off to Peter and the man threatened his life once again, wandering off to the corner of the room but not leaving - the question was on the forefront of his mind. He needed to know, and he needed to know now.
"Well," Peter drawled, lifting his head to level Stiles with an incredulous look. "For one, I happen to live here-"
"No," Stiles shook his head sternly. "You have no ties to Scott anymore. You hate him and the pack. You don't even seem to really like Derek..." Stiles frowned at the carefully blank expression being directed at him. "And even if you did stick around just for Derek, that doesn't explain why you still keep showing up to pack meetings... So... Why are you still here?"
Peter's book slowly closed, and he watched Stiles for a long, tense moment. On that carefully guarded, pretty face of his, something soft seemed to creep in. Something so damn gentle. "There happens to be someone I don't mind staying for."
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"What is this," Stiles whispered sharply. "You never... You never let anyone up here. Neither of you do."
Peter shook his head. No, he hasn't. And the fact that he was certainly brought an onslaught of very conflicting thoughts and emotions to the older man's mind. But there was no denying that he felt comfortable with Stiles in here, knowing he would get the rest he needed. And wasn't that just interesting? "No one but you... And if you share with anyone about anything in my room... I'll kill them."
Stiles blinked. And when he blinked again, Peter noticed his eyelids get heavier. It was a very dark room, by design. Easier to block the world out on a bad day. And for someone with a pesky human migraine, he imagined it was like a breath of fresh air.
"Get some rest, Stiles," he told the boy once more, stepping for the door. "Don't bother coming back down until you're feeling better, or I'll just send you right back up."
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Stiles has a headache and Peter lets him get some rest in his room. But Stiles knows what it means for a wolf to let someone into their den, and decides to take matters into his own hands. They both need someone, after all.
Apparently, more than they realized.
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It was just a thing going around the school. Just another fad, another trend. It began from something stupid just like they all did, and then spread like a wildfire across the entire student body until suddenly everyone was saying it.
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Stiles stared down at the man in front of him with a deep frown. Peter settled into his chair with a satisfied sigh and tipped his head back, closing his eyes. And Stiles couldn't fucking believe it.
"How do you do that?" he snapped with irritation.
The man rose a brow but his eyes stayed comfortably shut. "Do what?"
Stiles glared. "You're just... Fuck, you're not bothered by anything, are you?!" Those chilly blue eyes cracked open just enough for the man to peer down at the seething boy. "You're literally about to die and-... And you don't even care!"
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Peter gets cursed by a witch and once the clock hits midnight, he'll suffocate. He's accepted his fate after they've exhausted every resource they can to stop it, and tries to convince Stiles to relax with him and spend his last moments doing anything other than stressing about something they can't control.
But, damn it, Stiles never could admit defeat, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.
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Peter crawled to a stop behind the rickety old Jeep as its blinkers turned on, and his fingers clenched around the wheel. He growled and prepared to slam his foot on the gas to roar off past it, just to prove a fucking point. But then his eyes fell upon the sweet little thing that threw the driver's door open with a frustrated tilt to his shoulders, and Peter's irritation immediately washed away.
The young man, skinny in all the right ways, face flushed from the nip of the cold, long fingers reaching up to pull in frustration at wild hair, that puffy jacket of his catching on his shirt with the movement and lifting it to show a sliver of soft, pale skin above his waistband... God damn.
Peter was putting his car in park and wandering out to meet the boy before he even knew it.
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Stiles' car breaks down. Peter offers to help, hoping to seduce the sweet boy.
What Peter doesn't expect is to find himself falling head over heels in love, despite his very best efforts.
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Peter falls under the spell of a seductive siren who'd taken on the form of Stiles. Luckily the real Stiles had done his research, and wasn't going to let Peter get himself fucked to death...
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Eerie music played deep into the woods, and Peter resolutely followed the sound.
He wasn't sure how far he'd walked before he came to a clearing, and the sight was enough to stun him. Stiles was there, in the dark of the woods, face tilted up to the pale moonlight, dancing. Dancing so alluringly that Peter found himself stopping just to watch. And Stiles sang along to the music, soft, subdued, but velvety smooth, and haunting. His body moved to the beat, almost as if in trance. "Storm in the sky, fire in the trees. If there's nothing but pain..." The boy suddenly turned, empty eyes falling upon the wolf. "Put it on me..."
