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tigriswolfTitle: I have been half in love with easeful death
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats
Warnings: AU during season 1; future!fic; blood&death
Pairings: pre-Peter/Stiles
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 575
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's Choice, Author' Choice, "When I was your age..."
"When I was your age," Peter says, "Talia had just become alpha because our mother was tired."
Stiles doesn't say anything, but it's a struggle. Peter is staring at Stiles' hands on the keyboard, and Stiles keeps typing.
"Mom died in the fire, along with everyone else I have ever loved, Stiles," Peter says. He leans over, putting his mouth right by Stiles' ear, and murmurs, "Do you still think I'm wrong for wanting revenge?"
Stiles stops typing just for moment, just to take a deep, careful breath. "I never thought you were wrong," he answers. "I found Scott's phone."
.
In a few months, when Peter's back from the dead and there's a new bad guy, Stiles will remember that moment, when Peter offered him strength, speed, and healing. He'll remember saying no, and Peter calling it a lie.
It was.
But all Stiles has is what he is, and people stronger than him have been underestimating him his entire life.
.
"When I was your age," Peter says, "I knew how to respect my elders."
Stiles laughs and the alpha flinches away from the wolfsbane candle he sets on the floor by the alpha's bound feet.
"My pack will find us," the alpha tries to growl. Stiles can't tell which twin it is; probably not the one he got with the rowan bat, he doesn't look angry enough.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," Peter says lightly. "It'll be too late, though." He nods to Stiles so Stiles pushes the candle close enough to touch the alpha's ankle.
Boyd is back, terrified out of his mind. Erica is still missing. And this alpha is going to tell him where – and then Peter gets to become an alpha again. Win-win for everyone.
Well, except for the alpha, but he lost all right to a happy ending when he set foot in Beacon Hills.
.
"Do you want the bite?" Peter asks again, walking away from the fire with Stiles.
"No, thank you," Stiles says.
"Your heartbeat stayed steady," Peter tells him. "When I was your age, I didn't want to be a werewolf, either."
"Really?" Stiles asks. His phone vibrates in his pocket; he pulls it out and it's Dad, probably panicked and definitely angry. Stiles has become such a troublemaker lately, and now he's helping kill people and destroy the evidence.
"I wanted to be an astronaut," Peter says, "and I would never have passed the physical." He shrugs. "Go home to your father, Stiles. I'll bring our packmate home."
Stiles pauses mid-step. "… our packmate?"
"Of course," Peter says with a smile, his red-eyed gaze burning. "We just killed together, Stiles. You're mine."
And that… is right. Derek has never been Stiles' alpha, and while he loves Scott, he can't follow that idiot into a prank, much less a war. If anyone had been alpha in their little pack of two, it was Stiles.
But Peter…
There is blood on Stiles' hands, and he's not sorry.
"Get Erica back," Stiles says. "Be careful."
Peter nods. "Of course," he says again. He leans in close, squeezes the back of Stiles' neck, kisses his forehead. "I'll see you soon."
Stiles… Stiles goes home to his father, doesn't call Scott (who wouldn't answer, anyway, even if Stiles' life depended on it) or Derek (who would answer and hang up), takes a shower, and pulls the covers up over his head.
He dreams about controlling fire and walking side-by-side with a wolf.
Title: The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: AUish future!fic; I haven't seen any of season 3; talk of violence and murder
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, any. I would appreciate something dark, though.
"I'm so tired
I must get up for air
But I can't find it
What's up or what's down out here
I'm caught in your undertow
Caught in your undertow"
"I need your help," Stiles says, wishing he knew anyone else to ask.
"Do you really?" Peter asks, setting down his book. He looks delighted and Stiles wants to stalk out, find another way.
There is no other way.
"They went after my dad, Peter," Stiles says, letting only a little of the cold fire burning deep inside peek through. "They went after my dad and I need them to never do that again."
"Why not go to Derek?" Peter steeples his fingers and looks up at Stiles through his lashes. It'd be funny, if Stiles weren't still so angry. But if Peter could ever pull off the innocent act, it was before the fire.
"I need a killer," Stiles says. "They hurt my dad and they need to die."
Derek's no killer, and Stiles doesn't want to turn him into one. But Peter, whoever he was before – he's exactly what Stiles needs now.
"Have a seat, Stiles," Peter says sprawling back across the couch, "and tell me what you need."
There will be no going back after this, but Dad's still in the hospital, and there is nothing Stiles won't do to keep him safe.
