(Or: that one Teen Wolf boyband AU no one thought would update, BUT HAS.)
This chapter: Stiles gets his press conference, but things, as per the usual with The Beta Byte Boys, go very much awry. And then Finstock saves the day. Sort of. (Not really.)
Title: Tales to Give You Goosebumps
Author: ifonlynotnever
Fandom: Teen Wolf (MTV), Supernatural.
Characters: Derek Hale, Laura Hale, John Winchester, Dean Winchester.
Rating: PG/PG-13
Genre: Gen, crossover, metaish, story-within-a-story.
Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mild horror elements.
Note: The crossover is minor. You (hopefully; tell me if I’m wrong) only have to know one of the fandoms for this to make sense.
Summary: Even monsters have their horror stories.
Friendly reminder that the Winchesters are actually known in the hunter community as the scariest, most lethal motherfuckers on the planet.
#the winchesters are the things baby monsters have nightmares about #”don’t draw too much attention to yourself or the winchesters will find you” #”don’t kill humans all in one place or dean winchester will find you” #”stay sporadic or sam winchester will find your pattern” #”behave yourself or the winchesters will kill you”
#i wonder though how many monsters are smart enough to go undetected like #indefinitely #all the monsters sam and dean catch wind of are so sloppy #leaving bodies everywhere and an obvious m.o #like i wonder how many monsters there are that can clean up after themselves and not leave a trail #there’s gotta be TONS
sashi’s perfect tags: #have I mentioned lately that I’m head-over-heels in love with the darker aspects of the winchesters #and that everyone who is also in love with that are my favs forever and ever amen? #and the idea of monsters telling monster stories of the winchesters is like the most delicious thing mm mmm #and not just monsters #like Roy and Walt and the beginning of DSotM talked about them as if every hunter worth his salt knows and fears them #you don’t get on the bad side of those Winchester brothers #you don’t go near that Sam kid or else you get his brother Dean on your trail #you don’t fuck with Dean or else you get his little brother’s knife in your throat
[ i am so sorry for this asjdklsd i couldn’t help it. ]
Laura tells him the story one stormy summer night when they pretend to have a camp-out in her room. Derek is seven and Laura is nine, but neither of them has grown out of the other yet; they still play together, they still scheme together.
So they make a tent by draping a sheet over the space between Laura’s bed and the short bookcase beside the window, and they line the floor with as many comforters and afghans and quilts as they can find, and they confiscate pillows from every room of the house so that their nest is plush and comfortable. Their parents, when they come in to say good-night, laugh at the mess they’ve made - but it is a nice laugh, a mama-and-dad laugh that means they love their children.
“Don’t stay up too late,” Mama says, and Laura nods and giggles and makes no promises. Derek, who still idolizes her, solemnly follows her lead.
After their parents leave, they lay in the darkness for a while, pretending to sleep and giggling at each other when they make ludicrously fake snoring noises. Laura graciously swaps sides with her little brother when the dust beneath the bed sends him into a sneezing fit, and Derek shares the Snickers he stashed in his pillowcase.
They watch as the clock creeps further and further past their bedtime, but Laura waits until the clock strikes 10:00 before she gives the all-clear.
“Now,” she says, “now we can do what big kids do on real camp-outs.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” Derek asks, shifting around so that he’s sitting across from her.
Laura doesn’t answer for a moment, rummaging under her bed until she eventually re-surfaces with a flashlight neither of them actually needs. She crows softly, then turns it on.
“Telling scary stories, of course. Duh.” And she moves the flashlight so it’s under her chin, the beam of light catching her eyes and making them flash an eerie blue-white. She grins widely, her lips stretching to bare her teeth, and Derek can’t help the whine that escapes his throat.
“This is a story that truly happened,” Laura recites, just as her cousin Alexander had when he told it to her, “not so long ago, and in a place not so far from here. In this place, like in many places, there lived a pack.
“The pack was a good pack, a strong pack. The Alpha had lost her mate a long time ago, but she still had her kid-cubs, like you and me, and she loved them so very much. She also had betas who were good and loyal, and humans, too, who kept the pack grounded. It wasn’t a big, big pack, but it was big enough for her.
