#also you can’t tell me this isn’t giving hanging out with uncle derek and uncle spencer…. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

letarasstuff · 3 years

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Showing the Bird

(A/N): This was requested by an anon, I hope you have fun reading it!

Summary: Spencer's daughter always is quick to pick things up she shoudn't do, this includes a certain gesture with her hand and middle fínger.

Warnings: A kid showing her middle finger

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ _____________________________

Spencer is a technophobe. That’s why (Y/N) has limited access to any kind of electronics, which is a good thing for a three year old. The only sort she is allowed to use is the TV in the living room and even there her choices are limited to the several DVDs the little family owns and cable TV. Emily is in the process of persuading him to get a subscription to a streaming service for (Y/N)’s sake.

“Ok, Sweetheart. One hour of TV today before eating dinner and getting ready for bed, like we negotiated”, Spencer reminds his daughter before turning it on a kid’s channel. She nods, already engrossed by Peppa Pig hanging up on that sheep for being able to whistle.

Earlier the two Reids made a deal: If (Y/N) got all the states and their capitals right, she is allowed one hour of television. This may sound like he forced her to learn this information, but it’s really just a way to stimulate her brain and the toddler is eager to learn. Spencer only has to make it look like she has a gain in it.

The young doctor doesn’t like to leave his kid alone while watching TV. It’s not because he can’t leave her on her own for a few minutes. Spencer wants full control over what (Y/N) sees and what not. Especially he can tell what effects something has on a child and he doesn’t want her exposed to things she shouldn’t be subjected to at her age.

“Daddy, why are the animals talking to each other? I know they are translating all languages to us, but a pig speaks not sheep language.” Spencer is slightly baffled at her question. It’s mostly cute that she explains most things to herself in such a plausible way.

“Uhm, well Sweetheart. You have to-” Saved by the bell. Or more like the ring of his cellphone. Still he hesitates to get it. It’s Morgan, who probably calls because the team needs help with the case.

Spencer had to stay behind for this one, because he planned on taking his vacation days with (Y/N) to fly up to Las Vegas to visit her grandma. But Diana spontaneously took the opportunity to go on a trip with the sanctorium. Now the two do all the things they don’t have the time for in their regular day.

They already were at the aquarium, visited three different museums and even went to the movies once to watch the latest disney movie. Spencer really had to keep himself from pointing out the inaccuracies to not spoil (Y/N)’s fun.

Now the father debates taking the call. He doesn’t want to leave his daughter alone while the TV is on, but also doesn’t want to talk about a case right in front of her. The option of turning the TV off is also from the table, because this would be just plain mean.

So he answers it, afraid that the voicemail will turn on. “Hey Morgan, wait a second, I’ll have to leave the room”, then he puts his hand over the speaker and turns to the toddler. “Sweetheart, I have to talk to your Uncle Derek real quick. I’ll be right back.” She nods and goes back to her cartoon.

But while her father is in the room next door, the audio gets awfully quiet. Frustrated, because she isn’t able to understand properly what they are saying, (Y/N) looks for the remote. And there it is, waiting patiently for her and her little toddler hands.

But instead of turning the volume up, she accidentally changes the channel to an old cop movie. Curious about what is happening on the screen, the girl leaves it on for a few seconds. Upon entering a room, another man greets him with his middle finger raised. (Y/N) looks at her own and tries to copy that movement. On the third try she kind of gets it.

Getting bored of not knowing what the plot of the movie is, she turns it back on the cartoon she watched earlier and settles back down on her little chair next to the table full of books (Spencer put it there to avoid her sitting too close to the TV and straining her eyes while watching her shows, the distance is perfectly measured).

Just as (Y/N) sits down Spencer re-enters the living room, feeling relieved because he was able to help his team. “Hey Sweetie, is everything alright?” Happily she nods, showing him the bird.

Spencer’s face? Just imagine the shook Pikachu. “(Y/N)! You don’t do that! This is really mean!” He tells her in a stern voice. Where did she learn that from? He doesn’t know it, but the genius is almost a 100% sure she saw someone on the street doing it, (Y/N) always was quick to pick things like these up.

The toddler looks at him with a sad face, close to tears. “I-i-i didn’t know. I’m sor-sorry”, she says, beginning to cry. Oh no, this is not what Spencer was aiming for. “No no no, don’t cry. It’s alright. I’m not mad at you. You just don’t do this, people can get really hurt by your gesture.”

After calming her down, he thinks of something they can do outside of their apartment, to forget the little incident. “Do you wanna go to the office with me? All your aunts and uncles are going to get there soon and maybe we can go eat dinner with them?” Excited by the thought of seeing her family, (Y/N) nods and jumps up to get her own little go bag.

It’s a bright pre-packed backpack with small coloring books, normal books, pencils and other knick knacks she might need when she goes out with her father. The only thing that they have to put in is her favorite stuffed animal of the day. They call it like Spencer’s work bag, because the toddler once overheard the word at the office and refused to call it something different than his.

“Hey, look at who decided to give us a little visit!” Penelope exclaims as soon as the team leaves the elevator. (Y/N) tries to keep up with her preppy step, desperately holding onto her hand to not lose her.

As they finally come to a halt in front of everybody, the little girl smiles sweetly at them. “Hi”, she says in the most adorable voice. But instead of doing her usual wave, she raises her small hand with her middle finger standing out.

You just hear a faint “NOO!” and a crashing noise before Spencer comes along in a jog. He scoops his daughter up, looking her into the eyes. He takes a few steps away from where the team is standing.

“(Y/N), what did we say about this gesture”, he asks her in a serious tone. Instantly tears start to form in her eyes again, but Spencer knows he has to be strong now. “(Y/N), you have to stop doing it. It can really hurt people. Do you remember when Jason made fun of the braids Auntie Penelope put your hair in?” She nods.

Meanwhile the team stands awkwardly in the background, not knowing what to do. They never really witnessed the genius reprimanding his daughter in front of them. Though it’s not directly in front them.

“You were hurt by his words. The same is with the gesture you just made. We don’t do this to people, we don’t want to make them feel bad. Now, I don’t want to punish you, because you didn’t really know the meaning. Just apologize to your Aunties and Uncles. Next time you do it, there will be a hard no on TV for a week.”

Quickly wiping her eyes, the toddler mutters a small “Ok Daddy.” Spencer’s heart hurts a little at that, but he needed to be stern in this one.

She wiggles out of his grasp and slowly makes her way over to the others. (Y/N) gives each of them a hug, apologizing individually to them.

“So, who wants to see the new pictures of Sergio I got on my desk?” Emily asks in a cheerful tone to break the awkward tension. Immediately the girl takes upon that offer and bounces off to the desk with her godmother in tow.

Spencer still stands near the elevator, watching the interaction going down through the glass doors. Hotch pats him on the shoulder. “I know it’s difficult to be mad at them or strict even, but you did the right thing”, he reassures him briefly before making his way to his office. The genius smiles, as a parent you seldom get encouraging words about how you raise your child. It kind of feels like walking down a path with closed eyes. But on both sides are deep rivers with piranhas in them.

Derek takes a place beside his best friend. “You know, as serious as this is, it’s also as funny. I mean how she just smiled sweetly as a cupcake and deadass pulled her middle finger up like nobody’s business? My man, in your case I would keep a close eye on her during (Y/N)’s teen years.” Both laugh at the bizarre situation.

But luckily the toddler learned her lesson from this and stopped showing people the bird as a greeting. This is until she learns the next inappropriate thing, she should rather not do.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reader insert #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #x reader #x daughter!reader #x child!reader #emily prentiss #derek morgan #aaron hotch #penelope garcia

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whump-town · 3 years

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You Dance With Tears In Your Eyes

Summary: a college AU set up in the late 80s/early 90s with football star and quarterback Derek Morgan and his secret boyfriend Hotch-- it's not a happy story but I don't think I really have to warn you guys about that anymore

Also, a little based on a story my grandmother told me about my great uncle and his partner. Never met my great uncle but everyone says I'm a lot like him, I think they just mean gay but don't know how to say it

Warnings: homophobia, violence, racism *I mean it when I say homophobia*

Pairing: Derek Morgan/Aaron Hotchner

@yourlocalheartbreaker

The title is from Frank Ocean's song Self Control

Now and then you miss it, sounds make you cry Some nights you dance with tears in your eyes I came to visit, 'cause you see me like a UFO That's like never, 'cause I made you use your self-control And you made me lose my self-control, my self-control

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Living shouldn’t be reduced down to what it is, the bare bones of things that don’t even make Derek Morgan who he is. He lives by them anyways, stupid rules. Social norms, Aaron always clarifies because even when those silly rules drown them Aaron needs to be concise. Social norms dictate every inch of life and for once Derek wishes he were the type of person who could be given that inch and take a mile. They’re the reason he can’t hold his boyfriend’s hand in public. Why he can’t kiss Aaron on New Years’ and why he is reduced down to loving his roommate. Why, at this rate, he’ll never marry or adopt children, or why he could lose any career he goes into because some nosy asshole finds out his partner isn’t a woman. And, yes, he knows there are anti-discriminatory laws but he’s a black gay man. The world is stacked against him.

It makes him so angry. He’s blinded by the irrational of it all, why nothing can just be simple for them. Aaron tries to comfort him but Derek’s anger scares him, he doesn’t understand it. Aaron has long lost the ability to decipher the complexity of human emotions. Still flinches at loud noises like he’s expecting each bump to be accompanied by the pain that laced his childhood and has to ask, around every turn, if Derek’s angry with him. He can’t tell. Everything looks like anger. With Derek, it frequently is. They cope in very different ways, Aaron chooses nothing. Shutting down all his emotions until he cracks and that’s worse. It’s worse than Derek’s anger. That doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t hate the way he quakes with fury. If not because it feels childish to be blinded by emotions then because it scares Aaron.

There are a million other things, at twenty there always is. It’s his philosophy class with all this bullshit reading he doesn’t understand. He has to ask Aaron for help and Aaron has to ask him for help with things too but it makes Derek feel stupid. It’s philosophy, it can’t be that hard. That’s the same way Aaron feels about calculus. There’s maintaining rent and going grocery shopping and football (games, practice, gym, and training).

College had been a learning curve. Getting up at four in the morning to go to the gym for football had been the hardest thing in the world without his mother flicking his bedroom lights on and off or Desiréecoming in to smack him in the face with a pillow. There’s no one in the entire world in charge of getting him out of his bed other than him and, in his freshman year, while he had thought sleeping on that impossibly hard mattress would leave much to be desired, and it did, he found himself glued to his every morning. Not wanting to leave the safety of its flimsy comfort.

Sharing an apartment worked wonders, having a workaholic boyfriend was really the best trick. An unexpected answer to his problems but, also, a very cute one. He managed to add one person to the list of people that cared about where he was, that made sure he got up in time to make it to the gym and practice, and asked if he had a bad day or rub at his sore muscles.

Derek rolls over in bed, not as surprised as he should be to find the other half empty. “Aaron?” He still searches, runs his hand over the sheets as if he doesn’t know that if Aaron were in the bed he’d be right there. Hogging the bed and the blankets, pressed up against Derek’s back snoring like there’s no tomorrow. “Aaron?” Derek sits up and squints, grimaces at the light trailing in from the open door.

Aaron’s hunched over the beginnings of an essay, pen ink smeared across his left palm and steadily chugging along. He can write a full essay in the span of a night, five hours for about 3,000 words but if it’s a short synopsis sort of thing then about an hour. Despite this astonishing gift, Aaron still makes himself write all his essays weeks in advance and spends days upon days proofreading and combing through them for the tiniest mistakes. He’s a straight-A student so he’s doing something right but Derek gets mostly As too with far less hastily. Aaron is just extra.

Derek steps up to the desk, doesn’t make a sound as he leans up against the side of the chair. He wraps an around Aaron’s shoulders, leans down to kiss his head. “It’s two,” Derek informs him, “come to bed. Please?” Derek’s exhausted. He feels the regret of being pulled from his warm bed. Each second feels like twenty minutes, the world sluggish and too cold. He leans closer to Aaron, wrapping himself around him. “You always smell so good,” Derek whispers. He presses his face into Aaron’s hair, catching the mix of scents.

“Bakery,” Aaron grunts. His answer as simple and concise as he always is but even more so now that he’s tired. Aaron had worked an on-campus job for the entirety of their freshman year but after he got a scholarship that would roll over each year after that (so long as he kept a certain GPA) he started at a bakery down the street from their apartment. Derek had always liked the way Aaron smelled, gently masculine in a way only Aaron could ever be, and it had mixed with the scents of softly, perfectly made baked goods he works around all day. Cookies and cakes. He’s picked up a few tricks, Aaron can make moist cakes and perfectly round cookies but his bread… It’s the best food Derek has ever eaten.

The first time Aaron made bread Derek got down on one knee and confessed “Aaron Hotchner if I could marry you I’d take you to the damn chapel right now”. To which he was lovingly pushed and told to “shut up” but fresh-baked bread (even if Aaron had taken a single bite and concluded he hadn’t ratioed the sugar right) is heavenly. He’s gotten much better since and it’s really hot when he’s standing there in one of his dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up taking his stress out on the dough.

And he can’t tell anyone. Can’t boast about his hot ass boyfriend or the bread he makes from scratch.

Derek crouches down by the chair, knows he’s winning when Aaron breaks from his work just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “Can’t this wait just a little bit?” he asks. “I want to sleep with my boyfriend and he’s out here writing an essay that isn’t due tomorrow and likely isn’t due for the next month.” Derek reaches up, strokes a strand of hair back behind Aaron’s ear. His fingers graze an open wound and Aaron flinches away, the pain unexpected.

The bare bones of Aaron Hotchner are the along the same in principle to Dereks-- all things that he cannot change. Even as he stands as tall as Derek, their bodies are not the same. Derek is lean from years of football, his arms stretch his shirts. He looks like an athlete, has the benefit of the doubt whenever he’s around men. His teammates walk naked in front of him, no one for even a second thinks anything of it. No one suspects him of the atrocities he commits within his apartment.

Aaron doesn’t have any of that. His hair is a little too long, hangs down in his face when he’s studying or reading. Nothing about him is hulk-ish, he’s delicate with his movements and while it had been something that Derek was immediately drawn to it also draws other’s attention. Bad attention.

The same boys that play around with Derek, snapping towels at him while he walks, terrorize Aaron.

Derek wishes there was something he could do because if this were anyone else- if Aaron were a girl- he could. It wouldn’t be dangerous, not the sort of thing that would cost him his football scholarship or get him stabbed and left to bleed out in an alley or beat within an inch of his life. He would have to out himself to protect Aaron, to stand in front of his teammates that coach keeps calling his family and tell them to keep their fucking hands off his boyfriend. No. No, because something like that would be death. It would be worse than what’s already happening. And Aaron won’t allow it.

All Derek can do now is await the next attack, leave Aaron someplace to come home to. Give him a place to be, without burden, without hesitation. It’s not enough. They’ll kill him. Derek knows they will and it’ll be fun for them, only a matter of time.

“Come to bed with me,” Derek asks one more time. He doesn’t want to sound entirely needy but he really doesn’t want to go to bed without Aaron. The bed is lonely.

With a sigh, Aaron nods and Derek stands up, moves out of the way so Aaron can throw pens in his textbooks to mark his place. He steps away, from the desks, yawning as he makes lazy lurches forward towards their bedroom. “Turn the damn--” Derek rolls his eyes and reaches over and turns off Aaron’s desk lamp.

He passes Aaron in the doorway, places his hand on his hip, and reminds him of their objective. “Bed,” he mumbles and Aaron nods, jerking back to life as he steps further into the bedroom.

Derek lays down on the bed, crawls over to his side, and gets comfortable while he watches Aaron lazily strip down to his underwear. He gets caught in his head again for a moment, standing there just blankly staring at the dresser. Trying to figure out if he should put on pajamas or not. Derek calls his name and opens his arms. “Come here, “ he says and Aaron smiles. Sheepishly he comes, blushing as he crawls into the bed and where Derek instructs him. Humming, pleased, when Derek brings the blankets up over them. His eyes are already closed, head tucked under Derek’s chin when Derek wraps his arms around him. Pulls him close, tight.

He’d read in a book about deep pressure, its effect on the parasympathetic nervous system. He’d studied Development Psychology for some time, thought about all the ways in which it checked every box of his interests. He thinks he might want to be a teacher. That’s where he learned about the importance of the bond between guardian and child. Where he learned a hug sometimes really is a fantastic answer to the most startling problems.

It’s also the fastest way to get Aaron to sleep.

“Tighter,” Aaron whispers. He can’t quite feel Derek’s bones pushing into him, the hammer of his heart still too strong. He groans, choking up a laugh when Derek does just that. Holds him tight, makes him ache with the proximity, his inability to move.

Derek doesn’t mind, he’s got an armful of bakery boy. Couldn’t be more content with anything else.

0000000000000000

All things considered, Derek didn’t actually face that much scrutiny when he told his mother about the stupid twisting and turning feeling in his stomach when Martel Harris put his hand on Derek’s back. Leaned in too close and Derek could smell the cologne he wore and feel his proximity like lightning across his skin. He’d thought it was just nerves but at the end of a football match Martel lifted him up, threw him up in the air, and God that had felt better than flying. Lit him up inside like he was something, someone.

Desiréecried and Sarah wouldn’t speak to him for a week, opposite reactions because of the same fear. Their mother always said the two of them were two halves of the same coin-- too alike to get along and too different to ever get away. They came around, their mother’s gentle hand always the voice of reason. Three stubborn as all hell kids, too much like their father. That’s what she tells the three of them, tears swelling in her eyes as she proclaims that none of it matters. Orders Desiréeto stop crying tells Sarah to get over herself. She loved and married a black man despite the death threats that followed them everywhere they went. Despite the people that called it blasphemous. Called it sin. As if love could be such a thing.

Her mother told her not to come home, not to call. She wouldn’t do that to her son, she knows it won’t change a thing. There’s something about love that makes you blind to the small pains. She never looked back twice, never reached out to her parents. She chose love and Derek will too.

But that doesn’t mean the fear goes away.

It doesn’t actually change a damn thing.

Standing in the tiny bathroom attached to Derek’s friend’s bedroom Aaron leans over the sink, letting Derek rub

shampoo through his beer-drenched hair. “I just don’t understand why they have it out for you,” Derek mumbles, his voice has deepened, his frustration laced confusion evident. They’re in a rather suggestive position, Derek’s body keeping Aaron bent over the sink-- ass to groin. Aaron shoots him a look out of the corner, a pretty clear “look at us right now and take a guess at why”. Derek ignores the look, he’s rather good at ignoring Aaron’s sharp looks. He shakes his head, grumbling some more to himself and gently working the shampoo out of Aaron’s hair. He leans closer, Aaron groaning as the sink bites into his stomach, and smells his hair. Derek groans, unsatisfied with what he finds. “Smells like strawberries with a slight undertone of beer.”

Sounds about as close to a win as they’re getting. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Aaron mumbles, grateful when Derek sits back up. While Aaron’s come to terms with the particular hand he’s drawn in the terms of college social lives Derek isn’t as quick to accept. He feels hopeless, a feeling he thought he’d escaped upon leaving Chicago and everything Carl Buford. Aaron can’t stand to see that look, the one he’s grown so used to seeing after events like this.

He pulls a towel down off the rack, starts trying to dry his hair. This isn’t the reason he keeps his hair short but it’s certainly a helpful addition to keep in mind. “Don’t overthink it, it’s not your fault.” Aaron could go blue in the face trying to keep Derek from coming up with a mile-long list of all the reasons why that’s simply not true. The truth is, it’s really not Derek’s fault. No one even knows about them. Their relationship isn’t the reason why Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is poured his cup of cheap, smells like piss, beer over Aaron’s head.

Not that what happened downstairs can just be so beautifully summed up as just that. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is had grabbed Aaron as he was walking in, doing as Derek instructed by coming in the screened-in door at the side of the house. “Who’s dick did you come to suck?” and Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is cupped Aaron’s cheek. Dug his thumb into the wound he created and smiled, grinned happily at the sight of Aaron trying so hard to getaway. Hunter’s grip relaxed and as soon as it did Aaron was blinking the beer out of his eyes. “Get the fuck away from me,” Hunter shoved him, hard. “Faggot.” Aaron hit his hip on the counter but said nothing, he’ll leave the bruise for Derek to find another night.

“I should say something to that pig,” Derek’s distracting himself with putting everything back in the bathroom the way it was before they came in. Straightening out the rug and fixing the other towels. “Let me catch him trying something--”

Aaron can’t take it, all of Derek’s pointless anger, his stupid guilt. He’s just had beer poured down his back. He can’t even accept Derek’s sweatshirt to replace his smelly shirt, can’t walk out of here wearing his boyfriend’s sweatshirt without getting shanked. The beer smells awful but he’s fairly certain getting stabbed is a whole lot worse. Derek doesn’t have to deal with that. No one messes with him because no one thinks to. “It’s because of how I look!” He’s shaking, bangs hanging down in his face still damp but no longer dripping water down his face. “You? You look normal. You get to walk around with all your football buddies, no one bats an eye at the quarterback, Derek. At least you like women too!” He points to himself, digs his finger into his own chest. “Me? I look the part. I can’t even pretend. Everyone knew, the whole world knew before I did!”

Derek just stands there, caught in the headlights trying to figure out what to say.

