#derek figures it out first and panics

[patolemus]

AU where Stiles and Derek are both in high school and they have this long standing rivalry that started years ago back when they were still in elementary school and they hate each other, absolutely despise each other. Do they remember why? Not really, but they do know they must beat the other at all costs.

Derek is captain of the basketball team and Stiles does track. They both have trophies and awards, Derek has won the state championship ever since he started playing, and Stiles gets gold or silver in all of his events during competitions. Their GPA is exactly the same, Stiles is a History genius and Derek always aces English. They both suck at Chemistry, and they hate Harris. It's the only thing they ever agree on.

The only other highlight of their high school career besides their epic and everlasting hate-hate relationship is the anonymous person they've been talking to through annotated books.

Stiles blames his impulsiveness, because one day in freshman year he picked up a book full of little notes in the margin of the pages in the library and decided to answer all of them with his own little insights. Somehow he ends up having entire conversations made in intervals of a few days, in the form of words written on paper.

Derek? Well, he likes to annotate books and have mini conversations with himself, and he uses a pencil to write them, it’s not like he’s permanently damaging school property or anything! He starts caring less and less about that, though, when someone starts leaving answers to his annotations, much more invested on the conversations than on the preservation of school property.

Now, years later, about eighty percent of the library's books contain little messages and full blown conversations between two complete strangers. Stiles and Derek are about to graduate, and neither of them knows who this other person is. Which is a tragedy because they're pretty sure this mysterious person is the love of their life.

Spoiler alert: they're right.

[mggslover]

Killing machine

In which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst, fluff Tropes: wound cleaning Word count: 1,8k A/n: the first one shot on this blog and also the first I've written in years!!

The sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional clicking of her broken flashlight fill the stuffy, cramped space of the abandoned container Y/n finds herself in. The BAU is after a team of unsubs who’ve been killing elderly widows who come from old money, using their grief as a way to make it into their lives and homes. They murder them in cold blood, stealing their most prized possessions and storing them in abandoned locations. For the past two days, Y/n has been visiting warehouses all over the state, trying to identify who the found property belongs to and finding new leads on where the unsubs could be. 

Today should’ve been another day of clearing out warehouses and containers. Y/n and the team split up after arriving on the property. Callahan, JJ, and Rossi taking one warehouse, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid taking the other, while Y/n got the task to search some smaller containers around the area. She squints her eyes in an attempt to fight the night blindness as her flashlight flickers. “Come on, just work with me,” she mumbles as she slaps her palm against the back of the flashlight, trying to get it to properly work. Y/n gives a small sigh of satisfaction when a bright light erupts out of the flashlight. As she tilts her head back up, she’s greeted by the chest of a male just inches away from her. Her flashlight shatters to the ground, her hard effort gone as the lens breaks into tiny pieces. The male, who she identifies as one of the unsubs, reaches in his jean pocket where the handle of a Glock is sticking out. Before the unsub has the chance to make a single movement, a bullet derived from Y/n’s gun makes a quick and clean hole in his forehead. She’s met with the familiar ringing in her ear and natural response of flinching as his blood splatters onto her. 

She hears a creak and turns around, expecting a team member to make sure she’s alright. 

“Hey, I-“

She stops dead in her tracks as she catches a small dim of light behind a wooden crate, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes out two eyes. The click of a gun makes her snap her head around, and she soon figures out it wasn’t just one of the unsubs hiding in here… it’s all of them. Gun in her clammy hand, she guides herself by the small sounds of movement that suddenly sound as loud as the beating of drums. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her gaze only focused on what’s in front of her as she starts firing. One by one the unsubs hidden behind boxes and shelves fall to the ground. She lets out a yelp and stumbles when a bullet grazes her cheek, making her land on her back. Y/n quickly holds herself up on her arms as she hits the final blow at her shooter. The sound of the gunshots had barely registered in her mind before the deafening silence followed. Her grip remains strong on her gun as her heart pounds into her chest. 

“Y/n!” Spencer’s shriek of panic is heard across the container. He stumbles his way over the boxes and bodies on the ground, only focused on her. “I thought you were dead,” he says as he kneels next to her, brows furrowed and mouth softly agape as he flashes his flashlight in her face, examining her. She hisses as his cold fingers trace the wound on her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. 

The rest of the team follows Spencer into the container. Derek crouches to observe the lifeless body of the assumed leader of the group of unsubs. “Damn girl, that’s a good shot,” he compliments. 

Rossi looks around at the scattered bodies. “It’s not just him, all of these are aimed perfectly,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I need to take some extra classes from you. I can’t even shoot like this in GTA.” His words earn some chuckles, but it makes her stomach churn. She didn’t even think twice about taking them down—how was that something she should feel proud of? The praise made her feel like a weapon, like she was being recognized for something she didn’t want to be good at. 

Hotch’s eyes softened when he noticed her clear discomfort and the state of shock she was still in as she couldn’t find the words to speak. “Reid, get Y/n to the medics outside and then take her home. We’ll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

-

As Spencer turns the key into his apartment door, he makes sure to keep his hand steady on Y/n’s lower back, gently guiding her inside. “Let’s go clean this wound up. The medic told me you have to sanitize it twice a day, before going to bed and after waking up.” Spencer continues rambling on about the medical books he’s read and how he’s practiced cleaning dirty cuts on himself, as he makes her sit down on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn’t process any of his words, though. Her mind keeps spinning back to the container, how she didn’t experience a moment of doubt as she saw the unsubs armed and how meticulously she ended them. How easy it was to end the lives of five human beings in the span of a single minute. 

She tilts her head with a hum as Spencer repeats her name. “Can I take your vest off?” She nods as she lifts her arms, giving Spencer access. He helps her lift out of it,  tossing the bulletproof vest behind him. She cringes as she notices the dried blood and gunpowder coating it. “Hey… I’m right here, you’re okay,” Spencer softly coos, turning Y/n’s attention back on him. 

He traces the back of his finger against her unhurt cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” When she doesn’t respond, he gently cups her chin, tilting it up to bring her attention to him. He crouches so that he can look her in the eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she has. She knows she can trust Spencer, but she’s feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact that she’s struggling so much about something that should be routine by now after the number of years she’s worked at the BAU, but also embarrassed by the fact that it’s supposed to be routine, since it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have the skill to perform headshots like that and she definitely shouldn’t be praised about it by her colleagues. She knows they mean well, but she cannot get rid of the sick taste in her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I know it was terrifying being alone in there. I know you don’t like the dark or tight spaces, but it’s over now. You did so well.” 

“Did I?” Her voice comes out harsher than intended, making Spencer tilt his head in confusion. 

“I killed five people, Spencer, five,” she says as her voice shakes. Spencer rubs her shoulders up and down. “You were left with no choice, there was no other option.” 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” She whispers, her voice barely audible as the tears start to spill. She shakes her head as she scoffs a laugh in disbelief. “God… you heard what Rossi said. I’m a killing machine, Spencer! I didn’t even know I was capable of doing that.” She says. “Garcia fights the justice system to get the man who almost killed her off of death row, and what do I do? I don’t give them a single chance and kill them without even thinking about it. I swear Spence, it happened as a reflex. It shouldn’t happen as a reflex!” Y/n’s anxiety builds up as she keeps thinking of reasons as to why she’s a bad person. The empathy is visible in Spencer’s eyes as his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the dirty bandage. It wasn’t the wound he was worried about— it was what he couldn’t see. How the strongest person he knew was shaking in front of him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from everything the job took from her. 

“You cannot compare those situations. Garcia saw the potential of him bettering his life. You had no other choice, you needed to protect yourself.” 

She swallows. “I used to be a lot like her, you know.” The memories of Y/n’s early days in her career flood her mind. Back when she could feel proud of her ability to protect others. Back when she could still relate to believing the good in people. She used to think every life had some value worth saving. She doesn’t remember the moment that changed. 

Spencer softly smiles down at her. “You still are, love. You’re a soft-spoken kind soul, you just put some protective layers over that. I know it’s hard to reconcile who you are now with who you were when you started this job,” Spencer says as he caresses her freshly bandaged cheek. “Your strength might have hardened you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your compassion. You’re still the same person. You just do it differently now.” His words make her melt as she leans into his touch, surrendering herself to the security he offered. Spencer smiles to himself as he guides her up off of the bathtub, pulling her into his embrace and resting his chin on her head. 

“You’re such a caring person, sweetheart. The fact that you’re worrying about this tells me enough of how good of a person you are.” Her eyes water as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know anyone as gentle and loving as you,” he whispers between kisses as he continues showering her in words of affection and reassurance.

 “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you’re amazing at the job that you do. The risk you took has saved so many people, love, just think about it.” Warm, full tears soak his sweatshirt as she buries her face in his chest. Finding gratitude in the fact that her boyfriend always knows the right words to comfort her. 

He takes her face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to take a while to get over this, but we’ll go through it together,” he says. Those sweet, brown bambi eyes looking deeply into hers make her believe every word he says. 

“Will you help me? When I need to fill in the evaluation?” She softly asks, already dreading going through the case again, but Spencer's soft gaze calms her. 

“I will, love. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

[ghostieblr]

Peter's Vows

When Derek is born, there is an earthquake. Beacon Hills is many things, but it is not a place of earthquakes. This is an anomaly, this sudden shaking of the land, and Peter watches Talia go through the pain of birthing a cub, and he makes note of how her cries resonate with the moving earth. As the baby is brought to the world of the living, the earth shakes more; giddy, Peter thinks of the land. Giddy at this baby's birth. That's what it is.

The town reels with the destruction, however minimal it seems to be. It is the strangeness of the earthquake that has the people in a panic, and it takes two days of Mayor Yukimura calling for council meetings and community barbecues that they begin to somehwat calm down.

The baby is named Derek on the first day itself, born underneath the Nemeton, his pale blue eyes reflecting the moonlight in silver hues. Talia sobs with relief, Nathan beside her, stroking her hair. Laura is back at the pack house, safely tucked in the bed, the rest of the pack members keeping watch. Talia had wanted to bring her with them, fearing the worst of the anomaly, but their mom had convinced her to not do it. The birth of the Alpha's cub is a big deal, but it is also private: only the Mate, Emissary and Left Hand are allowed to be present, for comfort, safety, and protection, respectively.

