#Derek from Alpha team | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartthrobin · 2 years

Text

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side, "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

#Aaron Hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #fake dating #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer Reid #emily prentiss #David Rossi #Derek Morgan #penelope garcia #only one bed #mutual pining

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whackk-kermitt · 1 month

Text

We Weren't Together

Warning: Pack Mom Stiles(mostly Off screen), Derek is the Alpha, Everyone is Alive, Derek is Jelly, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Significant Background Character, Lydia is the best Meddler, Happy Ending Summary: Derek and Stiles are not a couple. Simple as that. Not really sure where I was going with this one. It might be total shit. Womp Womp. NOT PROOFREAD

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"Cheater!"

"I didn't cheat!"

"You so did! How else would you have all that money when you own two properties!" Erica flung a shoe. All Stiles could do was laugh until his ribs ached.

"Okay," Lydia sighed setting her cards down and backing from the coffee table to lean against the arm of the couch. Allison looked on unimpressed, but only because she knew Stiles cheated.

"Oh come on," Scott groaned. "This is why I never play Monopoly."

"Who's Idea was this?" Isaac threw his cards down and looked around, a scowl due for the culprit.

"Yours." Lydia supplied with an unimpressed expression and a tilt of the head.

Derek sat back with a privet smile. It had been a while since he had gotten to work bringing the old Hale house back to a livable condition. And once the majority of it was done, the pack, without being asked, began coming over every Saturday to spend time all together. He'd see individuals pop in throughout the week, but he loved when they'd all be here together.

"No," Isaac defended. "I said we have, Clue, Uno, Scategories, and Monopoly. I never said I wanted to play this one."

"The way you said 'and Monopoly', made it sound like you did." Stiles offered with a look in his eye Derek couldn't place. "And who could say no to that adorable ridiculous scarf." He teased with kissy lips and a pinch to Isaac's cheek. Isaac swatted his hand away but his cheeks went red.

"If nobody wants to play I'd rather not waste my time." Boyd piped up, the first thing he's said since he reluctantly agreed to play this.

"Okay, we wanna do a different game or a movie?" Stiles offered starting to clean up the pieces into the box.

"Movie!" Erica cheered. "Who's turn is it to pick?"

Derek, who was already up and walking into the kitchen, stopped and checked the calendar on the wall. It was a calendar bought from the vet clinic with different dogs for every month, posing in costumes related to that month's holiday. You can guess who bought it.

Thinking of a name that rhymes with Biles Bilinski.

Who took the commitment to go through the calendar and alternate the pack's names on every Saturday, to mark their turn to choose. Since nobody could ever agree.

"Erica." Derek grinned with his back to the living room while Erica and Lydia cheered, while most of the boys groaned. Whenever it was either of them, they teamed up to find a movie literally only girls would like- according to Jackson. They've been made to watch The Notebook five times, The Princess Bride three times, and 10 Things I Hate About You four times.

Derek leaving the girls behind to settle on what to torture the boys with, he pulled bowls from the cabanit and a pot. Oiling the bottom of the pot, pour in corn kernels to coat the bottom. He covered the pot and let it heat up, turning to get butter from the fridge. But a hand was already on the fridge pulling it open.

Stiles always had a smile on his face when he was at the house, just as happy to be here with everyone as Derek was. Derek watched as Stiles took out the butter opened two sticks into a bowl from the dish rack and plopped it in the microwave. While the corn began popping Stiles and Derek danced around each other in the kitchen, working in perfect synchronicity to stock the large tray with canned drinks, bottles of water, and other various snacks.

Derek eyes all the sugary garbage on the try without making a sound. He had a sweet tooth sure, but he preferred actual baked goods, not the overly processed Debbie cakes and Oreo cookies they kept in the snack cabinet. Just as he was about to settle for just popcorn and water Stiles's hand came into view as he wordlessly put a bag of homemade cookies on the tray. Sharpie scrawled out 'sourwolf' with a smiley face on it.

Derek said nothing, watching Stiles turn and ready the three big bowls for the popcorn to be sorted into. Things like this made Derek feel like a very lucky man. Stiles never even thought about it, just did things like this. Not only for Derek but for the rest of the pack as well. Always taking one extra step to make sure everyone was happy.

Derek knew when Stiles was overthinking things; his nose would scrunch up, sometimes just the slightest bit, and he'd fidget a little more than usual. Derek knew what Stiles had to think before he did something, he never stopped to think about this stuff.

Stiles was a good friend, and Derek was happy he was pack.

After getting the popcorn buttered and evenly distributed they scooped everything up and brought it to the living room. Everyone was finding their seats on the two couches and the armchair, with a movie called Clueless qued up on Netflix.

Derek set the tray down, grabbed a water bottle and his cookies, and found his stop on the end of the couch he always takes. Stiles passed out the bowls of popcorn and settled in. Derek had gotten distracted watching Scott and Isaac fuss over who gets the last can of coke. He snorted dryly and turned to look at Stiles, who always and something to say about their childlike bickering.

Except when he turned to his left, it was the body that sat next to him. Boyd wasn't even paying attention to him. Huh, odd.

Derek looked over to the other couch where Stiles was squished in between Lydia and Erica who were explaining all the reasons Stiles was gonna love this movie. Stiles was smiling at the girls and chuckling, amused at how excited Erica was.

He was confused for a moment about why he assumed it would be Stiles sitting next to him. It didn't matter though, Stiles can sit anywhere, it's not like it matters.

He thought about it while everyone quieted down and the movie started.

Derek thought about all the previous times they settled in for movie night, and from what Derek recalled, Stiles sat by him every time. Derek thought about it for a moment and found himself amused.

If he told Stiles about it he knew what Stiles would say. Something about Pavlov, and Derek subconsciously thinking Stiles would always be next to him when they watched a movie because up until now he was.

But it didn't really matter where anyone sat, Derek convinced himself. He is just as happy sitting next to Boyd as he would be next to Stiles, or anyone else for that matter.

But as the movie went on, and Erica and Lydia both started leaning more onto Stiles, laughing at the funny parts and basically snuggling together, Derek decided he didn't like it.

Something in him became unsettled when by the second half of the movie Stiles started dozing off like he did almost every movie night, his head laying on Lydia's shoulder.

If Stiles were sitting over here, his head would fall onto Derek's shoulder like it always did. Stiles would wake up after the movie was over, everyone going home, and say something along the lines of 'good flick'. To which Derek would tease him for sleeping through most of it and use the drool on his shirt as evidence.

Derek didn't have a word to describe the feeling, didn't have the slightest clue as to what caused it, because it really didn't matter. The pack is pack, he was happy to see Stiles and everyone getting along so well, being so close, but it still bugged him.

After the movie was over, everyone did their share of cleaning up, said goodnight, and was out the door. Erica and Boyd being the last to go, as soon as the door was closed and locked, Derek sighed and his smile fell. This pit in his stomach only twisted more, when Stiles only gave him a one-word goodbye and offered Lydia a ride him.

"So," Isaac awkwardly swayed a little as Derek entered the kitchen. "Are you and Stiles fighting?"

"What?" Derek paused his stride through the room to stare at him.

"Well, tonight you guys," He studdered for a bit, the awkwardness he was feeling just asking very prevalent on his face. "Seemed off tonight. I don't know."

"No," Derek shook his head. "We're fine."

"Okay," Isaac clearly didn't believe him and bound up the stairs to his room.

Derek stood there for a moment and shook it off. He stuffed the feeling down like he did with almost anything unpleasant and went to bed.

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It was 11:43 pm. It was slightly rainy and cold out. Stars and the moon shone over the preserve, eliminating the front yard.

Derek stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter, watching out the window at the driveway. Sparing a glance at the clock every few minutes.

Isaac was late. Super late. Not answering his phone, not sending a single text.

He was about to give up waiting for something, anything when a familiar jeep rolled up the long dirt road and onto the gravel driveway.

"Man," He heard Isaac's faint voice from outside. "He's still up. I'm in deep shit."

Isaac followed with dragging feet as a very amused Stiles him and Scott up the front steps.

When they entered they kicked off their shoes and joined a very disappointed-looking Derek. He stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. The three gathered in front of him awaiting hell to rain down, except Derek didn't fail to notice the subtle grin on Stile's face.

"You're late."

"Sorry, we lost track of time." Isaac pouted like a picked puppy.

"You have a phone."

"It died." He shrugged.

"Neither of you have phones?" Derek glared at the other two.

The three looked between themselves and gave each other the "why didn't we think of that" look.

Derek sighed pitifully, "If I ask you to be home by a reasonable hour I don't think that's too much to ask. Full moons right around the corner and-" He groaned pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't worry me like this again, " He waved the topic away.

Issac nodded shamefully and muttered an apology. The fear of being reprimanded stayed firm in his eyes and stiff body. It almost made Derek feel guilty for being upset in the first place, but he knew he had every right to worry.

"It's fine." Derek shook his head. "I just need to know where you are or at least be able to get in touch with you if something happens. I was worried Isaac, I'm not mad."

Isaac nodded, taking a breath and relaxing his shoulders.

"How was the party?" Derek didn't care really, he just wanted Isaac to feel comfortable.

"Fun, the whole team was there. We got bored when everyone else was too drunk to even talk to so we bailed and got some food and Mami's Diner." Scott smiles recalling the evening.

"Yeah, parties aren't as fun when you can't get tipsy with everyone else."

"Too bad for you guys." Stiles sighed with a goofy grin. They all took their spots at the breakfast bar.

"You didn't drink a drop tonight though." Isaac pointed out.

"And trust one of you to drive my baby?" Stiles accused as if the two were actively planning a first-degree murder in front of him. They all merely chuckled at his dramatics and moved on from that.