He wipes his eyes, jerks away from the hand Derek tries to put on his arm. “No. No!” he can’t do touch right now. Not like this, not when his body won’t hold still and his knees keep trying to buckle. It happens, this panicked cornered feeling, and usually Derek would hold him down. They’d sit on the floor and Derek would hold his arms down to his chest and they’d just sit like that until Aaron can breathe again. Bones against bones until Aaron feels the fractures of his humanity coming back together but for now, right now? He can’t do it. He can’t be touched.

“I want to go home,” he manages, lower lip quivering despite how much he wants to hold it together. “Please take me home.”

Derek just stares at him, stands there, and watches Aaron cross his arms over his chest and curl in, trying to squeeze the panic out himself. “Okay,” he caves. “Go on, I’ll follow you down.” It’s degrading, humiliating the fact that they can’t even leave this room together. Aaron’s upset and Derek can’t do anything about that right now. It’s not safe until they’re home.

It’s never safe.

With his hair dripping into his face Aaron stumbles in the dark. His shirt is soaking wet, stuck to his skin, and freezing him as tramples down a thin stretch of grass between houses. He wishes he had Derek’s sweatshirt. Something warm. At least something to cover his arms. It had been a stupid idea coming here right after getting off work. The bakery is so impossibly hot and after getting off his shift all he wanted was to be with Derek. To sit in whatever little room Derek could guarantee was safe and drink whatever cheap crap Derek brings him from downstairs. Just sit and listen to the music filtering in from downstairs.

“Hotchner!”

He freezes-- a deadly mistake.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

He knows what happened to Derek. In the hush of the night, laying facing each other in the dark, Derek had told him. Each word a puff of hot air against Aaron’s face, hitting the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. It was supposed to be even, Derek’s intention was to express alikeness. He’d seen the scars, no matter careful Aaron was about the light when he thought things were headed in the direction of nakedness, Derek saw them. He hadn’t said anything that time, run his thumb over the one on Aaron’s chest but kept up his ministrations. Acted as if he didn’t until that moment in bed.

Aaron still hasn’t found the courage to be honest about his own childhood.

Derek comes around the back, half-expecting tonight to go like it always does. Except Aaron hasn’t had any alcohol and he doesn’t come stumbling around the porch to greet Derek from the darkness. There are no stolen kisses or hushed laughter. No Aaron. Derek has half a mind to shout out for him, he couldn’t have gone off far, but then he sees him. Derek sees them. The moonlight shining down casting this awful hue between the houses. He sees Hunter draw his foot back and he can’t hold it back. Won’t let this go on. “Hunter!”

The second that Hunter’s attention is away from him, Aaron slumps to the ground. His blood smeared against the house. He’s still breathing, awful ragged breathes that shoot blood off his lips. He sees Derek in the moonlight, rushing past him. Aaron wishes he wasn’t a coward. Between each blood speckled breathe, he wishes that he wasn’t a coward and had just told Derek. That way he would understand Aaron can take it. He spent his childhood taking beatings for just being alive. At least now it was something coherent. Being beaten for being gay requires at least knowing something about him. His father couldn’t even bother with that.

But Derek doesn’t understand.

Aaron never told him.

He’s pulled down, out of orbit, and back to Earth when Derek squats down beside him, cradles his head in his hands. “Aaron?” he calls out, but Aaron can’t force his eyes to move from the dirt. “Can I--” Derek doesn’t know where to put his hands. If he can put his hands anywhere. “I’m going to-- to lift you, okay?” It’s not a matter of if he’s strong enough. He benches more than his own body weight and that’s significantly more than Aaron’s. He’s just not sure if Aaron’s going to fight him and if Aaron fighting him is good or bad.

“Lean forward,” Derek whispers, cupping the back of Aaron’s head and directing it into his shoulder. He turns, manipulates both their bodies and winces each time, no matter how gentle and calculated his movements are, Aaron still cries out. He still hurts him. “I’m sorry,” becomes his mantra. The only words he can manage out around the tears, the only thing he can get past the thickness in his throat.

Sorry he didn’t stop this sooner.

Sorry that he keeps hurting Aaron.

Sorry they couldn’t be other people. In other places. In another time.

Sorry that it’s all for nothing, that there’s no way this ends well for either of them. They’re going to end up dead or alone but certainly separate.

The second Derek has him in his arms Aaron grips his shirt tightly in one blood-stained hand. He rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, soaking in his warmth. “Home?” he asks, voice breaking.

“We’re going home.”

Aaron wakes up alone in bed.

He’s completely naked, laying with three blankets pulled up over him. One that he recognizes is from the living room. There’s one of Derek’s homemade sock heating pads digging into his sore ribs where he rolled over onto it, he can feel more of them underneath him. He��s been laying here for a while. None of the socks are warm anymore. He’s on Derek’s side of the bed, facing his nightstand, and watches Derek’s blurry alarm clock change time. 1:36 passing to 1:37 to 1:38 just waiting for the fuzzy fingers in his brain to ease up. To allow him to think.

It’s Saturday.

Derek’s off at a football game, not due back for hours. Not until tonight, long after Aaron’s gone to bed.

For an overwhelming moment, his eyes fill with tears, desperation, and solitude creating an awful twist in his stomach. He doesn’t want to be alone. Protectively he draws his knees up, tries to knot himself up, and create a mangled ball. His heart picks up, anxiety increasing as he lays there. He wants Derek. He doesn’t want to be alone.

On the phone’s first rings he curls in tighter, overwhelmed by his own crying that he presses his face into Derek’s pillow and ignores it. He’ll let the machine catch it-- that’s the whole reason Derek bought it. With a sharp end, muffled by the blanket he pulls up over his head, a voice comes through. The machine catching the voice mail.

“Aaron, sweetheart? This is Fran, Derek’s mom? I’m sorry to keep calling sweetie but Derek’s awake now. He’s worried, says you should have woken up by now. I can send Sarah to come get you, Derek told me what happened last night. Please call me back? I hope you’re okay.”

He lays in confused silence, trying to process why Derek’s mother would call him. She calls all the time and occasionally he answers to tell her she’s just missed Derek-- he’s off with friends, at the gym, or at class. They know of one another Derek talks about him to Fran as much as Derek talks about Fran to him. But Fran call him? That’s never happened.

Then he catches it-- “Derek’s awake now”-- and he sits up. Pushed from his mind is the pain, his ribs scream and the blood he can see he’s left on Derek’s pillow. Derek’s awake now. Hunter Whatever-his-last-name-is is on the football team. An offensive lineman. A guy whose entire job is to protect Derek but now he knows, he has to know.

Derek’s awake now.

He throws himself out of bed, clipping his already sore hip on the nightstand and staggering for the phone. Tears spilling over his face. What happened while he was sleeping? What did Hunter do?

Fran picks up on the first ring. “Aaron, is that you sweetheart?”

He sniffles, rubbing at his nose with his finger. “Yes, ma’am.” He knows she can hear him crying, his choked sobs as he falls in the direction of the closes chair.

“You had me worried sick,” she says and he can hear that unmistakable fondness in her chastising tone. That must be where Derek gets it from. It makes him smile, even if it’s weak. “How are you feeling, baby? Derek told me what happened. I’m sorry. If I see that boy I’ll wring his neck. Give him a piece of my mind for bothering my boys.”

He just nods, despite the fact that she can’t see that. He knows he should answer her question but he has no idea what he feels. Nothing. He feels nothing as he sits here holding his breath as he waits to ask about Derek. To know what happened because of him. “Is Derek okay? What happened?”

Hunter told a few other team members what he saw. Most brushed him off, Hunters a douchebag, and they like Derek. Others just hate Aaron enough for it to matter to them, enough to what to do something. Or, rather, not do anything. It only took one tackle, a limb bent the wrong way under the weight of three boys.

It was Derek’s knee. A career-ending injury.

A scholarship losing injury.

“Can I--” Aaron chokes. He’s afraid of what happens if Fran says no. “Can I see him?”

“Of course you can.”

Aaron turns away Fran’s offer of a car ride but Desirée still shows up.

He answers the door in a sweatshirt and jeans and knows immediately who it is when he opens it up. Desirée just stares at him for a moment, he can feel all of the seventeen-year-old judgment sizing him up. “You look… awful,” she tells him. She lets herself in, walking past Aaron with one more look. “Mom says I can drive but if you want to do it I have to let you.” She puts the car keys on the counter, sighs as she looks around. “Derek says…” she chews her lip, as she sizes him up again.

He wonders how intimidating he could possibly look to her. Hunched over and wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for him.

“Would you teach me how to make bread?”

He can’t help but smile, nods without any hesitation.

“Really?”

Aaron nods, “it’s not that hard. More of a-- a waiting game. You have to give the yeast time to rise.”

Desirée has no idea what that means but she nods, “cool.”

He lets her drive. Mostly because his vision is swimming but because he tosses the keys back to her, a clear okay that she can drive, and she beams at him. She likes him. That’s so weirdly important to him.

She has to wake him up when they get to the hospital. The first thing she tells Fran is that he let her drive and Fran smiles at him, shakes her head, and says “you must have a death wish.”

Aaron blushes under the attention, eyes falling to the floor. He barely manages, “drives just like Derek.”

Fran laughs, nodding her head, “she does. Too heavy on the brakes.” Her smile fades a little when she sees Aaron’s sweatshirt, recognizes it from home. Knows it’s Dereks. “Will you let someone look at that,” she asks, too many of his wounds look deep. Cuts that need stitches and a nasty black eye that she knows he hasn’t iced. She’s reminded a little too quickly that Aaron and Derek are still very much kids. Tricky kids. Too old to be told what to do but still wanting direction.

Aaron nods, shying away again from the attention, but nods.

They leave him when the nurse steps in, doesn’t need to say a word. Fran sees him hesitate to lift his shirt and knows. Derek had managed to tell her most of what happened but the morphine made his speech slur, made him emotional. He’d sobbed, high and in pain. Told her what he’d seen the night before. Hunter hitting and kicking at Aaron, the way Aaron slumped forward. How he’d carried Aaron home. Washed the blood off him with a rag. She knew what was under Aaron’s shirt wasn’t something for them to see.

Derek wakes sometime in the middle of the night. The drugs from the surgery are wearing off and with it his blissful escape from the pain. Licking his dry lips he looks around the room, spotting his sisters and frowning as he tries to find his mother. She’s leaning over another cot, on the other side of the room. He watches her, hears the familiar chorus of Blackbird, and watches her stroke Aaron’s forehead, following the line of the relaxed brow.

It makes him smile, his mother used to sing Whitney Houston to him and his sisters to sleep. He told her about Aaron’s obsession with The Beatles, how of all the records the two of them own that’s the only one Aaron will play. Desiréebought the album, his mother told him a week later. She saved up to get it and was eager for her moment to speak to Aaron about it. To be able to befriend her brother’s boyfriend. That’s about the same time Fran began to hound him about bringing Aaron home, to Chicago. She wanted to meet him.

Fran kisses Aaron’s forehead, waiting another moment just to make sure Aaron’s truly asleep before she stands. “He was having a bad dream,” she tells Derek. In truth, he’d been crying in his sleep. In pain, she could tell, and restless. He’d settled with her there and it made her sad to think that maybe he’d just grown too used to sleeping beside someone else. She’d pulled his blankets closer and sang, just as she did with the other three when they were little. Even when they’re twenty, it still works like a charm.

Fran smiles, tries to soothe Derek’s nerves so he doesn’t worry about Aaron. He’s fine for now, sleeping soundlessly. She sits down on the edge of Derek’s bed, cups his cheek, and asks “how are you feeling?”

Derek just looks over to Aaron, his pale parted lips parted and the bandages holding him together. “Is he okay?” He’d been so scared last night watching Aaron sleep. No amount of Tylenol was doing a thing for his pain. Several times he’d sat up in the night and searched for a pulse, counted the far too many seconds separating each of his breathes. Derek thought Aaron might die right there beside him but he’d been more afraid of what might have happened if they went to the hospital.

Fran sighs, stupid love. It’s cute, she has to admit, but so senseless. “He’s sleeping, he’s okay.” She tries to redirect him, “how do you feel?”

Derek looks back over to Aaron. He looks. There’s more than just those pale lips and the bandages. It’s Aaron. He’s sleeping under multiples blankets and looks like himself. How he always looks when Derek rolls over to face him. He believes his mother, she never lies. “My leg hurts,” he whispers, voice cracking. It’s like the entire thing is pulsing, a continuous stabbing feeling. He cries but not from the pain. They betrayed him. The people he so stupidly thought of as his friends. They hurt him like they’d been hurting Aaron.

He should have known better.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

This is his fault.

“Derek?” Aaron sits up, hesitating under the combined attention of Derek and Fran.

Fran stands up, nods Aaron over. “Sit with him,” she offers. “I’ll go get a nurse.”

Aaron nods, still waiting, still hesitating to be where he wants to be. Derek motions him closer, manages to move his body over in the bed. Just enough room for Aaron to squeeze in beside him.

“I don’t think I”m supposed to--”

“Lay down.” Derek can see all the bruises and cuts up close again. He brushes his fingers through the hair above Aaron’s ear, turning his palm to his cheek. Gently tracing the outline of a bandage. “Runaway with me,” he whispers. He thought about it all night long while he watched Aaron sleep. “There’s only four more weeks left of the semester.” Aaron’s smart, he’ll get in anywhere he applies. “We’ll transfer someplace else, anywhere else.”

Aaron frowns, he doesn’t like the idea of this impulsivity. Mostly the number of uncertainties that it creates and the questions. Where will they go? How will they know it’s safe? Are they dropping out? Where will they transfer to? What Aaron can’t get into the college that Derek does?

“Hey,” Derek hushes, he strokes his thumb across Aaron’s cheekbone. “Hey, whatever you’re thinking stop. I’m not leaving, not going anywhere you don’t. We do this together, alright?” He smiles, leans forward, and softly knocks their foreheads together. “Four weeks and all of summer break, okay? That’s plenty of time for a smarty pants like you to figure out where we can go.” It had taken less time for Aaron to conclude Illinois was close enough to home for him to go if something happened to his mother but too far away for her or his brother to come to him.

They’ll figure it out.

“Runaway with me?” he asks one more time.

“Okay.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #mortch #hurt hotch #tw homophobia

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nina-nkl · 3 years

Text

The Notorious Alpha// Chapter One//Peter Hale

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW. I am terrible, but life has been a mess. With university, personal life and all that. My mom had the corona but she is great now. I am trying to come back to writing. I am really sorry guys. Merry belated Christmas!

The Notorious Alpha// master list.

Chapter one.

S02 E12- Master Plan

Zoe’s P.O.V.

I parked my new BMW X6, which was a gift from my father when he tried to get me to stay with him, in front of Beacon Hills High School to see my little brother and Stiles who is not my brother but after knowing him for his entire life, I am pretty sure he is my brother.

As I walk in the school hallways so many memories come to my mind, I mean it’s only been a year since I was a student here, I miss high school life was so much easier. I was late when I parked the car in the parking lot, some people were leaving, there was a lacrosse game tonight, Stiles took my ear off about it. I walked towards the locker room first to see if the boys were in there, as I neared the locker rooms I could hear talking.

“She is gorgeous,” a voice said.

“Shut up” I heard two different voices say at the same time and I am pretty sure one of them was Scott.

I leaned against the wall watching for a few seconds, and I decided to make myself known.

“Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!” I say and in a flash four pairs of eyes snap to me. I see my brother, a cute blond guy beside him and to men in front of the boys.

“Zoe?” Scott said surprised to see me.

“Surprise, I guess?” I said a little bit weirded out from all the attention I was getting right now.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asked me.

“Stiles called me a couple days ago, filled me in on what's going on. I got a little tied up with dad or else I would have been here sooner” I answered “ I can’t believe you are a werewolf” I continued.

“Uhmm, who is she?” the cute blond asked.

“Zoe, my sister,” Scott said.

“Another McCall? Great,” the tall moody man said sarcastically.

“Tone down the sarcasm Cranky Pants” I bit back at him.

I glared at the man as I walked around him towards my brother. I am not going to lie, he is kind of hot.

“I am going to guess you are Derek and you are Isaac,” they both look at me weird, “as I said Stiles filled me in”.

“Hi,” Isaac said awkwardly.

“Hi,” I said sweetly to him, “so, who is the Cranky pants.” I pointed towards him as he glared at me and I sarcastically smiled back at him.

“That's Peter, Derek’s uncle. Little while back he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire and Derek slashed his throat out.” Scott explained.

“Hi.” Peter waved with a small awkward smile.

“That's good to know,” Isaac replied.

I was too shocked to say anything, I mean yeah Stiles filled me in but only informed me about my brother being a werewolf, the kanima, and Derek’s pack. That is just too much to handle. I mean my brother took part in the murder of someone, werewolf or not, psycho or not, that is still a life. Not to mention the supposed murdered victim is alive, breathing, and standing right in front of me.

“How is he alive?” Scott asked, still glaring at Peter .

“Look, long story short he knows how to stop Jackson, maybe even save him” Derek answered him.

“Well that’s very helpful, except Jackson is dead” Issac says.

“WHAT?” I scream the same time Derek says what too.

“Yeah! Jackson is dead. It just happened on the field” Scott confirms.

Derek and Peter look at each other obviously bothered by the news.

“Okay why is no one taking it as good news?” Issac asks.

“Because if Jackson is dead, it didn’t just happen. Gerard wanted it to happen,” Peter says, and damn his voice is deep, mysterious and sexy.

“But why?” Derek asks his uncle to elaborate.

“Well, that's exactly what we need to figure out. And something tells me the window of opportunity is closing”.

“Peachy, just god damn peachy.” I say done with this whole thing already.

“We are going to the Hale House,” Peter says.

As we walked towards the parking lot, I could feel eyes on me from behind. I didn’t turn around though. When we reached the exit I started walking near my car, when I felt Scott stop a few steps behind me. I turn around to look at him.

“Well aren’t you gonna come? I am driving!” I tell him.

“I think you should go home” Scott tells me and I look at him with disbelief. “I will go with Derek,” he continues.

“Oh, so I am supposed to let you get in the car with the guy who turned you and tried to kill you and the guy who slashed his own uncles throat out? I am not crazy yet. ” I tell him seriously and am kind of angry. Derek looks at me mad, or offended I can’t really tell and Peter just looks uninterested.

“Zoe--” Scott tries to plead.

“No, puppy eyes don’t work on me. I am the one who teached you that look.'' I cut him off. “Now get in the car and let’s go”. Then I unlock my jeep and hop in, which is kind of a challenge since I am short and the stupid thing is 10 times the size of me.

“Do you need directions?” Derek asked me when Scott got in the car with me.

“No, I am good. I know where the infamous Hale house is,” I replied and with that my car roared into life and I backed out of my parking space. “Don’t get left behind Sourwolf”. I saw Issac try to hold back a chuckle and even Peter let out a small smirk slip out of his hard façade.

As we walked into the Hale house ( Derek got his ego bruised ‘cause I beat him here) Scott was looking at his,

“Oh. Oh they found Stiles.” Scott said relieved.

“I told you I looked everywhere,” Derek said to Peter who walked towards the stairs.

“You didn’t look here”, Peter says and crunches at the beginning of the stairs and takes something from underneath a step.

“What is that? Α book?” Derek asks/

“No, it’s a laptop. What century are you living in” Peter replied with sarcasm. Derek rolls his eyes at him. “A few days after I got out of the come, I transferred everything that we had. Fortunately, the Argents aren’t the only ones that keep records.” Peter says. He got up and walked towards a table. Suddenly Scott's cell phone rings.

“Hey, Mom, I can’t talk right now.” Scott answers the phone. “What's wrong?” he asked. After a few seconds he hangs up the phone and announces that we have to go to the hospital. “ Isaac, Zoe, we have to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t think I should come with. I haven’t seen mom yet and I don’t think we should reunite over a dead body” I say to him. “ Take my car, I’ll stay here to see if I can help” I look at him as I extend my hand to give him the car keys. “See you soon, be careful.”

As Scott and Isaac practically ran out of the burned down house, I look at the older werewolves in front of me. Derek just looks at me, as Peter has already started working on getting information for the kanima.

It’s been maybe 30 minutes since we were all staring at the laptop screen, I was standing leaning over Peter's right shoulder and Derek was just standing by the left.

“Oh my god, what is that?” I look at the screen.

“Call Scott.” Peter says. I was still staring at the screen leaning closer to it and brushing Peter’s shoulder in the process. Ignoring that, I hear Derek talking in the background.

“Okay, look, I think I found something,” Peter says. “ Looks like what you are seeing from Jackson its just the Kanima’s Beta shape.” he continues.

“Well, meaning what? It can turn into something bigger?” Derek asks, also leaning over.

“Bigger and Badder.” Peter replies with worry in his tone.

“He is going to turn into that? That thing has wings.” I exclaim.

“I can see that sweetheart.” Peter says to me but not sarcastically, but with fear in his voice.

“Scott bring him to us.” Derek says into the phone.

“What is that? Right there?” I point towards the screen where there is a play button.

“Look, somebody made an animation of it. Maybe it’s less frightening if we--” Peter taps the mouse and a screeching sound comes out of the speakers. The tree of us jump back and Peter closes the laptop quickly. “No not at all. We should probably meet him halfway”

All of us ran towards the door and suddenly I ran into Peter’s back. “For fuck’s sake Cranky Pants” I curse under my breath.

