NiEtoile
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Summary
He doesn't know what he's expecting, really. An old gypsy lady in a turban wearing too many rings that smells like herbs and old cheese, maybe. He's not expecting a boy with pouted pink lips, a dotting of moles, and a captivating scent.
“Uh, I need your hand.” Stiles wiggles his fingers. “As handsome as you are, I can't do the reading by just looking at your face.”
Laura chokes on a laugh and Derek glares. “You're the psychic? Aren't you a little young?”
“I'm 24.” Stiles frowns and Derek is genuinely shocked. “If you like, I can go steal a turban from the old lady in the tent across from me. Maybe throw on some dangling necklaces and not shower for a few days. News flash, none of that makes the reading any more authentic.”
or the one where stiles is a seer and he reads derek's future and drama and stuff happen
Bookmarked by NiEtoile
18 Jun 2013
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Summary
Stiles moves into Beacon Hills when he's 18. He doesn't know about the werewolves or the town hunters or the crazy amount of supernatural shit that goes on, because if he did, he would have hightailed it the fuck out of there instead of buying a small apartment and actually settling down.
So when he catches the scent of wolves on his jog, he groans and fights the urge to fling himself to the concrete and throw a tantrum impressive enough to rival any and all five year olds. He settles for sitting down on the scorching concrete and cursing his life choices.
In which Stiles can shift into any animal he wants and somehow the pack doesn't find out until Stiles' ~dramatic~ reveal.
(I'm serious it's dramatic)
Series
- Part 1 of Stiles is a Shapeshifter/Skin walker
Bookmarked by NiEtoile
18 Jun 2013
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Summary
Or, five times Agent Alpha and Agent Q kissed, and one time Derek and Stiles did.
Bookmarked by NiEtoile
16 Jun 2013
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Summary
Stiles just wants to carry on the Sheriff's legacy and take what little evil he can out of the world.
Bookmarked by NiEtoile
16 Jun 2013
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Summary
They don’t know where it came from.
One day there were obscure reports about sudden outbreaks of violence all over the place, violence that started spreading, like a virus, like a disease. Until one mild evening in April… it reached Beacon Hills.
There were graffiti all over the town, words carved into trees and park benches, letters written in blood. And they all spelled out the same thing: Croatoan.Series
- Part 1 of Croatoan 'verse
Bookmarked by NiEtoile
15 Jun 2013