"Derek," Scott started with a grimace. "Can I stay the night? Moms working a double and I don't wanna wake her getting home this late."

Derek shrugged, indifferent. He'd gotten the guestrooms ready from the rest of the back. Hell, any of them could show up wanting to spend the night, with no excuse or reason, and he'd be happy to have them. It's why the rooms are there.

"Me too!" Stiles piped up. "I have no reason, just too lazy to drive I guess."

Derek chuckled a little and welcomed them both to a guest room of their choosing.

Isaac excused himself to the bathroom to shower, as Derek led Scott and Stiles up the stairs. He showed off the finished rooms and let them pick and choose. Stiles picked the one next to his room, claiming dibs because the other room had a draft.

"How much work left is there?" Stiles asked mindlessly looking down the hall at the section of the house still covered in plastic to protect the new wood flooring. Tools, wood varnishes, and cans of paint sat out in the hall.

Derek motioned him down the hall as Scott, uninterested, entered the room on the other end and settled in for bed.

Stiles followed Derek into an unfinished bedroom and took a look around. Derek flicked on the lights he'd just wired and put in the other day. The drywall was fresh and the whole room was covered in plastic, tape guarding the fixings and crown molding. The room was nearly ready to be painted and furnished.

"Just need to fix the wiring to the other room, mount the shelving, and this window," Derek strolled over and giggled the latch. "Needs to be fixed or replaced at some point. It won't open."

Stiles nodded looking around and smiling to himself.

"Other than that, it's just fixing up the back porch and the half-bath downstairs." He turned to look at Stiles. "What?"

"Nothing," Stiles shrugged, smile never fading. "I'm just happy."

"About what?" Derek asked curiously approaching Stiles like he was about to get a pie in the face.

"I don't know. Just in a good mood tonight, I guess."

When Derek was close enough he stopped, twisting his head and pouting at a smell invading his nose. Stiles almost made a kicked puppy joke until he saw that something was defiantly bothering Derek.

"What is it?"

"You smell weird."

"Well, I was just at a party with about sixty or seventy drunk teenagers, so."

"No, it's," Derek stepped closer slowly, leaning in just enough into Stiles's personal space to not make him uncomfortable but close enough to get a good whiff of the insulting aroma. "You smell like-" Derek stopped and his face dropped a little, leaning back and eyeing a very confused Stiles.

"Never mind." He shook his head and turned the lights off as he walked out. "Goodnight, Stiles." He left Stiles standing there completely bewildered.

Derek locked himself up in his room and changed into sweats before climbing into bed. All with a deep frown dragging his features down.

Stiles smelled like arousal. Like sex. But it clearly wasn't Stiles's scent.

Stiles smelled like someone else's arousal.

Derek racked his barian all night who that prick could've been. Why was that prick all riled up and close enough to rub his lasting odor on him? Was Stiles dancing with someone at the party? Did Stiles make out with someone at the party?

At that question, his mind supplied him the images of Stiles bumping and grinding with some random dude, hands on Stiles's hips, moving and swaying with him. The creep Kissing up on Stiles's neck and lips and offering to go somewhere private.

Derek turned onto his side and shoved his head in under the pillow, hiding from the thoughts as he let himself be taken by sleep.

But that night all he dreamed about was chasing some faceless vermin through the woods; hunting him like he was nothing more than a feral wild wolf, despite still being completely human in the dream.

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Danger came to Beacon Hills in the shape of Faeries.

Tiny winged spirits with a knack for trickery and mayhem. Derek wasn't sure how they ended up in Beacon Hills if they've just been migrating this way, or if someone let them loose. But people were getting hurt by their 'pranks' so they had to put a stop to it.

Tricking Faries was not an easy job in the slightest. But they managed it after a long night of chasing and fighting, finally trapping the three in silver cages and handing them over to Deaton; who swore he knew how to handle them and remove them from Beacon Hills safely.

The pack headed separate ways and most of them followed Derek back to the house. They arrived home just as the sun began to come up. Derek, still too anxious and worked up to sleep, went straight to work on the downstairs bathroom. He began preparing the grout to lay the tiles in place on the floor.

As he was checking the leveling of the pitch, he heard Stiles, "Need some help."

"Not really," Derek shrugged. It was a small bathroom, only enough room for one person to stand comfortably in between the sink and the toilet. Stiles sighed and started backing away.

Derek frowned and shook his head, not meaning to have come across as cold as he did.

"Actually, you can pass me tiles?" He offered, trying to brighten his tone. Stiles was plopped down just outside the doorway in a second. He smiled v\softly, almost unnoticeable, if it hadn't been for the fact that Derek noticed every detail about Stiles.

"You all grumpy with me for not staying behind like you said?"

"I'm not grumpy." He defended. Stiles gave him a look. "Yes." He sighed as if he was admitting to something as embarrassing as wetting the bed until you're fifteen.

Stiles chuckled, watching him work.

"You're not the only one that worries about everyone you know." Derek spared him a loot while reaching for a tile. "I know I'm human, der. You don't have to remind me that I don't heal, and I'm in more danger than most of you, but I still get this feeling that if I'm not there-"

Derek paused what he was doing to sit back and give Stiles his attention. Stiles started at him for a bit before continuing.

"I want to be there to look after you guys too. We've had close calls before, and nearly lost people. If I cared any less I'd listen to you when you tell me to stay back and out of the way, but I just have thing feeling that I need to be there in case something happens."

Derek gave him a sad smile. "And what if that something happens to you?"

Stiles frowned and lowered his head, shrugging. "If I can help, there's not really anything you can do to stop me from trying."

"Yeah," Derek nodded. "So I've learned."

Stiles chuckled and handed Derek another tile, smiling at him as he took the subtle hint the conversation had ended and turned back to laying the tiles in place. Stiles watched him intently, adoring the alpha.

"You got any plans tonight?" Stiles sighed when he was bored of the quiet.

"Back porch is fixed up, might get someone to help me put together the table, and cheers I ordered. Maybe fire up the grill?"

"That sounds fun." Stiles nodded, a look on his face like he was considering his options.

"You got a better idea?" Derek teased, because Stiles always had something to say about the activities Derek came up with.

"No, I just," He paused and thought to himself a moment. "I met this dude at the party the other night, and he texted me earlier asking if I'd be down to meet up later tonight."

Derek's heart sank a little. Oh, that prick.

"Oh," Derek nodded. He didn't wanna ask questions, he didn't wanna know. So Stiles just nodded.

"If it doesn't take too long I'll swing by after." Stiles delivered the empty promise with a grin. "Save some food for me."

Derek only nodded.

Stiles never showed.

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Derek was in a bad mood.

Everyone in the house felt it and kept to their best behavior.

He didn't scowl or glare, he didn't yell or stomp around, he just kept his head down and mouth shut.

It was a Thursday night, and his betas had come over after the Lacross game like they always did. Boyd having joined the team, came along with the other players plus Erica, after every game. Although Jackson never showed, he only made an appearance when Lydia did.

Except tonight was different. Stiles hadn't come.

Apparently, Stiles was invited by the guy he met at the party to hang out after the game. A date.

He got all this from Erica who told him with a look of pity and confusion etched into her feature. Derek said nothing, just nodded, and went on making dinner for those who did show.

After eating they settled into the living room and watched a movie Derek wasn't paying attention to. He'd been on autopilot half the night, stuck in his head wondering about where Stiles was and what he was up to.

He didn't understand why he felt sick in his gut that Stiles was out with someone else.

It just made him feel dizzy with something he didn't have a word for. Every time he pictured Stiles laughing at the guy jokes, playing footsy under the table, holding hands on the walk back to the car, kissing on his front step- his chest tightened painfully.

He knew what this disgusting feeling was now, and he felt pathetic for it.

Derek stood and without a word went up to his room and crawled into bed.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Summer break had officially arrived and Derek was having the boys help him set up the pools in the back yard.

He hadn't seen Stiles in the past few days and it's been both wonderful and absolute agony. He was grateful to have a break from seeing Stiles's smile and shining eyes, hating knowing it was never for him. But he missed it all the same.

Either way, the space between them allowed Derek the room he needed to rebuild his walls. If Stiles was dating this other guy fine, Derek hadn't had a chance anyway. He'd very his heart and settle for just being pack.

The girls sat on the front steps far enough away from the guys on the other side to not hear their conversation. Even with super wolfy hearing.

"So, what happened?" Allison eyed the two who clearly knew more than she did. Both of them are closer to Stiles and Derek, respectively. "I was under the assumption they'd be giving us invitations to the wedding by graduation."

Erica chuckled sadly, "I don't know. But you should've seen Derek when I told him Stiles ditched us to go hang out with Markus."

"I don't know what's gotten into Stiles," Lydia grumbled, she hated being left out of the loop. "Just last month I was giving him advice on how to woo a man. Mind you, Markus was not the man I thought he'd be running off to woo."

"I don't think anyone thought that." Allison sighed.

"It's weird," Erica grumbled. "The past few days honestly feel like my parents are divorced. I only see either or, Stiles gets us on the weekends." Lydia laughed.

"How does that work?" Allison questioned.

"I don't know," The blonde shrugged leaning back on her hands. "I've never really asked. But it's all sort of instinctual. Like Derek is the alpha, he gives orders and dishes out punishments. Stiles is there to comfort our wounds and give Derek a smack upside the head if he's too hard on us."

"Instinctual?" Lydia grimaced. "Wait, like even your wolf thinks Stiles and Derek were on the road to being a thing?"

"Well," Erica sat up and frowned. "Honestly, before Stiles ran off with Merkus after the game and I told Derek about it, I thought they already were. It just made sense. Isaac said something a little while ago when I came over cause 'Mom and Dad are fighting again'. We all just kinda felt it I guess."