It has been tradition since ages, and Talia is the last person to break it.

Derek is a calm baby. Sleeps through the night, doesn't cry for attention. Only does it for feeding, his survival instinct as strong as his lungs. Peter adores him, even if he may never admit it to anyone.

He is also curious about the boy. Why an earthquake? It cannot be a coincidence. Truly, he wonders how some people can be so dumb. Calling it a coincidence is insulting to the Powers That Be, which must have called upon such a natural reaction of the land for a reason. Derek is a special boy, and Peter vows to find out how.

Besides his incredibly compassionate heart, that is.

It is in his eyes, which have slowly turned into a kaleidoscope of colors, the kindness of him. Derek's trust is not so easily earned, but once it is, it is extremely difficult to dislodge it.

Derek is a boy destined to become a kind man, one that will be an Alpha with mercy in his heart but cunning in his mind. Peter sees the makings of it right from the beginning, the way the boy will procure solutions to his own problems as well as those he deems important to him. Laura is the first born and thus has the claim to being the next Hale Alpha, however Peter knows, somehow, perhaps instinctually, that Derek will be the Alpha.

Another piece of the puzzle falls in place when their emissary falls pregnant. She's an amazing woman, Claudia. Peter likes her wit and humor, and he enjoys the perspective of her husband, the deputy, and if luck is on his side, soon-to-be Sheriff of Beacon Hills. Peter is happy for the couple.

He is, also, astonished to see an almost five-year-old Derek climb onto Claudia's lap one morning, his small fists rubbing against his eyes, and his nose scrunching determinedly to find a scent.

Peter remembers the conversation well.

"Derek, honey? What are you trying to find?"

"Mine," is what Derek growls in reply to Claudia, and shoves his nose against her barely-showing belly.

Peter's laughing figure is shot out of the end of the couch and onto the floor by Claudia's impeccable throw of one of the decorative pillows from said couch.

Thereafter, it was peculiar but not unseemly to find Derek following beside Claudia, his whole little being focused on the life forming inside her. And when the night came, Peter wasn't at all surprised to witness the thunderstorm.

Claudia had plans of giving birth in the hospital, but due to miscalculated steps, or simply because of reasons not privy to them, the best possible option left for her seemed to be below the Nemeton.

John had lost his damn mind at the prospect. "It's raining! Heavily!"

"Talia gave birth in an earthquake," Claudia says through gritted teeth, "And the baby doesn't care, nor do I, John. It is—"

Her words are cut off by another scream, and she is right, of course. It is time.

Talia, John, and Peter are the only ones who should go with her, but Derek, the little sneaky wolf that he seems to have become, follows them. It isn't until halfway through that John, the human, realizes his presence first.

They move forward with the determined little boy, who is all sopping wet in his wolf onesie, and really, this is no laughing matter. Except it is.

Claudia is brought below the Nemeton, and the tree, big and branching and beautiful, hums in their presence. The canopy of it sheds them some, but not completely.

And so, under hard rain and sharp thunderstorms, Mieczysław Stilinski is born, his little body almost white under the moonlight, and his eyes, when they open, a shock of topaz, like a glinting jewel; a fallen angel, Peter thinks.

Derek carefully wraps the baby in the blanket Talia removes from the packed bag, her movements locked onto her son's and the baby's, while John tends to his wife.

Peter watches. He notes the way the baby is calmest in Derek's arms, the way Derek is mesmerized.

This is more than just being True Mates.

True Mates itself are the rarest of occurrences, but something tells him this is more than that. The earthquake, and this sudden rain, in April of all things, simply cannot be coincidence. There must be a reason, one that Peter must uncover.

In the coming years, he dedicates his time to the quest, and finds that, oh, this is something unique indeed.

Unique to the point of legend.

Of course, he gathers facts before telling anyone. Derek's control goes onto the list, as does his ability to switch between his shift as easy as breathing. Having such control at the age of seven is almost impossible, but he has it without the growing ego that would have inflated anyone else's with the amount of praise he gets.

Stiles, as Derek had nicknamed Mieczysław almost immediately post his arrival in the world, is no human. His mother's line has some pretty strong magical abilities, but the kind of power that this boy exudes surpasses imagination. Nobody notices at first, not even Peter, until Stiles is a couple of months past his third birthday. It truly isn't until Derek, almost nine, comes down from his room one day into the kitchen, says, "Which packet, Stiles?" that they realize it.

"Honey, he isn't a wolf. He cannot hear you," Nathan tells him, but Derek just shrugs.

"He is for today."

Peter hears the, "Blue one! Blue one! Blue is sooo pretty, Derek!" from Stiles, who is definitely sitting in Derek's room, upstairs.

Derek grabs the blue packet and goes upstairs, and Peter follows, followed by Talia and Nathan, who beckon Claudia as well.

Stiles sitting on the floor, a myriad of toys around him, while the packets of chips sit beside him, torn open, evidently by Derek's claws, who himself is playing with Stiles.

And they're both being fed flying chips.

The three wolves turn to Claudia as one. Her shaking head and awed face is enough to clue them in, and really, Peter thinks, this is fucking incredible.

Powers don't manifest as early as this in magic wielders. They're more of the puberty package, tied to emotions at the beginning rather than will.

This is... defying it.

Peter loves to see when the next piece of the puzzle will fall.

And it does oh so enticingly.

Years later, when Derek is fourteen and Stiles is almost nine, comes the first trial. The Alpha Summit & The Argent Treaty.

Peter doesn't believe Gerard's words to do no harm, so he sets up precautions in place. It pays off, because during the summit, he almost ends up blinding Deaucalion — something that could have turned super bad if left unchecked.

Gerard's attack is met with swift retaliation, but somehow, only his goons end up dead. Gerard himself remains free, and through sheer will, maybe, the old man manages to kidnap Laura.

By the time the adults sniff out their cub, they're too late.

Not in the sense of Laura being hurt, but in the terms of missing the action, somewhat.

When they enter the warehouse, they are faced with Gerard being held down by a black wolf, fangs around his neck, the eyes of the creature a deep, ruby red. Deeper than Talia's. At first, they all assume it to be one of the visiting Alphas, but then they realize Stiles' presence, too, and it clicks.

Stiles frees Laura from the painful looking electric rod, and comes back to Derek, coaxes him back to his human form as Peter and Nathan take care of the psychopath.

Laura lets Talia mother her, and then says, "We'll have two Alphas."

Talia looks at the now human Derek, and eyes shining with pride, she nods. "Come here, both of you," she beckons, and the boys run, Stiles' chattering a comforting sound for all of them.

A few weeks later, Derek admits to everyone he has a new friend, and talks about her often. Paige this, Paige that. Laura teases him, restrained in her words, trying not to upset Derek's control. Even Cora pulls back. Stiles, though, is almost worse.

He riles Derek to the point of him using his Alpha voice to shut up, and the whole Pack silences itself, even Talia. Stiles, though — an exception to all things sane — doesn't back down. The voice doesn't work on him, and Derek isn't phased by it. However, the smell of guilt filters through their home, and Stiles' sigh is followed by comforting words. There is no apologizing though.

Soon, they'll learn from Derek himself that he hates that everyone is walking on eggshells. That is why he kept bringing up Paige, so that someone would tease him, uncle Peter, Laura, Cora. Or that Stiles would rile him up.

"Why would he, though? He should be happy for you. I am." Cora's words are met with a laugh from Derek, and a groan of embarrassement from Stiles.

"He's weirdly possessive — don't push me, you know you are."

"Alright," Stiles sighs, "I am."

"And Paige is a great friend, but I don't nearly think about her as much as I might have let you all believe."

And that is when Peter sees it. The blink-and-you-will-miss-it purple flash of Stiles' eyes. Peter doesn't put thought into why now; he simply focuses on completing the puzzle.

And he does. True Alpha and Purple Eyes? That's easy.

That's legend.

Set in stone as the first Alpha and the first Emissary as well as Spark, who, arguably, also set in stone the sword of Excalibur.

That part of the legend has questionable sources, though. Sure, Merlin Emrys is, as per theories, the most powerful sorcerer of all time, and Arthur Pendragon the greatest ruler, the once and future king, but it doesn't have as much merit.

What Peter is sure about is that somehow, the Powers That Be decided that this is the pack to send these two to.

He watches Stiles argue about the best type of pasta with Derek, and thinks, suddenly, that perhaps this is their happy ending. What legends end happy? None. So this must be their time to be happy.

Peter vows another quest, then. To always protect Derek and Stiles.

[hedwig221b]

stiles and derek body swap fics?

sure thing

Fuzzy Logic by Sparseparsley

Derek and Stiles switch bodies because of wizard reasons and Stiles just wants to know what that awesome scent is.

I'm Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink. “Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to. He’s looking at his soulmate. -- Stiles wakes up in his soulmate's body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn't wake up at all.

Your Body's My Body by derekstilinski

Derek and Stiles get body swapped… Interesting things happen.

Under My Skin by Renmackree

In his defense, Stiles wasn't even trying to find his way into the supernatural tonight. He had gone to a normal party at Danny's after their summer Lacrosse practice , met a normal girl who seemed interested in him, left with her to go to her normal apartment in the hopes of having normal sex for the first time. But, then again, when has anything normal happened to Stiles Stilinski?

Might Not Make It Back by GotTheSilver

Bodyswap. Because of the fun.

Yours, Mine, Our Body by christinchen

Stiles wishes Derek could see things from his perspective. His magic decides to grant him that wish. Literally.

