work_inprogress: (Focused on you)
Verse Description:

With Marcel and the witches in New Orleans posing a threat, Elijah and Klaus Mikaelson decide to hide Hayley away somewhere safe until the baby has been born. Unfortunately, the town they choose to stash her in is Beacon Hills, CA. With the Alpha Pack and the Darach both on the loose, things are about to get interesting and no one is safe.

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work_inprogress: ([Lydia] In her space)
Verse Description

Elena Gilbert wanted the cure to prove her feelings for Damon weren't fake, so she went to the one person guaranteed to help her get it--Klaus Mikaelson. Leaving Mystic Falls, the two of them went on a quest that ended up somewhere they never expected--with them as lovers, Klaus's brother Elijah in their bed, and all of them in New Orleans trying to take back the city the Mikaelson brothers had been forced to abandon a century before.

Lydia Martin is finally getting out of Beacon Hills, headed to New Orleans to attend Tulane. Having marked her as his two years ago, Alpha Peter Hale has decided it's time to claim what's his, even if that means following her across the country and into a vampire-infested town on the brink of a supernatural war.

Will the five of them come together to take the city, or will Peter end up leading his own faction to the table as he brings the long-banished werewolves back to The Big Easy?

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work_inprogress: (Default)


STATS
» NAME: Peter Hale.
» FANDOM: Teen Wolf
» CANON POINT: Post ep 3x22 - "De-Void."
» AGE: Unknown for certain, probably mid-30s
» GENDER: Male
» ORIENTATION: Whatever gives him the greatest advantage in the moment.
» COLLAR: Brown leather, with this image worked into it in tan leather.

KINKS
» YES: Anal (training and giving), oral (giving and receiving), rimming, biting, blindfolds, bloodplay, chains, breath control, coercion, bondage, inexperienced partners, age play, multiple partners, public scenes, scenting, scratching, sex toys, spanking, voyeurism.
» MAYBE: Anal (receiving), strap-ons, exhibitionism, collar & leash...lbr, if it gets him something he wants, he'll do just about anything.
» NO: Vore, bathroom stuff.
» PAIRING PREFERENCES: In canon: Peter/Lydia or Peter/Isaac. Cross-canon, I'm open to anything.

ExpandEXTENDED PROFILE )

[OOC] HMD

Jun. 11th, 2014 12:23 pm
work_inprogress: (Default)
Got something you want to say about how I'm doing with Peter? Concrit is welcome, if you think there's something I should work on. Of course, praise is always welcome, too, for anything I'm doing well. ;-)

Anon enabled, comments screened, IP logging disabled, etc.

<3
work_inprogress: (Watching from the shadows)
New Orleans was vibrant and alive--admittedly with problematic elements, like all the dead things walking around undead. Peter had watched them for his first few nights in the Quarter and caught a few of them watching back. They hadn't made any moves toward him though, either considering him not a threat or not knowing what to make of him. If they weren't going to bother him, then he resolved to not bother them, either.

There weren't any other wolves, though, and he wasn't sure if that was good--no one to challenge or treat with over territory--or bad--where were they? Granted, it was a big city, and wolves traditionally liked to live closer to somewhere they could easily run, and for the moment he'd filed it away as that and been grateful. Since he intended to stay for a while, making nice in someone else's territory would have been awkward.

Better to just claim it as his own.

He bought a house in the Garden District, with enough trees around it for privacy, and a certain mysterious charm, wanting to be close to the Quarter, but not right in the midst of the noise. Besides--the Garden District was where Tulane was. And Tulane? 

Well, that was where Lydia was.

By careful observation, he'd worked out most of her schedule, knew which dorm she was in, which room, which window. The campus was lovely with lots of shaded areas and overhanging trees and he'd managed to find a bench under one with a perfect view--if you had a wolf's vision. Jeans, a broken in blazer and a leather messenger bag and anyone catching him reading there figured he was a professor. At night, he found it easy to blend in to the shadows, watching until she closed her blinds.

He didn't spend every night there, of course. Really. Just enough to know she was all right, that no one was bothering her. Enough to snarl at every boy who walked her home or he suspected of doing more. Interestingly...a couple of them seemed to drop out of school, disappear, shortly after any such encounter. Not that he had anything to do with that. Really.

She was his. He'd marked her, chosen her, bonded with her. He'd only been waiting for her to grow up before coming to claim her.

Now she had; and here he was.

He hadn't approached her, yet. The perfect time hadn't come. But he'd been in her room, breathing in her scent, leaving his though only another wolf or one of the dead things would catch it, know she belonged to someone.  He never took anything, but he left a long stem rose on her pillow each visit. Blood red, thorns still on. He came at different times, always careful to vary them, to stick to the shadows in case she'd left a camera running. Usually he did it when she was out, but once he'd slipped in, leaving it for her while she showered, and another morning she would have awakened to it next to her, like a token from a lover.

Which it was.

Tonight, she'd gone down to the Quarter with friends, and Peter followed. Watched the boys who bought her drinks, watched her dancing, laughing, followed her along crowded streets. Eventually she'd separate from the pack, and he'd follow, then, too.

He was tired of waiting.

work_inprogress: ([Lydia] We are so better than you)
The End of the Beginning

Lydia's been away at an academic conference, leaving Peter in charge of the kids. But she's coming home tonight, and he wants to be ready.

If only the kids would cooperate.