"Huh," Allison thought. Lydia smiled, the other two girls eyeing her suspiciously.

"What are you thinking?" Allison asked carefully.

"Oh," She smiled watching a blur jeep pull up the driveway. "Right on queue. Follow my lead ladies."

The two spared a look at each other before watching Stiles climb out of the jeep plastic bag in hand and a box-taped shut- under his arm.

"Hey, where is everyone?" Stiles eyed the house while approaching the girls.

"Outback." Erica supplied with a nod of her head.

"Surprised to see you showed up." Lydia offered, standing and going inside without giving him a chance to respond.

Allison followed without a word and Erica, slightly confused, gave him a quick look before rushing to follow. She didn't understand what Lydia's plan was but he didn't exactly wanna be left alone with him. She was not a fan of awkward situations.

Stiles stood there slightly hurt and very confused.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked following the girls into the kitchen. "What did I do now?" He busied himself unpacking the baked goods into the snack cupboard and the sunscreen he'll be needing later on the counter. He took a second to tuck the box off the side in the corner out of the way.

"It's nothing, Stiles." Lydia sighed, as though she was more hurt than anything else. The other two followed her mellow demeanor and avoided looking at Stiles.

"Okay," Stiles groans, getting a little paranoid. "So either I did something stupid and you're angry with me, or I did something really stupid and hurt your feelings?"

"Stiles," Lydia warned, lifting her hand to stop him from talking. "I don't wanna talk about it here, it's not my place."

"Heh," Stile let out a dry chuckle. "Since when is it not your place to talk about things I did to hurt you?"

"Cause you didn't exactly hurt me." Lydia put up a good front of being frustrated and emotionally exhausted.

The two were so focused on each other, that no one but Allison saw Erica's eyes widen and head start to shake as she motioned to the doorway leading out the back of the house.

"So I did do something stupid and hurt someone's feelings." Stiles nodded like he was finally getting to the bottom of it. "What happened?"

"Stiles," Lydia gave him a firm glare like it was supposed to be obvious what he did. Stiles just freaked out a bit at the knowing accusation in her tone and shrugged exasperated. "You broke things off with Derek!" She said louder than she really needed to.

Stiles blinked, obviously confused. "What?"

Erica cleared her throat, making the two look towards her and Allison who just started at something over their shoulders shifting awkwardly.

Stiles, mouth still slack with complete and utter confusion followed their gaze and looked to see Isaac and Derek standing there looking just as awkward. Well maybe, that was more Isaac.

"Um," Isaac cleared his throat daring a glance at Derek who stood completely still and stoic. "Pools ready."

Stiles looked around at each face in the room, all of them looking at him with uncertainty and then to Derek with sympathy.

"What?" Stiles asked again more exasperated. He gave everyone a look one last time before addressing the room as a whole, "There wasn't ever any breaking things off, me and Derek were never together."

"You weren't?" Issac asked completely unsure, looking to Derek for confirmation.

"Yea-" Stiles rolled his tongue along his lips and put his hands on his hips like an offended mother. "I think I'd remember being all up on that." He motioned to Derek who only raised a brow.

"Oh," Isaac nodded, still unsure. "You hen you and Markus... " He trailed off.

"Huh," Now Stiles looked really offended. "As if."

Lydia laughed at the unintended reference before she quieted herself and motioned the girls to ditch the awkward air with her. They all, as though if they moved too fast someone would be angry, stepped out into the hall and went the long way around back, through the front door.

"What is happening?" Stiles looked to the two completely bewildered as to where any of this was coming from all of a sudden.

"Um," Isaac looked to Derek who hadn't moved an inch. "I'm gonna-"

"Hold it!" Stiles raised his hand and pointed an accusatory finger at him. Isaac stopped in his attempt to back out of the room, frozen in place. "What the hell is all this drama about?"

"Um-"

"Say 'um' one more time, I'm gonna burn your scarf."

"Wh-" Isaac pouted for a moment before awkwardly shuffling between his two feet. "We kinda all thought you and Derek were, um-" He froze and dared a glance at a very unamused Stiles and an increasingly amused Derek. "Together, and you've been spending a lot of time with that Markus guy so we figured you two split-"

"That's enough." Stiles waved him away. Isaac was grateful and ran out back without a second glance.

Stiles sighed, facing Derek with a blank stare. Derek looked even more amused about all of this now that everyone was gone.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't realize that's the conclusion the pack came to." Was all he said.

"Well, we should probably make some things clear before the kids side with you in the divorce." Stiles scored playfully trying to hide his nervousness. He really didn't expect this to be the way he ended up addressing his and Derek's relationship.

"You think they'd take my side?" Derek raised a brow. "You're the one that spoils them."

Stiles just laughed, it's all he could do. They were standing ten feet apart, dancing around the subject.

Derek took a whiff of the air and smiled at the scent of stiles that became more and more permanent every time he came over. If it weren't for the past few days, and Isaac living here, Stiles was here the most out of everyone.

"So," Derek tried to think of the jerk's name, "Markus, you guys aren't," He made and gesture with his hands, looking away from Stiles.

"No, god no."

"Right," He nodded, "Cause when you came home from that party, you smelled like. . ."

"What?" Stiles tilted his head. He remembered being left in the dark room wondering what made Derek look so uncomfortable, and actually a little angry. He had a hard time trying to sleep cause his mind kept asking questions.

"A stranger, and sex." Derek put it bluntly. Stiles's eyes bulged out of his head and Derek almost laughed.

"What? No," Stiles recoiled in shock, not expecting him to say that.

"Then you started leaving us behind to go hand out with this guy you met at the party." Drek shrugged.

"The dude I met is not-" He stopped himself from saying the word, it sounded too absurd. "I met Markus, he was DD'ing for his friends, we got to talking. He offered to pay me to help him study. That's it!"

Derek nodded in understanding. He didn't need to hear Stile's heartbeat to tell that was the truth.

"Must have been a good amount of money for you to ditch the pack twice," Derek said, not really making it a question. Stiles chewed on his lip as Derek approached the kitchen island and leaned on it. "What?"

Stiles sighed turning to grab the box and placing it on the island and slinging it over to Derek. "The allowance I get from Dad every now and then wouldn't have been enough."

Derek stared at him for a moment before turning his attention to the box curiously and carefully opening it.

"It's just a housewarming gift," Stiles shuffled in place, looking anywhere but Derek.

Derek looked down in the box at stacks of plates and bowls, cups, all individually wrapped. Derek took a plate and gently tore it free from the plastic wrap, examining the intricate royal blue patterns along the edges, and the vibrant red and yellow flowers painted in the center. The flowers are arranged in the vague shape of a wolf, with leaves surrounding it like a nest. The dish was glossy, polished, and shinny, and smelled of somewhere old but clean. turning it over he saw painted in very neat handwriting, "The family is One of Nature's Masterpieces. Proberty of Hale, made by A. Bartosz."

Derek looked up to Stiles who started at the plat in his hands.

"Um, they're hand-painted, I went to a place out in Allens Town. A polish place. You've been using paper plates and stuff so I figured," Stile trailed briefing a look at Derek before returning his gaze to the plate. "In Poland, there's a belief that the beauty of the dish enriches the flavor of the food. You're always cooking for everyone so I thought-" Stiles cut himself off with a sigh and scratched the back of his neck.

Derek carefully set down the plate and walked around to Stiles who was still looking anywhere but him.

Next thing Stiles knew, he was warm. Really warm. Warm around his waist from Derek's arm, warm in his cheek where Derek held, warm on his lips where Derek kissed.

Stiles melted against him with a relieved sigh. It felt like he was in a dream he never wanted to wake up from. A dream the never thought would come true, no matter how many times Lydia told him to go for it.

He lifted his hands and placed them firmly on Derek's chest, one sliding further up to the base of his neck. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was fairly certain Derek knew it based on the rumble of laughter in his chest. But he followed Derek's lead and soon found a rhythm that made Stiles's knees weak.

When Derek finally pulled away, Stiles straight-up whined in protest, earning a chuckle from the alpha.

"Thank you," He smiled softly stroking Stiles's cheek with his thumb.

Stiles was giddy at the affection, smiling dreamily up at Derek. It made something in Derek stir back to life. The walls he tried to build back up the past few days crumbled down around him as Stiles pushed up into another kiss, hands coming up around his neck and into his hair. Derek hugged and his waist and pulled his impossibly closer, sighing in contentment.

"No," They heard a sudden shout, pulling apart and looking to the back door. Erica was moving away with her back to them heading back into the yard. "They're busy eating each other faces!"

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned. Derek only chuckled turning back to Stiles and pulling him back in.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

•Kermitts Masterlist•

#sterek fic #stiles x derek #teen wolf stiles #derek x stiles #stiles stilinski #sterek #sterek fanfiction #derek hale #teen wolf derek hale #pack mom stiles #teen wolf

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princecharmingwinks · 9 months

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Sterek Fic Rec - June-December 2023.

Can you believe we are almost at the end of 2023? These last six months have been quite busy for me so sadly haven't been able to read as much fic as I would have liked. But I am still here and will continue to create rec lists whenever I get the chance to read more fics. I am also rounding the word counts so please click on the links for the exact word count. :)

it doesn't have to be a snowman by triggeringthehealing (froggydarren) (1/1 | 4K | General)

The Beacon Beans coffee shop is what Stiles would refer to as a lifesaver. They supply his dose of sugar whenever he needs it, they don't ask questions, and their hot chocolate is delicious. And now they're running a snowman building competition where the grand prize would get him an entire year's worth of drinks. Really, all he needs is a partner to team up with. Only everyone else from the pack already seems to have paired up.