Trust Fall

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide. Great. Wait…does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit. Derek had stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a few minutes trying to control the panic as he saw himself as Stiles. As the loud mouthed human friend of the pack. He was going to kill Peter. He was going to kill the witch, then he was going to kill Peter. Maybe even resurrect him again just to kill him all over. They were going to have to play this cool. They would have to stay calm and focused. Which is of course why the universe threw him into this situation with someone who physically couldn't be calm and focused. Of course.

it is so quite new a thing by sheafrotherdon

In the last, lazy moment before he opens his eyes, Derek realizes something is wrong.

i feel you in every heartbeat by warlock (sapphicblight)

Suddenly his entire body felt tingly and sensitive and he could swear gravity had failed on him just then; he couldn’t feel the chair he was sitting on, or where he’d planted his feet on the floor, or the clothes he was wearing, or the pen he was holding, and then his vision started blurring and morphing into a picture of some place that was not his classroom. “Oh, shi—” “—it,” he finished with a different voice. Or, the AU in which, on their 22nd birthday, a person will switch bodies with their soulmate and is left to figure out whom they're temporarily inhabiting, and how to get back to each other. But because Stiles is Stiles, he forgets that it's his birthday, and the bodyswap takes him by surprise.

if i was you and you were me, we'd still be us by thoughtsandthings

"Derek,” Stiles said slowly. “Why do you look like the evil twin version of me?” “Go look in the mirror.” - After swapping bodies, Stiles and Derek walk a mile in each other’s shoes and learn a lot about each other (and themselves) in the process.

[masterlist link]

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I’ve been looking for this Sterek fic for years now. Hopefully you can help.

It’s a soulmates au where you get your soulmates scars. Stiles is covered in scars and ashamed. Most people don’t know how bad the scarring is because he wears layers all the time. His body is revealed one day, I don’t remember how, and everyone sees his scars. Eventually Derek and stiles figure out that they are mates.

That’s all I remember. Thanks in advance!

AND

Anonymous asked:

I have been looking for a fic for about a week now and I have given up and come to the god of all sterek fics for help.

Basically, stiles has scars and constantly wears layers or long sleeves and the pack calls him on it one day while they are chilling and they see his scars which is shocking to them. I’m fairly certain it was just a one-shot. But I’ve searched and searched, on here and on ao3, and have found nothing

AND

Peter and Chris are mates and from a certain age (18 or 21) they get a copy of their mates' scars. Chris doesn't know that his mate is a wolf and because he doesn't get any new scars, he thinks he doesn't have a mate and starts to self hard. He attempts suicide by hanging/strangulation and it wakes Peter up in a panic and Peter's mum helps him through that experience. They meet when the Hale's deal with an Omega and Peter calls Chris to complain that the body is still there. Eventually, they learn they are mates and Chris learns why he didn't get any new scars

Hi @lipstilinski and Anon! @lyrecqe thinks it could be one of these.

you left a mark on me by thedaughterofkings

(1/1 I 2,861 I Teen I Sterek)

Soulmates aren't a very well studied phenomenon.

It is not known what percentage of the population has a soulmate, mostly because most people don't even know it themselves. You don't get a neat tattoo of your soulmate’s name or of the first words they say to you or anything helpful like that. Stiles wishes he lived in a universe like that. Instead he gets soulmarks - literal marks appearing on his body, reflecting the injuries of his soulmate.

With the amount of scrapes they get into, his soulmate is either James Bond or a werewolf. Stiles hopes it's the latter and he even has a particular werewolf in mind.

OR

tracing patterns on your skin by To_fill_the_sea

(26/? I 55,759 I Explicit I Sterek)

They all exist in a universe where your soulmate shares all your scars. For some people that isn't so bad. For Stiles that means he's covered with marks from someone he has never met. He stopped wanting to find his soulmate a long time ago, and now his best friend is trying to figure everything out after having been bit by a werewolf and he's doing all he can. So, life is extra weird now. And it's pretty much just going to get more complicated from here on out.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

What To Do When Your Emotionally Constipated Werewolf Boyfriend Gets Cursed By A Witch: A Guide

Teen Wolf » Sterek

Title: What To Do When Your Emotionally Constipated Werewolf Boyfriend Gets Cursed By A Witch: A Guide

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Teen Wolf (Masterlist)

Relationship: Derek Hale x Stiles Stilinski

AO3 Rating: Teen & Up (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: Derek gets cursed by a coven of witches with an inability to lie and a compulsion to blurt out whatever he's thinking and feeling at any given moment. The ironic thing is, everything he says is incredibly nice, heartfelt, and affectionate, leaving his packmates wondering: who are you and what have you done with our emotionally constipated surly alpha?

"Hey, maybe true love's kiss will break your curse," Stiles jokes one night when they're all crowded around the dinner table sharing Italian takeaway. Derek practically shoves his entire fist into his mouth to stop himself from blurting out, maybe you should give it a try. Luckily, Stiles is too busy screeching about burning his tongue on a scalding mouthful of mozzarella to notice.

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr:

Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh as he approaches the clearing along the mountainside, home to one of the most powerful covens Beacon Hills has ever seen, swathed in protection spells so thick it's a wonder he'd been able to track them down at all. He hopes like hell they'll be able to fix this, because otherwise, he is so, so screwed.

Mother.

Fucking.

Witches.

• • •

It starts at a pack meeting late one night in mid-October, all twelve of them crowded around the living room of the reconstructed Hale house in varying states of worry and boredom, half-empty pizza boxes scattered across coffee tables and couch cushions, trying to figure out how to solve the recent problem of witches in Beacon Hills.

According to Derek, a powerful coven has encroached upon their territory, stirring up mayhem all over town — people disappearing and reappearing at random, animals transfigured into objects and vice versa (that was a wild day at the cat café), townsfolk spontaneously sprouting mythical appendages (unicorn horns, fairy wings, mermaid scales, the works) and not taking any notice until they pass by a shop window and everyone rushes out to compliment them on their SFX skills, and, of course, the occasional body-swap. All in all, it's been relatively harmless, more like practical jokes in the spirit of the season than anything truly nefarious, but Scott figures it's best they put a stop to it before someone gets hurt.

Derek and Scott had been reluctant when Stiles first pitched the idea of a co-alpha blended pack dynamic, but so far, it's been working out surprisingly well. They've been seeing eye to eye on things a lot more lately, the pack growing stronger, learning to trust and rely on one another, now that they're one united front. And on the days where they clash, Stiles, self-appointed emissary, is quick to jump in and mediate. Derek had always assumed that Stiles would be biased and favor Scott, but he's actually quite good at balancing between the two of them, seeing the merit of both of their sides, translating miscommunications in a way both Derek and Scott can understand.

Today, however, is not one of those days. Scott's arguing for one plan of attack, Derek for another — one of them says something monumentally stupid just to bruise the other's ego, and just like that, all hell breaks loose, tempers flaring, insults flying. Stiles, bless him, makes a valiant attempt to intervene, but he's so overwhelmed by the looming threat of mercurial magic-wielders that he ends up interjecting his own panic into the situation, and suddenly it's the lacrosse locker room all over again, pacing back and forth until he's just an anxiety-ridden blur, freaking out over what horrible thing the witches might be planning.

"The full moon falls on Halloween this year, and a whole-ass coven of powerful witches just happens to show up in Beacon Hills?" he frets, words tumbling out of his mouth so fast it's a wonder he doesn't run out of breath. "You can't tell me that's just a coincidence. What if they're planning some kind of ritualistic sacrifice?"

"Stiles, I highly doubt that could happen twice in the same—" Allison interjects in an attempt to soothe his nerves, but Stiles just barrels on like he hadn't heard her.

"I've seen Hocus Pocus! I know what they're after!" he practically shouts. "It's the virgin thing all over again, and in case it isn't obvious, I still haven't fixed that particular problem. Seriously, how many times is my life going to become a fuck or die trope?"

Derek blinks a couple of times, lips parting slightly as he watches Stiles's frantic pacing come to a sudden halt.

"That settles it," Stiles declares with a decisive nod. "I need to have sex. Right now. Someone needs to sex me right fucking now."

There's a scuffle of laughter from the far side of the room, and then Erica's shouting, "Derek will do it!" at the same time Jackson snickers, "Derek, that's your cue."

Derek closes his eyes and lets out a weary sigh. Of course they'd jump all over that. Of course. Because somehow, over the span of the past couple of years, nearly everyone in the pack has gotten it into their heads that Stiles and Derek have got a thing for each other, and apparently, they're feeling particularly cocky today. 

He supposes he should be used to it by now. Derek has lost count of the amount of times he's caught them all muttering things like Jesus Christ, just fuck each other already and get a goddamn room under their breath every time the two of them start going at it, throwing empty threats and half-hearted insults at each other in the weirdest brand of flirting anyone has ever seen, or the way they all make gagging noises claiming they're choking on the thick layer of sexual tension permeating the air every time Stiles and Derek so much as glance in each other's direction.

Or the way Erica had full-on cackled that one time she'd caught Derek burying his face into a pillow that Stiles had spent the entire pack meeting holding, fidgeting with it until he'd unraveled the threading in one of the corners.

It's fine, Derek thinks. He's got a sewing kit around here somewhere, he can mend it later. He is a little concerned, though. He thinks maybe Stiles had just been nervous about the topics addressed during the meeting, scared for his father's safety at the idea of yet another potential threat, but he doesn't smell any hint of fear on the fabric. It just smells good. Like Stiles. Like pack. Like home. 

And— there's a hint of something else there too, something that Derek can't quite place, but it's making his heart do this funny flipping thing inside his chest.

"Oh my god, you guys are so stupid for each other, it's sickening," Erica says, but her tone is playful, almost fond. 

"What?" Derek says distractedly, like he's genuinely surprised to find himself with company.

Erica rolls her eyes. 

"The pillow, Derek," she says, pointing at it like it's incriminating evidence. Derek wraps his arms around it and pulls it closer to his chest, tucking it under his chin.

"The fucking pillow Stiles used as a goddamn boner shield all meeting," Erica smirks. "You do know why he had it, don't you? Come on, you can't tell me you didn't do it on purpose."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Derek snaps, but it's less heated and more defensive than anything else, and suddenly he won't look her in the eye. 

Erica heaves a theatrical sigh. 

"Next time you show up for a pack meeting straight after a workout, make sure you remember to put on a fucking shirt so Stiles doesn't have a heart attack, will you?"

And then she's laughing again, whipping around the corner and strolling up the stairs to her and Boyd's room, before Derek can do more than splutter.

Derek pushes the memory out of his mind, filing it away under things we refuse to talk about, along with the rest of the ever-growing mountain of Stiles-related incidents.