“And she was a good Alpha. She took care of her pack like Daddy does, and she made sure everyone followed the rules. Everyone treated humans special, no one used their wolf-powers to cheat, and everyone ate food from the supermarket only, unless the deer population got too high.”
“‘Cause deer can be pests,” Derek interjects wisely; Mama told him so.
Laura, however, is unimpressed by his listening skills. “Shh!” she hisses. “Gosh, Derek, I’m trying to tell a story. Didn’t you learn anything in first grade?”
Derek mutters an apology and waits for his sister to go on.
“Hmph. Anyway. So everything was good, right? The Alpha and her pack were happy. They followed the rules, and the town loved them even if they didn’t know what they were.
“Except that one day, an omega comes into town. And not just an omega, oh no, but a feral omega. And you know what feral omegas are like. They don’t care about the rules, or the people they hurt, or about packs. This one just tore into town, not even a word of greeting to the Alpha.
“And the Alpha, well, she wasn’t pleased. She sent out two of her betas out to catch the omega and bring him back to her. Only she didn’t count on that omega being sneaky on top of everything else. But he was. He outsmarted her betas and escaped, and for two whole days they couldn’t catch him.
“They found him in the end, huddled in a stinky old sewer, but by that time it was too late. He’d already killed three humans, one of them a poor little girl, and ate their insides. Omegas are gross and wrong like that.
“The Alpha, being a good Alpha, did the only thing she could: she had the omega taken care of, and tried her very hardest to clean up the mess he’d left behind. She paid for the funerals, she gave money to the grieving families, she even had her betas keep an eye on them. But it was too late.
“A week later, on a calm, cool night, the Alpha woke up screaming. There was so much pain and loss in the pack bond, so many gone. She lay there in bed, so dizzy that at first, she didn’t even notice the man standing over her. He was tall and a little younger than she was, but his teeth were yellow and his eyes were cold and hard. He smelled like blood and silver and fire and wolfsbane, and in that moment she knew what he was.”
“Hunter,” Derek whispers.
“Hunter,” Laura affirms. “And the Alpha knew it, too.
“‘Who are you?! Why are you doing this?’ she screamed. ‘We followed the rules! We don’t deserve this!’
“But the hunter said nothing, only looked over his shoulder at a boy not much older than the Alpha’s own son, who stood in the doorway. He smelled like blood and wolfsbane, too, and his cold eyes looked at her like she was nothing but dirt under his boot.
“‘Rules?’ the hunter-boy said. ‘Monsters like you ain’t got rules.’
“And it was then, just before they chopped off her head and set her on fire, that the Alpha knew exactly who had come for her.”
There is silence for a moment, the thudding of rain and two heartbeats the only sound in the darkness.
“Who came for her?” Derek asks finally, his voice even higher-pitched than usual.
Laura grins again, leaning forward to say, hushed and menacing,
“Winchesters.”
—
Derek doesn’t sleep much that night.
(via starkinglys)
It’s a mystery as to how Derek ended up on Jungle’s dance floor on a Saturday night, pressed up against a gorgeous boy, body gyrating to the thumping beat of some auto-tune atrocity, hands wandering, heart racing, the taste of alcohol and sweat and skin on his tongue.
Except no, it’s really not.
Prequel-of-sorts to oh baby, we were born to be adored, from Derek’s point of view. Derek/underage!Stiles, some mention of past Derek/Kate. Also guest-starring Scott McCall and Laura Hale. Be prepared for misunderstandings, angst, and awkwardness. Also, coping. Badly. Rated M for mjdlfsdf this is almost porn oh my god.
(I DON’T KNOW WHERE THIS CAME FROM okay no, that’s a lie, i totally do. i couldn’t stop thinking about it because seriously, boyband au is addictive.)
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Jackson Whittemore, Danny Mahealani, Laura Hale, Coach Finstock.
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, mentions of Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia, Stiles/Lydia.
Genre: AU: Boyband.