“We need Lydia.” Peter says.

“There is no time for--” Derek starts

“That's the problem. We are rushing. We are moving too fast. And while everybody knows that a moving target is harder to hit, here we are, racing right into Gerard’s crosshair.” Peter says.

“If i get the chance to kill Jackson, I’m taking it.” Derek says and turns back around.

I freeze in my spot, shocked that I am about to participate in the murder of a teenage boy- kanima or not. Peter sees it and grabs my hand rushing behind Derek.

We stop behind an abandoned building, Derek and Peter get out of the car and I follow.

“You guys stay here. I will go meet Scott and Isaac. Peter you will know when to come out” Derek says.

“Whoa, hey, wait a min--” I was caught off by Derek already running in all fours, like a dog I guess. “Well, fun meeting you Cranky Pants, but I am going to go to my brother now.” As I turn to walk away, Peter grabs my arm, really hard may I add, and turns me towards him.

“What are you doing? You can’t go out there. When Jackson will wake up he will go on a killing spree.” Peter whisper yells.

“Well, you already went on a killing spree once, what if you get off your rockets again and I will be your first victim.” I whisper yell back at him.

“Zoe-”

“Bye Peter!!” I say as I look him in the eyes and tear my arm from his grasp. I could see that he was a little angry, but excuse me that I wasn’t gonna stay with somebody that tried to kill my brother less than a year ago. When I cached up with Scott and the others, they were already in the abandoned building. I could hear Peter close behind me.

“-- wouldn’t let a rapid dog live.” A middle age man explained to the three werewolves. I was about to walk into the building another voice broke the silence.

“Of course not” an old man said. That’s when Peter grabbed me and pushed me beside the door. I knew it wasn’t the time to argue. I could feel the tension in the air. Peter and I peek around the corner although he tried to hide the view from me the best he could. “Anything that dangerous. That out of control... Is better off dead.” The old man said.

Right when Derek went to slash Jackson stomach, Jackson’s claw dug in his chest. I felt like I was going to vomit and I turned myself so I wouldn’t see what’s about to happen. From the side of my eye I could see Peter getting angry and his claws expanding. I took deep breaths trying to calm myself and I look towards Peter.

“Kill them all” I heard shouting and I almost fainted. I got down to the ground and pulled my knees close to my chest, trying to make my self as small as possible when we heard the screeching of tires and a loud bang. I heard the voice of Lydia yelling Jackson name and I slowly stood up. After a couple of seconds Peter jumped out and pushed his claws in Jackson back and Derek in his stomach. When Lydia was on the floor besides Jackson body I make my way towards my brother and Stiles.

I was looking toward the couple with tears in my eyes as I stood beside Stiles. Derek was looking on with a sad expression on his face and Isaac too.

“Where is Gerard?” Allison asked and the middle aged man answered that he can’t be far. When Lydia turned towards us Stiles started towards her but was stopped by the sounds of claws dragging on the concrete. All heads turned to the dead boy in front of Stiles jeep to see his wounds starting to close and Jackson getting up slowly. My eyes widened and turned my eyes towards the older werewolf here hoping that’s there is an explanation for this but all he did was too looking on with a shocked expression.

Stiles started to tear up and moved forward but stopped beside Scott for a few minutes the two boys were looking at each other when Stiles looked down and said “He scratched my Jeep.” With hurt in his voice.

“Stiles...” I moved towards him following behind in the Jeep. He got in the driving seat and I got on after him. He started driving and didn’t say a word. “Stiles... are you okay?” I speak softly as if i was going to scare him. I didn’t get a reply back...

“Stiles, let’s go at my place, have a sleepover like old times.” I said and he turned towards the route for Scott’s and mine’s house. When we got there my mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, she must work late night shifts. I will see her in the morning.

We go up to my room and I give Stiles some of my brothers clothes as I too take some for pajamas, because my suitcase is in my car and right now I really don’t know where my car is. After I was my face in the bathroom, I go to my room seeing Stiles in my bed already. I creep towards him and get in the bed beside him. I hug him from behind when he starts to sob quietly.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Stiles” I whisper sweet nothing to his ear until he fells asleep, me following close behind.

A/N: The sibling love is real between Stiles and Zoe!!!!

Tag list: @wil2space @iclosetgeek

#Peter Hale #peter hale x reader #peter hale imagine #scott mccall imagine #Scott McCall #derek hale #derek hale imagine #teen wolf #teen wolf imagine

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

wings & the way down - part 4

Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan

Word Count: ~1870 this chapter

Warnings: None?

A/N: A wild subplot appears! Gang’s mostly here, so we get to the fun stuff soon. Nobody’s reading this on tumblr, really, but I still feel the need to apologize for the delay!

Catch up here.

Monday, January 6 - Derek

As far as first days go, it could be a lot worse. It’s still fucking exhausting.

They send the class president to meet him in the office, in the morning — blonde-haired and blue-eyed, straight out of a Colgate ad as she shakes his hand and introduces herself as “Jennifer, but my friends call me JJ.”

Derek doesn’t fully trust girls like that, the ones who are so traditionally pretty they think they don’t have to be nice, but she’s cool enough as she shows him to his first class and gives him a brief tour, pointing out where he’ll want to go for his next class. He’s already feeling a little lost.

People keep looking at him, and he wonders what they’re seeing.

JJ seems to know everybody; she greets almost everyone by name as they walk, introducing Derek in passing. Most of the kids smile right back. It makes Derek reconsider his initial assessment of her; mean girls don’t usually get that sort of genuine warmth aimed in their direction.

She invites him to eat lunch with her and her friends, but he has a meeting with Principal Strauss during lunch to talk about the student handbook, how he’s adjusting, and all the other fun shit.

“No worries, standing invitation,” JJ tells him.

“Tomorrow, then. It’s a date,” he replies, flashing his most charming grin.

She smiles at that — not the flirtatious expression Derek expected, more like she’s laughing at a private joke — before waving and heading off to her own class.

The history teacher, Ms. Lewis, asks him to stand and introduce himself to the class, and to “Tell us something about yourself,” which… yeah, he saw that one coming, and he practiced it in front of the mirror last night.

“Derek Morgan.” Not-too-bright smile; just casual enough to be cool, not cocky. “I just moved from Chicago. Psyched about the Vegas weather, not so much about the pizza.”

He has to do the same thing at the start of every class. He’s going to be repeating it in his sleep, at this rate, and the more he says it, the more disingenuous it feels, trying to boil his identity down to one neat sentence.

The English teacher, Blake, also asks him to say his favorite book, and Derek hesitates slightly. His instinct is to lie, say something cool and not quite as nerdy, but he catches himself and tells the truth instead. Nobody seems to care except the girl sitting next to him — dark hair, darker eyeliner — who raises a skeptical brow, like she doesn’t believe it.

At the end of class, though, Blake pairs him with Eyeliner Girl for a project, and she gives him a begrudging smile before introducing herself: “Emily. Glad I’m not the new kid any more.”

She scrawls her name and number on a piece of paper and slaps it down on the desk in front of him, saying something about meeting up later in the week, as she starts to pack up her stuff. Derek notices an enamel pin of a pansexual pride flag on her bag — between a Joy Division patch and a pin that says “Death Before Decaf” — but before he can figure out whether he wants to comment on that, she’s on her way out the door.

Most of the day is just a blur of new faces and names and trying to remember where the fuck he’s going. Strauss is brusque but sharp. The place is huge, but there seem to be a lot of girls eager to show him around. People have been friendly enough; the whispers he hears are curious, instead of vicious.

Derek feels a little bit like he’s got a spotlight on him every time he walks through the halls. At least here it’s a spotlight and not a bullseye.

He wasn’t nervous for any of his classes, or anything, but he’s definitely nervous before practice. He’s not sure whether Coach Rossi told the team anything about why he ended up transferring mid-year.

He’s braced for some hostility when he introduces himself to the team captain. “Hey, man, I know this has got to be weird, but—”

“Hey, apparently you can help us win some games,” the guy says, with a disarming smile. “Foyet. Glad to have you.” Derek breathes a little easier as they shake hands.

Coach Rossi, meanwhile, isn’t like any high school coach Derek’s ever met. They’re usually big and loud and kinda aggro, but Rossi’s quieter, deadpan, well-dressed. He’s got this unimpressed expression, like he has seen some shit in his day and is not going to be bothered by any amount of macho teenage posturing.

It feels good to be back on the court. The team’s not stellar, but fuck, it’s better than what he left behind, any day of the week. Derek’s in his element, here, and after a day of uncertainty, it’s nice to know he can still do this. By the end of practice, he seems to have won over most of the guys who seemed a little frosty at first, and that’s really fucking nice too.

He hangs back for a minute to talk to Rossi, afterward, to thank him and just touch base. Then there’s talk of uniforms and making sure he has a locker, before the next practice, and by the time he gets showered, the rest of the team is gone.

He doesn’t mind walking back to the main building on his own. It feels like he’s been smiling and shaking hands and working so damn hard to make a decent first impression that he hasn’t been able to properly breathe all day.

The school is mostly deserted, at this point — there are a few teachers still working at their desks, a couple students packing up. He gets a little bit turned around trying to find his locker again, wandering into an out-of-the-way section of classrooms near the auditorium before hitting a dead end. He retraces his steps and takes the right turn this time.

Then he hears an argument around the corner, unmistakable in the relative quiet. He winces, wondering if he should announce his presence somehow, but it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing he wants to interrupt.

“Look, I’m sorry,” a female voice is saying. “But every time I think about it… it’s terrifying. It’s easier for you, you’ve never—”

“You think this is easy?” another girl snarls. “Fuck that and fuck you. I told you, I’m not doing this. No fuckin’ way.”

With that, heavy footsteps stomp away, echoing down the hall.

Derek pauses for a moment, listening, but there’s no more sound; he waits a few seconds anyway before turning the corner, where one of the girls is still standing silently.

When she whirls, startled by the sound of his footsteps, he realizes it’s JJ.

It just takes her a blink to pull herself together at the sight of him; if he didn’t see the tears streaking down her cheeks, he’d almost believe it when she aims one of those Colgate-ad smiles in his direction.

“You okay?” he asks hesitantly. JJ nods vigorously.

“Totally! I think it’s allergies or something,” she insists. Right.

“Think I’m a little turned around. How do I get out to the senior lot?” he asks her.

“I’m heading that way, I’ll show you,” she says. As they start to walk, Derek can see her, out of the corner of his eye, wiping away tears discreetly. “How was your first day?”

“Not bad, can’t complain,” he says, shrugging. “Pretty weird being the new kid, but… what are you gonna do, right?”

JJ hesitates before saying, “Must be nice. Getting a fresh start, no expectations.”

That’s not the usual line. Most people say it must be difficult, having to start over where nobody knows him; most people ask if he misses home, and they don’t consider what he’s trying to get away from.

He doesn’t ask JJ what she wants to get away from — instead he says, “That’s what my momma keeps saying: I can be whoever I want to be.”

“So who do you want to be, Derek Morgan?”

“Just want to be myself,” he says, and she looks up at him with a small, sardonic smile.

“You make it sound so easy,” she mutters.

He laughs. “Yeah, fair enough.”

This time, her smile seems more genuine. JJ points him in the right direction and then ducks into the women’s bathroom, with a wave and a reminder that she’ll see him for lunch.

Derek heads toward the front door. He’s fishing around in his bag as he walks, looking for the keys to his uncle’s truck, when he walks right into somebody rushing out of the men’s bathroom.

“Fuck, sorry, are you —” He stops dead, still with an arm out to help steady the other person, because the other person is Spencer.

Spencer, who looks just as surprised as Derek feels. They lock eyes for a second, and Derek’s insides go on an entire fucking roller-coaster ride in one frozen moment.

“I thought you were in college,” Derek blurts out, half-laughing, but Spencer doesn’t look even a little bit happy to see him. He’s gone pale.

“What? No, still in fucking high school, last I checked.” His voice is bitter, and it cracks on the words. “I just take college classes sometimes.”

“Oh.”

“I thought you were visiting,” Spencer says, pushing his hair out of his face like he wants to be pulling it instead.

“I am,” Derek says, stomach sinking when he realizes Spencer still isn’t smiling. “For another six months.”

Spencer’s mouth drops open, and Derek has a visceral flash of sensory memory: those pretty pink lips brushing his cheek.

Spencer scowls. “So you’re — you go here. Fantastic.”

Derek’s too tired to pretend the venom in Spencer’s tone doesn’t hurt.

He snaps, “Did I do something wrong here, or did you just wake up on the bitchy side of the bed?”

Maybe not his most mature reaction, but. It’s been a long fucking day.

Spencer digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, for a second, and Derek can see the tension in his fingers. Then he exhales and it’s like all that twitchy furious energy drains out of him at once. He just looks exhausted.

His voice is low and croaky as he says, “I liked that you didn’t see me the same way as everybody else does.”

“So, what, you think that’s gonna change just cause we go to the same school now? What kinda asshole do you think I am?”

“The kind who wears a varsity jacket,” Spencer mumbles. His eyes are huge and hurt and soft, and Derek recoils slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Spencer shakes his head. “Never mind. Just — trust me, okay? You’re better off pretending you don’t know me.”

“I want to know you, though,” Derek says quietly.

Spencer’s phone is vibrating. He looks down at it and then gives Derek one more sad little half-smile as he starts to walk away.

“If you still feel that way by the end of the week, give me a call,” he says over his shoulder, already pushing the front door open. “But you won’t.” Before Derek can respond, he’s flipping the phone open and saying, “Hey, Mom. I’m on my way.”

When Derek collects himself and follows him out, Spencer’s already gone.

#moreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #derek morgan

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gubes-sweaters · 3 years

Text

Mind, Body, and Soul 5

Authors note: Hey, so it's been a while oops. I’ve been writing one-shots in between writing chapters 4 and 5 only because I wasn’t sure where to take this series, but I’ve figured it out and now I’m back. I still have 3 or 4 one-shots written that still need to be edited. This chapter has a couple of switches of the POV. Sorry if it’s a little confusing, but it’s the easiest way to write the story. Also, I know Gideon and Rossi didn’t work together in the early season, but I’m changing it. I realize the TL of a lot of the members is off, but it’s all intentional for the story.

Content warning: Nothing I can think of, but don’t be afraid to tell me about a warning I should put in.

Word count: 2.7k

Chapter 5: New Member of the BAU

*ring ring*

I shift under Spencer's grip trying to reach my phone as it's ringing. He’s such a heavy sleeper that by the time I wiggled out from his arms and grabbed my phone he was still sleeping. He just rolled over before snoring very quietly. I look at my phone and see it's my dad! Shit, I was supposed to meet with my dad at ten today and it's already eleven. I'm not even ready this is such a disaster, what am I supposed to tell him? Oh, don’t worry dad I’m just busy because I’m in the back of this guy’s car and I slept through my alarm! He’s going to kill me because I'm supposed to meet some of my dad’s work friends then go out to lunch with him.

“Ciao papà,” I say trying to sound like I'm awake. He can probably see through my bullshit though because I'm a shitty liar, and he's a profiler.

“Where's my bambino and why isn't she at the BAU right now? My colleagues want to meet you.”

“Sorry, I spent all night studying and I must've slept through my alarm I'll be there as soon as possible,” I technically lie to him I did sleep through my alarm.

“Okay...well, I love you. I have a security badge ready for you. All you have to do is tell security who you are and you're here to see me,” He's clearly not convinced but I don't think he cares enough to press the issue.

“Okay, love you too. Bye!” I hang up then turn to Spencer trying to wake him up.

I shake him over and over until he finally stirs. Seriously how the hell does he sleep so heavy. Once I get him up I explain that I’m supposed to have lunch with my dad and I’m supposed to meet his coworkers now that he’s coming out of retirement for whatever reason.

“Okay, yeah give me a second to clean up the back, and we can take you back to your apartment,” He says while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Thanks,” I say before planting a gentle kiss on his cheek.

He blushes at me before signaling for me to hop out of the trunk. We make a collaborative effort to clean out the trunk and sit the back seats back up. We then get in the front and make small talk on the way back to my apartment. Once we arrive I feel that pit in my stomach again, the same one I feel every time one of us has to leave.

“Thanks for yesterday!” I say before turning to open the car door with the bear we made yesterday. When I asked who's keeping the bear he jokingly said we’ll split custody and I guess this is my week. Before I could open the car door he placed his hand on my forearm very gently like I was made out of glass. He has this pained and disappointed look on his face.

“Can I see you again?” He asks just barely above a whisper.

I just respond with a nod and a quick kiss before I hop out of the car and wave goodbye. All I see is a wide grin on his face and a wave before I disappear into my apartment building. I knew Stella and Raven weren’t home because neither of their cars was in the parking lot. That meant I could get ready quickly and slip out of the apartment without any questions being asked.

I set the stuffed bear on the bed and begin getting ready. After I shower, dry my hair, brush my teeth, apply a small bit of makeup, and slip on a sweater and jeans I’m finally ready to leave. It’s only one pm, so I'm not making a horrible time given that I was already late. I then practically drive like a mad man to the BAU. I stop at security and tell them I’m here for my dad David Rossi. I get directions to the floor and where my dad’s new office is. I walk into the bullpen and see two very familiar and comforting faces, but the others belong to complete strangers. I immediately spot my dad’s old partner Jason Gideon and the Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. I met them both when I was in middle school, but the rest of the team was new to me and my dad as well. He’s been there for a couple of months since his book tour was just now ending. As soon as Gideon sees me he walks towards me with his arms outstretched.

“Hey kiddo it’s been a long time. I may be getting old, but I’ll never forget that face.” He says while engulfing me in a hug. Honestly, I talked to Gideon probably more than my dad growing up. This is odd because he didn’t have the best relationship with his own son, but he was always like a cool uncle. Then the same click happened to me and Aaron Hotchner when we first met. He always wanted kids and some of the only times you would see him smile and laugh was around kids. He and his wife Haley jokingly called me their test run when I would spend time with them. When my mom and dad were both busy I spent a lot of time with Haley because I didn’t want to be with a nanny.

“Hey, guys!” I say before hugging them both once more.

“So, how’s school been? You’re not getting into any trouble are you?” Uncle Jason asks before nudging me as the three of us walk towards my dad’s new office. I can see two people’s eyes on me from the bullpen then suddenly a third when a blonde woman who doesn't look much older than me comes strutting out of her office flashing me a quick smile.

“You know me, I’m David Rossi’s daughter, so I seemingly can't stay out of trouble,” I joked with them as we arrived at my dad’s new office. It had a shiny new nameplate that said “David Rossi” on the front of it. Gideon knocks and I feel a wave of nostalgia. I remember in the 6th grade visiting my dad at the BAU and walking up to my dad’s office hand in hand with Gideon. Now I’m much older and much taller, but much hasn’t changed. After a few seconds, my dad opens the door with a huge grin on his face I swear he hasn't changed since I was a kid. He still wears overly expensive suits and a watch that probably would pay a year and a half of my rent if not more.

“Ah, there she is. Oh, how I’ve missed you,” He says before eloping me in a bear hug.

“Come I want you to meet my other co-workers,” He says as the four of us walk back down the stairs where a small conglomeration of desks are.

“Everybody this is my daughter (y/n),” My dad proudly says while the three people went to introduce themselves. The first being the woman walking out of the office earlier. She is tall and blonde. She looks a little young to be a profiler though.

“Hi, I’m Jenifer Jareau, but you’re more than welcome to call me JJ. I’m the communication's liaison,” She says as she sticks her hand out for me to shake. After a woman with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes also extended her hand out to me. She was wearing a tan leather jacket with a black top beneath it and black dress pants along with tan ankle boots.

“Hi I’m Elle Greenway, it’s nice to meet you these three have been talking about you all day,” She says while gesturing towards my dad, uncle Aaron, and uncle Jason. Lastly, a tall very muscular man walks up to me with an awful lot of confidence. He’s wearing a tight heather gray t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Accompanied by his gun sitting snugly on his hip.

“Well Hello I’m Derek Morgan and you must be an angel,” He says forgetting that my dad is standing right behind me either that or he doesn't care. I shake his hand before my dad clears his throat not amused by Morgan's antics.

“Well, now that you’ve met my team it’s about time we went to lunch. Aaron don’t hesitate to call me if something pops up about that DC hacker case,” He says as we walk away and Uncle Aaron just responds with his usual very stern-looking face and a slight nod.

“DC hacker?” I ask as we exit the bullpen and make our way to the elevator.

“Let’s not talk about work. I want to know about school how are you?”

“I’m doing good I guess I've been a little distracted as of recent but I'm keeping myself on track I promise.”

“Atta girl,” He says before the elevator doors open, and he leads me out to his car.

-----Time Skip----

“So how are Raven and Stella I haven't seen them since I went to sign the lease again last year.” I can tell what he’s doing he’s making awkward small talk, so he feels like he's an integral part of my life. I appreciate the effort and I can’t shit on him too much because at least he’s making an effort. So I’ll play into this and make him feel better for the time being. I’m hoping that he doesn't feel like utter crap because we have nothing important to talk about besides this DC hacker case that I can’t get out of my mind. I haven’t talked about it since we were in the car because he clearly doesn’t want me to know anything about it since he keeps dodging my questions.

“They’re doing pretty good. I mean we don’t have any classes together this year because our majors are somewhat different, but we live together, so we're still close.”