Bravery is a Loaded Gun by DefNotForWork (1/1 | 17K | Explicit)

“No, I’m not asexual, Stiles,” Derek said shortly. The teen’s heart sank in his chest, his palms going clammy and his neck prickling with the familiar feeling of rejection. “So then it’s,” Stiles swallowed, throat clogging, unable to give voice to the facts he would much rather ignore. The silence grew between them, growing tense the longer it was left. For the first time in years, Stiles couldn’t speak. The weight of inadequacy held down his typical stream of useless banter. What does one say in this sort of situation? ‘I’m sorry you don’t find me attractive?’ In which the boys speak in half sentences and have two totally different conversations. What they can agree on, eventually, is that they love each other. And that Derek should jerk off more.

Undertow by entanglednow (1/1 | 4K | Mature)

"I don't want you to die because my swirls weren't swirly enough."

Fire and Water by GreyHaven (1/1 | 2K | General)

Derek is full of unspoken words and unexpressed emotions that sear him from the inside out until finally, finally, he allows them to escape into dark ash stains that smear across the harsh white of his notebook. Or, the one in which Derek is compelled to write a story. Turns out, he's writing about Stiles. What will happen when Stiles reads it? Angst and healing and two people finding safety in each other.

eli's parents are so gross (read: in love) by ash_mcj (1/1 | 1K | Teen)

"I would’ve been here earlier, but nobody thought it would be smart to call the one person who’s intimately dealt with the Nogitsune before, so,” Stiles said bitterly as he threw his hands up. "Now I have a list of asses I gotta kick over this very avoidable fiasco. Scott’s first, since he’s the Alpha—I’m pretty sure that’s how that works. His responsibility, or whatever.” The familiar sound of Derek’s car pulling into the driveway caught Eli's attention, and he grinned. “Is Dad on your list?” “Hell yeah, Dad is on my list! Right under Scott.” “Well, he just got home, so—” Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence before stomping off in the direction of the living room—and Eli quickly scrambled to follow him, ready to eavesdrop on what was likely going to be a rather impressive and amusing lecture. [or: eli is glad that stiles is home, since derek has nearly died several times in his absence, but he really wishes they were a little less glad to see each other] -- prompt | a reunion kiss

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller (1/1 | 2K | Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone's tried to burn down his home with his son inside. "I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes," John can't even call that a whimper, it's clearly a whine as Derek's hands tighten against Stile's hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek's hands can hold him into one piece, "and that thought was worse than dying."

Love Runs Wild by DevilDoll (1/1 | 9K | Explicit)

"You've got a hickey on the back of your neck!" A Neckz 'n Throats story.

So When Do I Get To Pledge My Loyalty To The Mob? by RedRidingStiles (1/1 | 10K | Mature)

“Are you my sugar daddy?” Stiles blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth when his brain catches up to his mouth. The man lets out a soft laugh, making his way around the couch till he’s standing just feet away from Stiles. Stiles can smell his cologne from here, it smells heavenly, Stiles kinda wants to bury his face into the guy's chest so he can figure out exactly what it is. “If that’s what you’d like to call it.” The man smiles. Stiles doesn’t think he should be allowed to smile like that. All soft and gorgeous and way too pretty to be legal. He’s still not convinced any of this is real. Stiles loses his wallet, someone returns it along with $5,000. Shit keeps coming, Stiles life doesn't make any sense anymore, he's just going with it. Edited in October 2022

Stiles is My Safe Place by Star_crossed02 (5/5 | 10K | Mature)

Stiles gets bitten by Kali, and after a brief adjustment period, proceeds to co-lead the Hale Pack to defeat the Alpha Pack once and for all. OR What happens when a sassy spark-werefox starts courting an alpha sourwolf?

It feels like a perfect night (for breakfast at midnight) by princecharmingwinks (1/1 | 1K | General)

Stiles is floating on cloud nine. He is absolutely living his best life. It's a Saturday night, he's out with his friends and he's dancing like it's his birthday. Because it is! (Or it will be in 20 minutes, once midnight ticks around). And what better way to celebrate the respectful age of 22 than a night out?

princecharmingwinks special mention (My plane flying companion - I read a new chapter every time I took a new flight)

First Son, Last Chance by orphan_account (12/12 | 60K | Mature)

When First Son Stiles Stilinski, beloved public figure and the bane of his private security team, goes missing without a trace, ex-security officer Derek Hale finds himself tangled up in the world of Argent Security, a world he was forced out of when rumours abounded that he was sleeping with his charges. There's no leads, no time and no way Derek is going to rest until Stiles has been brought home safely. (Inspired by this post.)

That is all folks for 2023! Sorry again for a late addition. See you in the new year. Remember to leave kudos and comments for our wonderful writers.

#sterek #sterek fanfiction #fic rec #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #derek hale #princecharminglists

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alexblakeisgay · 3 months

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At Your Service

Ship: Emily Prentiss/Reader

Summary: There's a nation-wide shortage of heat suppressants and you run out in the middle of a case in a small Alaskan town...

Word Count: 909

Author's Note: This fills the Alpha/Beta/Omega square on my @cmkinkbingo2024 card.

Emily knocked on your hotel room’s door. “Everything okay in there?” She sounded worried.

“Fine,” you said, your voice warbling just the slightest bit, betraying your attempt at confidence.

She tried the doorknob. “Let me in, Y/N... You’re scaring me.”

“I want to,” you said, just barely loud enough to be heard through the door. “But I can’t, Em. You’re just going to have to trust me. I can’t go to the precinct. Keep me in the loop and I’ll do what I can from here, but...”

“Y/N,” she said seriously, “You have thirty seconds to open the door or I’m getting Derek and...”

Almost immediately, you flicked the lock and opened the door, already mortified that you were having to have this conversation with Emily of all people. She was your best friend in the whole world, your boss, and the star of each and every masturbatory fantasy you’d had for the last six months... So, things were complicated, to say the least.

You yanked her into the room and slammed the door shut behind her and, when you turned back around, poised to explain the situation, you knew she already knew...

Due to a country-wide heat suppressant shortage, the tiny Alaskan town you were currently based out of hadn’t been able to refill your prescription. You didn’t exactly advertise that you were an Omega and you didn’t relish the feeling of walking into a precinct full of Alpha males in full-blown heat.

You didn’t have to say that, knew all the thoughts that were crossing Emily’s mind in that moment.

“Understood,” was all she said. And just as quickly, she was gone again.

____________

You didn’t know what Emily told the rest of the team, but no one else came to your room...until early evening when there was a knock on your door. You were reluctant to answer it, until you heard Emily call through the door, “It’s just me...” When you opened the door, she held up a bag of Chinese food. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.

Since you were, in fact, starving, you decided to let her in.

You could tell that she was uncomfortable as she crossed the room to set the food on the table and, for a brief moment, you were unsure why... Then, visibly trembling, she paused, bracing herself on the table while she collected her composure.

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but before you could get the words out, she practically growled. “You smell so fucking good...”

“Wh-what?” you stammered.

She whipped around to stare at you with an absolutely feral expression. She took a few steps towards you, then quickly seemed to regain self-control. Holding up her hands in self-defence, she said, “I need to leave.”

“What? No! Why?” you exclaimed in quick succession.

“Because if I stay, I won’t be able to control myself...”

You put two and two together then. For a brief moment, you weighed the pros and cons of the situation. Then, quietly, “Stay.”

She studied you, seemingly searching for something in your expression. Whether she found it or not, you couldn’t have said, but regardless, she lunged forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. When it quickly became clear that you didn’t object, she lifted you up and tossed you onto the bed, then climbed on top of you.

You could tell that she was barely clinging to her restraint and, quite honestly, you didn’t want her to... “Emily...” you whined, but that seemed to be the extent of your speech capabilities at that moment. Instead, you wriggled out of your pyjama shorts and hoped that was clear enough.

She seemed to get the message, though, because she proceeded to literally tear your panties off, push your legs apart, and dove into your cunt. Agonizingly slow, she trailed her tongue through your slit, catching every last drop of wetness on her tongue. She hummed a pleased note. “Fuck, you taste even better than you smell...”

Hooking your leg over her shoulder, you dug your heel into her back, forcing her to stay where she was, lavishing your pussy with attention. “Emily,” you said on a gasp, “Em, please...”

She chuckled. “You like that, huh?” she taunted, “You’re absolutely soaked for me.”

You whimpered, nodded, squirming as she lavished you with attention.

“Hey!” she scolded, “You wanted this, so stay still and take it.” She gripped your hips, holding you down as she sucked your clit into her mouth.

Crying you, you arched your back off the bed, your body absolutely thrumming with need under her expert ministrations. “Jesus, Em! You’re so fucking good at that!”

Pausing to catch her breath, she met your gaze with an absolutely predatory expression, your juices dripping down her chin. “You taste so good, Angel, I could eat your sweet pussy all day long...”

You had a strong feeling she wasn’t exaggerating... “Please, please, please,” you begged for more. “I need to cum...”

“You can, Angel,” she purred, “Cum all over my face like a good little girl.” She lapped at your cunt with renewed determination, single-minded in her focus to coax an orgasm from you. And, when you finally came, she didn’t stop, working you until you sobbed, begging her to stop. “Stop?” she said with a laugh, crawling up your body to kiss you (and you could taste your cum on her tongue), “I’m just getting started with you.”

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #fanfiction #mine #emily prentiss/reader

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 2 months

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It Takes A Village Part 1 (Y/N Hotchner)

Warnings: some foul language, criminal minds level amount of gore

A/N: sorry this took so long to do lol it turned out to be mostly what I've written before lol

You weren’t pissed per se, just more… shocked, and maybe a little hurt, that Derek hadn’t spoken to you. One moment you were trying to fill out paperwork from a million different files, the next Derek and Garcia were telling the team they had found Declan. You had opted to wait with Garcia for Aaron to come back. It had been a hot minute since you’d seen him.