Summary:
The fact remains: After two years with Beacon Hills Entertainment, the independent record company they started with, The Beta Byte Boys have just signed with Lycaon Records.
They’ve totally just sold out.
(Or: Stiles is in a boy band, and everything is Scott’s fault. Except for when it’s Laura Hale’s.)
Notes: Second chapter is up! It’s… not much, and it’s light on Derek, but. Happy Early Halloween?
#he looks like a member of a boysband in the nineties #like backstreet boys #thanks to that ~awesome~ hair #jfc #dylan o’brien (via lonewolfed)
well crap now I really want boyband au fic
Later on, Stiles will tell everyone—and he means everyone, because they’ll have a press conference and everything—that it was all Scott’s fault. It was his idea, his decision, his desperate, undying, everlasting love for Allison Argent that got them into this.
Of course, in reality, it’s just as much Stiles’s fault for not reading the paper Scott handed him at six in the morning, saying, “Hey, uh, could you, y’know, sign this for me? Right here, on the line.” He really should’ve known better, should’ve figured that Scott wouldn’t give up so easily on the idea of switching labels, should’ve at least skimmed through the paper once and realized it was a freaking legal document and not an autograph for a fan or something.
(To be fair, though, it’d been, like, six in the morning at the time, and Stiles’d been up writing until four. He’s not sure he wouldn’t have signed it anyway, just to make Scott go away and let him sleep.)
But regardless of whose fault it really is, the fact remains: After two years with Beacon Hills Entertainment, the independent record company they started with, The Beta Byte Boys have just signed with Lycan Records.
They’ve totally just sold out.
—
“I don’t get why you’re so upset about this,” Scott says, confusion written all over his face. “Jackson and Danny are okay with it. Finstock’s okay with it. Deaton’s okay with it. Harris is—well, okay, he’s kinda pissed, but that’s Harris. Look, I thought you’d be happy!”
“You did not! Or you wouldn’t have had to trick me into signing the contract!” Stiles argues, throwing his hands up. Of course, they’re sitting in the back row of an SUV, so his fingers end up smashing into the ceiling and he ends up hissing and shaking his hands out. From the seat in front of him, Jackson snickers under his breath. Stiles ignores him. “Why would you ever think I’d be happy about it?!”
Scott shifts uncomfortably and lowers his voice. “Well, y’know. Because of Lydia?”
Which, okay, that’s kind of a good point. Lydia Martin, Allison’s bandmate and one of the biggest talents over at Lycan Records. The girl Stiles has been pining after since Argent had their debut.
Also the girl who happens to be pretty obviously in love with Jackson Whittemore, co-leader of The Beta Byte Boys.
Stiles narrows his eyes at his best friend.
“Low blow,” he mutters. “Also, so not the real reason, I can tell. You’re like the worst liar ever, dude, and even if you weren’t, I’ve known you forever.”
Scott fidgets, but says nothing.
“I’m going to find out sooner or later, McCall,” Stiles tells him, trying his very hardest to sound threatening and intimidating and all-knowing.
It definitely falls flat, though, going by the twitch that develops at the corner of Danny’s mouth, and the fact that Scott refuses to say anything for the rest of the ride.
—
It’s not until they pull up in front of Hale Tower (which, Jesus Christ, is freaking massive and there is no way that all of those floors are for Lycan Records, there is just no way) that it finally clicks for Stiles. How the hell could he not have put it together?
Lycan Records. Hale Tower. Hale Tower. As in Peter Hale, ex-CEO of Lycan. And Laura Hale, Grammy-winning producer and current CEO of Lycan. And Derek Hale, former lead singer of The Pack, the band that only influenced an entire decade of pop music.
Derek freaking Hale, who is for some unknown reason standing outside the building. In his trademark leather jacket and black jeans, his hands in his pockets and his mouth turned down in a scowl, waiting—
Waiting for—
“Oh my god,” Stiles blurts out. “What—No. Scott, I am going to kill you. With, like, knives and poison and tasers and—and other stuff I’ll think of later, oh my god, I can’t believe—what the hell. What. The. Hell.”