He's about to laugh it off, roll his eyes and tell them all to shut the fuck up as usual, but instead, what comes out of his mouth is—

"Okay."

Spoken in the softest fucking cadence he didn't even know he possessed.

The room falls dead silent. Everyone stops what they're doing and just stares at him. Derek's heart picks up speed as his brain catches up with his stupid, stupid mouth. His eyes widen like he can't believe he just said that out loud, like he had absolutely no control over it. Because truthfully, he hadn't. He chances a look over at Stiles, and— if he wasn't so shocked and terrified by what had just happened, he'd have laughed, because Stiles has got his mouth hanging open comically wide, eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline as he fixes Derek with an incredulous stare.

And then Stiles bursts out laughing.

"Oh my god," he says, practically wheezing, hand clutched over his heart. "You really had me going there for a minute. You're messing with me, just like Danny. I've never heard you joke like that before."

And then everyone else starts laughing, and Derek forces himself to join in, pointedly avoiding the looks of what the fuck plastered all over Boyd, Isaac, and Erica's faces, internally screaming his own chorus of what the ever-loving fuck because that definitely hadn't been a joke and Derek definitely hadn't mean to say that out loud.

Amidst his panic, the query who the fuck is Danny? nettles at the back of his mind, and he can't decide if he's more offended by the fact that someone else propositioned Stiles for sex, or that the fact that they weren't actually serious about it.

• • •

At first, Stiles assumes it's a practical joke, or some kind of bizarre six-months-late April Fool's prank. It has to be, because over the course of the week that follows, Derek stops being a sarcastic asshole toward Stiles, and instead, starts showering him in compliments. Stiles is just going about his life, cracking self-deprecating jokes, but instead of smirking and adding an insulting quip of his own, Derek has started to become like, aggressively nice, getting almost angry whenever Stiles insults himself.

"God, I'm so stupid," Stiles sighs as he crosses out the wrong answer to a math problem he'd been working on at Derek's kitchen table.

"Hey, don't talk about yourself like that," Derek growls, brow furrowed like he's genuinely offended by Stiles's offhand remark. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever met."

Stiles stares at him, highlighter cap falling out of his open mouth.

Derek blinks a few times in rapid succession, dropping the stack of playing cards he'd been shuffling for their upcoming game night onto the kitchen counter with a deafening clatter. He looks just as surprised as Stiles feels.

"Uh…thanks, man," Stiles manages, a tell-tale blush prickling the back of his neck as he buries his nose in his textbook and doesn't resurface for several minutes straight, having retained absolutely nothing on the page.

A few days later finds Lydia, Cora, and Malia all roaring with laughter as Stiles walks them through his intricate twenty-five step plan to get someone to want to sleep with him before the next full moon. Mock-insulted and mostly joking, he says, "What, you don't think there's at least one person out there who wants to get with all of this? I'm a goddamn snack, I'll have you know."

"Shut up. No you're not," Derek snaps, glancing up from the book he'd been pretending to read in the far corner of the living room. And then, like he just can't help himself, immediately follows it up with, "You're a full course meal."

Stiles pauses, staring at him in disbelief. 

Derek suddenly goes very rigid, eyes widening ever so slightly in alarm. He slaps a hand over his mouth, like he's physically restraining himself from saying anything more. 

And then Stiles bursts out laughing. 

"Dude, that's funny. I'm gonna have to start using that," he says, penciling in the pick-up line as step twenty-six.

The thing is, it isn't just compliments. Derek has also started to become, like, weirdly affectionate, in his own gruff, sourwolf way. He's started talking more — Stiles is fairly certain Derek has spoken more over the past week than he has in the past two years — his expressions becoming softer, a wider range of emotions smoothing away the frown lines as he opens up about his past, sharing pieces of family history, little anecdotes and personal stories and random facts about himself. 

Stiles collects them like a memory magpie.

Derek prefers pancakes over waffles. 

Derek likes the color red. 

Derek has the entire Harry Potter series in pristine hardcover. 

Derek used to sit at his grandmother's feet and untangle yarn for her while she knitted him and his siblings cozy winter hats and sweaters. 

And it'd be really endearing if it didn't make Stiles wildly uncomfortable, because this is Derek we're talking about — a guy so emotionally constipated, it looks like it's causing him physical pain. Over the years, Stiles has come to expect a certain dynamic between the two of them, one that straddles the line between half-hearted insults and playful banter, and this whole weird new nice guy routine that Derek has suddenly got going on is starting to make Stiles suspicious.

He starts to get really paranoid, thinking Derek must have somehow found out about his — well, he wouldn't call it a crush, exactly — and is just fucking with him, just to be a dick. Like, maybe he caught Stiles staring at him during pack meetings one too many times, or— oh god, what if he can smell the arousal coming off of him in waves whenever they lock eyes, and he's finally put two and two together after all these years and figured out that the reason Stiles's heartbeat goes haywire every time Derek so much as glances in his direction isn't because he's scared of him, or because he's had too much caffeine.

Or— oh fuck. Maybe Derek had heard him that one time he'd jerked off in the shower to the thought of Derek pressing him up against his bedroom wall, and gasped out Derek's name as he'd, uh, crescendoed, before strolling back into his room wearing nothing but a sated, shit-eating grin and a towel wrapped around his waist, only to find the real Derek sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for him. 

Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin and drops the towel, shouting all manner of colorful obscenities. The look on Derek's face is…interesting. Stiles can practically feel Derek's eyes boring into him, trailing over every inch of him, lingering on the border where his towel meets his hipbones and swallowing thickly, and Stiles can't help but follow the movements, entranced, watching his Adam's apple bob up and down and wondering how it would taste under his tongue, and oh god, now his body thinks it's time for round two and he's tenting his towel and fuck fuck fuck oh no—

And then Derek clears his throat a little louder and more aggressively than normal, and they both avert their eyes, and Stiles controls himself long enough to ask why Derek is here, and then Derek slowly turns his back so that Stiles can hastily get dressed, handing him a slip of paper with a weird symbol on it that he's hoping Stiles can decipher for him.

"So, uh…out of curiosity…exactly how long were you here before I stepped out of the shower?" Stiles asks as Derek grips the frame of his bedroom window, one foot already out on the roof. The crack in his voice is hard to miss.

"Long enough," Derek says cryptically, which could either mean "I heard you" or "you kept me waiting," and Stiles is honestly not sure which one is worse.

A loud crash snaps Stiles back to the present and he looks up to find Erica climbing through his bedroom window, followed swiftly by Boyd and Isaac, tumbling into a heap onto his bedroom floor. Try as they might, the leather-clad trio have never quite managed to replicate Derek's finesse when it comes to breaking and entering.

Before Stiles can get out even so much as a what the fuck, they're rounding on him, talking over each other in a worried frenzy, insisting that there's something very very wrong with Derek. Stiles's heart starts to race, mouth going dry, and he's already going through his mental rolodex of potential cures and fix-its, when they say the most ludicrous thing he's ever heard in his life.

"We think that Derek's been cursed," Erica says.

"By a witch," Isaac clarifies.

"And now he can only say really nice things," Boyd finishes.

"What," Stiles says flatly, and then he's snorting with incredulous laughter.

"I'm sorry, run that by me again. You think Derek's been hit with a…what, a nice guy curse?" he snickers. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"

"You don't understand," Erica says seriously, bracing her hands on either side of Stiles's shoulders. "Tonight, he told us that he's proud of us and that he loves us."

Stiles's mouth drops open in shock.

"And that's not all," Isaac chimes in. "We tested it out. Asked him to tell us how he really feels about Scott, and do you know what he said?"

"What?" Stiles eyes him warily, preparing to launch into a one-man Scott McCall defense party.

"That Scott's a good kid with a heart of gold," Erica scoffs, like it's physically painful for her to recall. "Can you believe that?"

"Holy shit," Stiles says, genuinely stunned.

And suddenly it all clicks into place, the reason Derek has been so unnervingly kind to him these past few days. He's been cursed. Stupid as it sounds, there's no other explanation for it.

"Yeah, so…as you can see, Derek needs help," Erica says, like being nice is some kind of terminal illness.

"And what makes you think I can fix this?" Stiles asks.

"Duh, you're the brains of the pack," Erica grins at him, like it's obvious.

"Derek said that if anyone is clever enough to find the answer, it's you," Boyd tells him. And that's…well, weirdly nice.

• • •

So he researches, and he researches, and he researches, and he doesn't come up with a single damn thing, because never, in the history of witchcraft and wizarding lore, has there ever been a curse that made someone say nice things.

Still, it keeps happening. Derek keeps dropping nice bombs fucking everywhere, every single time he opens his mouth. And it sucks, because it's really starting to have an effect on Stiles. Derek will say something really sweet to him, and he'll find himself starting to give in to that hope he's been harboring for years, and then he has to shake himself really hard and remind himself that it's just the curse talking, that Derek doesn't actually mean anything he's saying. 

Except—

Well…lately, it's like all of their interactions have this weird sort of romantic, sexually charged undercurrent to them, and Stiles can't help but notice that Derek doesn't act like that with anyone else but him.

He'll compliment Lydia on her intellect. Kira on her katana wielding skills. Allison on her archery. He'll tell Cora and Malia how grateful he is to call them family, how brave and strong and resilient they are. He'll tell Isaac, Erica, and Boyd how proud he is that they've come so far and learned so much, not just from him, but from Scott as well, who makes a great leader. He even tells Jackson that he thinks he could go pro in lacrosse, if he wanted to. 

But with Stiles, it's much more frequent, much more specific. Little details he shouldn't notice about him. If Stiles didn't know any better, he'd think Derek was flirting with him. 

"Red is a great color on you." 

"You smell like the forest after it rains."

"Your moles and freckles remind me of star maps." 

"I like the way your smile lights up your eyes."

"You have really soft hands." 

One time, he literally just said the word, "forearms," with a wide-eyed expression on his face before bolting out of the room, leaving Stiles standing alone in the middle of the living room with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a paintbrush held aloft in one hand.

And it all just keeps tumbling out of his mouth like dulcet word vomit, like he's physically incapable of restraining himself. 