He sits beside Peter, meets Peter's gaze without hesitation, and starts talking.
Title: pretty little girl (growing up so mean)
Fandom: Tangled/Disney's Sleeping Beauty
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: DARK AU, sexual abuse of a child, character death, violence
Pairings: Gothel/Rapunzel
Rating: R
Wordcount: 700
Point of view: third
Prompt: Tangled, Rapuzel + Mother Gothel,
'Cause I was your angel
Talking a good game
The same one you taught me to play
You kept me in cages
With gilded spaces
Too small for me to stay
Now I'm falling away
Falling away now
And I'm sorry darling
But I've broken it down
And I need to see this through
-of Verona, The Enemy
Gothel can use magic, but she is not magic. For years she used a flower that wasn't hers; and then for years she kept a pretty little girl in a pretty little cage and stole magic after magic after magic.
But pretty little girls grow up into pretty women, and things change.
...
"You should be more careful, Gothel," Maleficent says one day, raven on her shoulder and staff in hand, watching the sunrise with a cold smile.
Maleficent knows all about pretty little girls who become pretty women.
"Oh, pish tosh," Gothel dismisses. "The girl's mine through and through."
Maleficent shrugs, watching Gothel ride away. Gothel is young yet; Maleficent is ancient. Gothel will either learn or die. It matters not.
"Visit the tower every now and then, my pet," she tells her raven. "When the time has come, let me know."
Oh, yes, Maleficent knows all about pretty little girls.
...
Rapunzel is magic. When she realizes what Mother's touch means, when she learns that it is herself Mother has been stealing for longer than she can remember, when the tower ceases to be home (it never ever was) and becomes a cage...
Mother loves Rapunzel's hair. She spends hours stroking it, singing to it, and Rapunzel has to sit in silence, has to endure when Mother's hands wander from the gold strands to pale, perfect skin.
The one time Pascal tried to defend her, Mother flung him against the wall and held Rapunzel back, clutched tight to her breasts, and by the time she was done, Pascal had died.
Rapunzel never tried to befriend any of the creatures of the surrounding trees after that.
...
The raven sits on the windowsill for hours, watching.
Rapunzel watches him in return, instead of feeling Mother, instead of hearing Mother, instead of doing anything to please Mother.
The raven leaves as silently as he arrived, and Rapunzel closes her eyes.
...
"Is it yet time, my pet?" Maleficent coos, stroking the raven's back.
No, beloved, the raven replies.
...
The truth comes to Rapunzel late one night while she's humming Mother's favorite song and brushing her hair.
So she grabs her shears and savagely cuts all the golden magic off.
...
Mother screams at her, slaps her, strangles her.
Rapunzel's hair is shorn close and brown where before it all been golden. She laughs at Mother's anger, smiles at Mother's tears, and when it is spent, when Mother is sobbing and holding her close, stroking for hair that isn't there –
It is then that Rapunzel strikes.
...
Gothel dies with a gasp, eyes wide, expression betrayed. She sags in Rapunzel's grip and Rapunzel lets her fall.
Rapunzel walks to the window, orphaned twice over, and her fingers flare with golden light because no longer does anyone steal her magic. All of it is hers, as it always should've been. All of it is hers, singing, and she jumps out, into the air, where all is golden and all is free.
...
After sunset, when Rapunzel lands to rest, a woman is waiting. She looks nothing like Gothel.
"Hello, child," the woman says; the raven on her shoulder croaks and Rapunzel almost understands.
"I'll not be used again," Rapunzel tells them both, her skin glowing golden.
The woman laughs. "I don't need your magic, child," she says. "I have all the powers of Hell at my command."
"Good," Rapunzel says, and when the woman holds out hand, Rapunzel takes it.
...
Rapunzel is a natural; she reminds Maleficent of herself, centuries ago.
The pretty little girl still has far to go, but she will grow into a sorceress the world shall fear.
Rapunzel's familiar is a dragonet she finds in a dark cave; Rapunzel names him Pascal and Maleficent never explains the smile she wears anytime she sees him.
...
When Flynn Rider climbs into the tower, he finds a rotting corpse and nothing else.
He's caught by the king's men and dies in prison before being brought to trial.
Rapunzel is a world away, apprenticed to the most feared of all sorceresses, and she neither knows nor cares about the kingdom that still mourns for her.
Maleficent finds the irony delicious, and cannot wait to see what Rapunzel will be.
Title: shout down the sky
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish; I haven't seen any of season 3 yet.
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 345
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf, any, Beware false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.