“Oh, how's that friend you were telling me about? Penelope Garcia, that's her name right?” He asks as he leans in close to me. If I didn't know any better I would think he's shamelessly profiling me right now. We continue to talk about school and my friends throughout lunch. For someone who has such an extra and boujee person, he didn't talk about himself at all. Which is not my dad's usual behavior at all.

“Well, that's good to hear. So I was thinking after lunch maybe we-” As if God himself answered my prayers my dad's work cell starting ringing. I can hear small mumbles from the blonde woman I met earlier I believe her name was JJ. I can't exactly make out what is going on but either way, I'm taking whatever excuse I can get.

“I’m sorry sweetheart I’m going to have to cut this short that was a call from work. On the bright side, I’m not going to be on my book tour anymore, so whenever I have a day off we can spend time together.”

“Of course!” I say trying to humor him.

“Well, I’ll drop you back off at the FBI building.” He says before flagging down the waitress to pay for the check.

----Rossi’s POV----

I walk back into the FBI building after dropping (y/n) off. Aaron, Gideon, and I feel terrible for using her to get information. I feel the worst out of the three of us because I promised her after going back to the BAU this time would be different, but she's currently just another pawn in a game she didn't agree to.

“So what do we have Aaron?”

“Follow me to the round table we got all of the information needed from another technical analyst in the building Kevin Lynch.”

As Aaron and I walk into the room JJ is giving Gideon, Morgan, and Emily all of the information we need to know.

“This is Penelope Grace Garcia. She is a 28-year-old female. We didn’t have many people to contact for information on her because her birth parents are no longer alive. Her parents passed in a car accident ten years ago that was caused by a drunk driver. Since then she has seemingly lived a low profile life and has managed to stay under the radar when it comes to the justice system. We have been able to get enough evidence on her because of her close relations with David Rossi's daughter (y/n) Rossi. We are going to bring her in for questioning. She’ll likely have no prior knowledge of interrogations because she’s been able to fly under the radar. That also makes her extremely cocky, and she’ll think that we have no information on her. Our job is to be as docile yet forward as possible. We want to be docile, so she’ll trust. She has so much skill that Strauss approved for us to recruit her into the BAU. She’ll be of more use to us than she would be in jail. That’s all for now.”

As JJ finishes with the profile we all gather our things and mentally prepare ourselves for the interrogation. I was advised to stay out of it just in case she knew I was (y/n)’s father. Given the fact that she’s an elite hacker that isn’t such a farfetched statement.

-Hotch’s POV-

“You have two options either you can serve jail time or you can work for us at the BAU,” I tell her just before Morgan walks back into the room.

I have her make a quick resume, so we can hire her onto the BAU. I think she has potential and that she’s just putting up a tough front. I have to give her props though because I’ve seen grown men crumble a lot easier than her. Once we’re able to strike a deal with her I have Morgan unlock her cuffs. I make sure Morgan knows to tell her that she can’t talk about any of this with (y/n) for a while especially since the case involving her isn’t fully closed.

-(y/n) POV-

I finally make it back to my apartment when I get a text from my mom asking how lunch with my dad went. As I unlock the door to my apartment I text her back and let her know that it was okay, but dad was acting super weird. I told her it seemed like he was interrogating me. She just let me know that it’s out of habit because he’s a profiler and it’s not that big of a deal and to not read too much into it.

I feel like there was something that I had to do but I can't remember. It’s not until I check the calendar on my phone and realize Daisy’s birthday is in two days and I didn’t get her anything. I’m far too lazy to leave my apartment for a second time today which was supposed to be my day off. I also don’t want to go alone maybe I should text Spencer and see how busy he is.

Me: Hey, I have a birthday party to go to on Saturday. I still need to get her a birthday present would you mind coming with me tomorrow?

Spence: Sure, what time should I pick you up?

Me: How about 10?

Spence: Sounds good I’ll see you then :)

Taglist: @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid au #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #plug spencer #spencer reid fanfic #plug!spencer fanfiction #plug!spencer #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, outtoshatter!

Dear @outtoshatter. You requested fluff, getting together, alternate first meetings, and something!Stiles. This was so much fun to write, and I’m thrilled to have the chance to create something for you. I hope you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3

Read On AO3

*****

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

"How did you know Dad was the one?" Derek asks his mom as he digs out a pink, glittery bear from beneath the pile of loose-limbed plushies. "Were there fireworks when you first met, or—?"

His cheeks flame. He can't tell his mom that the spun-sugar scent of Jenna's hair makes his heart race, or that the smell of Mark's baseball jersey gives him a boner. In fact, Derek's embarrassment is so thick she probably scents it despite being surrounded by a bunch of seven-year-olds with sugar highs from birthday cake and soda.

"The first time you meet your mate will always be significant,” Talia says as she hands the bear over to one of Cora's classmates. “It might be passionate and explosive, or it could spark a bond that builds and grows. It's influenced by who you are and where you are in your lives. But deep inside, you'll know. Your wolf, especially, will know."

"But what if my mate isn't a wolf? What if they can't sense the connection?"

"Humans cherish the notion of 'true love' as much as we do. And I bet your mate is someone who's sensitive and wise." She leans down and ruffles Derek's hair.

Derek wriggles out of his mom's touch. He's thirteen, not three.

"You think?" he asks. Maybe it is Jenna or Mark, although he was hoping his mate would be someone more… well, special.

"You'll see." Talia's smile disappears as she studies the line where Cora and her friends are waiting at the stuffing station. She counts their numbers under her breath and shakes her head. "Someone's missing. Will you help me find them, Der?"

Derek sighs. It might be Cora's birthday, but he's missing practice to babysit a bunch of second-graders at a Build-A-Bear. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I know this seems like an unbearable chore, but it means a lot to your sister that you're here. And to me, as well." His mom runs a hand along the back of Derek's neck and gives him a gentle squeeze.

Perhaps it's because it's close to a full moon, but Derek feels restless and edgy. Guilt washes through him at his snappishness, and he apologizes to his mom, giving her a quick hug before starting his walk-through.

There are bins of bears and cats and dogs and dragons in every color imaginable, their limp bodies waiting to be plumped up with poly-fill. He’s surprised Cora wanted a party here; her interests run more along the line of laser tag than dolls or stuffed animals. Although there's a backstory, he's sure; Cora had mumbled something about wanting to invite her whole class 'unlike that Lydia Martin', whereupon Mom's fangs dropped and her eyes flashed red. The next thing Derek knew, they had made a reservation for all twenty children.

It's not until Derek passes the displays of the Marvel and Star Wars bears that he finds the errant partygoer. Unlike the other boys in the class who dress in athletic wear stamped with Nike and Under Armor logos, he's wearing a faded t-shirt and a plaid overshirt, topped off by a pair of worn trainers.

Derek looks down at the limp plushie in the boy's hand. "Hey. Are you here for Cora's birthday party?" he asks softly.

The boy raises his eyes. They're ridiculously large for his face, amber orbs framed by long lashes and a buzzed haircut that make them look even bigger. Suddenly, they narrow as he looks Derek up and down.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Derek frowns, the defiance taking him by surprise. "Maybe I work here."

Any shyness the boy may have seems forgotten as he takes a step closer.

"No, you don't," he says, his tone raised in challenge. "You don't have a nametag and you're not wearing a vest."

The kid's smart. Derek is filled with the weird urge to push his buttons and protect him at the same time.

"You got me," Derek says, holding up his hands. "I'm Cora's brother, Derek." He points to the animal in the boy's hand. "Don't you want to wait in line with the others and get your bear stuffed?"

The boy straightens out his arm. "It's not a bear," he says. There's a slight hesitation, then he's turning the animal over. Derek sees that it has a long muzzle, pointed ears, and plastic blue eyes. "It's Can… um, Canis…”

"Canis Lupus. A wolf," Derek says, surprised.

The boy nods vigorously. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I didn't know if I was allowed to get something that wasn't a bear." The boy hangs his head, his fingers digging into the wolf's ample fur. "I've never been to one of these parties before."

Ah. Another reject from Lydia Martin's party list. The news makes Derek inexplicably angry.

"If I was getting one, I'd get a wolf, too," Derek says.

The boy looks up, his earlier disapproval of Derek apparently forgotten. "Yeah?"

"Totally." Derek crouches down and strokes the wolf's fur. "It's pretty skinny though," he says as his hand lingers on the nape of its neck. "We'd better go and fatten it up. Maybe get it some clothes?"

The boy shakes his head. "Wolves don't wear clothes," he says, his exasperation plain. "Duh."

Derek snorts. "Well, how about one of those scent things?" The discs seem to be popular; most of the other kids have one in hand.

The boy lifts the wolf to his face and buries his nose in its fur. "Nah. He smells good the way he is. But he needs a heart."

"Okay. Let's get one, uh—"

"Stiles," the boy answers. "Stiles," he repeats with a small scowl as Derek stares, bemused. "That's my name."

"Oh. Okay, Stiles." Derek stands up and holds out his hand. "Let's go. We've got a wolf to build."

Stiles places his hand in Derek's. It's small and a bit clammy, but Derek doesn't mind, surprisingly. They head towards the front of the store where Stiles takes his time in choosing a red heart out of the bin of hundreds. There's another display close by filled with a selection of noisemakers.

"Do you want one?" Derek asks as Stiles stares. There's a lot to choose from. "They have some songs and animals noises, and—"

"They don't have any wolf ones, though," Stiles says, seemingly put out. He pushes one of the buttons, rolling his eyes as a dinosaur's roar breaks through the tiny speaker. He chooses the dog button next.

God, no, Derek thinks.

Thankfully, Stiles passes on that one, too.

"What about this one?" Derek asks, pointing to number eleven. When Stiles presses the button, they hear the lub dub of a human heart, steady and true.

Stiles' face breaks into a huge grin. "That's perfect."

Derek opens the drawer, takes out the sound chip and hands it to Stiles, who curls his fingers around its edges and holds on tightly. By the time they make it to the stuffing station, Stiles is bouncing on his feet, a bundle of barely contained energy. He's also staring with a horrified expression at a boy who's twirling in a circle while rubbing his bear's poly-filled heart across his chest and down to his belly.

"Uh, Derek? Do I have to do that?" Stiles whispers as a Build-A-Bear employee eggs the boy on.

Maybe it's the vulnerability in Stiles' face, or the wobble in his voice, but Derek wants nothing more in that moment than to soothe Stiles' worry. He leans over and whispers, "You mean, act like something's crawling up your butt?"

Stiles lets out a half-gasp, half-laugh. "I can't move like that! What if I do it wrong and his heart won't work?"

"Listen to me, Stiles. I'm thirteen and I know a lot about wolves. Rubbing your wolf's heart on your pants or doing ten jumping jacks isn't going to make him come to life. What he needs is for you to care for him. To love him, and believe in him with all your might. Okay?"

"Okay." Stiles gives Derek a grateful smile, his face radiating his happiness.

Derek stands a bit straighter and catches his mother's eye. He's sure it's his alpha's approval and nothing else that makes him feel warm and tingly inside.

~*~

Derek used to be a romantic. He once dreamed of finding his true love, of meeting that special person whom he could care for and be cared for in return. But a series of bad relationships with people who either wanted different things in life (sorry, Braeden), or were only interested in him for his family's powerful connections (thanks, Jennifer), or who were, to put it bluntly, vindictive, psychotic stalkers (hello, Kate) has left Derek realizing not everyone is destined to have a mate. Of course, that also means one of the great Hale legacies has come to an end, although he's not sure why the Fates decided to pin that dubious distinction on him.

He doesn't want to end up like his Uncle Peter who, after losing his mate, creeps around with people half his age, filled with snark and cynicism. So Derek tries to settle, without success. His friends and family blame his inability to have a meaningful relationship on 'being too choosy', or 'not trying', or his 'emotional constipation'. He supposes it's a damning statement when even his best friends have given up their matchmaking attempts and relegated him to babysitting duty.

Derek's trying to decide whether he has time for a quick run before he goes grocery shopping, or whether he has enough milk and butter to postpone the errand altogether, when an EMT kit lands by his feet.

"Any plans for tonight?" Erica asks. Her smile is a bit too bright, her tone a shade too innocent.

Derek frowns and gives his co-worker the side-eye as he tries to figure out her angle. He can't believe there was a time where he thought he and Erica could be anything more than friends. She's gorgeous, of course, but she's also too perceptive and blunt as hell, and she calls Derek out on his bullshit more than anyone else aside from his own sisters. She feels like safety—like pack—but his wolf knows there's nothing more. Besides, she's snagged herself a handsome and brilliant ED doctor in Boyd—along with a ring, a two-bedroom Murray Hill apartment, and a five-year old daughter.

"Catching up on the second season of The Mandalorian?" Derek grins, baring a toothy smile of his own.

"Are you thirty-five or sixty-five, Derek? Because seriously, I can't tell. And since you phrased your answer in the form of a question and this isn't Jeopardy, I'm assuming those plans aren't set in stone."

Fuck. Erica had promised after the last disastrous blind date that she wouldn't try to set him up again. "I'm really not in the mood for company—"

"Even if it's a little girl who loves her godfather more than anyone else in the world?"

Derek sits up straighter. "You need me to watch Hailey?" He couldn't love Erica and Boyd's daughter any more than if she were his own.

"If you're up to it," Erica says, actually looking contrite. "I know it's your first day off in almost two weeks and I normally wouldn't ask, except… Well, the New York Public Library's doing this Children's Authors series, and her favorite writer's going to be reading today."

"The Fox and the Spark? I'm somewhat familiar," Derek says drily. He's read the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

"Yeah." Erica lets out a small laugh. "So, there's a second book that's coming out and the author's signing copies. Boyd was supposed to take her, but he has to cover for someone who called out with a family emergency. Greenberg won't let me change my shift, and I know you just finished yours, but—"

Derek puts a hand on Erica's shoulder. Next to Laura, Erica's his closest friend, and it's not like he really had plans.

"Don't give it another thought. Of course I'll take her."

A wave of relief sweeps over Erica's face. "I owe you one, Hale."

Derek lets out a small huff. He's pretty sure that if they were keeping tabs, he's going to come out on the short end when it comes to Erica and Boyd. Besides, an afternoon out with Hailey is bound to be better than his last several dates, even if he has to put up with a bunch of screaming kids.

~*~

As it turns out, there are a bunch of kids, but none of them are screaming because the man in front of them's woven some kind of crazy magic and has them in his thrall. He has thick brown hair that's the epitome of hipster chic, a wide mouth that pulls into an easy grin, and is wearing a heather grey t-shirt paired with khakis and a red hoodie. He looks young—young enough that Derek thought he worked for the library at first, a notion that's dispelled once Mrs. Purcell, the head librarian, gathers everyone together. His smile is bright and engaging, although it falters a bit when Mrs. Purcell stumbles over his name.

"Mieczyslaw," the man says with a self-deprecating grin. "Like 'mischief'. But I'll tell you a secret. No one calls me that, not even my family. You can just call me 'M'."

The news seems to delight the kids, who shout "Hi, M" in a loud chorus. M shows his appreciation by running across the front of the room and handing out high-fives.

"Is that really him?" Hailey wriggles in Derek's arms and cranes her neck, trying to get a better look. The construction-paper fox ears that they super-glued to her headband earlier that afternoon gets pushed aside at a precarious angle.

"That's really him," Derek affirms, which earns him an excited squeal.

"Put me down, D!" Hailey says with all the imperiousness of her mother, and it's all Derek can do, even with his superhuman strength, to keep her from toppling over.

"You can find a spot up close. No pushing or shoving, and if you can't see, ask politely. I'll be back here, okay?" He leans in and nuzzles her cheek to let her know she's safe and protected.

"Okay!" Hailey gives him a quick squeeze back before making her way up front. Derek is glad to see one of the other girls make room for her as Hailey sits down in the second row and clutches her book happily.

Derek straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He feels someone watching, and when he looks up, he suddenly locks eyes with M.

M rubs the back of his neck as a light flush spreads over his cheeks. It doesn't help to diminish his already-youthful appearance; in fact, it makes him look vulnerable—like prey—and the thought causes something to flare hot in Derek's belly. It's only when someone nudges him impatiently that he realizes that he's gawking in the middle of the room, surrounded by a restless audience that comes up to his knees. Derek mutters his apologies, then takes his six-foot frame to the back of the room where he watches from behind a row of brightly colored, miniature plastic chairs.

M starts off by saying that his best friend Scott is a veterinarian who works at a wolf sanctuary, and that M always thought wolves were the coolest. The tidbit makes Derek straighten to his full height and he puffs out his chest, inordinately pleased.

Most of the children already own copies of M's latest but choose to watch as M holds up a giant book that's nearly a foot-and-a-half tall. The pages are filled with illustrations—courtesy, M says, of his friend Isaac. The pictures are warm and soft, and detailed in a way that appeals to both a young and older audience. But even though they're beautiful, Derek finds his attention drifting elsewhere. He's mesmerized by the way M's fingers dance across the pages as he reads, how his eyes grow bright and animated when he hears the children laugh at his vocal impressions, and the way M's mouth—god, his mouth—turns down at the corners when he reaches a poignant scene. His voice defies categorization: it's raspy yet young, melodious but slightly off-pitch, and serious yet mischievous, as if an old soul had somehow merged with an adolescent’s energy.

The truth is that Derek's too distracted by M to pay close attention to the story. But after his brain momentarily shorts out from watching M lick his thumb to turn the page, it manages to reboot and catch the his next words:

"You need to care for him," the fairy said as Milo hugged his wolf. "You need to love him and believe in him with all your might."

Derek listens in a daze as M tells the group how Milo's wish for his wolf to come to life comes true. His own wolf perks up, and against the stench of the colognes and soaps and sweat of the crowd, he can pick out the welcome scent of citrus and cottonwood from back home. It's intoxicating, yet soothing and breathtakingly familiar, and in that moment the thread of hope that Derek's long thought cut manages to wriggle into his heart and take hold.

~*~

Derek absolutely does not push his way towards the front of the line. He just has longer legs.

His heart is in his throat and he's holding tight to Hailey, who's clutching her copy of Build A Wolf close to her chest. Derek doesn't understand how he could have missed the signs: the smattering of moles that grace M's cheek, the adorable tilt of his nose, or the warm intelligence of his eyes.

"Hi," Derek says when they reach the table where M's seated, his voice catching.

The Sharpie that M's twirling lazily between his fingers falls with a clatter. M stares at Derek, seemingly lost for words. A beautiful pink flush highlights his cheeks that Derek wants to trace with his thumb.

"You're a bit older than my usual fan. Bigger, too," M croaks. His face turns even brighter, and Derek can smell his surprise and the faint spice of his arousal.

"Stiles?" Derek blurts out. Upon seeing M's shocked expression, Derek tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, you remind me of someone I knew from back home." When M doesn't deny the assumption, Derek continues, "I'm Derek Hale. Cora Hale's brother?"

M scrubs his face. "Wow, dude… wow, yeah, I am." He looks around and lowers his voice. "I'm surprised you recognized me. Or that you even remember who I am." When he smiles it's small and embarrassed, but Derek can also detect the happiness that colors his scent.

"I know you're probably busy, seeing as you're on a book tour and all, but do you want to grab a bite after you're done?" Derek feels breathless, and it's totally unlike him to be so forward, especially in the midst of an increasingly antsy crowd, but he feels like he's been waiting for this moment forever. "I mean, it can be something low key," he adds hastily, in case he's laying it on too strong. "I haven't been home in a while and it would be nice to catch up, and—"

There's a strong tug on his shirt sleeve. "Hi, Mr. M," Hailey pipes up. She's wearing a sweet smile but her eyes are impatient and determined. "Can you sign my book for me?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look. He greets Hailey with a complicated fist bump after commenting on her fox ears, uncaps his Sharpie, and opens the book to the front page. "Who should I make it out to?"

"To Mommy and Daddy and Hailey," Hailey decides. She tugs on Derek's sleeve more forcefully. "Do you think Mommy will like that?" she asks in a loud whisper.

Derek bends down and kisses her forehead. "I think she's going to love it," he says, nuzzling her neck. When he stands back up, Stiles has finished signing, but his smile seems a bit forced. "So, about dinner..." Stiles doesn't answer immediately; Derek falters as he takes back the book, his hopes sinking with each passing second.

Stiles' eyes lower, his once-happy scent souring. "Sorry," he says, his expression unreadable. "I'm on a tight schedule."

Both the human and wolf sides of Derek are confused by Stiles' sudden rejection. "Maybe a drink?" he tries again, desperate. He may have been a terrible judge of character in his previous relationships, but he can't be wrong, not about this.

Stiles shakes his head. Before Derek can press his case, there's a cough as the father and son behind Derek fix him with matching glares. Derek and Hailey get shuffled towards the door, and by the time Derek regains his bearings and looks back he discovers that Stiles is posing for a selfie with the kid, his scent now off, his smile a bit too forced.

~*~

There are several truths about the holidays—and the end of the year in particular—which are that the crowds are larger, the stress is higher, and people tend to avoid hospitals as much as possible. It also means that Derek's unit is flooded with calls, from decorating mishaps and drunken shenanigans to medical emergencies that are so far gone they can no longer be handled by an urgent care. He hasn't hung out with both Boyd and Erica in nearly a month, and even though it's for a quick bite in the hospital's cafeteria, he'll take it.

"Seriously, Hale. You'd better have a smile on your face after your PTO."

Derek looks up from his burrito, his brows furrowed.