Not only that, but Stiles could almost swear he keeps catching Derek just staring at him at random intervals, but whenever he looks up, Derek's gaze quickly shifts away and the tips of his ears redden a little bit like he's embarrassed at having been caught looking at Stiles, and it's like they've switched places, because out of the two of them, Stiles is supposed to be the blushing idiot, the one saying all of these stupidly candid schmaltzy things. Stiles is the one who notices all of Derek's little details, not the other way around. 

It's so unnerving that Stiles starts to wonder whether Derek has been spiked with something even worse, like a love potion. Stiles buckles down and hits the books even harder, losing sleep as he continues to search for a cure.

• • •

They're crowded around the kitchen table one afternoon after classes let out, shooting the shit about what they think the coven could possibly be up to, when talk turns to childhood nostalgia and they all start arguing over which Hogwarts house they'd each get sorted into if they were witches. 

Scott gets a unanimous vote for Gryffindor, but his triumphant smile fades when Erica insists that Stiles belongs in Slytherin with her and Lydia, and that Derek is some kind of Gryffindor/Slytherin hybrid. Isaac thinks they're all squibs. Boyd says that Stiles would get eaten by the giant squid before he even had a chance to be sorted. Stiles gets heated, slapping the table and arguing that Derek is obviously a Hufflepuff. 

"Think about it," he says. "He's all about family, incredibly loyal, selfless to a fault, patient to a fault when it comes to that creepy uncle of his, believes in hard work and fair play, strong sense of upholding justice. Case in point, Derek is the perfect Hufflepuff."

"What the hell is a Hufflepuff?" Derek's sudden interjection makes them all jump, and Stiles chokes on air because there's no way in hell Derek just quoted A Very Potter Musical. Eleven pairs of eyes whip to the doorframe where Derek is standing, balancing half a dozen pizza boxes in one hand, one eyebrow arched like he's seriously reconsidering his choice in packmates. And then his entire frame relaxes, broad smile spreading across his face as he strides toward the kitchen table and sets the stack of boxes down.

"Just kidding. I've got a prefect badge with a black and yellow badger crest on it hidden in my sock drawer," he says, and Stiles doesn't miss the way the tips of his ears burn scarlet after he drops that little anecdote.

"You're all wrong, by the way," he adds, almost as if compelled to keep talking. "If anything, Stiles is a Ravenclaw. Naturally curious, avid learner and researcher, creative and clever. And I mean, sure, he's got some positive Gryffindor and Slytherin qualities, too. We all do. Bravery and cunning kind of comes with the territory. But Stiles is a textbook Ravenclaw. Plus, he looks good in blue."

Derek pauses for a moment, wide-eyed expression fixed to the kitchen floor as he sucks in a steady breath and then very slowly releases it back out through his nostrils. He shakes his head as if to clear it, and then promptly walks out of the kitchen at a quick stride, leaving Stiles staring after him, open-mouthed.

(And if Stiles winds up at the local craft store the following morning, picking out the softest black and yellow yarn he can find and cramming a copy of Knitting For Dummies under his arm so that he can maybe learn how to knit Derek a Hufflepuff scarf for his birthday this year…well, what of it?)

• • •

"Hey, maybe true love's kiss will break your curse," Stiles jokes one night when they're all crowded around the dinner table sharing Italian takeaway.

Derek practically shoves his entire fist into his mouth to stop himself from blurting out, maybe you should give it a try.

Luckily, Stiles is too busy screeching about burning his tongue on a scalding mouthful of mozzarella to notice.

• • •

They're in Derek's living room late one evening, nearly a fortnight after the initial incident. Everyone else has gone home, or gone up to their respective rooms. Everyone except for Stiles, who had opted to stay behind to do a bit more reading in an effort to find a way to cure Derek of what Stiles has been affectionately referring to as the curse of the compliments, tucked away into a leather armchair in the far corner of the room, while Derek sprawls out on the couch, exhausted after a run through the woods.

He doesn't know when he had gotten so comfortable around Stiles, allowed himself to become so vulnerable and unguarded, but he ends up falling asleep, lulled by the sound of Stiles's steady scribbling as he takes notes and hums thoughtfully to himself, altogether missing the affectionate smile that spreads across Stiles's face as he glances up in Derek's direction and falters mid-sentence around a half-formed question. A little shiver winds its way down Derek's spine, and Stiles immediately bolts upright, scattering notes and highlighters everywhere as he moves to wrap Derek in a patchwork quilt draped over the back of the couch.

As Derek drifts into an easy slumber, he dreams about Stiles. It's that same dream he's had countless times before, only this time, there's no impending danger, no kanima stalking around the edges of the swimming pool — just the two of them, clutching one another, breath coming out in heated gusts that spiral over the top of their heads. 

It's all so vivid, like he's reliving it, only through a different lens. He can feel the bruising grip of Stiles's arms as they wind around his torso, the way Stiles's heartbeat crashes against his ribcage, reverberating against his back. In this memory, Stiles isn't holding him up because he has to — because this time, Derek has full control over his body. He twists around in Stiles's arms until they're facing one another, breath ghosting over each other's lips, and then he's backing him up against the edge of the pool, fingertips tracing the curves of his reddened lips before surging forward and capturing him in a kiss.

He can feel everything, the press of Stiles's body against his own as Stiles arches into him, writhes against him, like he can't get close enough. The feel of Stiles's lips and teeth and tongue against his throat as he buries his face into the curve of Derek's shoulder. The way Stiles whispers his name against Derek's ear, desperate and longing, with a soft affection that makes him want to weep. 

And it's all too much, too much, too cruel because it isn't real. 

Derek wakes with a gasp and Stiles's name on the tip of his tongue, only to find the real Stiles hovering over him with a blanket grasped in his outstretched hands, staring down at him with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

"Sorry, I was just—" Stiles falters, taking a cautionary step backward and averting his eyes. "You were shivering. I thought you were cold."

He holds out the blanket like it's a peace offering.

"Oh…uh…thank you," Derek says softly, reaching out to take it and tampering down the electric shock that jolts through his chest as his hand brushes against Stiles's fingertips. 

"And um…you were kind of talking in your sleep?" Stiles poses this next statement as a question, like he's giving Derek an out, eyes cast toward the ceiling as he attacks a phantom itch on the back of his neck.

Derek bolts upright, alarmed.

"What did I say?" he asks, fully aware of how frantic he sounds.

"You, uh…well, you sort of said my name. And you were kind of like, breathing really heavily," Stiles offers, chancing a glance over at Derek. 

"Is everything okay?" he asks, shifting into concerned pack dad mode, leaning in closer and placing a comforting hand on Derek's shoulder.

"Whoah, your heart's beating really fast," he breathes, brows narrowed in concern as he searches Derek's face for a fault line, no doubt feeling the erratic thrumming as he presses his fingertips against Derek's collarbone. "You okay? Nervous about something?"

Without missing a beat, and absolutely hating it, Derek says, "Yes."

"You want to talk about it?" Stiles asks softly. "What's got you so worked up?"

You, Derek muses with something caught between a smirk and a grimace. Seconds pass before he comes to the horrifying realization that he's just said that out loud. Stiles pales, absentmindedly digging his fingertips into Derek's shoulder, where he seems to be fused.

"I make you nervous?" he asks, his voice soft, disbelieving.

"Yes," Derek grits out against his will.

"Why—" Stiles pauses, swallowing thickly. "Why do I make you nervous?"

Derek stares at him, eyes wide, wondering how in the hell he's going to get himself out of this one without revealing too much.

"I was dreaming about that night at the pool," he says slowly, choosing his words very carefully. "That's why I said your name."

And technically, technically, it's the truth. Just not all of it.

"Oh," Stiles visibly deflates, a gust of breath he didn't realize he'd been holding rushing out of him. He quickly shakes it off. "Yeah, that's gotta leave you with some pretty heavy PTSD, huh?"

Derek nods, pressing his lips together to keep the truth from spilling out.

"Hey, Derek?" Stiles says suddenly, a heart-clenching combination of guilt, sadness, and determination in his eyes. "You know I wouldn't have just left you there, right? Despite what you might think, I wasn't just looking out for myself that night. Literally the only reason I let you go was because I thought if I could get a hold of Scott, we'd both have more of a fighting chance. And if Scott hadn't showed— I would've held you up all night, if I had to. After everything we've been through, I just…I hope you know that by now." 

And honestly, Derek might as well be back at the bottom of that pool, because right now, he feels like he's drowning. He just stares up at Stiles, not trusting himself to speak, his throat uncomfortably tight, the corners of his eyes prickling.

"And I'm not just saying that to be nice," Stiles continues, cutting through the tension just as easily as he'd created it. "I'm not the one who's under some weird kind of nice guy curse, or anything. Which I know must be an absolute pain in the ass for you, but don't worry, I'm doing everything I can to find a cure, and then you'll be back to the surly, grumpy Sourwolf we all know and love."

Stiles gives Derek's shoulder a reassuring little squeeze, fixing him with an affectionate half-smile before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and slipping out the front door. Derek stares at the leather armchair scattered with books and leaflets and highlighters until the Stiles-shaped imprint in its cushions fades away, and then he's stalking up to his bedroom, dragging the quilt and the pillow that always smells like Stiles with him and wrapping himself up in it like a burrito.

• • •

Stiles nearly has a heart attack when his bedroom window slides open at a quarter to midnight on the full moon, and Derek comes tumbling inside, a little breathless, but looking determined and resolute. He squares his shoulders, looks Stiles directly in the eye, and says, "Now that I'm no longer cursed and can say this without being compelled to, I've got something I need to tell you."

Stiles prepares for an onslaught of…well, something bad, because that's just his life now, isn't it? That's just been his life for the past several years, ever since the night he decided, hey, looking for half a dead body in the woods sounds like fun and next thing he knows, his best friend is a werewolf, and then everyone around him is a werewolf, or a kanima, or a kitsune, or a banshee, or a darach, or—

What he isn't prepared for is for Derek to start waxing poetic about all the things he likes about Stiles. Because oh right, on top of everything else, there's also witches and Derek has been cursed. Only it's weird, because it's not quite as nice as it has been over the past couple of weeks — in fact, he's pretty sure there's a couple of insults disguised as compliments thrown in there that Stiles doesn't even have time to register because he's just so shocked by what Derek says next.