“Holy shit, you grew a beard?!” Is the first thing that slips out of your mouth.

From there, everything was a blur. Doyle was in custody, he wasn’t exactly being helpful - which was annoying as it was his son you were trying to find afterall.

“You get anywhere with Doyle?” Reid asked, as JJ, Derek, and Rossi walked back into the round table room.

“Doyle doesn’t think Gerace has the guts to take him on.” Derek said, you rolled your eyes. Of course he doesn’t, the man has a massive ego.

“But that’s definitely Gerace on the tape.” Garcia sighed as she sat down.

Derek turned to your brother as he walked into the room. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks. Everybody take a seat.” You frowned, his tone (and eyebrows) indicating that something was definitely up.

“Why? What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Derek asked, taking a seat next to you.

Aaron looked at you all, you were with Jack on this, you were not a fan of the beard. “Seven months ago I made a decision that affected this team.” Your brother stated. “As you all know Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle.”

You swallowed, hand reaching for Derek’s under the desk.

“But the doctors were able to stabilise her.” Aaron continued. “And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration.”

You looked at your brother in disbelief, this didn’t make any sense. “Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security.”

“She’s alive?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“But we buried her.” Reid stated, looking up at Hotch from his seat.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me.”

“Any issues?” Derek asked, his voice clipped. “Yeah, I got issues.”

You turned, seeing Emily. Your face dropped. What the fuck. Maybe you were going insane? That was the only other option. Otherwise your brother had lied to you. The one person (apart from Derek) that you thought would never lie to you.

You turned to Aaron, who winced when he saw the hurt and betrayal that filled your eyes. You took a deep breath and just like that, the mask was up and the betrayal was hidden. You turned to Emily, “It’s great to see you’re okay,”

“It’s good to see you too.” She said, giving you a smile.

You listened patiently as they all discussed the case. You didn’t have it in you. You just listened. As they continue, realising that the alpha of the team (a phrase you struggled to take seriously) was in fact a woman. When the team parted ways to investigate, you stood to make your way to the bathroom.

“(Y/N)-”

“I don’t want to speak to you right now,”

“(Y/N), please just listen-”

“What, Aaron? You are the one person I could always trust and I did,” You paused, “There was no one else I trusted completely. I trusted you so much, you’re my big brother Aaron. I’ve always trusted you- not mum, not dad, heck I don’t even trust Sean as much, but you? I’ve always trusted you,”

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said, “We couldn’t tell anyone, it was for Emily’s safety,”

“We?”

“Me and JJ,”

“Right,” You said shortly, “JJ knew.”

“Just let me explain,”

“There’s nothing to explain.” You said shortly. “Emily’s alive and you chose to keep it from me.”

“I had to,”

“Why because of protocol? Because it needed to be confidential?” You knew what you said was right because Aaron’s eyebrow softly twitched. “Who else would I have told Aaron? Who else? I don’t speak to anyone outside of this team! I don’t have a family, a Haley, a Will, children, fuck, I don’t even have a Sergio! I’ve got this team, that’s it! I wouldn’t have told anyone because I don’t have anyone to tell! You know that. That’s what hurts Aaron. So no, I don’t want to listen to you come up with some lame, half-ass excuse about safety.”

“(Y/N), I couldn't tell you in case you told anyone.”

“Who would I have fucking told Aaron?! Who would I have told?!” You yell, fist slamming into the desk in front of you. “I have fuck all else! My life is this team and that's it! And you fucking know it! So please, tell me, who would I have told!”

You watch Aaron open his mouth for a split second before closing as he looks down.

“You know what, Aaron? Go fuck yourself. I can’t be fucked to deal with this right now.” You give him a tight smile before walking away.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #x male reader #male reader #y/n hotchner #hotchner #hotchner reader #aaron hotchner x brother reader

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christinesficrecs · 2 months

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Slowly trying to catch up. Any help would be appreciated. 🩷

I’m looking for a fic where stiles was an omega and still in high school. There was a lacrosse championship and the players on the team swapped out his pills and caused him to go into heat. I remember Derek had to go to the hotel they were at and the other players put together money to get them a suite.

menxmenxmen found it. Thank you!! Bruises and Bitemarks | 121.5K | Explicit Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

specific post void sterek fic where Derek leaves bh for his own good Stiles really struggled with anxiety ptsd and is afraid of doors great dad son bonding between him and John Scott is really not positive character in this but one day Derek comes back and get to know about what's happening in bh and one last thing whole gang went to meet grandma stilinski in Poland she's amazing cook

tin-wufborf found this one. Thank you! The Law of the Jungle by Nutellargh | 75.8K | Explicit After the Kanima fiasco is over, Derek takes his three betas and leaves Beacon Hills. Stiles knows he could contact him if needed, but they barely keep in touch, and only about mundane things. 4 years later, after a steady stream of supernatural issues they somehow manage to deal with, Lydia is the one to contact Derek when Stiles starts looking worse and worse everyday, with no idea as to how or why.

all i remember is a scene where stiles, erica, and maybe allison and lydia, are hanging out at a dinner when they get attacked by peter who’s the alpha (this is a s1 fic) and he bites erica, i remember she was is a wheelchair at the moment because of a seizure, i know it was sterek but i don’t remember anything else

Hi!! I was wondering if you or your followers could help me find a fic I’ve been looking for. It is NOT “electricity in the contact” but it is very similar! The pack goes to some kind of convention in NY and stiles and Derek have to pretend to be mates (so much mutual pining and jealous Derek). A guy flirts and dates stiles and Derek gets upset and eventually the pack (including stiles dad) leaves bc the convention is over but stiles stays before going back to Derek and they obviously end up together.

I’m looking for a fic that I just can’t seem to find. It’s Sterek and it was one where Stiles was having sexual relations with Derek solely for money and stuff but stiles just kinda stuck around since I think he ended up living with Derek. Derek was rich the pack consisted of Erica, Boyd and Issac.I remember one specific thing about the fic which is where stiles was swimming in Derek’s indoor pool and he felt a lil silly and drug Derek in with him then they were having a moment then Erica comes in and the pack has fun and then Erica announces she was pregnant then stiles gets all sad since he himself didn’t see himself as pack and he ended up leaving

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #lost fic #anon ask

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reidsc0nverse · 1 year

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A Rose by Any Other Name (Chapter Two)

Summary: Reader accompanies Emily to a club during a case where Spencer shows her one of his many talents with the help of the one and only Derek Morgan.

Warnings: Language (not much at all)

AN: This is based on episode 4x9 (obviously) and basically goes along with the story. Also let's pretend Courtney (the bartender) wasn't the object of Spencer's attention for his magic trick. K thanks.

Series Masterlist

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The other day when I walked through the doors of the BAU I was not expecting to be thrown into my job, but of course, it happened.

I was in the technical analyst Penelope Garcia's office when all of a sudden JJ (as she now told me I can call her) went into labor. How wonderful.

I mean don't get me wrong I'm so happy for her, but I still had a good week of training that I could've used.

That was two weeks ago, so now I'm fully in my spot as Communications Liaison, and not to brag or anything.. I'm doing pretty well.

Right now we've been working a case in Atlanta where a guy of the "Alpha Male" type would kill women that he would pick up from the local bars. The team came to the conclusion that he was getting his tips from a pick up artist that seems to be teaching his skills to other men.

They call him "Viper" and, according to Emily, he's a real treat.

"He's a grade A asshole." she huffs walking into the room of the precinct I'm in.

"That bad?" I ask and she slumps into the chair next to mine.

"He makes me wanna gauge my eyes out." She says, laughing, but clearly annoyed. So far while I've been on the team she and I have gotten pretty close and she's honestly one of my favorite people.

"I'm so glad I wasn't there." I say, shaking my head. I've dealt with one too many narcissists on a personal level so if I had to listen to a guy go on for ages about how to play hard to get with a girl or blatantly insult them to get them attracted to him I'd probably lose my mind.

"Time to give the profile" Derek says as he sticks his head in the room. Emily sighs and walks out with me to the rest of the team.

They go on giving out details to the local PD and I drone out until Spencer talks to me, or at me kind of. "I like those earrings, yeah my grandma has a lot of fake jewelry also."

PARDON?

He smiles and waves it off as not serious, which I understood he was only exemplifying what our unsub does but it didn't diminish the fact that it was funny as hell.

After the team finishes I get up and Spencer walks towards me, "Um, sorry about that. I just needed to show them what the unsub learned from Viper."

I laugh and wave him off, "No no don't apologize it's fine, it gave me a good laugh so I'm really not hurt by it."

He smiles and Hotch calls us over to where the rest of the team stands.

They explain that we need to see about more of what the unsub may have learned back at the group discussions and they hint that Emily is gonna need to go back and talk to Viper.

"Oh. Oh god, this is really gonna suck."

A little later, Emily comes to me after the team splits up with a cheeky look on her face and her hands behind her back.

"Y/NNNNN...." she drags.

"Oh god what do you want." I say playfully, already knowing what she's gonna say.

"You know, Derek is bringing Spencer as a wingman, so maybe you coulddd..."

"Fine fine, but if we're hitting the club I don't think my work attire is gonna cut it." I say, looking down at the blouse and black pair of pants I'm wearing.

She shakes her head, "Ah, no worries, I have something you might fit in." She pulls out two dresses from behind her back and hands one to me.

"So you just happen to have party wear in your go bag?" I ask, looking at the black tight fit dress now in my hands.

"We go to some interesting places." She smirks and smacks my shoulder lightly, continuing, "Come on, I'll help you get ready."

She takes my hand and we go to the PD locker room, getting changed and she gets her makeup out.

"I thought you hated this guy, now you're getting all dolled up." I tease her, she laughs and starts applying her eye makeup.