"I don't know why you think I have PTO, Erica, but I don't," he says, grimacing as a glob of beef and avocado drop onto the wax-paper wrap. He's never requested a holiday week since he started with the FDNY eleven years ago. His family's all on the West coast, and he'd rather leave the prime vacation weeks to his co-workers. It's not like he has someone special to share the holidays with, after all.

He ignores the ache in his chest as he thinks of Stiles.

"Yeah, well the thing is, now you do. The week between Christmas and New Year's," Erica clarifies as she takes a bite of her burger. "You never exercise the perks that go with your seniority, and don't think it's gone unnoticed. It's the department's gift to you. "

Derek stares, flummoxed. "Greenberg will never go for it."

"Are you kidding me? He was the first to say 'yes'. Said he's tired of seeing your grumpy mug whenever he rings in the New Year."

Boyd grins at Derek's obvious discomfort. Derek gives him the middle finger, which makes Boyd chuckle out loud.

"I don't even know if my family's around," Derek protests. Laura often spends the holidays with her husband's family in Sun Valley, and Cora's hard to pin down any time of year.

Erica and Body give him twin looks of guilt. "They are," Boyd says as he takes something out of his coat pocket and hands it to Derek. "We already spoke to Laura. She can't wait to see you."

"Ho, ho, ho." Erica grins.

"What's this?" Derek asks as he stares at the envelope in Boyd's hand.

Boyd shrugs but Derek's not fooled by his casual stance. "A first-class plane ticket. An early Christmas present from us to you." His usually placid expression grows sheepish. "Look man, we don't want to put you in a bad spot. If you really don't want to go, use the credit for another trip. But we knew that if it were up to you, you'd be spending Christmas alone, eating leftovers and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time."

"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore, Der. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Erica and Boyd share a look. Derek feels a pang of envy at the way they so easily read each other's thoughts and their mutual love and support. He'd always fancied himself a romantic, but to finally find his mate only to be rejected flat out hurts worse than anything Kate had put him through. Which… well, it says a lot.

Boyd nudges the envelope towards the remains of Derek's burrito. "Do what's right to you." And just like that, he changes the subject as they argue over whether Brees or Brady will end the season with the most touchdown passes and have the better chance of securing a berth in the Super Bowl.

~*~

Minutes after Derek sets foot inside JFK, he remembers why he hates flying. It's the noise and the stress, the smell of impatience and sweat, and the lack of personal space as he waits to clear security. He jams his beanie down to cover his ears, and the glower he's wearing doesn't help the dubious looks being cast his way. By the time he reaches the concourse, he has to duck into a coffee shop to catch a break from all the commotion.

He's standing in line, trying to decide whether he'd rather have a green or carrot smoothie, when someone's suitcase catches his heel.

"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The stranger pulls back the offending piece of luggage, and Derek suddenly catches a whiff of a familiar scent amongst the flurry of clothing and limbs. "Are you okay? I'm not exactly graceful on most days, but I'm working on like two hours of sleep and… " The man's voice trails off as he meets Derek's gaze, his whiskey-colored eyes widening further. "Derek?" he squeaks.

"Stiles," Derek answers, his voice equally strangled.

Stiles blows out a deep breath. "Oh, wow. What are the chances?" he mutters. His face turns blotchy.

Derek's wolf is pawing at his chest, begging Derek to not waste this second chance. "Uh… seeing as we're both here, I'm going to repeat my offer. For the drink. And a meal, if you'd like. Although I guess it's more like a grab and go." He's stumbling over his words and he feels the tips of his ears heat.

Stiles glances at the breakfast wraps and fruit bowls displayed behind the plexiglass counter. He pastes on a grin, although it seems strained at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man; that'd be great." He orders an OJ and an egg wrap, while Derek finally decides on the green smoothie.

"Is that all you're getting?" Stiles asks after an awkward moment of silence.

Derek shrugs. "I ate before I got here. But you can order something else. I'm in a generous mood."

"Haha, big spender. I mean… " Stiles ducks his head and bites his lower lip. Derek watches helplessly as it reddens and swells. "Doesn't your daughter or wife want something, too?"

"I don't have a daughter or a wife," Derek says, his brow furrowing. "Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter."

Stiles' mouth drops. "But who was the girl you were with at the book signing?"

Everything starts to slot together. Derek lets out a small chuckle of relief. "Hailey? She's the love of my life. She also happens to be the daughter of my best friends, Erica and Boyd, and my goddaughter. They couldn't make it to your signing because of a scheduling conflict, and I jumped in as a favor." He hands over a twenty to the cashier and deposits the remaining change in the tip jar, his shoulders suddenly lighter.

"Ohhh." Stiles wheels his bag around as they head out towards the gates. He stays close to Derek and his scent grows brighter and sweeter. "I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion," he confesses with a rueful grin. "And I don't want to make the same mistake twice, so I'm going to ask you straight out: are you heading back to Beacon Hills? Because if you are, I'd like to take you to a real dinner. If you're interested, of course," he hastens. "If not, that's cool, too—"

Derek stops and places his hand on Stiles' arm. "I happen to be going back to Beacon Hills. And I'm definitely interested."

A quick check of their tickets shows they're on the same flight into Sacramento International. When they reach the gate, Derek marches up to the counter and trades in his first-class ticket for a business-class seat next to Stiles. He hurries back to the waiting area, flashing a 'thumbs up' sign and grinning like a loon. The look of pure joy that lights up Stiles' face makes Derek's wolf howl with glee.

"So I was curious... why did you choose Mieczyslaw as your nom de plume?" Derek asks as he sits, resting his bag on the floor between them.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. "Mieczyslaw is my name—at least, it's the one I was born with. But it was too complicated to say, so my best friend Scott nicknamed me 'Stiles' when we were younger." He shrugs, as if to say, the rest is history. "Anyway, I wrote The Fox and the Spark for Scott and Allison's son and they finally convinced me to submit it to a publisher. I really didn't think it would go anywhere, and it seemed like it would be less of a rejection if I sent it as 'Mieczyslaw' instead of 'Stiles'."

"And then you ended up with a best-seller," Derek finishes with a grin. He stares at the label on his cup, rubbing an edge that's grown worn from condensation. "Hailey's favorite book is The Fox and the Spark. But I think I'm partial to your latest. The one where a boy builds a wolf out of snow and wishes he'd come to life."

Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "It's based on one of my greatest memories."

"The memory of a wolf? Or someone else?"

Stiles' cheeks stain a beautiful pink. "Uh, a little bit of both? I've always been drawn to wolves, but I've also never forgotten how nice you were to me at Cora's party. I mean, you're Derek Hale—Cora's cool, older brother. I kind of built you up after that, turned our meeting into some kind of mythos, but even then I hadn't been prepared for you to be so…" He gestures with his long, graceful fingers up and down Derek's torso. "I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously hot, plus you were so amazing with your goddaughter. You probably work saving kittens or puppies or endangered wildlife or something—"

Derek coughs. "People. I'm an EMT."

"See! I mean, your fucking perfect. It's a good thing I didn't know all these things before, because otherwise, like, mind blown." Stiles mimes an explosion with his hands.

"I'm hardly special. Although I do have a book written about me. How many people can say that?" Derek teases.

"Yeah." Stiles' grin fades slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "About that. I know it must seem weird, but I'm not some obsessed fan, I promise."

Derek shakes his head. It's too early to tell Stiles about werewolves and their mates, but he wants Stiles to know that the feeling is mutual. That Stiles' story is the same one Derek's been living in since they first met.

"It's okay, Stiles. I feel the same way, too." Emboldened, he takes Stiles' hand in his, his eyes dropping to Stiles' mouth as his mate licks his lips.

"Dude," Stiles whispers, awed.

~*~

By the time they touch down in Sacramento, Derek's learned all about Stiles' closest friends. He learns that Scott is a werewolf as well, though bitten and not born, and that Stiles is considered part of Scott's pack. He's surprised to know that the infamous Lydia Martin is now one of Stiles' closest confidants, and that they'd briefly dated before deciding they were better off as friends. He also discovers that the Sheriff who busted Derek and his friends on Senior Prank Day (and let them off with a warning) is none other than Stiles' dad.

Derek and Stiles eventually connect the dots and realize that Stiles' friend Isaac went to the same college as, and remains friendly with, Erica and Boyd. He's happy to know that Stiles also lives in New York, on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park, which happens to be one of Derek's favorite places to jog. And he discovers other things about Stiles—like how Stiles is ticklish along his sides (just below the curve of his lowest rib), and how his lips are just as soft as they look, and how Stiles goes absolutely crazy when Derek scents and mouths his neck.

In fact, by the time they disembark, their mutual attraction is pretty much apparent to everybody—including the Sheriff, who pointedly avoids looking at Stiles' neck, and Laura, who just laughs.

Stiles lifts the hem of his scarf to hide the evidence, his cheeks flaming. Derek's just glad that neither the Sheriff or his sister can see the other places Derek's marked.

"Looks like you've finally found a flight you enjoyed, baby bro," Laura says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "I'm so glad you're home."

Derek closes his eyes and breathes Laura in, his wolf settling at the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of his skin, and the feeling of home. "Me too."

Laura nuzzles the crook of his neck. "You smell different," she says as she leans back, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Derek glances at Stiles, who looks over to Derek at exactly the same time and waves at him with a blinding grin. "Um, yeah. About that..."

"I don't mean in that way," Laura says, wrinkling her nose. "Although he is a cutie. What I mean is that you smell... happy."

"I am," Derek says, realizing he means it. He can't wait to introduce Stiles to the rest of his family and begin formally courting his mate. But for now, he and Stiles know they have something special. They've entered the next chapter of their lives, one that already has a great beginning.

And the romantic in Derek knows this story will have a happy ending.

#outtoshatter #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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1989dreamer · 3 years

Text

Chapter 20 of Looking for a Place to Call Home

This has been on AO3 for forever, but I’m starting to push to finish this story. Look for chapter 21, coming soon!

~ * ~

Boyd and John sit at the table long after the dishes have been cleared away. They’re making plans to go to New York, to see if they can find Laura’s daughter.

Laura wants to go too. Derek’s not sure they’d be able to stop her. An alpha on a mission is hard to deter.

He doesn’t feel healthy enough to accompany them—too many hunger pains among other pains.

“It’s decided, then,” John declares suddenly. “I’ll book the tickets. We leave in two days—plenty of time for me to practice my aim. I used to be the best shot on the force.”

“Are you going to be allowed to travel with a firearm?” Boyd asks.

“Disassembled and in different or locked cases, yes, as long as I declare it. You know, there’s a competition out in New York. I might just be registered for it.”

“How many of us are going?” Erica asks. She looks at Laura, Cora next to her, both of them staring at John and Boyd, and then at Derek, hiding behind his sisters.

“John, me, and Laura,” Boyd says. “I’m sorry, Cora, Derek, but I think it’d be better if you stayed behind. Erica?”

“I’ll stay. Someone has to look out for them.”

“Perfect. I’ll get those tickets booked tonight.” John’s smile is broad, happy. Derek wants to warn him about the hunters and what they do to people who oppose them, but he remembers that John was their emissary before his parents were killed. He should know about hunters already.

“Will you be mad that I won’t go?” Derek asks Laura.

She hugs him. “No, I’m not mad. I’d rather you stay here, where it’s safe.”

“I can fight,” Cora interrupts. “Why can’t I go?”

“Because we barely got out last time. In fact, we weren’t even free until that deputy shot Kate.”

“But you’re going back. I want to go back too!”

“No.” Laura doesn’t shout, but her eyes go red, and Cora cowers down, eyes on the ground, neck bared.

Laura lets the red fade away. “I’m sorry, Cora. I don’t want to lose you if the hunters are swarming. I’m not even sure we’ll be able to find my daughter.”

“We’ll do our damndest,” John promises. He yawns, making Erica yawn too. “I need to get back home now.” He picks up his bag, heading for the door. “I’ll be back bright and early tomorrow so that you can tell us about where you were held. How to get in and out.”

“Good night, John.” Erica closes the door on him. She claps her hands, turning to the rest of them. “Early to bed tonight. That way we can be up early.” She shoos Boyd toward the kitchen. “Dishes, honey. The rest of you, teeth.”

There’s only one bathroom and it’s crowded. Cora and Laura keep bumping each other while Derek and Isaac stand back, brushing their teeth in sync.

Next to Isaac, watching his sisters roughhouse reminds Derek strongly of his family when his cousins visited.

He can’t remember if they all were there that day when Kate took him. He should, but he can’t.

“Hey,” he says, spraying toothpaste everywhere. “What happened to our cousins and aunts and uncles?”

“They died,” Laura says sharply. She glares at Derek in the mirror before throwing her now broken toothbrush away. “They came to help us look for you and then our house was burned down, all of us trapped inside.” She stomps away, anger swelling in her wake.

Derek rinses his mouth and brush, setting the brush in a cup labeled with his name. Cora and Isaac finish quickly, too, and Derek grabs Cora’s arm before she can escape to the room she’s sharing with Laura.

“I didn’t know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“We told you, didn’t we?”

“If you did, I don’t remember. Sorry.” He thinks he should have known, but Kate had broken his bonds, and when they’d left California, he hadn’t been able to sense his family.

Derek curls up on his bed, wondering when he’s going to feel normal. When he’s going to find his even keel, as his Aunt Miriam liked to say. He’d thought the whole time he was in New York that he was going to escape or be rescued and then come back to California to live with his family. He’d thought the bonds were muted with magic, not snapped entirely.

He hasn’t even properly mourned the loss of his family, too bust trying to heal from the damage Kate inflicted.

He covers his face and whines high in his throat. Isaac sinks down onto the bed with him, stroking a hand down his arm. He doesn’t say anything while Derek cries.

Nearly an hour passes before Derek stops sobbing. He breathes harshly through his mouth, nose too clogged to be of use.

“Do you want some water?” Isaac asks. Derek nods, and Isaac goes to the bathroom to fill a cup from the tap.

Derek sits up to drink it, and Isaac watches him with a curious look on his face.

“What?” Derek asks when he’s finished the water and set the cup, the one his brush was in earlier, on the bedside table.

“What’s it like being a werewolf?”

Derek pauses, thinking about it. Before Kate, he would have talked about his enhanced senses, the way they can heal minor wounds in seconds and major ones in hours or days, the way pack became attuned to each other, all of them striving to help each other. Now, he doesn’t know what to say. Does he tell Isaac that the hunters aren’t worth the trouble of being stronger, faster, or more resilient than a human?

He opens his mouth to ask Isaac what he means, but Isaac beats him to it, saying, “I guess what I mean is, I might like to become a werewolf someday.”

Derek looks at him curiously. “How do you know that we can turn you into a werewolf?”

Isaac shrugs. “Can you?”

“I can’t. I’m just a beta.”

“What about Laura? You defer to her, so she’s in charge?”

“Yes. She’s the alpha. Only an alpha’s bite can turn others, but,” Derek lifts a finger, “there’s a chance that the bite might not take. When that happens, the bitten dies.”

“How do you know if the bite will take?”

“Before giving the bite?” Isaac nods. “I don’t know.”

~ * ~

Stiles brews a fresh pot of coffee while he is on gold with the National Registry of Missing Persons. It’s late, he’s tired, and he still doesn’t know whose body they pulled out of the preserve.

He’s waiting on the okay to talk to Peter Hale, but his lawyer, none other than the famous defense attorney, David Whittemore, is dragging his feet. Possibly because Stiles interrupted his dinner with his visiting son.

Stiles doesn’t care. Jackson Whittemore, real estate mogul, is as unimportant to Stiles now as he was in high school when he was head jock and dating the most popular girl in school until she dumped him for her best friend. Jackson never quite recovered after Lydia’s public breakup, and he’d seemed to blame Scott and Stiles for his misfortune.

God damn, high school never ends, Stiles thinks bitterly.

“Still there, sir?” the NRMP employee asks, and Stiles confirms he is. “Okay, so there’s too many results to go through tonight, so I’ll have to give you an update in maybe a week. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“No, it’s okay. It was a long shot anyway. Thanks.” Stiles hangs up and tries to ignore the welling frustration. Getting angry won’t help anyone. He sinks into a chair, running both hands through his hair and down his face. “Crap,” he says. “What’s next?”

The man’s face is going on a bulletin tonight to run on the early news tomorrow morning to see if anyone recognizes him. His DNA and fingerprints are with the proper departments, but that could take months. Dental has also been sent out, but unless he was local, within a one hundred mile radius, they won’t have an answer back for weeks or months.

All of this can be narrowed down if Stiles can just find who they’re looking for.

He lets his head drop to the table, staring cross-eyed at the grain of the wood.

He is so exhausted, and they’ve only been on this case for two or three days. God, what if it drags on for days.

The coffee machine beeps, and Stiles hauls himself to it to grab a mug. He pours enough milk in it to cool it down, and then drains it in one long swallow.

At this point, coffee is useless. Stiles needs sleep. But before that, a shower. He’s feeling a little ripe right now.

All deputies keep a change of clothes here in case of emergency, and Stiles grabs his on the way to the showers in the basement.

The hot water helps him relax, and he spends a few minutes just letting it soak him.

He thinks again of the man stick on the tree. What if Peter isn’t the only Hale who knows who he is?

Stiles shuts off the water and dries off quickly. Derek spent three years in New York under Kate Argent’s thumb. Laura and Cora were with a different faction. The man obviously had some connection to them all since Peter had killed.

Stiles silences the tiny voice of doubt about Peter’s guilt. The man would have been partially eaten if it were a wild animal, and he wouldn’t have been skewered onto the branch as if a large creature had lifted him and set him there.

Stiles decides he needs to talk to the Hale kids tomorrow. For now, he’s going to go over the Hale fire papers and research every name that ever ended up being associated with it. Sleep is the last thing on his mind even though it’s his body’s only thought.

He runs into Kincaid and Ramirez on his way to the evidence room.

“Acting Sheriff Parish said we were to escort you home,” Kincaid explains, Like Stiles gives a rat’s ass.

He pauses thinking. Six eyes is better than two. “I’ll go home,” he says, “if you help me with something first.”

The rookies exchange an apprehensive look. Stiles takes mercy on them. “I’m working on identifying the body we found out in the preserve. I’ve got an idea that he had something to do with the house fire out that way three years ago.”

“Why do you think that, sir?” Ramirez asks.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s too much of a coincidence. The body was located near the house.”

“So you think this guy set it or something?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t even know his name.”

“But you think it’s in the file on the fire.” Ramirez and Kincaid exchange another look, far less apprehensive this time. They shrug in unison.

“We’re in,” Ramirez says. “I’m guessing you just want lists of names with how they relate to the fire?”

“You guess correctly.”

~ * ~

MP, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #My Story/My Writing #LfaPtCH

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snokoms · 5 years

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alrighty third part up and coming

i hope you like it, it would be lovely if you take the time to share your opinion on it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310579/chapters/50967448

He is running, wind coursing through his fur. He almost caught the bunny that was just asking to be eaten when he feels it again. He isn’t alone. Raising his head with twitching ears he looks around for any sign of the other. The moon giving him just enough guidance to take off to his left. Chasing the presence.

----

“Peter.”

“What.”

“Uncle Peter, he could help. I called him.”

“Help. Help with what.” How anyone expected him to be coherent first thing when he wakes up is beyond him. Shaking off the remains of his dream he shuffles slowly to the kitchen for coffee when he hears Cora following him.

“With whatever is going on with you.” The ‘duh’ is heavily implead in her voice and eyebrows when he turns around.

“Wasn’t that emissary supposed to figure it out.”

“She didn’t.”

“You’re telling me I drank all those shit tasting potions for nothing?” He finally turns around and fully looks at her. Eyebrows in full scowl.

“Well at least she figured out what it wasn’t.” Derek snorted and turned back again. Fixing his much-needed coffee when he stills.

“You called Peter”

“Yes”

“What did he say”

“He, uhm, didn’t actually answer. I was just about to call again” At that he gives her a look and takes the leftovers out of the fridge. Too tired to warm them up he grabs a fork and sits down to start eating. When his sister still hasn’t moved, he looks at her and raises an eyebrow. Whatever she sees there puts her back into motion. After three rings the call is finally picked up.

“He- “

“Something is wrong with Derek and we don’t know what.”

“Well hello to you to dear niece. How is your day? Mine is quite nice thanks for asking.”

“He collapsed nine days ago out of nowhere and the local emissary can’t figure out why” When Peter doesn't immediately answer the siblings share a look.

“And how is this my problem?”

“He is still your family. Or do you care as little about him as you did about Laura?” She sneers into the phone, turning away from her brother. It’s quiet again before he softly answers.

“Send me your address, we will get there as fast as we can.” And promptly hangs up. Turning back to her brother with her eyebrows furrowed the two share a confused look. Who the hell could their uncle have meant when he said 'we'? After a few second Derek shrugs and continues eating. Whoever the other person or persons were, they would deal with it when they arrived. For now, there was food calling his name.

----

Its three am when Peter is woken up by his niece calling. By four Malia and he are packed up and on their way to south America.

----

John is just coming home for the first time in days, with Melissa still by his side. Still riding the glory of their last date. It had been a wonderful lunch; he might just actually have a chance with this amazing woman!

That’s when he gets the call from school asking about his son.

Apparently, there was another response from one of the schools the boy had applied to for early acceptance, if he or his son could come pick it up. And isn’t it wonderful that kids like his son exist that are just so smart to have a chance at something like that? Also is his son still sick? Please send him our best wishes to get better.