And I think I might be in love with you.

I think I have been for a while now, I just didn't realize it.

Or maybe I just wasn't willing to admit it.

I guess it took being cursed to finally admit the truth.

And that nervous little laugh he huffs out afterward. Sweet Jesus.

Every inch of Stiles is on fire.

"Oh fuck," he says, a surge of adrenaline burning through his veins like the world's worst shot of fireball whiskey. Derek's smile withers, because yeah, oh fuck isn't exactly at the top of the list of things you want to hear after you've just poured your heart out, and the look Stiles gives him is nothing short of devastating. 

"Oh fuck, I was right," Stiles groans, burying his face into the palms of his hands like he's about to cry. "It's gotten so much worse. You're not just cursed, you're delusional."

It hits Derek like a punch to the gut. He barely registers the blur of red and blue as Stiles bounds off the bed and bolts to his desk, rummaging through haphazard stacks of journals and leather-bound books with spiderwebbed spines. Derek watches him with a kind of cautious curiosity, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.

"Don't worry, Derek," Stiles reassures him in a tone that's anything but, shoving the cap of a highlighter off with his teeth and circling a passage in one of the many, many pages of his chicken-scratch notes. "I promise we'll fix this. There's got to be something in here about love potions, because it's clear to me now that you've been spiked with one. We'll catch the witch that did this to you and make them pay."

And just like that, it all clicks into place. The knot coiling in Derek's stomach unclenches, and then he's laughing unabashedly.

"You're such a fucking dumbass sometimes, you know that?" Derek says as his laughter subsides, the gentle fondness of his tone clashing with the bite of his words. "I haven't been spiked with love potion, Stiles. And I told you, I'm not cursed anymore."

Stiles freezes, caught off guard, because it's the first time he's heard Derek's sarcasm in over two weeks, and he kind of hates how much he'd missed it.

"Are…are you sure?" he asks, wincing at how small he sounds.

"Dead certain," Derek replies with a shit-eating grin that shows all of his teeth, looking for all the world like he's physically struggling to hold back his amusement.

And that's when it hits him. If Derek was still cursed, if he'd been poisoned with some kind of love potion, he wouldn't be able to throw insults and sarcastic quips at Stiles. It would go against the very nature of the spell.

Which can only mean one thing: Derek isn't cursed. He's perfectly fine, and he's fucking with him. 

Stiles can't believe he learned two-color brioche for this asshole.

"Fuck you," Stiles says harshly, watching with a sick sort of satisfaction as it wipes the smirk right off of Derek's stupidly handsome face.

"Wait, what?" Derek balks, blinking rapidly like he'd just been struck over the head.

"Fuck you for thinking it's funny to mess with a guy's feelings like this," Stiles spits, hating the pathetic tremor in his voice.

"Stiles, what are you talking about?" Derek asks, eyes wide with worry, like Stiles is the one who's delusional. 

"The way I see it, there's only two options here," Stiles barrels on in spite of the anxiety-fueled adrenaline twisting through his veins, heat rising in his cheeks. "Either you've been cursed or spiked with amortentia or — I don't fucking know, some kind of spell that makes you think you have feelings for me, or you were never actually cursed at all, you've figured out that I'm the one who's in love with you, and you've just been saying all of this nice shit to me to…I don't know, wind me up? Make me look like a jackass? Or maybe you just like hurting people."

That last one stings, lends venom to the bite in Derek's voice.

"Option C," Derek grits out, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Fucking Peter got involved with not one, not two, but seven witches from the same coven, and started a civil war — which explains all of the weird shit that's been happening around town lately, apparently they've been trying to curse him and each other — got caught in his own web of lies and fled the scene, but not before hitting my house to pack supplies so he could skip town. The coven tracked him down, but couldn't follow him inside because of Deaton's protection spells, so they just assumed he was hiding out in there, and placed a curse on the sole proprietor. Little did they know, the house is in my name. So, lucky me, I got the full blast of it."

Stiles gapes at him for a few moments, eyes trained on the rapid rise and fall of Derek's chest as he struggles to recompose himself. Anything involving his creepy, murderous, and now apparently two-timing (seven-timing?) uncle always gets him so riled up.

"So, what? You actually were cursed and that's the reason you've been saying nice shit for the past two weeks?" Stiles asks with crossed arms and narrowed eyes, but his tone is several shades softer than it had been a few moments ago, curiosity piqued. 

Derek heaves a long-suffering sigh, but he can't help the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You still don't get it, do you?" he says with the tone of someone trying to explain something obvious to someone who's very, very stupid. "It didn't make me say nice shit, Stiles. It made me incapable of lying, like Peter lied to all of them. It made me more open and vulnerable and vocal about the things I already felt, stuff I tried to keep hidden. And it made me realize just how much I hated doing that. Because yeah, it was definitely embarrassing at times, but it was also kind of nice, not having to keep it in anymore. And I realized that everyone around me seemed happier for it, that I was able to make the people I care about feel good, just by being honest with them about how I really felt about them."

"Which is why," Derek sighs, pausing to glance up from the floor and lock eyes with Stiles. "As soon as they broke the curse, I came here…to see you…to tell you that I— what I told you."

All of the air rushes out of Stiles's lungs.

"So everything…" he manages, just barely, to keep the choked disbelief out of his voice. "Everything you've been saying to me these past few weeks…and everything you said to me just now…that was real?"

Derek offers him a small, affectionate smile that nearly breaks him in two.

"Yeah, dumbass. I meant every word."

Stiles stares at him for a moment, rooted to the spot, and Derek can practically hear the cogs turning inside his head as he processes it all and plays catch-up. And then he's smiling, this big, goofy grin spreading across his face as he bounds across the room and throws his arms around Derek's neck with such gusto that he knocks them both backward onto Stiles's bed, swallowing Derek's surprised huff of laughter in a kiss.

[0viraptoraskblog]

Hii, i hope you're doing okay, i really love your tumbr! 🫶

Any ideas of how the btd/tpof characters would act if they found out they are in a game and are not real? Also how would they interact with the player (or if they would even try)

Idk if i made the question suond right but i hope so 😭

I combined these two since they’re basically the same question.

Strade- He would be confused and lost at first, but he might actually take it as encouragement to hurt more people, because that means fewer consequences if they aren’t ‘real’.

Ren- Would be very unnerved, but he’d make a connection with shows he’s watched/games he’s played, and that familiarity would give him a bit of comfort. He’d definitely try and talk to you about it to understand. He might develop some kind of separation anxiety when you aren’t playing, because you’re his only connection to the real world. It panics him when you’re gone, because this is all so new and hard to comprehend.

Lawrence- Lawrence would panic at first, because that situation is unfamiliar. However, he’d eventually conclude that it doesn’t matter if he’s in a game— this world is fake regardless. The River is all that’s real. (He doesn’t consider that fact that the River is also part of the game),

Sano and Akira- since they live together, they’d talk to each other and try to figure out their point of view on this. They’d likely try and communicate with you to get more information. Sano would want to try and access the game files for info, but he doesn’t know how. Akira would rather talk to the player directly.

Vincent- he’d be lost for a while, he doesn’t know what to think. That means he’s not real, his life isn’t real.. but also, all the people he’s hurt or killed aren’t real either. So does that mean he isn’t at fault? He might have some mental crisis along those lines, but he’ll be alright,

Farz- He might actually freak out a little. Not anything crazy, but that’s something that can seriously catch him off guard.

Cain- he might try to talk with the player, but first he may try to talk with people he knows. Other fallen angels, relatives he hasn’t tried to kill, that sort of thing. He might be skeptical of you at first and want another opinion. I think he’d be very confused and even concerned if you managed to prove yourself.

Rire- He wouldn’t believe you at first. It would take a lot of convincing (maybe killing the MC repeatedly, only for them to come back and say the same thing). He’d be badly thrown off, and for once he’s worried about lack of power in the situation.

Derek- He’d flat out say you’re wrong, at first. You’d have to convince him. It gets to the point where he’s just lying to himself by saying that you’re wrong— it’s undeniable. He’d probably be nervous, but he can’t show that. His whole family still doesn’t know. How’s he supposed to live with that? He too, like Strade, might take the opportunity to hurt you more, though. Especially with his frustration at the discovery.

Celia- would try to communicate with you somehow to get some answers. Maybe she’d try and get on your good side, so you can sway things in her life. Like, if she’s in a video game, maybe you can adjust the code to make things better for her? (She doesn’t know yet that MC is not the creator)

Mason- He probably wouldn’t be able to grasp the concept. Even if you explained it well, he might not understand. If you gave him proof (something only he could know, like his backstory for example) he might assume you’re some sort of inhuman creature, because no regular person could know that. He’d hunt you regardless.

[bilightningwhumper]

Bilightningwhumper's Whump Reading List [A-M]

List [N-Z] Here

Because Tumblr doesn't really have a bookmark/saving system, I'm just going to make this, lol. Basically just a list of stories that have caught my eye and I want to keep track of/re-read/read for the first time/etc. Asking to be on taglists has helped a lot, but some of these are finished stories, so that doesn't really help in those cases.

Just going to put in alphabetical order. I'll figure out some key for what I've caught up with/read/recommend later.

General warning: minors, anyone who doesn't like 18+ work, if you peruse this list, do so with caution. I'm currently just copy-pasting links without my usual asterisk warning system.

