Gryvon – Writer of LGBTQ Erotic Fiction

Written in Red (Teen Wolf, Peter/Stiles)



Written in Red (5388 words) by gryvon
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Claudia Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Deucalion, Talia Hale, Cora Hale
Additional Tags: Sheriff Stilinski’s Name is John, Alive Hale Family, Alive Claudia Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Alternate Universe – No Hale Fire, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Red String of Fate
Series: Part 1 of Red String verse
Summary:

Peter had given up hope of ever finding his soulmate until the red string on his finger leads him to a four-year-old. He’s going to Hell. Or jail. Or both.

Peter’s hand flies to the right, sending the tomato he’d been inspecting flying and nearly smacking an old woman in the face. The angry glare she whips at him turns to awe and he can practically see the tirade she’d been about to unleash on him morph into “Oh! Oh my god! Congratulations! I’ll just leave you two alone.” She toddles off and Peter is left staring at his outflung hand and the red string extending from it.

His red string.

The red string connecting him to his soulmate who was nearby.

The red string that he’d given up hope of ever seeing as each of his birthdays came and passed. They said it wasn’t unusual for people to meet their soulmate in their twenties. All of the advice he’d read had said to travel, so he’d gone to New York City for college and spent a year abroad in France and yet here he was in the grocery store in his hometown that he’d been to countless times. He was only here until New Years and then he was supposed to go on a three-month tour of South America.

How had they missed each other?

The answer comes barreling toward him in the form of a child. It shrieks in glee as it collides with Peter’s leg. Its arms wrap around his leg and the child—the boy child—stares up at him with a wide grin and says “Hi!”

Peter stares. There is no longer a red string stretching out into the aisles. Instead it stops just below his knee. At the child. Of all the emotions Peter had expected to feel upon first meeting his soulmate, horrified was not one of them.

“Muireadhach! Where’d you wander off to this time, Muireadhach?” A woman, probably not more than ten years Peter’s senior, steps out of the cereal aisle. Peter’s frozen in place, partly worried that this woman is going to think he’s a pedophile and partly worried that he’s destined to become a pedophile, but the woman’s face brightens as she sees the boy wrapped around Peter’s leg. “There you are!” She smiles at Peter. “I’m sorry. He’s not bothering you, is he?” She squats down to the child’s level. “Let go of the nice man, Muireadhach.”

“No,” the child with the nearly intelligible name says. His arms tighten around Peter’s leg.

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