There's Gonna Be Some Changes in the Way This Story Goes

Peter Hale tells his daughter a bedtime story about a big, bad wolf and the fairy princess who saved him while the pack listens in.


Note: Future fic inspired by verse with [personal profile] wantadistraction 
work_inprogress: (Downcast)
It wasn't that Peter wanted to leave Scott behind, by any means, but he'd rushed back in there and the Alpha twins--who'd flipped sides just like he'd said they would--were right behind them and Cora had already stopped breathing once. So, he snarled at Isaac who could see the twins behind them and knew, if nothing else, he had a duty to his pack--of which Peter and Cora were a major part.

He floored it.

The epinephrine had burned off a little too fast, which had been embarrassing, but the adrenaline was still pumping--possibly the only thing keeping him upright, honestly. That and needing to take care of his pack...Cora hadn't regained consciousness, and he could only hope someone had found Derek.

Isaac didn't know where Scott was, didn't know if he'd gotten out, and he was shaking, but he got them back to the loft safely. Sure, the pack knew where it was, but they knew where all of them lived and where else were they going to go? Better somewhere they could sort of defend. They didn't have Ms. Blake, anyway, so why would they come after them?

When they got to the loft, Peter got Cora out of the car, lifting her with a pained wince, but when Isaac tried to take her, he snarled at the boy until he ran ahead, getting doors instead, letting them all into the loft and skidding to a bit of a halt at finding Lydia and Hayley sitting there.

Peter noticed the girls, but didn't process, moving across to get Cora on the table, somewhere they could work on her more easily than the sofa. After he got her there, he just leaned against it, head hanging down, breathing a little too hard.
work_inprogress: (Angry wolf)
Peter knew the pack was attempting to save someone's life, but someone else's life had been in jeopardy who he cared about a lot more than some random teacher. He'd been hanging out in the corner of Cora's room, watching her and Derek, waiting for her to wake up. When he noted Derek's eyes drooping, he said he was going to get them coffee and would be right back.

Moving through the halls, he avoided the nurses's station, not wanting a run in with Melissa McCall. He did the same on the way back and was almost back to the room when he heard a scream that ricocheted through him, plucking hard at his eardrums, though not close enough to drop him to the ground.

He did drop the coffee, though, because he knew that scream. He'd heard it in his dreams, elicited it from her more than once last year.

Lydia.

Ignoring the splash of the hot coffee on the floor and not bothering to return to Derek and Cora, Peter took off at a run. He heard his name distantly shouted, but he didn't stop for it. He didn't stop for anything.

When he hit the school, he closed his eyes and felt for her, feeling the edges of her mind, seeing what she saw. He'd gone to school here; he knew it well, and the images he got from her helped him pinpoint her location. Students, parents and teachers were spilling out of the auditorium doors, though, screaming in a way that made him grateful he even could feel her--that she was still alive.

The crowd made going in problematic, so he went around, twisting toward the hall of classrooms where she was. Scanning rooms as he went by, he caught sight of something that about made his heart stop: Lydia, tied to a chair, a garrotte around her neck, and some woman moving toward the fallen sheriff. He couldn't see Lydia moving, didn't know if she was all right, but there was blood in the air--hers, Scott's, Sheriff Stilinski's.

Peter's eyes glowed blue and his claws and fangs extended as he growled. With a running leap he threw himself through the windows, knocking into the woman and sending her farther away from Lydia. He snarled, almost fully wolfed out, noting the others at the door. He wanted the woman, wanted her blood, but how much and how hard depending on how hurt Lydia was, so he spun to her, moving to kneel in front of her chair, senses trained on the woman for any sudden moves.

By the time he reached Lydia, his features were normal again, though his eyes were still glowing bright blue and the claws of his right hand were still extended. He slashed through the bindings holding her, careful not to nick her skin, then reached to pluck the garrotte away, eyeing the marks on her throat with a fury that had him growling again.

Another crash from behind him startled him enough to look and see the girl and the sheriff disappear. Whatever. He had her scent. He could hunt her down. His attention focused back on Lydia.

"Are you badly hurt?" She obviously wasn't all right, but he needed the physical damage report first.
work_inprogress: (menacing hotness)
It was quite possible that Lydia was not flirting with the Alpha twin. Possible Aiden was hitting on her and being gently shut down. Possible Stiles was wrong. The rational side of Peter's brain told him that's what it was as he lurked outside the school, watching Lydia in a way that was not at all creepy or stalkery. Really.

He was just checking on her, given her repeated trances and her fear of what was going on. He was looking out for her, making sure she was okay. It was concern, not territorial marking. Really.

He'd already done that.

A faint growl escaped his throat and the Alpha boy's head snapped toward the woods, but Peter was already gone.

Peter followed her the rest of the afternoon, into the evening, watched her with her friends. Watched as Aiden followed her, too, though far more openly. Pity, when the boy came back out, his tires had been slashed, and Peter didn't much care if he thought Scott or Isaac had done it. He had no proof and reason enough to already go after them. What were a couple of tires?

He was at her home before her. After determining her mother wasn't home--a far too usual occurrence for his idea of decent parenting, but highly convenient--he leaped to the tree by her window, then let himself in through it. He didn't sprawl out on her bed to wait, this time. He paced in the darkness instead, moving to the far corner of the room when he heard her car, out of her line of sight when she'd come in. Leaning against the wall there, he waited.
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