John is furious. Calling in sick and convincing the lady at the administration that he really couldn’t come to school. What is that for bullshit. He didn’t raise no cheater or school skipper. But then again, he also didn’t think he had raised a liar, a thief, or a murderer. With a sight the sheriff hangs up. Why couldn’t his son be a normal kid. Like Scott. No instead he is stuck with a lying piece of shit.

“Everything okay, John?” Melissa asks kindly.

“Yeah, you uh. You haven’t seen Stiles around lately, have you? Apparently, he has been skipping the last few days of school.”

“No, he hasn’t been around for a while. You sure everything is alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so.” With a worried mind the woman left it alone. Mind silently wandering to the boy who is like a second son to her. Apart from his visits to the hospitals to bring some dinner to the nurses on shift she hadn’t seen him around for the past few months. And even than his visits had been slowly dwindling down for quite some time. With a bad feeling in her stomach she tries to shake her worries away. Surely Stiles was fine, if anyone could get himself out of crazy situations it was that boy.

----

Half a week later the sheriff’s department gets a call. A hitchhiker found a car in a ravine a few miles out of Beacon Hills.

It’s a baby blue jeep.

#stiles stilinski #sterek #derek hale #cora hale #malia hale #not tate #peter hale #sheriff stilinski #melissa mccall #mccall pack #hurt stiles

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viva-la-sterek · 5 years

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Happy new year, Sterek Fandom! Here is a list of some greatly enjoyable fics created in the fandom this past year! It’s amazing to see Sterek still going strong with events like @sterekweek-2018, @sterek-smooch, @sterekreversebang, @stereksecretsanta, and many more! Thank you so much to the many writers, fanartists, graphic makers and everyone that contributes to fandom! x3

They Say It's Mighty Fine by @the-apocrypha (1/1 | 23,234 | Gen.)

"Hello. This is Alpha Vernon Boyd, calling from Camp Remus about—"

"Derek?" Talia asks, confused. "You're calling about Derek? Is he okay? What happened?"

"Oh, boy." Melissa blows out a breath. "All right. Is he hurt?"

"He's been there for two hours, what could he possibly have—" John pauses. "Hang on, Camp Remus? Like the werewolf camp?"

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by @yodas-yo-yo (15/15 | 95,612 | Explicit)

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants / @pantstomatch (1/1 | 17,936 | Teen)

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

Or-

The a/b/o bakery au with feelings

Scrubbing Bubbles by MargaretKire (8/8 | 46,063 | Explicit)

Stiles thought it would be easy doing janitorial work for an office. At first, it really was. The job only took a few hours in the evenings and it helped pay for rent and college. Sure, Hale Industries took up an entire floor in one of the downtown financial buildings, but the place was new and easy to care for. He didn’t even have to spend much time cleaning the huge corner office, because the trash was nearly always empty and the office itself was spotless, like no one used it.

It was basically the perfect college job. At least, until the boss started staying late.

Give you that thing you can't even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 (1/1 | 10,982 | Explicit)

the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

That Frothing Knob by Pride_of_Six (4/4 | 14,598 | Explicit)

Stiles was wiping down the spout of a machine with a cloth, and Derek almost popped a stiffy right there in the café. It was completely embarrassing that after so many years of control over both his human and wolf side Derek would find himself so… enamoured by this random. Regardless, the wolf wants what the wolf wants, and Derek found himself trying his darnedest to get some sort of a rise out of Stiles, “You sure know how to handle that frothing knob.”

Needless to say, Derek got to see that beautiful blush colouring the barista’s face once again.

hey asshole by @everchanginginks (1/1 | 15,631 | Mature)

The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, who’s been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.

lube and determination by @bleep0bleep (2/2 | 4,873 | Explicit)

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

The Quickest Way to a Man’s Heart (is Through His Bottomless Pit) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt (1/1 | 54,167 | Explicit)

Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

“You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

His door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

Sharing Food by @aussiebee (2/2 | 9,564 | Explicit)

Derek is pretty much absorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? by @sophisticatedyet (1/1 | 8776 | Explicit)

Stiles gets a wrong number call from an old man who can't install his antivirus software. He feels like doing a good deed, so he decides to walk him through it.

Derek is not an old man, just a technologically incompetent twenty-six year old TA who has made enemies of the entire UCLA IT department. The helpful stranger he has just accidentally called is about to become Derek's go-to computer guy.

Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change (Learning You Were Wrong) by WithMyTeeth (8/8 | 49,983 | Explicit)

When perpetual loner and failwolf extraordinaire Derek Hale finally loses patience with his meddling family, he grabs a confused Stiles Stilinski, unsuspecting diner patron and herbal medicine student, off the street to pose as his new boyfriend. Hijinks ensue.

Companionship by exclamation / @jessicameats (42/42 | 85,697 | Explicit)

Companions are elite pleasure slaves, trained in music, dance, poetry, and, especially, sex. Stiles is the worst student in the history of the companion school, so his teachers decide to get rid of him by claiming he is interested in bondage and selling him to someone who'll keep him restrained and gagged.

Derek Hale is lonely and interested in BDSM. Buying a companion with an interest in submission seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turns out Stiles is not what was advertised. Not only does Stiles hate the thought of BDSM, he also has very strong opinions on what constitutes consent, or lack thereof. But keeping Stiles seems a better option than sending him back to the school, so somehow they will have to work this out between them.

Do Not Go Gentle by @mojoflower (51/51 | 195,878 | Explicit)

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

too long to the weekend by @dizzy-redhead (1/1 | 5,261 | Explicit)

When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up.

Married at First Glance by WonderWolf (14/14 | 63,558 | Explicit)

Married at First Glance gives its participants seven weeks. Seven weeks, starting when they meet and marry their “perfect match”, to decide if they want to stay married or divorce.

For Stiles and Derek though, the challenge lies within trying to pretend that they don’t absolutely hate each other’s guts. When you’re married to a werewolf who dislikes humans, however, this can get a little tricky.

But the sweet, sweet cash reward at the end will be worth it. Right?

(A Married at First Sight AU)

Show Me Your Igloo and I'll Show You Mine by @thisdiscontentedwinter (1/1 | 4,943 | Explicit)

Stiles is finally going to meet the online friend he's had for years.

Instead, the hottest guy in the world walks in.

Broken Car, Lemon Bar by inhystereks / @bibliophile246 (6/6 | 27,884 | Mature)

Stiles got out of his car so whoever was coming wouldn't think he was just being an asshole and stopped in the middle of the road on purpose. He almost laughed when he caught sight of the approaching car. A black Camaro. Which meant Derek Hale was the one slowing down to pull up behind him. The town mechanic and also the scariest fucker around.

Oh, sweet irony.

He was exactly the person Stiles desperately needed and was also terrified of.

Perfect.

The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince by green-leaf (2/2 | 11,472 | Teen)

Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”

“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”

“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”

“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

The Accused by @drgrlfriend (1/1 | 5,764 | Mature)

“Remember when I thought I was in love with Kate, and she turned out to be a murderous hunter who killed most of my family and blinded me in the process?”

Erica’s voice was cautious. “Derek — what the fuck — of course I remember, how could you even ask? —”

“Well, my mate is worse,” Derek said flatly.

A Little Less Conversation by Lissadiane (1/1 | 5,626 | Gen.)

Derek has learned to be a good Alpha in most of the ways that count. The problem is, now that he's well-adjusted, safe, and happy, it's time to turn his attention to the one thing he's always sucked at: finding a nice, sweet Omega mate.

Lucky for him, Erica and Stiles have ideas on how to make that as painless as possible.

In which Derek Hale is a failwolf and somehow, ends up going speed dating.

Cheers to more Sterek in 2019!!

#eternalsterek #tag: 2018 #tag: year end round up

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smilingformoney · 5 years

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America’s Most Eligible 3 Diamond Scene: Cram Sesh with Jen

You: First impressions are crucial. I’ve gotta find Jen! Wrenn: Good luck, Jamie. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.

You walk into the living room to find Jen chatting with Mackenzie, Derek, and Adam. Jen: I’m so nervous, I changed six times this morning! Derek: That’s… Mackenzie: Insane? Adam: A workout? Jen: I’ll take option C… All of the above. You: Glad to see I’m not the only one who’s nervous. Before we meet the parents, we should prep each other for what to expect. Jen: Count me in. Derek: If there’s a chance of finding out what makes you two tick, we want in. You: We’ll take all the help we can get. Let’s meet on the roof in five.

You, Jen, and your friends regroup on the roof. As you all settle in around the table, you turn to look at Jen. You: Okay… Tell me everything I need to know about your parents. Jen: Are you kidding? I wouldn’t know where to start! Mackenzie: How about the beginning? After all, Jamie’s gonna need to know your family inside and out if she’s gonna make a good impression. Adam: That might take a little longer than we have. Adam: You should start with how well you get along with them. Whether you see eye-to-eye can say a lot about a person. Derek: That’s a good idea, but this is also about making Jamie feel comfortable meeting them. What do you want to know, Jamie? You: As important as it is to know about Jen’s relationship with her family…

You: I really just wanna know… -Whether they approve of me.

You: Between the craziness in the mansion and the producers’ editing for drama, there’s no telling what they think! Jen: Everyone knows you can’t trust anything you see on TV. Nobody’s gonna judge you for that.

-How I can impress them.

You: Meeting the parents is hard enough without trying to appeal to a demographic. I need a cheat sheet! Derek: Hmm… I see your point. There’s gotta be some advice Jen can give you…

Mackenzie: Jen, you know your family better than any of us. What do you think Jamie should know about them? Jen: Uh… None of my uncles have pinky toes… You: Wait, what? Adam: As interesting as that is, I don’t think it’s gonna help Jamie today. Jen: I’m sorry. There’s so much I could say, I’m blanking on what’s need-to-know. Derek: What it help if Adam, Mackenzie, and I go first? It’ll give you an example of what’s important… Mackenzie: And Jamie can learn more about our families too. You: Works for me. Why don’t we start with…

Whose turn is it? -Mackenzie!

You: Tell me about your dad, Mackenzie. Is he as cool as your little sister Natalie? Mackenzie: Cooler. As cliché as it sounds, I’ve got the best dad in the world. Mackenzie: Right from the start, he never saw me as anything less than his daughter. He’s patient, easy to talk to, kind, selfless… Mackenzie: Basically everything my mother isn’t. You: Whoa… I’ve never heard you mention your mom, Mackenzie. Jen: On your audition reel, you said you grew up with a single father. Mackenzie: I did. My mom left us fifteen years ago. No note, no explanation, just an empty closet where her clothes should’ve been. Derek: That had to be terrible. Mackenzie: It was worse for Natalie. My dad was a mess, and she didn’t understand what was happening. I had to take care of everything. Adam: But you were just a kid! Mackenzie: That’s why he asked me to stop helping. He said it was like watching his worst fear come true. You: I can see why. It’s obvious…

You: He was worried you would… -Waste your life taking care of everything else. +BACKGROUND

You: You were just a kid! That’s an impressionable time to take on such a huge responsibility. Mackenzie: I thought handling it all alone made me strong, but my dad taught me that my constant strength helped everyone but me. Mackenzie: His favourite thing to say is, ‘Strength is for workhorses and machines. You’re only human, Mackenzie.’ You: Wise words.

-Flunk out of school. -BACKGROUND

You: There’s no way you’d have been able to do that and keep your grades up. You’d have never made it to law school! Mackenzie: I’m sure that crossed his mind, but I think he was more afraid I’d feel obligated to take care of him forever. You: Wow, Mackenzie. Were things that bad? Mackenzie: Bad enough that I’d gotten used to being strong for all of us. But my dad wanted to see me become more. Mackenzie: I think I got my determination from him. You: I’m sure you exceeded his expectations.

-Derek!

You: What’s the most important thing to know about your parents? Derek: Probably that they’re polar opposites. My dad’s a fun-loving, free spirit from Colorado… Derek: While my mom’s more of the practical type. She was born in Haiti and immigrated to the U.S. as a kid in the ‘70s. Mackenzie: That’s so cool! Jen: I’m sure it has its moments. Having immigrant parents can be complicated. Derek: I love having that connection to our culture, and I’ve even gone to visit where she grew up… Derek: But it made me realise how much she sacrificed for us to have the life that we do. Derek: Sometimes, I feel like anything less than success is letting her down. Adam: That’s a lot to put on one person. You: Especially when there are so many different types of success. Derek: not in her book. Doctor, lawyer, engineer… Those are the careers she wishes I’d join. Derek: And I’ve thought about it. I know it would make her happy, but…

You: But you… -Don’t want to pretend to be someone you’re not. +BACKGROUND

You: You may be an analytical genius, but I’ve seen your work. You belong in the arts, and you know it. Derek: I love my mom, and I know she just wants me to be stable, but living a rich and fulfilling life takes more than money. Derek: Sometimes, all I need is to good around with my friends. You: The best way to honour her sacrifice is with your happiness. Everything else will come.

-Don’t think you’d be good at it. -BACKGROUND

You: Those careers are prestigious for a reason. There’s no shame in admitting you’re not up for the challenge. Derek: I developed an algorithm that accurately predicts the next AME winner ninety-two percent of the time. I can handle the work. Derek: It’s just not who I am. I’m at my best when we’re hanging out and goofing off… not working eighty-hour weeks. You: Alright, smartypants. You have a point.

-Adam!

You: Give me the lowdown on Mama and Papa McIntyre. Adam: Well, their hearts are in the right place, but my parents are massive worrywarts. Adam: Though I guess that’s my fault. After the way Season 9 ended for me, I wasn’t really in the best headspace. Mackenzie: I don’t see how you could’ve been. Vince and Sierra’s plan was brutal. Jen: That was the night the Bad Boy of AME was born. Overnight, you were like a completely different person. Derek: I saw clips of your time in the Jury House. You were cold, man. You: If you became someone they didn’t recognise, that’s enough to make any parent worried. Adam: Once they saw how guarded the show made me, it turned them against reality TV. If they had their way, I’d have never stepped foot on set again. You: But you’re so much better now! You: If nothing else, AME showed you who your real friends are. They’ve gotta at least see that. Adam: I think it’s been hard getting that image of me out of their heads. Before, I was their perfect, loving son… Adam: Now, when they look at me…

You: All they can see is… -Their little boy. -BACKGROUND

You: Parents can have a hard time seeing their adult children as anything other than the kids they used to be. Adam: Not in this case. You guys weren’t the only ones chipping away at the wall I put up. My parents just never realised it had fallen. You: That has to be frustrating. Adam: They mean well. My dad actually suggested I should be more like you. He thinks you’re the perfect role model. You: Smart man.

-The wall you put up. +BACKGROUND

You: And it’s like they can’t get past it. Adam: Exactly. The way they look at me… I just feel like they’re waiting on the other shoe to drop. You: They aren’t going to hate me because you came back for the wedding… Are they? Adam: Not a chance. Before I left, my mom mentioned it would be good for me to be around someone as open as you. You: Then I’m glad to be of service.

Jen: Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this. You: Perfect. So tell me… You: Were your parents strict growing up? Jen: That’s one word for it. My dad was in the military, so discipline and order were always the priority. Jen: He and my mom wanted the best for me, but living like that placed duty over fun. I always did what I had to, never what I wanted. Adam: That had to be tough. Derek: I can’t imagine having to toe the company line even as a kid. Jen: It’s part of why I wanted to be a flight attendant. We moved because someone said so. They flew because they were free to. Mackenzie: Not to mention you’d be in control of the snacks. You: when you put it like that, it sounds like a perfect fit. What changed? Jen: Everything. Jen’s eyes water, and her gaze falls to the floor. You watch her wipe away a tear and reach out to hold her hand. Jen: My dad was killed during his deployment, and after that, nothing was the same. My mom, especially. Jen: She stopped caring about my homework and encouraged me to do things I loved. It’s how I found producing. Jen: When I asked her why, she said losing my dad put everything into perspective.

You: Sounds like she wanted you to… -Love your work. -BACKGROUND

You: But I don’t think she meant for you to bring it home with you. Jen laughs through her tears. Jen: I think she just wanted me to see that there was more to life than work. Jen: I’ve always been passionate about every project I’ve taken on, and she wanted me to live life that same way. You: I think we can call that mission accomplished.

-Live life to the fullest. +BACKGROUND

You: You attack everything with pure passion, Jen She just wanted you to have a life that you were crazy about. You: I’m sure they both did. Jen: There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him, but I know he’d be proud of me. You: One thing’s for sure… I know I am. Jen: Thanks, Jamie…

-Reclaim your childhood. -BACKGROUND

You: You said yourself you didn’t do the things you were passionate about. Maybe she thought it was time to change that. Jen: It was never about going back. We both realised the past was the past. My mom was just a different woman. Jen: Losing the love of her life made her realise we have as much of a duty to ourselves as to anyone else. You: That’s… one hell of a silver lining.

Jen: Now, if I could just convince my mom I’m not working too much, I’d be golden.

You: Jen… -I can’t believe I didn’t know that. +50

You: We’ve known each other for almost a year, and this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned any of that. Jen: There’s a lot of things we still don’t know about each other, but that’s the beauty of getting married. Jen: We’ve got the rest of our lives to learn them.

-Thank you for sharing that with me. +50

You: I know being vulnerable isn’t easy. I’m just happy you trust me enough to let me in. Jen: You’re gonna be my wife. I feel like I can tell you anything.

Derek: This has definitely been a bonding experience. You: I never would’ve guessed any of the things you guys told me. You play it pretty close to the vest. Mackenzie: You’re one to talk. You’re the biggest mystery of us all. You: Me? I’m an open book! Jen: I wouldn’t go that far. You’ve heard all about our families, and I don’t even know your mom’s name! You: That’s easy…

Her name is… [Name your mom]

Jen: Diana… Well, that’s one less thing to worry about. You: You have nothing to be afraid of. Once she sees how happy you make me, she’ll welcome you into the family with open arms. You: But if you really want to get on her good side…

You: You should… -Compliment her!

You: Whoever said that flattery could get you anywhere must’ve had my mom in mind. Jen: Time to turn up the charm. I’ll keep an eye out for just the right moment.

-Mind your manners!

You: My mom is a stickler for all things prim and proper. Jen: Good to know… I guess I’ll have to be on my best behaviour.

-Dote on me!

You: My mom has been spoiling me for years. She’ll want to make sure my future spouse can keep up the trend. Jen: Spoil you rotten… Got it!

The heavy metal door opens, and Wrenn pokes their head out. Wrenn: It’s showtime. Are you all ready? You: As ready as we’ll ever be.

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices ame #choices america's most eligible #america's most eligible

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cosmiclunarprincess-fanfic · 6 years

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Hidden Pt.1

Pairing:Stiles X Reader and Derek X Reader

Characters:Scott McCall, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Isaac Lahey and Derek Hale

Fandom: Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski, Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: I’m not the best when it comes to following writing rules. I pretty much write how I want to, so if you’re a stickler for grammar and what not just ignore it or don’t read loll (I’m nice I promise.) Blood, Mention of violence, Angst and Light Fluff. (Word Count: 2k +)

Plot: You moved to Beacon Hills about a year ago. You met Scott and the rest of the pack and you all became instant friends. You clicked the most with Stiles and the two of you started dating. You’ve been together for eight months and things are going good, until one night stiles came home bloodied and beaten up. Scott has no choice but to tell about what he is and you learn the truth about what your friends hidden life.

Part Two

Bham!

I jump up out of my sleep, heart racing in my chest. I look around the room dazed and confused trying to figure out where that loud noise came from. I rub my eyes trying to get them to focus and adjust to the darkness in the room.

“Stiles wake up.” I whisper, reaching my hand over to wake up my sleeping boyfriend.

Cold empty sheets filled the space where he was supposed to be. I frown in confusion. Where is he?I think to myself. Swinging my feet off of the bed, I tuck them into my furry slippers and head to the kitchen. The growling of my stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten dinner the night before and boy was I paying for it now. I caressed my tummy as I tried to suppress my yawns that were coming from a combination of hunger and sleepiness, while trying not to fall down the stairs.

When I got to the bottom I heard the faint sound of voices whispering and then silence. I inhaled sharply as fear filled my body. I stood there frozen for a moment. Almost instinctively my feet began to move forward. My breath was shaky and unsteady, my eyes darted rapidly around the room trying to see things that weren’t there. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Stiles?”

His name came out of my mouth less than a whisper. Stiles was laying there on the couch, covered in blood. Scott, Malia, Kira and Isaac were all surrounding him. They all looked up at me in shock, except Scott. He was holding Stiles’ hand. His eyes were closed, his face skewed in concentration. Black veins appeared on Stiles’ hand and slowly traveled to Scott, who groaned in pain. My eyes widened at the site. My hand shot up to my mouth in disbelief.

What are you and why isn’t anyone else shocked by what you’re doing?

The thought ran through my mind like fire. My brain was going a mile a minute trying to make sense of what I had just seen. Scott looked up at me and my body jumped backward on reflex. My eyes went to Stiles, who was now trying to stand only to be pushed back down by Malia.

“Stiles stop. You can’t move, not yet.” She said holding him down by his shoulders.

He tried to say something else but the words were stifled as he coughed up blood.

“Stay with him.” Scott said to Isaac as he let go of Stiles’ hand and Isaac replaced it with his own.

