Your_Favorite_Sin
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What happens when the gift you thought was nothing, from the guy you kinda have a crush on, becomes the only thing you carry with you when you finally leave everything behind?
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If he was spoiled, it was because of rot, not privilege. He was buried under a mountain of bodies — including his own — until he was finally too tired of the tabloids pretending they owned his narrative.
They wanted a tragedy with good lighting. Fine. Here’s the spotlight. Watch him burn the stage down.
If he was a joke, he was going to be the scherzo mortale. Choke on the laughter, dollface.
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One shot of what Angel’s Sinsmas looked like out of the hotel.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,100
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 16
- Hits:
- 168
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His legs moved automatically. His chest rose and fell and then he started moving. Without a safety net. For the first time in a year. No hotel. No Husk. At least the drugs would keep him company…Right?
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Summary
Stiles lost everything, his entire pack was dead, his mate Peter had died in his arms. In his despair, he uses forbidden time-travel magic. He goes back far enough to save Paige and prevent the Hale Fire. But now he is stranded in the past, unsure what his place in it all is.
Peter's mother Dalia, the former Emissary of the Hale Pack, can sense the forbidden magic on him and coaxes the truth out of him. She then decides to help him and give him a place to belong, in the Hale Pack that Stiles just saved.
Series
- Part 1 of Emissary Stiles
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 63,221
- Chapters:
- 12/13
- Comments:
- 1,293
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- 3,118
- Bookmarks:
- 902
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- 63,415
Bookmarked by Your_Favorite_Sin
18 Jan 2026
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Summary
A Sterek rewrite of the show, that stays mostly canon compliant in the beginning, shown exclusively through the eyes of Stiles Stilinski, unknown soul mate of Derek Hale.
Starts slow emotionally, my first attempt at a story of this degree please be gentle.Stiles grunted softly as he heaved himself onto the roof, his sneakers scuffing against the shingles. Scott—his best friend since forever—wasn’t answering his phone, and Stiles couldn’t wait. There was no way Scott was going to believe what Stiles had just overheard.
Keeping low, Stiles crept along the roof toward Scott’s window, his heart racing as the cool night air pressed against his skin. He tried the window, but it wouldn’t budge—it was locked.
“Of course it’s locked,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.
Knocking softly on the glass, he leaned in closer, squinting to peer inside. The curtains were drawn, giving him only a hazy, distorted view of the room beyond. “Scott,” he hissed, rapping on the window again. No answer.
Suddenly, the curtains shifted, and the window flung open. Scott and Stiles screamed, startling each other.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 229,801
- Chapters:
- 27/40
- Comments:
- 639
- Kudos:
- 1,314
- Bookmarks:
- 426
- Hits:
- 61,168
Bookmarked by Your_Favorite_Sin
17 Jan 2026
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Summary
During one of their regular smoke sessions, Angel finds out that Husk has a secret, one that's been keeping them apart. However, once the topic is breached, what's to stop a little fun between friends?
A Trans!Husk fic. Takes place between seasons 1 and 2.
Bookmarked by Your_Favorite_Sin
07 Jan 2026
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Summary
Angel gave up redemption, the hotel, and everything he had been working towards. He is given an hour of peace, then its right back into the grind. Only this time he has no where to go home to besides the studio.
Except, things are different this time. After Vox's attack on heaven and the devastation of hell, everyone left working for the Vees are unsure what to do. And the ones contracted to them are terrified of what will happen to them. It was rare for anyone to work for the Vees for longer than a few years. A handful made it to a decade before they were thrown out or, in recent times, killed outright.
This makes Angel Dust different. To survive the power shift, eyes fall to him for guidence. And Angel isn't able to sucumb to apathy. He has no choice but to help.
“There ain’t a way to help someone like me. I’m at the bottom of a deep well I dug for myself. You can throw down rope or offer a hand, but I’m the only one who can climb out. And for a long time I didn’t want to. Even if I did, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes I slipped. Sometimes I fell back in. Sometimes I jumped. Every time, it's still gotta be me that climbs out. It's gotta be me that chooses to stay out.”
Bookmarked by Your_Favorite_Sin
25 Dec 2025