Stiles talks a big game, and he ducks his head when the wolves get growly, back down when he needs to, and he pulls their asses outta the fire all the time (sorry, Derek. not so sorry, Peter), and he knows what they think.
It's what he wants them to think.
.
Not much longer, sweetling, Mama says in his dreams.
Ten years lasts forever, he replies, tucking himself into her arms, like he's five again.
Only one more, Allandros, she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
Dad misses you, he tells her, closing his eyes and resting. I think he's forgotten, Mama. He doesn't see the wolves at all, hasn't since you left.
He'll remember, Mama promises. I'll step back into the world and we'll be as we should've been. All prices shall be paid.
She kisses his forehead and says, Tell me about your wolves.
.
Stiles wakes up and eats a quick breakfast with his dad, hurries to school. He meets up with Scott and Isaac in the parking lot, snarks at Jackson, ducks Erica's swat to the head, and laughs at Boyd's muttering. Danny nods to him and Lydia smiles. Allison watches them all with a pining look and turns away.
None of them have any idea. Maybe Talia Hale did, but she didn't tell Peter, clearly, and he wasn't in his right mind when his eyes were alpha red, so he couldn't sense it. If he could sense it, he clearly had no idea what it was. Or maybe only born alphas can sense it? Or maybe no one can.
Whatever. A year left. On his eighteenth birthday, Mama will come back, all dues paid.
Stiles' wolves will be safe. Dad will remember the spark in Mama's blood, the spark Stiles inherited, the spark Deaton thinks is so tiny.
The spark in Stiles' blood once lit up the world, when his kind ruled the sky. And when Mama comes back…
The bell shrieks and Stiles follows his wolves down the hall.
One year left.
Stiles can't wait to fly.
Title: untitled
Fandom: White House Down/Die Hard movies
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for both
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 60
Point of view: third
Prompt: author’s choice (crossover), John + John, you get used to it
"How the hell is this happening again?!" John demands, punching the goon in the throat and moving on.
"Eh, you get used to it," McClane says, slamming a chair into another goon's head. "C'mon, kid, let's go get your daughter."
McClane knows the layout of the building better than John, so John follows him, swearing that Emily is never going anywhere ever again.
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Keats
Warnings: AU during season 1; future!fic; blood&death
Pairings: pre-Peter/Stiles
Rating: PG13
Wordcount: 575
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's Choice, Author' Choice, "When I was your age..."
"When I was your age," Peter says, "Talia had just become alpha because our mother was tired."
Stiles doesn't say anything, but it's a struggle. Peter is staring at Stiles' hands on the keyboard, and Stiles keeps typing.
"Mom died in the fire, along with everyone else I have ever loved, Stiles," Peter says. He leans over, putting his mouth right by Stiles' ear, and murmurs, "Do you still think I'm wrong for wanting revenge?"
Stiles stops typing just for moment, just to take a deep, careful breath. "I never thought you were wrong," he answers. "I found Scott's phone."
.
In a few months, when Peter's back from the dead and there's a new bad guy, Stiles will remember that moment, when Peter offered him strength, speed, and healing. He'll remember saying no, and Peter calling it a lie.
It was.
But all Stiles has is what he is, and people stronger than him have been underestimating him his entire life.
.
"When I was your age," Peter says, "I knew how to respect my elders."
Stiles laughs and the alpha flinches away from the wolfsbane candle he sets on the floor by the alpha's bound feet.
"My pack will find us," the alpha tries to growl. Stiles can't tell which twin it is; probably not the one he got with the rowan bat, he doesn't look angry enough.
"Oh, I'm counting on it," Peter says lightly. "It'll be too late, though." He nods to Stiles so Stiles pushes the candle close enough to touch the alpha's ankle.
Boyd is back, terrified out of his mind. Erica is still missing. And this alpha is going to tell him where – and then Peter gets to become an alpha again. Win-win for everyone.
Well, except for the alpha, but he lost all right to a happy ending when he set foot in Beacon Hills.
.
"Do you want the bite?" Peter asks again, walking away from the fire with Stiles.
"No, thank you," Stiles says.
"Your heartbeat stayed steady," Peter tells him. "When I was your age, I didn't want to be a werewolf, either."
"Really?" Stiles asks. His phone vibrates in his pocket; he pulls it out and it's Dad, probably panicked and definitely angry. Stiles has become such a troublemaker lately, and now he's helping kill people and destroy the evidence.
