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Summary
Peter Hale was probably going to be her alpha. Her owner. The one who'd fuck her through every heat while some version of herself that wasn't quite her anymore begged for it.
And she did it to herself.
Stiles quickly buried that thought, pushed off the wall, and forced herself to walk. One foot, then the other. When she finally sank onto her bed, door closed behind her, she pressed both palms against her eyes and tried to remember what it felt like to be in control of her own choices
OR where Stiles presents as omega and everything goes to shit.
fem!Stiles, slow burn