"I take every opportunity I can get to look hot as shit with a job like this. Plus, we're still going to the club." She jokes back and after a couple minutes we're done getting ready and meet up with Derek and Spencer at the car.

"Heyy, looking good ladies." Derek says with a cocky smile and Spencer waves at me awkwardly.

"How flattering." Emily says and then huffs, turning to me, "You better help me through dealing with this worm."

"Of course" I say, hand on my heart and all.

Once we get to the club we decide to split up, Derek and Spencer asking girls in the club if they've seen anyone similar to our unsub, and Emily going up ahead of me while we face this nightmare of a man.

She tells me to stay back until the right time and I watch her play her game of flirting while continuing to intrigue the man. She looks back at me when he gets a little too confident and a little too close so I walk towards them, Viper's eyes following me carefully.

The conversation goes as usual, some mindless snarky remarks tossed around as he starts discussing eye contact, more specifically pupil dilation.

"Okay fifteen seconds." Emily says in response to the eye contact that Viper has been making with me, and trying to prove a point.

"What do you see?" I ask.

"Nope, no dilation."

Viper comes quick with his response, "Ah, because you have someone else on the mind."

Do I? Maybe. I don't know. No.

Emily eyes me teasingly and the conversation between us and Viper goes stale until he gives us just what we want for the case. He gives us that our unsub is going to go for his "queen bee," the focus on all his killing.

Emily calls Hotch with our findings and I meet up with Derek and Spencer as they talk, or..bicker maybe.

"Come here pretty girl," Derek says to me, I comply, confused but still.

"Pretend she's someone you're showing the unsub to, use that magic." Derek says to Spencer, putting me in front of him, but he explains to me that apparently Spencer isn't having any luck giving the profile out to the girls at the club so now he's doing..magic?

I don't know how he's not having luck, he's an attractive guy. I would feel like girls would go crazy trying to talk to him but I guess not.

Spencer looks at me like he really doesn't wanna do this, but he goes with it anyway. "Don't worry I'll play along" I tell him and he seems comforted in that.

He begins by acting as though we've never met and asks me if I've seen the man in the drawing before, I nod no and he pulls out a pen.

"We have reason to believe he has a scar about right..here." He says, running the pen through the paper and moving it around, leaving no rips in the paper.

"Woah, woah. What? How did you do that?" I ask, inspecting the paper.

He shrugs and smirks, "A magician never reveals his secrets."

Derek laughs and pats his back, "That's what I'm talking about, pretty boy!"

After the case ends smoothly we arrive at the BAU once again and settle everything down. I go to JJ's office which is mine temporarily and get some paperwork out of the way with Emily.

"So, don't mean to remind you of Viper, but, is there someone on your mind?" She asks teasingly.

"Oh god." I groan and put my face in my hands.

She snickers and responds, "Oh so there is!"

"Maybe." I say, dragging the word out. "But I don't know, he doesn't really know me that well."

She nods, I feel like she sees right through me.

"Seems like you and Spencer kind of had a good time earlier."

I choke on my own spit, "Um what?" I say, coughing. Covering my mouth as well as the slight pink coming onto my face.

She smiles and nods her head as a tall figure walks in the doorway. "Speak of the devil." She says and walks out, I look up and see Spencer, so now she's leaving me and him alone.

His eyebrows furrow, and I wave it off.

"Hello there, Houdini." I say smiling up at him, he laughs and leans against the doorway.

"You know it's an easy trick, nothing up to Houdini's standard."

I shrug. "Eh, still impressive."

Things are quiet for a moment and there's a hint of tension in the air until he clears his throat and starts.

"You looked really nice today, by the way. Just thought I'd say." His face goes red and I smirk.

"You came all this well to compliment me?" I tease. He laughs sheepishly and shakes his head.

"No, no. I was um, I was coming to ask you if maybe you wanted to grab a coffee or something. Maybe I could show you how I really do that trick?"

He was nervous, obviously. But that didn't help the grin on my face growing and trying to hold back the blush that's definitely growing on my face.

"I thought magicians couldn't tell anyone how they do their tricks." I reply, more calmly than I thought I would've, I mean I'm just trying to play it cool.

"I can make an exception. I'll let you know, I have your number right?"

I nod and he smiles again and sticks up an awkward thumbs up, "Cool. Well, I'll see you later."

"Bye, Spencer" I say playfully and as we walks out to the hallway I peek out and see Derek standing by the doors that leave the office with a cheeky look. I can see the back of Spencer's head nod and Derek raise his arms, saying something but they're too far to hear.

Guessing Derek convinced him to go for it.

Good thing.

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I'm gonna be real and say I kinda hate this chapter but I promise it gets good. ALSO TYSM ON THE SUPPORT FOR THE LAST PART IM SO GRATEFUL UGH.

taglist: @darkenwolfie @justlivinginadaydream @daddy-dotcom @itsametaphorbriansblog @rosesandlavendertea @4karaa

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princeescaluswords · 1 month

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Empathy Gap, Part Infinity

So, yesterday, a friend of mine decided to do a Teen Wolf Positivity post, where people said what they liked about Teen Wolf. I appreciate them and what they tried to do. We need more positivity in the fandom, and every time there's a call for positivity I'll be right there, because that's what being a fan of something means.

However ...

There was a reply -- and it was a good reply! -- about how much Derek's behavior was informed by him being a victim of sexual assault by Kate six years before the show began. The post pointed out how Derek (played by Tyler Hoechlin) incorporated this behavior without drawing unnecessary attention to it. They made a great point, one that I can get behind 100%. I think that shows a great deal of perception and it's a valid interpretation.

And then the very next post -- the very next reply! -- is another person talking about what they appreciate about Teen Wolf is how the show had Scott make poor decisions because he was a teenager. Just to make sure we understood that they were being positive about the show, they described those decisions as DUMB -- all caps and everything! You see, to them, it was a wonderful thing that Scott was portrayed as being stupid about wanting things like doing well in school or dating a girl he liked instead of -- well, they didn't actually say what decisions they wanted Scott to make instead, but I think we can all guess that they expected Scott to put someone else's problems ahead of his own life.

And the Empathy Gap in the fandom raises its ugly head once again, like flowers blooming in spring. Derek Hale's behavior -- the distrust, the anger, the poor coping mechanisms -- is well explained by Kate's sexual assault from six years before the show started. Scott's attempt to hold on to his life after a brutal assault in the woods (heavily coded as a sexual assault as well) in the first damn episode and the decisions he makes are motivated by him being a stupid teenager rather than -- as the show parallels repeatedly between Scott and Derek -- being a victim of trauma.

And what's worse, they end their entirely intended to be positive reply with this conceit: "If some stranger in a leather jacket showed up telling you you’re a creature of the night, and even though you now seem to have claws and glowing eyes, you’re gonna nope out and ignore it. Because it can’t be real, but a D- on your report card is and your mom will see it."

This is, of course, completely untrue. Scott denied he was a werewolf from Scene 22 with Stiles in Stiles's Bedroom to Scene 27 when Scott watched claws grow from his fingers and fangs grow in his mouth. That's five scenes out of 31 in the first episode. And even though Derek had interacted with Scott three times before that, Derek had never told Scott he was a werewolf because he was too busy using Scott as bait for the alpha that killed his sister.

But why pay attention to a Character of Color's trauma response when you can oh-so-positively call him a 'stupid teenager.'

You see, Teen Wolf's writers never criticized Scott for wanting to get good grades or date a girl he liked or make first line on the lacrosse team because they understood that even teenagers have their own lives and their own identity, and that it's not DUMB to want to make sure you don't lose those things because a bunch of damaged white men want to make him their proxy in an ancient grudge.

Which is actually something that you can be positive about.

#scott mccall #scott mccall defense squad #teen wolf fandom problems #teen wolf fandom racism #fandom racism #these people simply can't understand that Scott had no obligation to help Derek or peter or any brutal werewolf killer solve their problems #normal people call that dignity and self-determination #derek hale

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finding-arcadia · 4 months

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The Intuitive Analysis of my Blorbo 😇, Mr. Derek Hale

The reason I latched onto Derek like I did, is because as an Empath, the amazing way he was portrayed by Tyler Hoechlin, his backstory, and how he responded to stimulus around him, really pulled me into him. He made me feel what he was going through. There are some rare performances that can really connect with me, like they were a real tangible person, and his is one of them.

I don't know how much insight I can give into him that I, or other beautiful people in the Fandom, haven't already. But I will give as brief an overview as I can.

The fact that Derek is a werewolf, and born that way, already changes everything from the beginning. His lived experience is already different from the jump. Much like people from two completely different cultures will have different perspectives, manners, ways of speaking, etc. He's already leading with instinct/intuition and hasn't lost touch with that, while others tend to be really connected with it as a child and then become conditioned out of listening to that feeling in your gut or that intuitive hit because as a child that's seen as "silly" or not "real". But being born with that, and born of people who also possess this ability, he's going to have that part of himself nutured instead of minimized.

He's also the middle child, but the only boy, so he's got an interesting dynamic that way. He's likely seen as more "special" or more included than the typical middle child. But being the middle of two girls, he was still likely the scapegoat and teamed up on because of it. It's likely made him more careful and thoughtful with his words and actions. Also, he's probably very connected to his family, maybe more than most humans. Which also points to that animal instinct.

Being the middle child, I feel, might also make him more susceptible to suggestion, but also, oddly enough, he's kind of a good bullshit detector. Unfortunately, he tends to have a big blind spot for bullshit when his heart is involved. This boy is a big ol' marshmallow.

He's sustained so much trauma because he was/is such a beautiful soul who wanted to believe in the power of love. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and everybody saw that, and some people exploited that to their own ends. So much that Derek completely closed himself off when his own pure heart led to his family being killed.