"I wanted to be an astronaut," Peter says, "and I would never have passed the physical." He shrugs. "Go home to your father, Stiles. I'll bring our packmate home."
Stiles pauses mid-step. "… our packmate?"
"Of course," Peter says with a smile, his red-eyed gaze burning. "We just killed together, Stiles. You're mine."
And that… is right. Derek has never been Stiles' alpha, and while he loves Scott, he can't follow that idiot into a prank, much less a war. If anyone had been alpha in their little pack of two, it was Stiles.
But Peter…
There is blood on Stiles' hands, and he's not sorry.
"Get Erica back," Stiles says. "Be careful."
Peter nods. "Of course," he says again. He leans in close, squeezes the back of Stiles' neck, kisses his forehead. "I'll see you soon."
Stiles… Stiles goes home to his father, doesn't call Scott (who wouldn't answer, anyway, even if Stiles' life depended on it) or Derek (who would answer and hang up), takes a shower, and pulls the covers up over his head.
He dreams about controlling fire and walking side-by-side with a wolf.
Title: The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: AUish future!fic; I haven't seen any of season 3; talk of violence and murder
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, any. I would appreciate something dark, though.
"I'm so tired
I must get up for air
But I can't find it
What's up or what's down out here
I'm caught in your undertow
Caught in your undertow"
"I need your help," Stiles says, wishing he knew anyone else to ask.
"Do you really?" Peter asks, setting down his book. He looks delighted and Stiles wants to stalk out, find another way.
There is no other way.
"They went after my dad, Peter," Stiles says, letting only a little of the cold fire burning deep inside peek through. "They went after my dad and I need them to never do that again."
"Why not go to Derek?" Peter steeples his fingers and looks up at Stiles through his lashes. It'd be funny, if Stiles weren't still so angry. But if Peter could ever pull off the innocent act, it was before the fire.
"I need a killer," Stiles says. "They hurt my dad and they need to die."
Derek's no killer, and Stiles doesn't want to turn him into one. But Peter, whoever he was before – he's exactly what Stiles needs now.
"Have a seat, Stiles," Peter says sprawling back across the couch, "and tell me what you need."
There will be no going back after this, but Dad's still in the hospital, and there is nothing Stiles won't do to keep him safe.
He sits beside Peter, meets Peter's gaze without hesitation, and starts talking.
Title: pretty little girl (growing up so mean)
Fandom: Tangled/Disney's Sleeping Beauty
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: DARK AU, sexual abuse of a child, character death, violence
Pairings: Gothel/Rapunzel
Rating: R
Wordcount: 700
Point of view: third
Prompt: Tangled, Rapuzel + Mother Gothel,
'Cause I was your angel
Talking a good game
The same one you taught me to play
You kept me in cages
With gilded spaces
Too small for me to stay
Now I'm falling away
Falling away now
And I'm sorry darling
But I've broken it down
And I need to see this through
-of Verona, The Enemy
Gothel can use magic, but she is not magic. For years she used a flower that wasn't hers; and then for years she kept a pretty little girl in a pretty little cage and stole magic after magic after magic.
But pretty little girls grow up into pretty women, and things change.
...
"You should be more careful, Gothel," Maleficent says one day, raven on her shoulder and staff in hand, watching the sunrise with a cold smile.
Maleficent knows all about pretty little girls who become pretty women.
"Oh, pish tosh," Gothel dismisses. "The girl's mine through and through."
Maleficent shrugs, watching Gothel ride away. Gothel is young yet; Maleficent is ancient. Gothel will either learn or die. It matters not.
"Visit the tower every now and then, my pet," she tells her raven. "When the time has come, let me know."
Oh, yes, Maleficent knows all about pretty little girls.
...
Rapunzel is magic. When she realizes what Mother's touch means, when she learns that it is herself Mother has been stealing for longer than she can remember, when the tower ceases to be home (it never ever was) and becomes a cage...
Mother loves Rapunzel's hair. She spends hours stroking it, singing to it, and Rapunzel has to sit in silence, has to endure when Mother's hands wander from the gold strands to pale, perfect skin.
The one time Pascal tried to defend her, Mother flung him against the wall and held Rapunzel back, clutched tight to her breasts, and by the time she was done, Pascal had died.
Rapunzel never tried to befriend any of the creatures of the surrounding trees after that.
...
The raven sits on the windowsill for hours, watching.
Rapunzel watches him in return, instead of feeling Mother, instead of hearing Mother, instead of doing anything to please Mother.
The raven leaves as silently as he arrived, and Rapunzel closes her eyes.