A grin twisted onto the boy's lips, and he lifted a hand, beckoning Peter in.
This couldn't possibly be good, he thought.
But he couldn't deny that, whatever this was, he was absolutely loving it.
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The mall wasn't usually Peter's favorite place in the world, but it was a good way to get away, into the anonymity of the crowd. There were many shops, and he did enjoy shopping. Fashion was always a fascination of his, even as he actively suppressed his affection for soft fabrics, flashy styles and alluring colors. Besides, the mall was always air conditioned to a perfect sixty-eight degrees.
He wandered about for about an hour before he walked past a poster advertising a slip-n-slide. He didn't think very much of it, until he doubled back and bought it for the pack.
It was hardly an altruistic act.
After all, Stiles loved that shirt of his.
He'd never let it get ruined.
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Stiles isn't eating. Peter knows why, and he'll be damned if he doesn't make sure Stiles takes care of himself.
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"I'm not letting this continue another day," Peter told him, confirming the fears Stiles had. "Why. Aren't. You. Eating."
Stiles twisted around to glare at the man. "Why do you care?"
The man raised a brow. "One, the constant growling of your stomach is getting really annoying," Stiles glared harder, "and two, because I like you, Stiles." He let go of Stiles' wrist, and the boy took a wary step back. "I'm sure you know, starvation is a very useful torture tactic. I just can't seem to imagine why you would want to do something like that to yourself."
Stiles growled a pitiful little stupid human growl at the infuriating man. "I just... I..." Damn it, Peter. "I don't want to eat. Every time I do I feel sick."
Peter watched him for a moment, then he sighed. "Alright, get your jacket on, let's go."
"What? No."
The man sent Stiles an incredulous look, and then grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him out to the car.
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Hunters come through town and take Stiles in the dead of night. After mouthing off one too many times, they decide to shut Stiles up.
Luckily, Peter isn't ever that far away, and he saves Stiles in more way than one.
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When Stiles' torturer went missing from the jail and turned up dead on the side of the road, nobody batted an eye. Stiles' dad did show up on Stiles and Peter's doorstep about it, though... Only to then sigh and offer them the casserole he'd brought as a house-warming present.Peter had a way of corrupting people... And Stiles loved it.
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Peter looked away from the boy and glanced around at the mess on his floor, summoning circle and all. "It's the best I could do with what I had."
"Well," the boy huffed, pushing himself up to his elbows. "You were gone for days, I would've expected you could do a little better than that."
Peter turned and stared down at the boy. "Mmh. What's your name, you ungrateful little shit?"
The boy stared up at him and his features took on a vindictive expression that actually impressed the man. "What the hell is your name, you psychopathic fucking alcoholic?"
Oh... This was going to be fun.
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Derek gets a girlfriend, leaving Peter spiraling down a steep slope of depression alone in the loft... At least, he thought he was alone. Turns out, a ghost has been squatting in the loft, and it took him a few days to realize.
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I'm Not Going Anywhere (Not Without You) by NihilisticEnd
Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV), Doctor Who
31 Aug 2024
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Stiles joins a school field trip to Alaska to see the Northern Lights. Instead of laying low and enjoying a few days away from home, he meets the Doctor - a strange man with otherworldly knowledge, on the edge after losing everyone he cared about. What started as a simple field trip to get AWAY from all the supernatural chaos, inevitably ends up a frantic sprint for survival, and a chance to save an entire alien race.
Stiles always was a slave to his curiosity.
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I realized I throw out A LOT of fic substance because I don't end up liking where I went with it. Instead of just yeeting that stuff into the void of deletion, I decided I'd chuck it all together into one big ol' fic like the weirdest shepherds pie you've ever had so that it doesn't go to waste.
If you read anything within this, uh, fic-tastrophe, conglomer-fic, bundle-of-fictious-stuff, that strikes your fancy or inspires you, feel free to use it. I would just require a little "Inspired from Arvak's conglomer-fic: 'TW Scrap Paper'" note to avoid accusations of stolen property, etc. Reminder: none of these will be finished works. Each chapter is a new piece of a fic that I did away with or changed. And I'll only post pieces of fics that have some kind of plot substance.
Enjoy!