Scott stood up, raising his hands so I could see them.

“(Y/N) it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. You’re safe.”

He took a step closer to me and without any thought or hesitation I ran. I ran as fast as I could down the hall and out the door. I could hear Scott calling out to me as the distance between me and the house got farther and farther apart. I ran without thinking until my legs felt like they were going to give out. I ran to the home of the only other person I trusted in this town. Derek Hale.

I pounded on his door nonstop until he opened it. I burst inside and collapsed onto the floor out of breath, crying and shaking. He threw the door closed and ran to me, kneeling down and lifting my head into his lap. I just laid there sobbing, my hands clasping at his knees, afraid if I let go I’d fall into an abyss.

“What’s wrong? (Y/N) talk to me.” He stroked my hair gently until I came back to my senses

I raised my head up to look at him. My eyes felt like hot and my vision was blurred.

“It’s Stiles. He’s all messed up. I came downstairs and there was so much blood. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much blood. I wanted to help him. I did, but when I was about to go to him Scott did this thing with his hand and it was black and I – I don’t know I was scared so I ran and I didn’t have anywhere else to go so I came here and I don’t know what to do!”

Hot tears streamed down my face. The look of concern he had made me feel safe. His hand came up to my cheek wiping away my tears and cupping my face. I leaned into his touch. I know it’s wrong. My boyfriend is laying on a couch bleeding out right now for all I know but what I had just witnessed shook me to my core. What is he? Is he even human? Derek’s phone vibrated on the counter top where he left it. He walked over to see who it was, he recognized the name and answered.

“Scott what happened?” He said into the phone.

I watched him as he nodded and took in all the information Scott was giving him.

“Stay there I’m on my way.” He said hanging up the phone.

He made his way over to me and picked me up with little to no effort, carrying me to his bed and placing me down gently. “Stay here I’ll be back soon.”

Derek turned to walk away but I caught his hand and pulled him back.

“Don’t go there.” I begged “It’s not safe. I don’t think they’re human, you could get hurt.”

I looked deeply into his hazel green eyes urging him to stay and for a moment I thought he would. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I have to help them. I’ll be back I promise.” And with that he was gone.

I didn’t know how tired I actually was. I tried staying awake but my eyes were so heavy. Sunlight beamed into the room hitting my face. The warmth a glow of it woke me up and blinked hard trying to make out where I was. I looked around the unfamiliar surroundings and remembered what happened last night. With a heavy sigh, I got out of Derek’s bed and walked to open area of the loft that served as a living room, kitchen and whatever else he needed it to be. I found him leaning on the counter top eating a bowl of oatmeal. His shirtless body glistened in the sun, muscles flexed and inflexed with his every movement. He greeted me with a smile and handed me my own bowl.

“Thanks.” I say with a smile.

I start eating my food. When a sudden feeling of overwhelming guilt came over me. I guess it written on my face.

“Stiles is okay. We got him to Scotts mom she patched him up pretty good. Deaton helped too.”

I was relived.

“What exactly happened?” I asked not entirely sure if I wanted to know the answer.

Derek placed his bowl down and paced over to the large window.

“He was attacked by a rouge beta.” He said facing the window

I tilted my head in confusion.

“What’s a beta?”

He let out a heavy sigh before turning to face me again.

“A beta is a person who has been bitten or scratched by an alpha. On the night of a full moon that person changes. They change into a beta.”

I heard the words that were coming out of his mouth but nothing was making sense to me.

“What exactly are you trying to say Derek.”

He looked at me with an expression that I can only describe as fear for lack of a better word. It wasn’t fear though, not entirely. Now that I think about it was more so as if he wanted my acceptance. He closed his eyes and went silent for a moment. Then slowly he lifted his lids to reveal glowing bright blue eyes. I gasped, taking in the site of him. My body was doing it again. The urge to run was taking over my body. It was like he could read my mind. Before I could even take one step Derek was in front of me, only now his face had changed too. He still looked like himself yet so different. He grabbed my hands holding me in place. I struggled to get away.

“(Y/N) stop I’m not going to hurt you just look at me.”

I stopped struggling and did what he asked on second glance his face wasn’t as scary as I thought it was but fear still lingered in me.

“If I were going to hurt you I’d have done it already. You’ve been here for a while now. If I let you go are you going to run?” He asked

I shook my head and he released my hands. I stood there staring at his face as it returned to normal. We walked to the living area and sat down.

“I’m a werewolf. I was born this way. I bit Isaac, my uncle bit Scott. Kira is a Kitsune. That’s a long story. Malia is a werecoyote also a long story.”

He chuckled trying to lighten the mood. The sun was near setting when he got done telling me the story of how he met Scott and how the pack came together. I felt my head spin trying to process all this information in one sitting. I sat up from the laid position I had taken to listen to the story.

“So, Stiles is a regular human like me?”

“Yea, I mean he was Void for a while but that wasn’t really him and the pack took care of that. He really wants to see you. When I went over there and all he did was ask where you were and if you were okay. He even tried to sneak out to find you until I told him you were at my house. He wasn’t too fond of the idea of you sleeping here but he was just glad to know you were safe.”

I was happy that he was okay and it is nice to know he still cares so much but the simple fact is, he lied to me.

“I don’t know Derek. He lied to me. When we started dating I told him that was the most important thing to me. No lies.”

“I told him to tell you but he didn’t want to, said it wasn’t his secret to tell. I guess he didn’t want to take the choice away from the pack.”

“But he took the choice from me!” I shouted unexpectedly. “A lot has happened here. Dangerous and scary things. I’ll be the first to admit it, my reaction to things was bad but I had a right to know. I could’ve died many times now and I was oblivious to the whole thing. How could he allow me to be in the dark like this?” I asked feeling hurt.

“He thought it was for the best.” He said holding his phone out to me. “At least give him a call. He keeps calling me and it tying up my line.”

I took the phone from him. Opening up Imessage. I wasn’t going to call him but I was going to get him off of Derrek’s case.

ME: I’m glad you’re okay. NOW STOP CALLING DEREK I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU.

STILES: (Y/N) Please talk to me. I know this is all crazy but I NEED YOU!

Seeing those three words “I need you” kindled a little spark in my heart. I missed him even though it had only been one night I wanted to be with him. I just could shake this feeling of betrayal and deceit.

ME: LEAVE ME ALONE!

I handed the phone back to Derek. He took it and began to head out again.

“Hey do you mind if I stay here for a while? I don’t want to go back to the house with them there. I need some time.”

He shook his head.

“I know I’m going to regret this but stay as long as you like.”

I giggled because I knew he was right. Knowing Stiles, he was going to hound Derek every second of the day with questions about me but I didn’t care.

Continued in Pt.2 Coming Soon...

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

When everybody turns into an oracle

Summary: Nothing puts more pressure on you than other people teling you your grade will be perfect, because behind that stands so much more than a number on a sheet of paper. Same goes for Spencer's daughter.

Warnings: School, grades, angst (there is fluff and a badass moment), fear of failure/disappointing someone

Wordcount: 1.5k

✨Masterlist✨ __________________________________

“I really pooped this quiz. What about you, (Y/N)?” Before the teenager is able to answer, another classmate comes up from behind the two. “She’ll get a 100, like always.”

“I-I don’t know. Question two and three really got me there, I’m just happy to pass it.” The little group of people around her groans.

“You always say that.” “And get a perfect score”, the first one adds, “Just stop to make us look bad, because we really do have to worry about passing this class. What do you have to worry about? Getting straight A’s like that. I really want your problems.”

(Y/N) just keeps it quiet. She stopped a long time ago trying to defend herself. ‘I am on my way to the BAU’, she shoots a text to her father and exits the school building. Today she doesn’t take the train. There are too many noises and all she wants is some peace.

The words of her classmates echoes through her head. Yes, she always has a good score and she intends to keep it up. She is just doing her best, right? Her problems have to be still valid, don’t they?

“Ahh, Wonder Baby. I thought you forgot about us and decided you are too cool to hang out with us”, Derek calls out after her as soon as he spots his godchild. “Nah, Uncle Derek. Nobody can be too cool to hang out with you. I just hadn’t had much time because of school work. But there are only two weeks left before spring break starts and the only thing I have to do now is waiting for my results.”

“Right, Spencer told us you are stressing yourself out about those. Your last quiz was today, wasn’t it? The one you dread the most apparently?” Emily joins the conversation. “Uh, I did. But don’t get your hopes up too high, I really don’t have a clue what I did there. The grade can range between passed to 100.”

“Naw, Smartypants, you say that every time. What are you afraid of? Telling us you are real smart? Don’t be humble, we work with your father. We know how to handle geniuses.” Derek isn’t exactly helping her with that. (Y/N) just turns red and tries to change the subject. “Uh, no. Another thing: Where is Dad?”

“Spencer went to pick some reports from the M.E. in D.C. who helped us on the last case. He should be back in half an hour. But Penelope wants to see you, something about trying new vegan cookies she baked last night”, JJ informs (Y/N) as she passes the group to drop some files off.

For the remainder of the day the teenager hides out in the lair, blocking any human reaction out with her earphones. She just can’t handle any more insensitive stuff like earlier. Later her father picks her up to go home together.

“So, Emily told me you didn’t do well on your test today? Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, choosing his words carefully as he prepares dinner with his daughter sitting at the kitchen table and watching him. The doctor knows the pressure created by asking his daughter about school related topics.

“I don’t know. Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get a perfect score and I think it’s admirable that all of them turn out to be able to look into the future. How do they know better than me what I get?”

It’s months of pent up stress and anxiety finally making its way up to the surface. (Y/N) tries to fight the tears down. “I really don’t understand this. I get asked how I did, I tell them I don’t feel good about the test and then they talk over me every single time. And when I say I don’t know it, I say it to not get anybody’s hope up high. I don’t want to disappoint anybody.” Finally tears stream down the teenager’s cheeks.

“Oh Sweetheart”, Spencer makes his way over to her and engulfs his daughter in a hug. “Shhh, don’t cry. I know it’s incredibly difficult to live up to their expectations, but you don’t need to. You don’t need to impress them, because their opinion doesn’t matter. Neither your classmate’s, your teacher’s nor the team’s. Not even mine should be important to you. Also, it doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll always be so proud of you, words can’t even describe it. There is literally nothing you can disappoint me with. You pushed and still push through so much crap and still you don’t fail to amaze me. You can never fail to amaze me. You can fail any class and become a professional card counter, I’ll still be proud to be your father. Please don’t cry over something you shouldn’t care about.”

They remain like this for several minutes, grasping each other until (Y/N)’s tears eventually die down. “I just want to be something more than just the smart girl with the good grades. I don’t want to feel like a two dimensional side character in a show, only there to provide the main characters with knowledge. I don’t want to be Velma, River Song, Frozone or Domino from Deadpool 2. I don’t want to be overlooked like this anymore.”Finally talking about her deepest insecurities lets her feel like a weight is lifted off her shoulders.

“And you are so much more”, Spencer encounters, “Some people just choose to ignore it, because you are so much more than their small brain with a low capacity is able to comprehend. They just pick the trait they understand the easiest. But never stop being you. Stay loud, stay complicated and, if you want to stay, uncomfortable for them. The right people will take the time and effort to get to know the real you, not just a copy others think you are. I know, it takes a great amount of patience to wait for them, but it’s worth it in the end. You hear me?”

(Y/N) looks up at her father, a small smile forming on her face. He would walk to the end of the world if it means to see it. “I hear you, Dad. Thank you so much.”

This night the teenager doesn’t get a lot of sleep. There are many thoughts that want to be, well, thought through. Still she wakes up and goes to school with a new amount of confidence.

This sadly only lasts until her first period. The teacher, one who is typically known for grading student’s work pretty fast, gives back yesterday’s quizzes. A small tumoult ensues as everyone compares their scores with each other.

(Y/N)’s anxiety rises into the unmeasurable until her teacher puts down her worksheet without a word. Confused she looks at the B- sitting at the dotted line, where the grade is supposed to be.

Now, a B- isn’t bad or anything, but she spots several answers her teacher didn’t tick as right or wrong. He must have oversaw them. Deciding to ask him about it after class, she puts it away and focuses on the material he is teaching.

So there she is, waiting for other classmates asking their questions regarding the quiz until it’s her turn. Meanwhile her lab partner Masey comes up to the teenager. “And, how did you do?”

“Uh, I got a B- bu-” “Oh my god, I’m better than the class nerd. I’m better than The Brain. Casey, I got a higher score than (Y/N)! I think you, too! Wow, I didn’t know I’m that smart. But no worries, (Y/N). I can explain this unit to you later, so you can do better next time.” This is the final straw for her.

“Hold on a sec, Masey. I’ll get that A, because Mr Harries didn’t see some of my answers. And just for your information: I didn’t ask you about your grade last time, because I knew you would poop that one after trying to explain it to you for four times while I got another A. Like every single time until now. Stop trying to appear cleverer than you are, it doesn’t suit you as much as these pants don't, because they are at least two sizes too small.”

The line finally moves up and (Y/N) is able to show Mr Harries his mistakes. He apologizes profusely, admitting that he maybe was too tired to grade these last quizzes and rewrite the B- to an A.

With her head held high she walks past her classmates, a content smile on her face.

It may be a long road to accept that you can’t be perfect and your grades don’t have to be, but forget this for a second and appreciate the feeling you get proving someone wrong like this.

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #emily prentiss #derek morgan #spencer reid #jennifer jareau

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Fever That Burns

I don't want to hear a word-- this wasn't even my idea. This is all @genevievedarcygranger fault. I am a slave to the muse.

Hold on, keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times and brace for impact bc you're not gonna like this

No real warnings yet, I think but it's not going to be pretty

Part One:

When Emily Prentiss got the signal from Clyde Easter that she had the green light on getting Declan out of that house and away from Ian Doyle, she never looked back. Creating demons like that, leaving behind a past with men who hold grudges, means that she knew she would be haunted for the rest of her natural life. Her body and her mind will not recover but Declan will. He was a child, he deserved a world that he could not obtain anywhere near his father. She knew that the moment she took Declan, she could never go back. Forever from here on out, she would have to outrun that decision. She has to outrun Ian.

She could feel him closing in. The flowers-- the fucking flowers-- and that feeling in the depth of her gut. She knows he’s here and she didn’t run.

After Foyet, Hotch got sick. A fever that consumed his every thought with these twisted ideas about security while it ravished his healing body of what little energy he could spare. She’d seen it herself, the bloodshot aggravation that Derek threw words like “hypervigilance” and “social isolation” at. Before, she had seen Derek and Hotch go at it but not as much as what that fever caused them to say. The way that they looked at one another, wolves snarling at throats and she never knew which one she could put her back to. Which one to call down.

In the end, hypervigilance won out. Derek was right but he was too insistent, too hurt for her to take him too seriously at first. Then she’d had to work through the tangle of locks on Hotch’s front door, the only control he could formulate in his fever. He never took them down. When Jack came home-- more importantly, when Haley didn’t-- it took every bit of charisma and conviction she could give to convince him he didn’t more. Nothing would happen.

The monsters of the past are dead and they survived.

Nothing is going to happen.

At two in the morning, on the Saturday Hotch had spent the month promising Jack he’d take him to the aquarium, her monster comes knocking. The locks don’t matter-- a fever put them up and a fever brought them down. Ian Doyle stands in the living room of Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, two feet from the carpeted spot Derek Morgan spent an entire day ripping up, and he calls out for the man he knows is somewhere. For the man, and the boy, he can take away from Emily Prentiss the way she took his boy. There is no planning, intelligence breeds paranoia. The fever in Ian Doyle burns bright, strong. He will not be talked down.

The guns in their hands waver. Standing in only his boxers and a dirty white t-shirt, Aaron Hotchner’s hand tremors beyond his control. The sleep is still taking over his body and mind, his muscle haven’t woken enough to control themselves. To stifle the pains of the scars Foyet caused him but he’s there, he’s ready.

“Lower your weapon, Hotchner,” Ian drawls. He’s high as a kite, ready to die by the hands of the oaf in front of him or to take the boy as he plans. Either way… “I’d hate to see that boy of yours come out here. You already killed a man in front of him, how many more do you think it will take before he realizes you’re just like me?”

Hotch scowls, “I don’t even know who you are.”

Ian frowns, blinking for a moment as he takes in the man before him. “I know who you are,” Ian says. He knows everything about Aaron Hotchner. Pulled medical records, smirked into the fine lines of the abuse in his childhood spelled out in broken arms and countless contusions. He’s watched him with Emily, seen how close they are. She cares about him and with that thought Ian Doyle knows what he wants to do. He wants to take everything from her just as she took everything from him.

The gunfire shocks Jack awake, his little heart thundering in his chest as he recognizes the noise. It’s not the first time he’s woken with it but this marks the only time it was real. The only time that it had been a gunshot and not the product of an altogether far too lifelike feeling nightmare. Jack throws the comforter off his body, tearing out of his room with no more than the stuffed bear closest to him. He’s headed for his father’s room, feet carrying him blindly when he hits the living room.

He knows his father’s friends. The men and women he’s grown to call his aunts and uncles and he’d recognize them easily. He spends weekend nights with Uncle Dave on the occasional Saturday being pampered with blueberry waffles and toys. Uncle Derek and Aunt Penny take him to the park, always remembering the sunscreen. Sometimes Uncle Derek gives him his cool sunglasses and Jack feels like he runs so much faster with them on. Aunt JJ and Uncle Will have Henry, his very best friend but he’s also a baby so Jack has to be careful when they play. Aunt Emily comes over all the time and lets him watch Finding Nemo as many times as he wants.

Whoever this man is, Jack does not know him.

“Daddy?”

Ian looks up, leaving the sight of Hotch on the floor without a second thought. His gun still aimed at the downed man’s head. “Jack,” Ian recognizes with a smile. “You’re smaller than I thought.”

Jack can’t tear his eyes away from his father. He’s laid out on the floor, white t-shirt turning red as the blood on his chest expands rapidly down his sides. He doesn’t respond to either of the times Jack calls for him, no more than blinking heavily and making wet, choked sounds as blood pools out of his mouth. It scares Jack. His father is… he’s never lost. Not even with Foyet, Hotch saved Jack. He never burns pancakes and lets Jack get by only eating half the green beans on his plate. He never gets hurt.

“Will you come with me?” Ian asks, stepping into Jack’s line of sight and squatting down in front of the boy. Watching as his eyes move from Hotch and glue to Ian, allowing the man to get close to him. “I’d like it if you came with me, Jack. I think we can have some fun, you and I.”

Jack nods but glances away, “but--” His eyes wander back to his father, those choked sounds getting louder but Hotch doesn’t move. His chest starting to still but his eyes on them, watching Ian talk to Jack but unable to do a thing.

Ian places the gun against the side of Jack’s face, moving his head with light pressure back to him. “Never mind him,” Ian says. “Come with me, Jack.”

Jack nods because he isn’t sure what else to do. He goes with Ian, allowing the man to pick him up in his arms. Jack watches his father as Ian carries him away, confused by the tears streaming down his father’s face.

“Say goodbye to daddy.”

Jack waves and asks, “is he gonna be okay?”

Ian nods, shutting the front door behind them. “Don’t worry about him, Jack. It’s just you and I, now.” He smiles at the boy in his arms, “tell me, how much do you know about you Aunt Emily?”

Taking Declan away from Ian Doyle was a decision that Emily Prentiss promised herself she would never have to be guilty over. That boy deserved so much better than what he had with them and she hadn’t hesitated to put what little she had on the line to guarantee he got the chance at a normal life. Nothing she had was ever worth anything. Lauren Reynolds was just a shell and losing her was easy enough. No place had ever felt like home so moving on-demand hadn’t even crossed her mind as a con, if a place got boring she could just leave. Emily Prentiss had never had anything to lose, not a family or a life. She was, effectively, no one. A ghost. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Then they came.

The light she had only ever heard about reaching her darkness. She’d pulled away, afraid of what would happen when they saw her ink-black history, and noticed she always had more questions than answers. That she couldn’t smile like Reid and talk about where she came from as if her past was somehow behind her. How Morgan went dancing for the stress relief but she needed a mindless fuck, someone to forget. She found herself gaining traction, finally claiming worth. In the picture Will took at Henry’s birth, throwing up bunny ears behind Hotch’s head. Picking Garcia and Reid up at one of their conventions and hearing about a variety of far too new nerdy things for her to understand. Listening to JJ complain about living with a man and Morgan teasing her about past haircut disasters. Leaning on Hotch’s shoulder as the bourbon takes over, hearing Dave go one and on about his second divorce and Hotch humming occasionally so he feels heard. Realizing just how much she trusts them. All of them.

They give her something to lose and the first rule when outrunning the past-- never have anything worth taking.

“Alright, alright--” Emily stretches long and slow, her phone still wedged under her chin. She can hardly discern the information coming in through the other line. The thoughts in her mind are sticky, webbing of the past gumming up the cogs until she’s not entirely sure what’s being said. “Can you say that again?” she asks, stretching out to her left to feel that familiar pull on her ribs. The movement is nice without a bra on and she’s not sure if it’s JJ or Hotch on the other line but she doesn’t want to put on a bra and it’s tempting to just hang up and play dead. Emily who? She can’t come to the phone right now. You’ll have to call back lat--

“Hotch is in the hospital.”