...
"Is it yet time, my pet?" Maleficent coos, stroking the raven's back.
No, beloved, the raven replies.
...
The truth comes to Rapunzel late one night while she's humming Mother's favorite song and brushing her hair.
So she grabs her shears and savagely cuts all the golden magic off.
...
Mother screams at her, slaps her, strangles her.
Rapunzel's hair is shorn close and brown where before it all been golden. She laughs at Mother's anger, smiles at Mother's tears, and when it is spent, when Mother is sobbing and holding her close, stroking for hair that isn't there –
It is then that Rapunzel strikes.
...
Gothel dies with a gasp, eyes wide, expression betrayed. She sags in Rapunzel's grip and Rapunzel lets her fall.
Rapunzel walks to the window, orphaned twice over, and her fingers flare with golden light because no longer does anyone steal her magic. All of it is hers, as it always should've been. All of it is hers, singing, and she jumps out, into the air, where all is golden and all is free.
...
After sunset, when Rapunzel lands to rest, a woman is waiting. She looks nothing like Gothel.
"Hello, child," the woman says; the raven on her shoulder croaks and Rapunzel almost understands.
"I'll not be used again," Rapunzel tells them both, her skin glowing golden.
The woman laughs. "I don't need your magic, child," she says. "I have all the powers of Hell at my command."
"Good," Rapunzel says, and when the woman holds out hand, Rapunzel takes it.
...
Rapunzel is a natural; she reminds Maleficent of herself, centuries ago.
The pretty little girl still has far to go, but she will grow into a sorceress the world shall fear.
Rapunzel's familiar is a dragonet she finds in a dark cave; Rapunzel names him Pascal and Maleficent never explains the smile she wears anytime she sees him.
...
When Flynn Rider climbs into the tower, he finds a rotting corpse and nothing else.
He's caught by the king's men and dies in prison before being brought to trial.
Rapunzel is a world away, apprenticed to the most feared of all sorceresses, and she neither knows nor cares about the kingdom that still mourns for her.
Maleficent finds the irony delicious, and cannot wait to see what Rapunzel will be.
Title: shout down the sky
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: AUish; I haven't seen any of season 3 yet.
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 345
Point of view: third
Prompt: Teen Wolf, any, Beware false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.
Stiles talks a big game, and he ducks his head when the wolves get growly, back down when he needs to, and he pulls their asses outta the fire all the time (sorry, Derek. not so sorry, Peter), and he knows what they think.
It's what he wants them to think.
.
Not much longer, sweetling, Mama says in his dreams.
Ten years lasts forever, he replies, tucking himself into her arms, like he's five again.
Only one more, Allandros, she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
Dad misses you, he tells her, closing his eyes and resting. I think he's forgotten, Mama. He doesn't see the wolves at all, hasn't since you left.
He'll remember, Mama promises. I'll step back into the world and we'll be as we should've been. All prices shall be paid.
She kisses his forehead and says, Tell me about your wolves.
.
Stiles wakes up and eats a quick breakfast with his dad, hurries to school. He meets up with Scott and Isaac in the parking lot, snarks at Jackson, ducks Erica's swat to the head, and laughs at Boyd's muttering. Danny nods to him and Lydia smiles. Allison watches them all with a pining look and turns away.
None of them have any idea. Maybe Talia Hale did, but she didn't tell Peter, clearly, and he wasn't in his right mind when his eyes were alpha red, so he couldn't sense it. If he could sense it, he clearly had no idea what it was. Or maybe only born alphas can sense it? Or maybe no one can.
Whatever. A year left. On his eighteenth birthday, Mama will come back, all dues paid.
Stiles' wolves will be safe. Dad will remember the spark in Mama's blood, the spark Stiles inherited, the spark Deaton thinks is so tiny.
The spark in Stiles' blood once lit up the world, when his kind ruled the sky. And when Mama comes back…
The bell shrieks and Stiles follows his wolves down the hall.
One year left.
Stiles can't wait to fly.
Title: untitled
Fandom: White House Down/Die Hard movies
Disclaimer: not my characters
Warnings: spoilers for both
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 60
Point of view: third
Prompt: author’s choice (crossover), John + John, you get used to it
"How the hell is this happening again?!" John demands, punching the goon in the throat and moving on.
"Eh, you get used to it," McClane says, slamming a chair into another goon's head. "C'mon, kid, let's go get your daughter."
McClane knows the layout of the building better than John, so John follows him, swearing that Emily is never going anywhere ever again.