“Uh, yeah,” Scott replies, clearing his throat. “Surprise?”
—
The thing is, Stiles doesn’t really expect anything from Derek Hale. He doesn’t expect a smile, he doesn’t expect a kiss, he doesn’t expect an appreciative look, he doesn’t even expect recognition, really.
A year ago, he’d just been some anonymous kid in a club. The room had been dark, and he’d only just started to grow out his hair, and he’s never been gorgeous, never been unforgettable, never been anywhere near Derek Hale’s league. It’d been luck and coincidence that they’d ended up pressed together on the dancefloor, not design. And what are three dances and a seriously filthy kiss in the grand scheme of things, anyway?
Not much. Stiles is a realist.
So it shouldn’t hurt when Derek’s eyes slide right over Stiles and focus on Scott, or when he grunts out, “You’re late. Laura’s been waiting,” before turning on his heel and leading them inside.
But it does.
—
[ ajskdlf WHAT AM I DOING. i did not mean to write this much. jaksdlf i’ll. try to write more later? ]
OH MY GOD
THIS IS PERFECT
THIS IS AMAZING
THERE SHOULD BE MORE
uh so i maybe kind of cleaned it up and added a couple hundred more words and posted this on AO3 as oh baby, we were born to be adored.
YEAH. in case anyone’s, uh, interested. or. whatever.
(Source: trickybastard)
Title: A Soul Malleable [4/8]
Characters: Jim Moriarty (Richard Brook), Sebastian Moran, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson.
Pairings: Moriarty/Sherlock, Moriarty/Moran. [this chapter]
Triggers/Warnings: (Temporary) character death, genderbending, implied dub-con (mentally compromised participant?), gender issues (sexism, misogyny), murder, violence, torture, wings.
Prompt: “Every time Moriarty dies, he finds himself in a parallel universe.”
He wakes up … and there is a man beside him, one graceful tawny wing draped over them both, and RTY-who-was-Jeymes-who-was-Richard is now a woman.
What am I doing.
…I. Don’t even want to touch this one, but. I’m writing it. For some reason.
Yeah.
Title: A Soul Malleable
Characters: Jim Moriarty (Richard Brook), Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, many others.
Pairings: Moriarty/Sherlock, Sherlock/John, many others.
Triggers/Warnings: Dub-con/non-con/rape, het, slash (of both kinds), genderswap, gender issues (sexism, misogyny), murder, violence, (temporary) character death.
Prompt: “Every time Moriarty dies, he finds himself in a parallel universe.”
Summary: The first time it happens, he is young, and an actor, and his name is Richard Brook. And then he dies. And he wakes up.
After this, the chapters start getting longer and longer and longer. Cry.
New chapter up and Iiiii still don’t know what I’m doing. I’m still trying to decide whether or not to include the pirates chapter, or just say fuckit. :||
…I. Don’t even want to touch this one, but. I’m writing it. For some reason.
Yeah.
Title: A Soul Malleable
Characters: Jim Moriarty (Richard Brook), Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, many others.
Pairings: Moriarty/Sherlock, Sherlock/John, many others.
Triggers/Warnings: Dub-con/non-con/rape, het, slash (of both kinds), genderswap, gender issues (sexism, misogyny), murder, violence, (temporary) character death.
Prompt: “Every time Moriarty dies, he finds himself in a parallel universe.”
Summary: The first time it happens, he is young, and an actor, and his name is Richard Brook. And then he dies. And he wakes up.
After this, the chapters start getting longer and longer and longer. Cry.
Nnnnot my best, but. I really, really wanted to get it out of my WIP folder ajsdlfk.
Title: kisses are a better fate
Character: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Pairings: Sherlock/John.
Warnings: Awkward kisses. Some people don’t like ‘em. I… am usually one of them.
Summary: Their first kiss is like a crash. A spectacular car crash. A pile-up, really. With buses and maybe a lorry or two. Because to be entirely honest, it’s terrible.
Notes: Title from e.e. cummings’ “since feeling is first”.
