41 - 60 of 100 Bookmarks by SinsofAugust
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“Kira doesn't care a wick if you can afford her dresses and bonnets, I'm well aware. It doesn't change the fact that I have to look after her best interests. I'd like her to be with an Alpha that puts her above all else even if he cannot afford her every luxury.”
Scott looks surprised. “I know you do not know me, sir, but I can promise you that that is my only wish. I—I love Kira quite dearly, and all I want is to provide for her, make her happy.”
“So you will marry off your brother,” Derek says, taking a sip from his drink.
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In which Kira is Derek's ward, Stiles is Scott's brother, and omega heat cycles are good for everyone.
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When the Beacon Hills lacrosse team made a bet with the Beacon Hills cheerleading squad, Stiles should have recognized the smirks on the girls' faces and stopped the whole thing right there.
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“We have received confirmation that there is a hostage situation in progress at a warehouse compound two hours out of Los Angeles, following a multiple-vehicle pileup on Highway 101 this morning...”
The one in which Stiles has lived to (legal) adulthood and, along the way, become a bit of a badass himself.
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Inspired by this Tumblr post, and written for lupinus's birthday.
Stiles accidentally finds a trunk full of Derek's professional dom gear from when he lived in New York. They don't talk about it. Then Stiles turns eighteen, and they do.
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If he thought Derek would be angry or embarrassed at Stiles finding a trunk full of quality BDSM gear in his closet, he’d have been wrong. “I used to do it professionally, in New York,” Derek says easily, and Stiles—Stiles doesn’t know how to process that. Because he’s seventeen and has eyes and an unfortunately vivid imagination, and if he lets it go there he’s not going to get any use out of any body part except his dick for several hours.
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Derek Hale's new flat turns out to be in the direct line of sight from Stiles' bedroom window. The one with the telescope.
Stiles always did appreciate a stellar gazing experience.
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Derek is a sleepwalker who keeps wandering into his downstairs neighbour’s bedroom.
Stiles is pretty sure the hot guy from the park is going to kill him in his sleep. He knows he shouldn’t have been so obvious about objectifying the guy’s really fine ass.
Too bad it turns out Derek is easier to get along with when he's sleeping.
Series
- Part 1 of [S]WAY With Me
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drunktuesdays: Let's taunt ourselves with fic that we will never write.
Stiles is sitting in English class when the thought first occurs to him. They’ve been talking about the ending of Jane Eyre, and Rochester’s fate, and the concept of disability as punishment, and his mind jumps to Derek ordering him to cut off his arm, and he wonders idly whether the arm would have grown back or, more likely, just healed over the stump immediately, and huh, he thinks with a sudden thrill, huh, there’s no way Derek Hale is circumcised.
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In Beacon Hills, the two-year war that’s been raging between werewolves and hunters has begun spilling over onto the civilian population. Meanwhile, in Boston, when the tattoo on Stiles Stilinski’s back is damaged on a late-night hunt he begins to have dreams that lead him across the country, drawn by an inexplicable conviction that he’s needed there. When he discovers that Derek Hale began the war after his mate was killed, Stiles finds himself being offered a strange deal: figure out how to bring the alpha's mate back, and peace talks can begin.
Series
- Part 2 of Cry Havoc 'verse
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When Derek blows Stiles off for dinner with someone else, Stiles decides to confront him. Things . . . get a little out of hand.
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It’s a popular joke among Alphas: fuck an Omega, get heartbreak on your hands. Omegas are fragile little emotional things, needy and whiny. Stiles refuses to become that, or to believe that he’s anything like that.
Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident. (Also - everyone's a werewolf, and everyone's alive.)
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Derek looked like the stuff of his deepest fantasies. His shirt was rumpled where Stiles had his hands in it, and he was breathing hard as well, chest heaving. His eyes—his eyes were glazed over and he looked stunned, like he’d been—like Stiles had—
“No,” Stiles said, blood draining from his face. The word was croaky and felt like it had to be wrenched out of his chest. “God, no.”
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There's a unicorn in Beacon Hills. A fricken' unicorn. In fricken' Beacon Hills, California. And it turns out that unicorns aren't drawn towards virgins in a happy-go-lucky let-me-lay-my-not-at-all-metaphorical-horn-in-your-lap way. No. They kill them. And guess who's the only virgin idiotic enough to get sucked into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene? Stiles, that's who.
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He doesn't know his name, he doesn't know who he is, and neither does the werewolf he's on the run with. But he's pretty sure they hunt monsters, because they seem to be really good at it.
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Danny is bruised. Their werewolf drama has officially bruised Danny. This is the worst day ever.
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“Three weeks,” Derek says.
“Still don’t want to,” Stiles says.
“I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so…
“How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“
“My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.”
“A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.
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This isn't even the weirdest thing he's had to do recently.