Oh. All that stretching is for nothing, she can feel the ball of weight forming at the back of her neck. Pressing into her vertebrae, hurting from just holding her head up. “What happened?” Her fingers work into the groove, the chill of her skin shocking her, but the pressure she applies is futile. She imagines a thousand answers to that question but none of them are enough to prepare her for the real answer.

JJ clears her throat, her tears thickening her voice. “Shot,” comes her simple response and Emily is naive enough to consider that’s the end of it. He was shot. They’re going to have to hunt down another serial killer with a grudge but they’ve learned their lesson this time, right? Foyet taught them lessons about themselves that they needed to learn the hard way and they can beat it this time. Hotch will be fine and-- “And Jack’s gone.”

And Jack’s gone.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #ian doyle #jack hotchner

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 6 years

Text

Baby Daddy - Chapter 8

You can read it on AO3 here, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

Derek still finds it hard to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. He has fewer nightmares now, and his pack bonds feel stronger than they did before, the frayed fibres knitting together again, but he’s still uneasy. Part of him can’t quite believe that Laura didn’t throw him out of the pack, or worse, for what he did. Part of him feels a twist of hot, sharp anger in his gut when he remembers that she’d known all along. Strangely, it’s easier to be near Peter now. Because Peter is, in so many ways, more dangerous than Laura, but there’s a strange sort of comfort in knowing that if Peter ever kills him, he’ll find the right sort of words to make sure that Derek understands exactly why he’s doing it. Peter is infinitely complex, and yet at the same time he’s incredibly straight-forward. If someone needs killing, then Peter will do the job. Mom always said that Peter was morally ambiguous, but Derek has never seen him as anything other that utterly pragmatic. Morality doesn’t even come into it.

Maybe that’s what Mom meant though.

A weight has been lifted though. Derek can’t pretend otherwise. He’s still ashamed, and guilty, but he’s also relieved it’s out in the open, because Kate is still a threat to them. Wherever she is, Derek knows she hasn’t forgotten her promise to come back and kill them. And Peter knows that now. And Peter knowing makes them safer, doesn’t it? Because Kate might be a monster, but Peter is the left hand of the alpha. He’s a born predator and the fire, it seems, has only made his edges sharper.

It’s all in the open now, and maybe they’re going to be okay.

***

Laura’s scent changes day by day, subtle, warm notes clinging to the familiar ones of alpha and sister and pack, overlaid to make something richer. Notes upon notes, until a melody becomes a symphony. Derek finds himself leaning closer to her at times, just to breathe it in, equally entranced and repelled when alpha and sister and pack somehow becomes want and yes and mine.

He doesn’t remember feeling this way when Mom was pregnant with Cora or the twins, but his pack instincts have been messed up for years, haven’t they?

One night, fighting the urge to plaster himself against Laura’s back and just inhale, he hurries upstairs instead and locks himself in the bathroom.

Even there, under the overriding stench of bleach—why the hell Laura cleaned the bathroom with bleach he has no idea—he can’t seem to escape the scent.

***

“I have a plan,” Peter declares one evening, turning up unannounced with Thai takeout.

Laura’s sitting on the floor going through a catalog full of nursery stuff and baby clothes. She’s circling the stuff she thinks she’s going to need in blue Sharpie. Derek has seen her flick back to the page with the little green dinosaur onesie—complete with soft felt spines down the back—but she hasn’t circled it yet. They lived on the run for so long that anything that isn't an absolute necessity feels almost frivolous.

Laura sets the catalog aside. “What plan?”

“Derek?” Peter asks, holding the bags out.

Derek divests him of them, and carries them into the kitchen to wrangle up some plates and cutlery.

Peter waits until they’re all seated around the coffee table, steaming plates in front of them, before he tells them.

“The house,” he says. “I want to rebuild the house.”

Derek catches Laura’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” Laura says slowly.

“Hear me out,” Peter says. “We have the money, and this loft is no place to bring up a cub. Children need space to run around. Werewolf children more than most. Are you telling me that you don’t want your child to grow up like you both did? Like I did? Running barefoot in the Preserve?”

Derek feels the ache of it in his bones. He also recognises it as pure emotional blackmail.

So does Laura. “What’s your angle?”

Peter gives her an approving smile. “Well, so far we’re all under the radar here, aren’t we? But if the Hale house was to be rebuilt, I imagine that would interest the townspeople a little, wouldn’t it? Might even make the local newspaper.”

A chill runs through Derek.

“You want to draw out the Argents,” Laura says. “By rebuilding our house.”

“I very much want to drew out the Argents,” Peter agrees, eyes gleaming.

Laura frowns. “You want to use us as bait?”

“You make it sound so underhanded, Lulu.” Peter’s smile is as sharp as his gaze. “We’re already bait. But this way we at least get to be prepared for when they might try to snap us up.”

Laura nods slowly, and Derek wonders if she’s aware her hands have slipped to her abdomen. Protective. “What would we need to do?”

“Nothing except pick out floor plans and fixtures,” Peter tells her. “And when they come for us, I’ll be waiting for them.”

“It’s dangerous,” Laura murmurs.

“It’s no more dangerous than doing nothing,” Peter counters. He digs his chopsticks into his pad thai. “We have a small advantage if we set the trap ourselves. Do you still want to be looking over your shoulder in ten years, when you’re walking your child to school?”

Laura is quiet.

“She—” Derek swallows, and tries again. “Kate. She’ll come for us. She won’t ever stop.”

Laura’s gaze is full of sorrow as she looks at him. She presses her mouth into a thin line, and then looks back at Peter. She nods. “We’ll do it. We’ll rebuild the house and draw the Argents back here.”

“And I’ll rip their hearts out of their chests,” Peter says, his eyes flashing blue.

***

One night on the door of the club, Derek tells Boyd that he’s going to be an uncle.

“That’s great, man!” Boyd slaps him on the back, and Derek feels warmth spread through him. “Congratulations!”

Next week, Boyd presents him with a tiny pair of knitted booties.

“Erica made them,” he says with a bashful smile. “She’s learning how to knit.”

The booties are yellow, and a little lopsided.

“They’re so tiny,” Derek says doubtfully. They fit into the palm of his hand.

“So are babies,” Boyd points out.

That’s fair.

Derek tucks the booties carefully into the pocket of his leather jacket. “Tell Erica thanks. That’s really nice of her.”

“No problem,” Boyd says.

Later, when he’s back home, Derek sets the yellow booties carefully down on the coffee table, and thinks about how strange it is that some girl he’s never met knitted these for his sister’s baby. And how long it’s been since he remembered what friends do.

***

Peter was right about their plans to rebuild the house making the local paper. It’s just a small article on the third page, noting that planning permission has been given to bulldoze the remains of the old house, and begin rebuilding soon. There’s a photograph of Peter from before the fire, smiling into the camera. Derek doesn’t know where the paper found it. There are no photographs of him and Laura, but they’re mentioned in the article as being back in town.

Derek doesn’t read the whole thing.

He isn’t sure how he feels about the plan to rebuild the house, and it has nothing to do with letting the Argents know they’re back in Beacon Hills.

His parents and siblings died in that house, along with most of the rest of his pack.

He wonders if he’ll imagine their screams for the rest of his life.

He wonders how loud they’ll be when he’s living on top of their graves.

***

It’s raining when Derek gets to the diner, droplets sliding down the back of his neck and into his shirt. He’s tired and hungry after a long shift at the club, and he managed to step in a puddle on the walk to the diner, and then almost get hit by a car that failed to stop at the crosswalk. He’s really not in the mood to sit around and wait for Laura to finish work, but it was either that or walk the rest of the way back to the loft in the rain.

He pushes open the diner door and scowls as the bells jingle.

Harold the drunk is sleeping in a corner booth, and there’s a guy sitting up at the counter with a bunch of books spread out in front of him taking up all the space like he thinks he owns the place. His stool squeaks as he spins around to take a look at the new arrival, and Derek freezes as the guy’s scent hits him.

Want. Yes. Mine.

The guy can’t be any older than eighteen or nineteen. He’s pale, with mole-spotted skin. He has dark hair spiked up in all different directions as though he’s been dragging his hands through it—Derek feels an irrational surge of heat at the thought of doing the same—large dark eyes, and an upturned nose. He has a wide, generous mouth that at the moment has a pen hanging from it. He’s slim, but not scrawny, and holds himself awkwardly under Derek’s scrutiny, one leg jiggling.

Derek just stares.

“Oh,” the guy says at last, stumbling down from the stool and gathering up all his books. “Sorry. I’m in your way.”

No, Derek wants to tell him, you’re not, but he can’t even open his mouth.

The guy takes his books and dumps them on a table in the nearest booth. Then he returns to the counter for his milkshake, side-eyeing Derek like he thinks he’s about to rob the place or something, because Derek still hasn’t moved.

Want. Yes. Mine.

His wolf is pushing close to the surface of his skin, and Derek curls his fingers into fists. He feels the press of claws into his palms, and the quick sting as they break the skin. Shit. He’s shifting. He averts his gaze before his eyes flash, and sucks in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

All that does is fill his lungs with another burst of the guy’s scent, and Derek twitches as he feels his bones start to shift.

He wants. He wants like he hasn’t wanted in years. He wants to grab the guy, and push his face into his throat, breathe in more of his intoxicating scent. He wants to lick the taste of the guy’s salt-skin in a path all the way up the long column of his throat, and make the guy whine and shiver against him in a need equal to his own. He wants to press his mouth against the guy’s, and swallow every needy sound he makes.

His wolf is howling at him to make his move, but Derek is frozen in shock and fighting for control. It takes him a moment to realise that Laura’s come out of the kitchen, and the guy is saying something to her.

“…call 911?” the guy finishes in an undertone that Derek’s not supposed to be able to hear.

“He’s not a tweaker, Stiles. He’s my brother.” Laura says, and raises her voice. “Derek? Derek, are you okay? You’re zoning out there, little brother.”

There’s a lightness in her tone that Derek knows is all an act. She’s worried about him, but she’s also warning him not to shift. Not here, not now. Her tone might be light, but it’s brittle at the same time. Even the guy, Stiles, gives her a dubious look.

Derek pushes his wolf back down, and jerks his chin in a nod.

“Busy night, I guess,” Laura says. “Stiles, this is my brother, Derek. Derek, this is Stiles.”

“Uh,” Stiles says, and raises his hand in an awkward wave. “Hi.”

Derek manages to nod again, and that’s when he realises: the scent. The scent that’s combined with Laura’s, that has him itching to get closer to her. The scent of her pregnancy, and of home, and pack. The scent that even the bleach in the bathroom couldn’t entirely drown out.

It’s his mate’s scent.

“Stiles hangs out here because he has no other friends,” Laura says teasingly.

“Uh, excuse you. I also have insomnia!”

Derek stares at them both.

It’s his mate.

His mate is the father of his sister’s baby.

Laura reaches out over the counter and punches Stiles lightly on the shoulder.

“I have to go,” Derek blurts out.

“It’s raining out there, dude,” Stiles says, his brow creased.

“I have to go,” Derek repeats.

“Der?” Laura calls, but he’s already fled back out into the rain, the bells on the door jingling loudly behind him.

***

Maybe, at one time, Derek might have laughed at how the universe just won’t give him a fucking break. Maybe someone else still would. But if there’s one thing Derek knows for sure, it’s that he doesn’t deserve a break. He doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or a pack, or a mate.

And Laura doesn’t deserve to have a beta, and a brother, who brings her nothing but heartache.

I’m sorry, he writes on a note that he leaves on the kitchen counter.

And then he sets his keys down beside the note, and he goes upstairs and grabs the bag that he never bothered to unpack, and he does what he should have done months ago.

He leaves.

#sterek #baby daddy #my fics #discontentedwinter

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anchorsandadderall · 6 years

Text

Save Net Neutrality or the Vampires Win

February 2nd, 2018

Time: 1:30 PM

Stiles swears fitfully and slams his hand down on his desk. He’s hit the computer one time too many already, and one more good one will probably kill the monitor. It also doesn’t make the stupid thing run any faster. He grabs his phone while the hourglass turns endlessly on a half-loaded webpage with a black background and white text. One of the old Geocities pages, and it looks promising. A lot of good information got dumped onto the web, hidden behind the shitty programming and the glut of amateur content all coming online at the same time. But the midi music and the little animated bat that replaces the cursor are killing what little internet speed he had these days.

Stiles grabs his phone and dials Scott, wiggling the mouse around so maybe the page won’t crash while it’s loading. The little bat shivers in one spot and then follows his mouse in a jerky, broken line.

“Yeah?” Scott asks, picking up on the third ring.

“Scotty! No time for questions. I need you to get on the internet and check something for me,” he says, grabbing a notepad. “I’ll tell you exactly what to put in Google.”

“Uh… I’m on Verizon, so I have to use Yahoo! to search,” Scott says, keys tapping on the other end.

Stiles tightens his fist. Goddamn it, FCC. “Okay. Well, this was on page 33 on Google, so you’re gonna have to skip ahead as quick as you can. Put in ‘Vampirism cure, obsidian rune circle, foxglove syrup recipe.’”

“Wait… what?”

Stiles groans. “Scott!”

“Stiles! You can’t just have me searching something like that and not tell me why!” Scott protests. Stiles can hear him typing again and reminds himself that yeah, that probably sounds really fucking scary coming out of nowhere. Although it’s also really fucking scary no matter what.

“So Isaac got bitten by a vampire. We have him chained up right now, but we only have until sundown to either cure him or feed him or he starves to death. Deaton said to check for rituals that use obsidian as a grounding agent, so-”

“Isaac got bi… what?? Stiles, what? Derek said vampires are bullshit!”

“Scotty, focus. Start scrolling through the search pages. Go to page 30 and start looking for a Geocities site called Penny the Pretty Pagan.” Stiles slams down on the F5 key as the page gives him a loading error. The screen blanks and gives him back the hourglass.

“Stiles. I thought-”

“Yeah, Derek thought vampires were bullshit. Apparently they’re not. Or there’s some other creature that infects people by biting them and sucking their blood.” And if there was, Stiles’ internet was way too slow right now for him to try and research a distinction. He shakes his mouse in frustration at the scant two inches of black page that have loaded.

“I’m gonna call you back. Keep searching. Penny the Pretty Pagan.” Stiles hangs up and dials Lydia. Her voicemail picks up, so he hangs up and dials again, bracing himself for the onslaught.

“Stiles! I was in class!” she hisses into the phone when she picks it up, making Stiles wince a little. He owes her huge for stepping out of a class she found important enough to attend.

“I know, but it’s an emergency. I need obsidian and foxglove. Go to the library and find out where I can get some. Today, in Beacon Hills. Nothing on etsy.”

“Obsidian?”

“Vampire cure,” Stiles says, checking his phone as it buzzes. “Scott is calling. Let me know what you find.” Stiles drops Lydia’s call and takes Scott’s. “What are the ingredients in the syrup?”

“I dunno, I can’t access the website,” Scott says sheepishly. “It’s not included in my internet package.”

“How is a Geocities page not included?”

“I dunno, man! It was super expensive, so we cut back to the Netflix and email packages.” Stiles can almost hear the helpless shrug because he knows what Scott sounds like when he does that helpless shrug. “I don’t know how they pick what counts. Want me to call Verizon?”

Stiles checks the time. 2:12. “No time for that. Um… okay, see if you can Google florists and crystal shops in Beacon Hills. Call them and see who has obsidian and foxglove.”

“I have to use Ya-”

“Yeah, Yahoo. Just search it. If you can’t open the page, use the phone book and just start calling places.” Stiles hangs up and immediately dials Lydia.

“I want you to know I’m getting super dirty looks for commandeering a computer for this,” Lydia whispers into her phone. “Seriously, everyone has to use the library computers for everything now. I had to pull rank on someone to get their computer.”

“There are ranks at MIT?” Stiles asks, then shakes his head. He’s gonna ask about that later. Right now… focus. “Never mind. Scott is looking for the stuff. His internet package sucks for research. I need you to find a Geocities site..”

February 2nd, 2018

Time: 4:00 PM

Stiles has a paper bag full of wine-red foxglove flowers in the backseat. He has half-written, half drawn directions to a new age shop just outside of town. The paper crinkles under his fist as he steers the Jeep with one hand and dials a number he hates dialing with the other.

Peter picks up halfway through the first ring, like he knows Stiles doesn’t actually want to talk to him. “Stiles. What a surprise.”

“I’ve got a recipe I need you to translate out of Latin,” Stiles says, in lieu of a greeting. Greetings are for when time isn’t almost gone. And for people he likes.

“How old is the Latin that you need me to translate it?” Peter asks, doing that thing where he’s interested and trying to sound really uninterested. “Some lost page of the Bestiary?”

“Newer than that. My internet is being stupid. I called my provider and they said my searches were flagged as suspicious and now the pages won’t…” Stiles eases his grip on the steering wheel when his fingers begin to lock up from gripping the wheel too tightly. Calm. Calm, Stiles. “Look. I’m sending you two pictures. The ingredients were in English but the instructions are in Latin. Just tell me what they say. It’s for Isaac.” Not that that means anything to Peter except that Derek will owe him if he helps his Beta, and Peter likes it when people owe him. Stiles sends the photos at the next red light and sends Derek a short text, apologizing for indebting him to his psycho uncle. Derek doesn’t answer because he’s trying to contain a half-formed werewolf/vampire hybrid.

It takes Peter less than two minutes to call him back. “I hope you don’t need this tonight.”

Stiles feels his heart sink down into his stomach. “Uh… I need it in about an hour, actually. I got the flowers, it won’t take that long to boil them down, right?”

“The syrup has to be brewed when Mercury is in retrograde.” Peter pauses like that means anything in the world to Stiles. After a few seconds, he sighs. “When Mercury is in retrograde, it’s a period that’s astrologically sound for making preparations on-”

“Okay, but when does it go into retrograde?” Stiles asks, but he kind of expects the answer isn’t ‘in the next twenty minutes.’”

“March 22nd.”

Stiles lets out a long string of curses that have built up over the last four hours. “Okay… so we have until sunset to find another cure for vampirism. What internet package do you have?”

“Just Facebook. What else does one need?”

Stiles pulls over and rests his forehead against the steering wheel. His brain hurts. It feels like he turned it inside out and wrung it dry. Come on, Stiles. Just… think.

“Have you considered robbing a blood bank?” Peter asks cheerily on the other end, sounding like this is all quite enjoyable for him.

Stiles gives his brain one last thorough scraping, then turns his head just enough to see the dashboard clock. 4:21. 90 minutes to cure a condition he’s still kind of surprised exists. 90 minutes for a Hail Mary miracle pass. Just one little miracle.

February 2nd, 2018

Time: 5:25 PM

The sun is just beginning to dip below the horizon. In the bowels of the abandoned train station, Derek can’t actually see the sun, but he can tell. The wet, base snarls Isaac has been making from where he’s chained in the rail car (the trick proved to be chains and piling debris on him, then adding more debris and more chains when he begins to pry free) are changing to something that sounds more painful. Derek flexes his fingers anxiously, claws flicking in and out. He checks his phone again.

[Where are you? -DH] -sent 5:10 PM

[Stiles. Answer me. -DH] -sent 5:18 PM

[What’s going on? Where are you? -DH] -sent 5:20 PM

Still no answer. He looks at the time and forces in a deep breath to tamp down the panic. There’s still… time. A little time. But there’s still…

“Derek!” Stiles half runs and half trips down the stairs into the crumbling lair and brandishes a blue lunch cooler at him like a trophy. “Here!”

“Is this that syrup you were talking about?” He pushes open the cooler and snorts harshly, turning his head at the rushing smell of copper from inside. “…blood bags?”

“If we can’t cure him, we have to feed him, right?”

Derek frowns, instantly disliking the idea, but… the sounds Isaac is making are turning from enraged pain into something weaker. More piteous. “What about the ritual you found?”

“Didn’t work out.” Stiles pulls out a bag. “Can he drink it cold? It’s probably gross either way, but he sounds hungry enough not to care, right?”

“I saw in an episode of Buffy once that crumbling crackers into it makes the texture nicer,” Peter says, using the stairs far more effectively, carrying another cooler in each hand.

“So… the backup plan is that we keep Isaac as a vampire?”

“Werepire,” Peter offers helpfully.

Stiles scowls and shoves the bag into Derek’s chest. “Like you can talk. You said vampires were fake and you don’t even have internet anymore.”

“I didn’t understand the-”

“Yeah, I know!” Stiles snaps, grabbing Derek’s shoulder’s and turning him towards the train car. “The internet sucks now. Make your angry call to the FCC after you get Isaac turned into a werepire. And make sure he won’t kill us all.”

-End

#ficlet #net neutrality #sterek #teen wolf #my writing- beware #I'm sure everyone has been following the news on net neutrality #let me put this into another perspective #this ficlet is about 1770 words long #I wrote it in about 3 hours #(yes I'm a slow writer and yes that means this has been skimmed over once for major errors)#in that time I had to look up the colors foxglove comes in #the time the sun sets in California in February #gem stones with protective properties #and when Mercury will be in retrograde in 2018 #4 bits of research for a very short and straight forward drabble #imagine you or your favorite writer trying to get out the next chapter of a 50k+ masterpiece #or worse- imagine them not having access to a forum to post it on #check out the net neutrality tag for a ton of great posts on who to contact to register your feelings about keeping the internet neutral #the internet is pretty important to me for a lot of reasons including fandom #and I bet it is to you too #let's do what we can to keep it neutral

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