[This list is fluid and constantly changing because I am both forgetful and always looking for new things to read]

237599: Home Again (@wildfaewhump)

Abandoned Whumpee (@jordanstrophe)

ALL BROTHER'S KEEPER ENTRIES (@darkthingshappen)

Annihilation (@just-horrible-things)

Arinn & Alex Masterlist (@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort)

Ashes: A whumpy Cinderella retelling (@whump-me)

AU: Chewtoy (@just-horrible-things)

AU: Healer and Handler (@just-horrible-things)

The Barn Masterlist (@actress4him)

Basement whumper (@jordanstrophe)

BBU: A Girl Called Spider (@just-horrible-things)

BBU Hollywood: Henry's Story (@peachy-panic)

BBU: Just Acting (@just-horrible-things)

BBU: Mina and Marten (@just-horrible-things)

BBU - The Recovery System (@winedark-whump)

Be a Good Guest (@jordanstrophe)

Behave (@jordanstrophe)

Belleview Masterlist (@hold-him-down)

Bookish (@whumblr)

Box Boy Masterlist (@haro-whumps)

Caretaking (@melpomenelamusa)

Chimeras (@melpomenelamusa)

Coming Back to Bite You (@whumpsoda)

Consequence of Action (@squishablesunbeam)

Crossed out (@whumblr)

Crash Out (@paingoes)

Custody Series (@whumblr)

Daero Masterlist (@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort)

Dante and Matteo Masterlist (@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort)

Defiance Pt. 1 (@squishablesunbeam)

Derek’s Back Masterlist (@hold-him-down)

Destroyer (@paingoes)

Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian (@peachy-panic)

Elias and Colin (@wildfaewhump)

Emmeline Masterlist (@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort)

Empires Rise, Kingdoms Fall (@actress4him)

ENEMIES OF THE FIERCE FORESTS (@whumperofworlds)

Eternal Masterlist (@3-2-whump)

THE FIERCE FORESTS (@whumperofworlds)

Fifty-Eight Days: Elijah & Grayson (@peachy-panic)

The Fighter Masterlist (@hold-him-down)

Fighting Ring (@justplainwhump)

Flower whumper (@jordanstrophe)

Fog and Furrow (@wildfaewhump)

Forsaken (@inhurtandincomfort)

Frathouse Boxboy Masterlist (Z2) (@deluxewhump)

THE GOLD CONTINET EXPLORERS (@whumperofworlds)

Group Whumpees Masterlist (@haro-whumps)

Hallow Island (@jordanstrophe)

Book 1 - Heroes (24 chapters) (@whumpsmith)

Heroes and Villains Series (@serickswrites)

Hollow-Point Intent (@wildfaewhump)

Home is where the hurt is (@whumblr)

Iesin & Talvos (@wildfaewhump)

In Irons Masterlist (@actress4him)

In enemy hands (@maracujatangerine)

Info Post | Masterlist (@whump-a-la-mode)

Intro post (@cecilstedmansbabydaddy)

Just A Fling AU (with @wildfaewhump) (@justplainwhump)

The Kid (@winedark-whump)

King of the Road (@darkthingshappen)

Lady Whump Writing Masterlist (@justplainwhump)

Lainey and Isa Masterlist (@actress4him)

Liam (@just-horrible-things)

Light & Darkness (@melpomenelamusa)

Linden and Colton (@whumpzone)

Linden and Colton #2 (@whumpzone)

Little Dog (@winedark-whump)

Loiral and Marcus (@just-horrible-things)

Lourdes: One of a Kind (@wildfaewhump)

Lost Property - a collaboration with @whumpzone (@maracujatangerine)

Lydia and Coriander: A new home (@maracujatangerine)

Lydia and Coriander: ongoing (@maracujatangerine)

Making Angel (@justplainwhump)

Mark and Gemma Get a Pet (@justplainwhump)

Miscellaneous short stories (@winedark-whump)

Miscellaneous Writing (@maracujatangerine)

[sailorholly]

Sixty Seconds

Summary: When you’re forced to share a room with your rival, sparks fly during a friendly competition.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Scratching. Orgasm denial. 69.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F. BAU Reader

See my Masterlist Here

You toss your go bag in the corner of the hotel room. You don’t know how you always end up in these situations. You are in a new city for a case. It’s a tourist town, so the team was lucky to find any lodging at all. You expected you would have to share a room with someone. You just didn’t think it would be with him.

When the lady at the front desk told Hotch there was only four rooms left, everyone quickly paired up. Penelope tightly gripped Derek’s arm, claiming him. Hotch and Rossi nodded their confirmation to each other. JJ and Emily walked over to each other. You and Spencer were the only ones left. You both shared the look of disdain, dreading being stuck together.

You hadn’t been to the local police station yet. Hotch thought it would be best to find somewhere to stay first. You were all grateful he thought of it. There wasn’t a room left in the whole city. You didn’t even look around, just put your stuff down and hurried to the elevators.

When night fell, you were surprised to find there was only one bed in the room. This case was taking its toll on everyone and you were looking forward to relaxing under the covers, mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

Spencer hadn’t made it in yet, so you explore the room. You inspect the small sofa against the wall. Surely it had a pull out bed. You take the cushions off and sigh. It was just a normal sofa. When Spencer came in, he noticed the problem too. “I’m not sleeping on the couch.” You figured you better say it first. Spencer looks over at the small piece of furniture. “I wasn’t going to ask you to do that. I thought we could sleep in the same bed and be civil, like adults. But you have to fight with me about everything.”

You can feel the anger surging through you. “I don’t like to fight with you, but you leave me no choice. Of course, we can sleep in the same bed. I just didn’t think you would want to. You might be too tempted.” You smirk, watching his dark eyes travel every inch of your body. “The only thing I’d be tempted to do is push you off the bed.”

You roll your eyes, gathering your pajamas and toiletries out of your bag. “I’m going to take a shower first.” When you’re finished, you start to panic. You thought you would have a room to yourself or that you would be with the girls at the very least. So all you brought to sleep in was a crop top and panties. You put it on, worried you might have to sleep in jeans so Spencer would be comfortable.

But his words from earlier echoed in your mind. It shouldn’t be a problem since he doesn’t find you attractive. You walk out confidently, Spencer glances up at you from his spot on the sofa where he was reading. You watch as his eyes linger on the thin crop top where your hardened nipples peak through the shirt.

He drops his gaze to the floor when he notices you watching him. He stands, gathering his belongings and walking to the bathroom. You get in the bed to check your text messages. Spencer comes out wearing a white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama pants. He gets in beside you, the bed dipping as he settles in.

You put your phone on the charger, turning off the lamp on the nightstand beside you. You thought sleep would come easily, considering the exhausting day you had. But you lay there in uncomfortable silence for what feels like hours. You turn the lamp back on, turning toward Spencer, surprised to find him facing you. “Can’t sleep?” He asks, his dark eyes glancing at your chest.

You decide to tease him a little. You might as well get some enjoyment out of this undesired arrangement. You lay on your back raising your chest and sighing. “It’s just so hot in here, I’m uncomfortable.” You lie, tossing the blanket off your body, exposing more of yourself to him. You run your hands over yourself, lifting your crop top to underneath your breasts.

You watch Spencer’s breath hitch as you sigh loudly, hands traveling down your stomach. He watches intently as you reach the top of your panties, snapping the waist band. “If I was alone, I’d be sleeping naked by now.” You sit up, your chest right in his face. Spencer shifts in his place on the bed. You watch as he moves his legs awkwardly, you notice he’s turned on.

Spencer Reid wants you. You smile, “I thought you wouldn’t be tempted by me, Reid.” He scrunches his nose up. “It’s not because of you. It’s a natural reaction to sharing a bed with a barely dressed woman. It has nothing to do with you.” You decide to push him a little further, so you climb on top of him, reaching for his hands. He goes still under your touch.

You place his limp hands on your hips. “Wha- what are you doing?” You squirm on top of him, feeling his hardness underneath you. “Proving my point. I saw you checking me out. I know you want me.” He tightens his grip on your hips, “Keep dreaming, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you if we were the last people on Earth.” You laugh, “That’s okay, you wouldn’t be able to get me off anyways.”

You try to swing a leg off him to remove yourself, but he stops you. “Wanna bet?” You study his face, he has to be joking. “Bet what, that you can make me cum?” You shake your head, he’s being ridiculous. “I’m not worried about that. I’ll make you cum so hard, that you’ll only think of me every time you get off. How about we make it a competition?”

Now you’re interested. You love competing with each other. “What kind of competition?” He runs his thumb against the soft skin of your leg, thrusting upward, causing you to moan. He smirks, pleased with himself. “I’ll set a timer and the first to bring the other to orgasm wins.”

“So we have an unlimited amount of time to do this and just whoever cums first loses?” You ask, trying to understand the rules. “An infinite amount of time is too broad. I only need a minute.” He states confidently. “A minute as in sixty seconds?” You ask, shocked.

“If you don’t think you can do it in the allotted time then-“ “I can do it. I was just repeating the rules.” He smiles, knowing you just lied. “Let’s get naked first so it doesn’t take up any time.” He agrees by shedding his clothes. Your hands tremble a little as you lift your crop top over your head. You don’t understand why you’re reacting this way. It’s just Spencer. You blame it on the adrenaline of competing with him. “Are we going one at a time or-“

“We go at the same time so it’s fair.” He lays on his side, motioning for you to lay the opposite way, with your face by his hard cock. “Seriously, we are going to 69?” You giggle. You haven’t done this since you were in high school. He doesn’t answer as he swipes on his phone. “Time starts now.” He informs you, his beautiful face settling between your legs.

Long fingers dig into your thighs as he begins his torture. Long licks cover you as he explores you. Your wet mouth slides down his length, lips closing around him. He moans for you as you dig your nails into his thighs, pulling him as close as you can.

Spencer’s talented tongue switches from slow drags to quick flicks. Your legs shake, you’re so close already. You hadn’t expected it to be like this. You thought he would cum in the first few seconds, but it didn’t seem like he was close at all. He buries his face deeper, his tongue swirling in intricate patterns that make your head swim. Probably tracing some math thing, you decide.

You suck in your cheeks around him, one hand covering what couldn’t fit in your mouth. His lips seal around your clit, sucking lightly. You whimper as your nipples rub against his smooth skin. Your demise begins when you look down at him. His messy hair moving with every tilt of his head. This isn’t an image you want to forget any time soon.

You realize your mistake as your orgasm hits, crashing into you like a wave. You squeeze your thighs around his head, chanting his name like a prayer. You can feel his cocky smirk against you as he laps up his victory. The alarm goes off as you come down from your high.

Spencer presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You sit up giving him a death glare. “I don’t want to hear it.” You really shouldn’t be acting like a sore loser when you lost in the best possible way. You lay down beside him, instinctively reaching for his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, I still hate you.” He quickly removes his hand from yours.