When we first see Derek in Teen Wolf, his sister (the last family he had that was alive/not comatose) had just been killed. He's already completely shrouded himself internally and externally in that pain he still holds in his very soul, and built it up around him like a wall. He's put on his leather jacket and scowl as an armor to keep people out. Even as gorgeous as he is, he didn't look very approachable, so people usually gave him a wide berth. And it's this very armor he's created that actually makes it harder for him to connect with Scott and Stiles, initially.

While Stiles understands the grief personally, it takes him a while to see that in Derek because the man is so incredibly guarded.

But it's impossible to show the needed vulnerability to create the necessary camaraderie because, to Derek, vulnerability means weakness, and leads to death. Though it makes sense that the one person he was able to let the wall down with was Stiles. Despite their initial animosity, Stiles has proven his loyalty, his tenacity, and his understanding. Derek instinctively knows that he can trust Stiles, and he slowly begins to let him in.

A lot of what we see from Derek in the beginning is survival mode, trying to control a situation because he's feeling out of control, which creates more animosity. He becomes the Alpha because someone needs to be, and he's the only one who knows enough between him and Scott. Plus, he isn't going to give his family's spark to a newbie wolf.

Then he's building a pack because that's all he knows. He does everything he's only ever seen other people do. He's running purely on instinct and of course non-wolves are not going to understand that.

Anyway, to cut this short, once he's out of survival mode and he's had time to process what's happened, he becomes a mentor to Scott. That soft marshmallow boy starts to peek out. Then we see him emerge even more once he's more settled, like when dealing with his son, Eli.

All in all, Derek is a major soft wolf who was hardened by his trauma, but he was able to slowly connect with people again. He was able to trust and create a pack and a community with the people in Beacon Hills, and he was able to step more fully into who he truly was, which was proven most profoundly when he had his rebirth and evolved to complete the full wolf shift.

Derek Hale was one of the most fascinating, complex, and engaging characters on Teen Wolf for me. He will always be my Blorbo. ❤️

#derek hale #my sweet angel baby #blorbo #teen wolf #meta #character analysis #intuitive reading

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kitkatwinchester · 1 year

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I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS!

Scott has been through soooo f*cking much at this point. SO much. And he's been gravely worried, and he's been horribly upset, and he's been flat-out terrified--most often when it comes to his friends and family being in danger.

But most of the time, he's really good at fighting off and masking that fear in favor of helping his friends and family through their fear, and he's been great at turning his fear into anger and determination against his enemies and struggles.

I don't think I have EVER, in all four years of this show, heard Scott be as utterly terrified as he was when Kate started to put that Berserker mask on him.

That SCREAM.

The SHAKING.

The STRUGGLING against the bonds.

Holy f*ck, Tyler Posey, because you genuinely made me tear up.

All the sh*t that Scott has been through, and THIS is what made him scream like that.

And I don't know if it's because she's gonna turn him into the killer that he's never wanted to be, or because she's going to sick him on his own pack and hope that they kill him, or because he's helpless and hopeless and has no idea how to get out of it, or if it's a combination of all three.

But my heart just SHATTERED, because he is TERRIFIED...and he's all alone.

And I DESPISE that.

And the thing is, I KNOW the pack is coming to save him, and I love that everyone was on the same page around the same time (Derek and Braeden going back to the house and finding Scira gone and the place trashed, Noah and Stiles suspicious that Scira hadn't shown up yet, and Lydia trying to get through to Deaton and succeeding so that they could get Scira's location) and was able to put the pieces together fast enough to get there ASAP.

But they're not gonna get there ASAP enough, and when they do get there, Kate's right--they're gonna have no idea that they're fighting their own Alpha, and I get the feeling that whatever she does to him will make Scott not care that he's fighting his own pack.

And that thought is F*CKING TERRIFYING.

So excuse me while I scream right along with Scott and almost sob my eyes right out of my head.

On a more positive note, I absolutely loved that conversation between Liam and Brett, and I love that Brett and Liam are kind of on the same team (in life, that is) now, because of what Scott did. I also love that Brett helped Liam on the field, and that he gave him that little pep talk about how amazing Scott is, and how amazing Liam can be too. And while my heart is breaking that Liam feels like Scott abandoned him, I have a feeling that, when he learns what really happened, he'll understand, and god forbid, maybe he'll actually TALK TO HIM for crying out loud.

Also, it looks very promising for Parrish getting Argent out of there, and that pep talk was amazing, and Parrish is seriously such a great guy and just so smart and I love him SO FREAKING MUCH. And his EYES GLOWED, and now he's using his power, and Argent is using his adrenaline, and that is PROMISING, and maybe they'll both be OKAY, and GOD I FREAKING HOPE SO BECAUSE IF WE LOSE ANYONE THIS SEASON I'M GONNA SCREAM!

ANYWAYS.

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS, and I really hope SOMEBODY in the pack is smart enough to pick up on Kate's trickery and SAVE Scott instead of killing him, because THAT IS THE LAST THING WE NEED GOSH DARNAT!!

Using another couple of not-gifs of Liam and Brett's and Parrish and Argent's conversations because they were the only positive things that happened in the last ten minutes and I need something to keep me from crying. :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'( :'(

(Okay but again, THE WRITING IN THIS SEASON I SWEAR TO GOD! <3 <3 <3 <3)

P.S. No, I didn't forget about Peter and Malia--I just chose to ignore it.

Update: I started the next episode and OH THANK GOD!! THE TATTOO!! THE TATTOO IS GONNA BE THE THING THAT SAVES US!! Scott is still under Kate's control, but at least the PACK will know that it's really Scott, because TATTOO!! I HAVE NEVER BEEN AS HAPPY ABOUT THAT TATTOO AS I AM RIGHT NOW!!! ANYWAYS.

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 3 months

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Any fics where Stiles and Lydia are siblings? I've tried finding some but it's only vaguely mentioned and never talked about after that so I was wondering if you had or could find any fics where it focuses on that more

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

back again (for the first time) but hot_damn_louis (6/6 | 73,083 | Teen | Sterek) “There was a—” Stiles shook his head, unable to believe it himself, “— a ghost.”

It had been years since Stiles had seen a ghost with his own two eyes, and not through a fancy camera or on pictures. He saw it, the column of light, at the end of his bed. If he wasn’t frozen, scared to even move, he might have been able to stretch his leg out and kick it. He was that close to it.

aka Stiles is house sitting with his sister Lydia for the summer on a farm in the middle of a ranch in Texas. And even though he's a retired ghost hunter, the rumors of the Mad Monk ghost on the Hale ranch are too enticing to stay away from.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (1/1 | 42,525 | Explicit | Sterek) “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds (1/1 | 39,618 | Not Rated | Sterek) When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest.

Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives.

Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

Studying the Blade by never_love_a_wild_thing (10/10 | 16,420 | Teen | Sterek) Figure Skater Derek Hale is going to the Olympics for the last time. Age and an old injury are finally starting to get the better of him, but a number of fresh faces on Team USA, or maybe one face in particular are enough to keep him going.

Stiles Stilinski and his sister Lydia are going to the Olympics for the first time. Between nerves and drama, he's worried that they may be in over their heads, but a veteran skater reluctantly takes them under his wing.

In other words: leave it to Sterek to fall in love in the middle of the Olympic Games.

Memories by idratherwrite (1/1 | 15,739 | Teen | Sterek & Lydia/Jackson) AKA, Lifestyles of the Rich and Oblivious

Rich cousins Derek and Jackson are ready to spend a summer sailing across the Mediterranean. Rich step-siblings Stiles and Lydia are planning to have a great summer traveling Europe on their yacht. Nothing goes as planned, but it gives Lydia and Jackson (and Theo, and Meredith) the perfect excuse to play some matchmaking.

I Need A Hero by sapphireginger (1/1 | 9,501 | Explicit | Steo) Stiles Stilinski and Theo Raeken have been together for almost four years. They're mates but something happens that causes everything to implode. They're no longer together. Why?

Political Animals by FiccinDylan (1/1 | 8,109 | Teen | Sterek) It's the worst day in Stiles' life and the last thing he wants is to deal with Derek Hale's bullshit.

Derek feels pretty much the same.

Red by ZainClaw (1/1 | 4,371 | Mature | Sterek) They’re close now, only a few feet between them, and Stiles can already feel the heat coming off the werewolf’s body. He smells like the forest, a layer of the wilderness forever etched into his skin. Stiles is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, the sound of his pumping heart maddening in his ears as he moves even closer. Desperate to close the final distance between them.

“If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side.

“Likewise.”

Man of Honor by Inell (1/1 | 3,454 | Teen | Stiles/Derek/Kira) When Stiles attends Lydia’s wedding, he doesn’t expect to meet two people who are perfect for him. He definitely doesn’t expect them to suggest an unorthodox solution to the dilemma, either.

the odds are in your favor by elisela (1/1 | 1,739 | Teen | Lydia/Parrish) “He was jogging,” she says morosely a week later, kicking her heels off at the door and sinking into the couch after depositing the bag of takeout on the table. “Shirtless. There was sweat.”

“Shoulda licked it,” Stiles says. There’s a movie on the television, something she doesn’t know or care about, and he shoots her a dirty look when she grabs the remote and changes the channel. “Christ, not this again.”

#teen wolf #sterek #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anon

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takaraphoenix · 29 days

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You said I only sent four not five and although it was a typo I figured I would. I've been collecting more pool noodles recently, and although you said nkt romantic, I still want these two so 22 and Stiles and Jackson. I feel like those two prompts will work for them.

