Imagine: Being Peter’s first love. (From young Peter to older Peter). There’s slight Derek.
P/n: I’ve been wanting to write this, but the inspiration and feels didn’t hit me till yesterday at work. So I banged it out and finished it today. I am super excited to post this and I have to say I did grow attached to this story in a short amount of time. I hope you guys enjoy it because I really really liked this. Sorry for any mistakes, I was too excited to give it a second and third read through.
Peter leaned against the stair rail as he talked to the girl he’s been interested in for a while. A smile was plastered on his lips, and he could barely keep his eyes off her. In his eyes, she was extremely beautiful and everything about her was perfect. “You’re not as clever as you think you are, Peter.” She smugly teased him. “It was a slight mishap, it won’t happen again.” He chuckled. He loved the way she teased him and would take any opportunity to take a stab at his huge ego. “To make up for it, how about I take you to dinner?” He smoothly asked. He could see the shock in her eyes and the way she slightly dropped her jaw. But she despite being caught off-guard, she still had a smile on her lips. He was completely smitten by the girl and after talking to her for a while, he finally plucked up the courage to ask her to be his girlfriend.
Dean dragged Stiles by his jersey until he found the Sheriff and handed over his son. “I’m returning your kid. Please keep him away from my baby sister.” The Sheriff furrowed his eyebrows, confused as Dean went on rambling.“If I ever catch him swapping spit with her again-”
The Sheriff cut Dean off. “Lydia? Wait. I thought she was an onlychild?”
“Lydia?” Dean made a confused face. “No, Y/N. Who the hell isLydia?”
“His girlfriend,” The Sheriff said.
“What?!” Dean shouted a little too loud than he should have, causing
people nearby to stare at him. He took in a deep breath and let it out. “Is my
baby sister a side chick? Is that all you think of her?” Dean said more calmly
but gripped Stiles’ jersey a little tighter, making Stiles yelp.
“It’s not what you think,” Stiles said.
Dean grabbed Stiles with both hands, pulled him forward, and looked
at the kid straight in the eye. “Oh it’s not?!”
“Hey! Get your hands off my son,” The Sheriff ordered. “Don’t make
me arrest you.”
“Dean, let go of the kid!” Sam shouted.
Dean didn’t know what got into him, but he couldn’t help himself. He
wasn’t going to let some scrawny ass kid use his baby sister like that. She
wasn’t meant to be used and be someone’s side girl. She wouldn’t allow it. She
knew she deserved someone who loved her. She
wouldn’t allow herself to let it happen, he thought.
“I’m sorry.” Dean immediately released Stiles from his grip and
apologized to both Stiles and his father. “You’re right, kid. It’s not what I
think.” He looked at Sammy. “Because she would never allow herself to be the
other woman. Sammy, where is she?”
“I don’t know she was following right behind me, Dean.”
“Damn it. We gotta go.” Dean pulled out his phone.
The warehouse floor pressed into Danny’s cheek, cold and filthy. The grime of a thousand shipments coated the cement, ancient sawdust and the dull, faint odor of rusting metal, mixed with musky rodent droppings. Danny’s own smells—blood and ectoplasm, sweat and greasy food—seemed rank and invasive by comparison. He couldn’t lift his head; it throbbed mercilessly, like his skull had come apart and was slowly grinding itself back together. His hearing had gone strange too.
It was a shock when black boots came into his line of sight.
“This is a trick. Isn’t it, Maddie? That other ghost. It’s made some kind illusion… Messed with our heads…” Jack’s voice cracked, rough with anxiety and something else Danny couldn’t quite place.
The boots stood in front of Danny for a moment, shifted—then were replaced with a pair of blue-clad knees. Mom. Mom was sitting there, looking at him. Not saying anything. Judging him. For everything.
Maddie said nothing. Jack rambled on. “It could be a psychotropic drug, some strain of ghost hallucinogen we’re not familiar with. Programming us to see our worst fears. I mean, our son… a ghost…” The last word choked off into something like a sob. Danny heard Jack’s pacing feet stomp away, further into the empty space of the dark warehouse.
A hand touched his head. He gasped and flinched back violently—half in pain, half in terror.