Tags: m/m, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Feels, fluff, hurt/comfort

Main Pairing: Jackson/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Danny Mahealani, Scott McCall

@writersmonth Prompts: beast + motel

Summary: The team is staying in a motel during an away-game and Scott is using his puppy-dog eyes on Stiles to get out of rooming with his co-captain. Damn those puppy-dog eyes. And damn the motel for having run out of rooms with two beds. And damn Jackson for being so attractive.

This Story on FFNet | This Story on AO3

Away Game

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

"Sti—iles. We're best friends. Brothers, really. Right?"

Stiles didn't look up from the bestiary he was reading on his phone. "Absolutely, Scotty boy."

"And you love me, right?"

Stiles marked a passage on shifters changing their shift form. "Sure do, bud."

"And you would do anything for me. Right?"

Slowly, Stiles lowered his phone. "...I am starting to feel like I won't like where this is headed."

Lowering his phone proved to be a mistake, because Scott next to him was aiming the most convincing puppy-dog eyes at him. Urgh. They made it so hard to deny Scott, so Stiles was already bracing himself for whatever unpleasant thing he was going to agree to.

"I can't room with Jackson," Scott whined. "Coach assigned us the shared room since we're co-captains but I can't sleep in the same room as Jackson for two nights, please. Please switch rooms with me, Stiles. Please? You love me."

"I don't love you enough to share a room with Jackson for two nights, Scotty."

Another whine from Scott and the puppy-dog eyes intensified. Snickering from the row in front of him made Stiles kick the seat. The two werewolves in front of them turned with broad, teasing grins on their lips. Stiles first glared at Boyd and then at Isaac. Damn these oversized puppies.

"Sorry, it's just really fucking funny how much you two argue, considering you're pack now."

Scott grumbled and crossed his arms, sinking lower in his seat at Isaac's comment. All Stiles did was heave a sigh. To him, it made perfect sense. They were like siblings, in that regard. Not the same flavor as Stiles and Scott, the kind that loved each other. But the kind that competed to be the favorite kid, the better of the brothers. After Scott and Stiles had joined the Hale Pack to take down the kanima, they'd worked with Derek and the betas to come up with a plan and they had taken down Gerard together, Scott poisoning Gerard with mountain ash and telling Derek about how Gerard wanted the bite to cure his cancer, leading to Derek biting Gerard. And then Jackson's curse got broken and the giant lizard turned into a beta wolf, changing from one beast to another, also joining the pack. Jackson, who always wanted to be the best and the favorite, only edged on even more with Scott now, since Scott had been – more or less – the first beta and had, at this point, earned his spot as Derek's right hand.

So now Stiles was stuck in a pack of three obnoxious assholes (Boyd, Erica and Isaac. And Stiles was saying 'obnoxious assholes' affectionately at this point), a growly-but-improving Alpha, his best friend in the whole world, and Jackson. Another sigh escaped Stiles.

"I hate you," Stiles said in a flat voice. "I hate you so much."

Scott's face lit up and he hugged Stiles tightly. "Thank you! You're the best."

Boyd chuckled and side-eyed Stiles, causing Stiles to flip him off. So the two had become good friends, really good friends, after their little 'bonding exercise' in the Argent basement but he was absolutely not taking any of the werewolves' shit.

/break\

Jackson stalked into his bedroom, jaw set. Danny was walking next to him, grinning delighted because he could be an absolute asshole if he wanted to be. And Jackson being stuck with McCall for an entire weekend? Danny thought that was hilarious and he opted to go and see how Jackson would settle in. Only that when Jackson opened the door, the person sitting on the only bed in the room was not McCall. It was the only option worse than McCall.

"Stilinski," Jackson growled. "I know you and McCall are attached by the hip, but I am absolutely not sharing a room with both of you. Get out."

"Yeah, you're not," Stiles collapsed backward on the bed, stretching out, his shirt riling up enough to show a pale sliver of skin and his hip bone. "You only share with me."

Jackson was staring transfixed at Stiles' hipbone. Growling. He knew his eyes were flashing blue and he hoped he could cover the arousal with anger. Stiles flipped him off, so he bought it.

"I thought you're sharing a room with Greenberg," Danny noted confused.

"Ye—ep, so did I," Stiles heaved a long-suffering sigh. "And then Scott used the puppy eyes of doom against me and here I am. Jackson's new roommate. Congratulations, Whittemore. You get to enjoy all of this all weekend, lucky you."

He motioned at himself, voice dripping with sarcasm. Jackson ground his teeth together. The motherfucker really didn't know how damn tempting he was. All long limbs, pale skin that begged to be marked up, and that mouth, Jackson had multiple good ideas for that mouth. Danny snorted out a laugh and rested a heavy hand on Jackson's shoulder, patting it.

"Don't worry, Jackson is not a blanket hog, but he does like to cuddle so don't be surprised if you wake up with him spooning you, Stiles," Danny winked.

No mercy. Best friends for so many years and yet Danny had no mercy with him. Jackson glared at him in betrayal. Danny was the only person who knew of Jackson's unfortunate obsession with Stiles. It had started after Jackson became a werewolf. It was like his wolf was drawn to the annoying little shit. Feeling calmer, more at ease when Stiles was around. Stiles had helped him so much in settling in, teaching him control – something he'd done for Derek's other betas too, apparently (after he had learned that Derek's method was medieval torture devices). So it wasn't special, he shouldn't feel special for it. But his wolf latched onto that, feeling cared for. Same with the food, Stiles tended to cook for the pack during pack-nights, because he loved cooking and the wolves could eat a lot. Again, nothing special, the food was for the entire pack. And yet still.

"Have fu—un," Danny chimed, shoving Jackson into the bedroom fully.

"Where the fuck is the other bed," Jackson asked as soon as he slammed the door shut.

"Evidently not in the room," Stiles pointed out, still staring at the ceiling. "Motel's booked. They ran out of two bed bedrooms, so six lucky plays get to cuddle up with each other and we are two of the winning pairs, Jackson. I don't snore, if that helps."

Jackson growled again, really struggling with his wolf who was purring and whining and just wanted to crawl into that bed and curl together around Stiles. This was going to be a nightmare.

/break\

Stiles got back to the bedroom with his teeth brushed, wearing only his boxers and the Batman sleep shirt that Erica had bought him for his birthday. Jackson was already laying on the bed, looking constipated. He'd looked that way ever since he walked into this room. Either he actually had constipation, or it really bothered him this much to share a room with Stiles. Which should not sting as much as it did. After all, Stiles knew he stood no chance with Jackson, even though he'd had a crush on the guy for pretty much as long as he had feelings for Lydia. Yeah, he liked gorgeous people who more or less didn't care for his existence. Nobody said he had good taste.

"If you could at least stop looking like this is physically hurting you. It's insulting."

Stiles jumped onto the bed, pushing Jackson aside enough to get some space too. Jackson glared. No insult though. Weird. Jackson's fingers were twitching at his side before he pulled his hand back. Ah. Oh. That was why he was so constipated. Stiles put on his most shit-eating grin.

"You can cuddle me, you know," Stiles offered, opening his arms.

"W… What," Jackson's voice actually cracked. "Why would you-"

"Whole pack of puppies," Stiles interrupted him, rolling his eyes. "Boyd, Erica and Isaac regularly break into my bedroom to get their scent-marking and Stiles time in. Scott anyway. You – or your wolf, anyway – want to cuddle the pack-human."

Jackson looked at him with a guarded expression and Stiles sighed. "I'm not going to make fun of you for this, Jackson. It's instincts. I've cuddled with Derek and the man looked so murderous throughout but after I smelt enough like his betas, his inner wolf was itching for it too. I'm pack. Being pack is about more than just… personalities mashing perfectly together. You don't have to like me to accept me as a pack-mate."

The look on Jackson's face softened but he still looked guarded, even as he slowly inched closer. Rolling his eyes, Stiles wrapped his arms around the other jock and pulled him close. A soft rumbling came from Jackson and hah, victory. Tehehe, another one for Stiles' puppy collection.

"I don't dislike you, Stilinski."

"Oka—ay?" Stiles furrowed his brows, looking at Jackson.

A blush lit up Jackson's face, which really brought out his freckles in a pretty way. Looking away, Stiles snuggled up more to Jackson. Hey, he was just a guy and if he got to cuddle with his crush, he was damn well going to enjoy it while it lasted. Jackson wrapped his arms around him, near possessive, making Stiles melt in his arms. This was good.

"I like you," Jackson pressed out, sounding like the words actually hurt him.

Stiles froze. "Like… as pack-mates? As friends? As…? No, wait, sorry, forget it. I'll take it."

"The last one," Jackson muttered, voice muffled by Stiles' neck.

"Friends?" Stiles repeated carefully.

"No," Jackson growled. "The one after that."

The one where he trailed off, the implied 'more than friends'. Oh. Oh. Stiles pushed himself off Jackson enough to stare at the other in surprise. There was too much unwanted vulnerability in Jackson's eyes to make this a prank or anything. Jackson liked liked him. Impulsively, Stiles leaned in and pressed his lips against Jackson's, his heart jackrabbiting.

"Against better judgment do I like you too," Stiles admitted after a moment. "I mean, when you're not being a total jerk, you can be really sweet. And your pretty face also helps."

He grinned cheekily at Jackson, who shoved him lightly. "Well, I can return that compliment. When you are not being a total shit, you can be really sweet. And your pretty face helps too."

Stiles flushed to the tips of his ears, ducking his head. Jackson smirked and then nuzzled into his neck. That felt good. That felt really nice. Stiles yawned, snuggling more into Jackson's warmth. This was so not what he had expected when switching rooms with Scotty, but now he may actually owe his best friend. Maybe a nice fruit-basket or something?

~*~ The End ~*~

#Stackson #Jackson Whittemore #Stiles Stilinski #Teen Wolf #Stiles Summer Stories 2024 #Phoe's Fics #Fanfiction

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