You lift your eyebrows, ready to challenge him again. “Then fuck me like you hate me.” You don’t have time to react. Spencer is on top of you pinning your arms above your head with one large hand wrapped around your wrists. You tilt your hips as Spencer sinks into you. He buries his face beside your neck. His sharp teeth sink into the soft skin, earning a hiss from you.

You arch your back, taking him impossibly deeper. You’ve never had sex like this before. It’s fast, intense, and demanding. You move in a frenzy, bodies crashing into each other. Spencer pins you against the mattress with his hips as he fucks you roughly.

Each snap of his hips drags your clit deliciously against his pubic hair. The once silent room is now noisily filled with the sweet moans and pants escaping you. Spencer groans as you clench around his cock.

He slows his thrusts, his expression almost sinister. “I don’t think you deserve to get off again. All that big talk and you were cumming on my tongue forty three seconds in. I think you should be punished for your hubris.” His cock slowly drags against your walls and you feel tears flood your eyes. You don’t mean to whimper, but you were close again.

“Shh, shh don’t cry, pretty girl. I might let you, if you beg me.” Another torturously slow thrust, and the tears fall down your cheeks. “In your dreams, Reid.” You struggle against his hold on your wrists, but it’s no use. He still has you trapped right where he wants you.

“Come on, admit it. You need me.” He sounds more sure of himself than normal. You want to be annoyed, but he’s right. You’re desperate. “Please.” You give in. He smiles, thrusting a little harder this time. “Please what? Use your words.”

“Please let me cum. I promise I’ll be a good girl. I need you. Please, Spencer?” He senses the sincerity in your voice. “That’s more like it.” He snaps his hips forcefully, releasing your hands. They immediately cling to his back, scratching and clawing at him as he hits all the right spots.

He hooks one arm under your back, bringing you closer. Your cries and mewls encourage him to go faster. “Ah f-fuck. You’re being such a good girl for me.” His praises make you flutter around him. He reaches between you to circle your clit. You cry out as you shatter beneath him, nails digging so deep, they could draw blood.

You feel his thrusts grow sloppy as he spills into you. He pulls you against him, “This doesn’t mean anything.” He almost whispers against your shoulder. You hum your agreement, enjoying the moment.

Tags

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lover-of-books-and-tea @lamentis-10 @zzumkii @megharat-barnes-reid @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid @loz-3

[sabrinajenre96]

Another day another prank...

Paring: Derek Shepherd x Sloan! Reader

Warning: This one-shot contains a series of pranks involving fake labor, exaggerated reactions, and a whole lot of chaos in the hospital. There will be some panic, laughter, and a hilarious series of events, especially towards the grand finale. Be prepared for a lot of dramatic moments, funny bets, and friends (and husbands) losing their minds. No one gets hurt in the making of this prank-filled story.

Grey Sloan Memorial was bustling with its usual hospital chaos. Nurses zipped around with clipboards, doctors shuffled through charts, and somewhere in the distance, a patient was calling for help because their coffee was too cold. In the midst of it all, the Reader—pregnant, bored, and armed with a mischievous glint in her eye—was ready to turn her mundane hospital day into a comedy show.

Pregnancy had been a rollercoaster for her. The cravings, the exhaustion, the endless doctor’s appointments—but today, she was going to have some fun. She had the perfect opportunity to prank everyone who dared to cross her path, and she wasn’t holding back.

Her first victim? Meredith Grey.

The Reader spotted her by the nurses' station, deep in conversation with a nurse. It was go time.

With a dramatic gasp, she clutched her stomach, doubling over as though struck by an invisible wave of pain. “Meredith! My water just broke!”

Meredith whipped around so fast she almost knocked over a coffee cup. “Wait, what? Are you—are you serious?”

“Yes! Yes, I swear! It’s happening!” The Reader shrieked, her eyes wide in exaggerated terror. “I don’t know what to do! It’s too early—oh my god, I—!”

Meredith’s face shifted from annoyance to full-on panic. “Oh my god, okay. Okay, don’t worry, we’ll get help. I’ll—oh god, I don’t even know where to take you—”

The Reader stood up straight, hands on her hips, and a grin spread across her face. “Gotcha!”

Meredith blinked a few times, her face going from white to red in a flash. “You are insane,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I was about to call an entire team to deliver your baby in the hallway.”

The Reader snorted with laughter. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Mer.”

Next up was Cristina Yang—the woman who would literally never back down from anything. This would be a good test.

The Reader found her in the doctor’s lounge, flipping through patient files, looking completely unbothered by the chaos of the hospital.

She casually walked over, took a deep breath, and pressed her hand to her stomach. “Cristina… I think it’s really happening,” she said, her voice trembling with faux panic. “My water just broke.”

Cristina didn’t even look up. “Sure it did. You’re what, two months early? Not buying it.”

“I’m serious!” The Reader continued, her voice rising. “What do I do? I can’t believe this is happening right now!”

Cristina squinted at her for a moment, clearly trying to figure out if the Reader was messing with her. Finally, she sighed dramatically and got to her feet. “Alright, alright. Let’s go—"

The Reader let out a high-pitched laugh, holding up her hands. “Gotcha!”

Cristina froze mid-step, staring at the Reader as if she’d just grown a second head. “No. No way. I was about to get the damn Chief of Surgery down here, and now you’re telling me it was all a prank?”

The Reader shrugged, still grinning. “What can I say? I’ve got skills.”

Cristina just shook her head. “I’m never trusting you again.”

Alex Karev was her next target, and he was in the middle of yelling at some poor intern when she approached him. Perfect timing.

“Alex! My water just broke!” The Reader cried out, her voice laced with fake panic.

Alex froze mid-sentence. “What?! Are you serious? Are you—”

“Yes! Yes! It’s happening now! I don’t know what to do—!” She clutched her stomach like her life depended on it.

Alex, never one to handle situations calmly, immediately grabbed her by the arm. “Okay, okay, we’re getting you a room. Stay calm. Don’t panic.”

As Alex tried to hustle her toward the elevator, the Reader couldn’t keep it in any longer. She burst out laughing. “Gotcha!”

Alex’s face went from pure panic to utter disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, still recovering from the heart attack she almost gave him. “You seriously had me thinking I was going to have to deliver this kid in the hallway.”

The Reader just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re welcome.”

Her next target? Callie Torres and Arizona Robbins—together. She spotted them walking down the hall, engrossed in a conversation about a patient, and immediately saw an opportunity.

“Callie! Arizona!” The Reader called out, her voice quivering in panic. “It’s happening! My water just broke!”

Callie immediately froze, her face going pale. “What? Are you—are you serious?”

Arizona’s eyes widened as she started looking around frantically for help. “What do we do? Where’s a room? Call someone—someone get a nurse!”

The Reader’s voice went higher as she gasped dramatically, clutching her belly. “I don’t know what to do! What if the baby comes now?!”

“Don’t worry!” Callie said, grabbing the Reader’s arm. “We’ll get you a bed, we’ll call for help, it’s all going to be fine—”

And then the Reader laughed, loud and proud. “Gotcha!”

Callie and Arizona stood stock-still, staring at her in stunned silence. “You’re insane,” Callie finally muttered, rolling her eyes. “I almost got the OR ready for you.”

Arizona smirked. “And I was about to take a three-minute break from the chaos of this hospital to deliver your kid.”

The Reader shrugged. “It’s the drama. Keeps everyone on their toes.”

Richard Webber and Jackson Avery were having a conversation by the break room when the Reader walked up to them, clutching her stomach and looking deeply concerned.

“Richard! Jackson!” She gasped. “It’s really happening! My water just broke!”

Jackson’s eyes widened, and Richard looked like he’d just seen a ghost. “Are you serious?” Jackson demanded.

“Yeah! I can’t believe it’s happening now!” The Reader continued, trying not to laugh at their panic.

Richard looked at Jackson. “We need to get her to a room. Now.”

Before they could react further, the Reader couldn’t hold it any longer. “Gotcha!”

Jackson blinked twice, clearly processing what just happened. “You’re a menace,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth were twitching into a grin. “I almost called for the entire surgical team.”

Richard couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or impressed.”

Owen Hunt was next. The Reader found him pacing near the nurse’s station, and she decided to hit him with full dramatic effect.

“Owen!” she cried out. “It’s really happening! My water just broke!”

Owen’s face immediately shifted from calm to absolute panic. “What?! What do you mean it’s happening now?”

“I don’t know! I’m freaking out!” The Reader added in a few sobs for extra drama. “Please, help me!”

Owen’s military precision kicked in immediately. “Okay, okay, let’s get you to a room. Don’t worry, I’m calling Bailey.”

But the Reader couldn’t help herself anymore. “Gotcha!”

Owen stared at her in stunned silence for a few seconds before sighing in resignation. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of things in this hospital, but that’s a new one.”

Miranda Bailey was in her office, and the Reader was ready to go all out for this one. She walked in, looking pale and breathing heavily.

“Bailey!” she cried, clutching her stomach. “My water just broke! I need help!”

Bailey immediately put her pen down and gave the Reader a look of disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I swear! It’s happening now!” The Reader gasped dramatically, leaning on Bailey’s desk for support. “I’m scared, Bailey! What do I do?”

Bailey stood up, not wasting a second. “We’re getting you to a bed, now. Don’t panic. I’m calling the team.”

And, just like that, the Reader let out a laugh that echoed through the office. “Gotcha!”

Bailey’s eyes widened, and she shook her head in utter disbelief. “I swear to god, you’re going to kill me one of these days.”

Now, onto Amelia Shepherd.

Amelia was in the middle of reviewing some patient notes in her office when the Reader walked in with that familiar look of mischief.

"Amelia!" she cried, holding her stomach. "It's really happening! My water just broke!"

Amelia looked up from her notes, the tiniest flicker of doubt crossing her face. “Uh, you’re really early for that, aren’t you?”

The Reader’s eyes widened. "I know! I don’t know what to do! Help me, Amelia!”

Amelia raised an eyebrow and stood up slowly. "You can’t be serious. You’re—what—five months along?"

The Reader looked at her helplessly, clutching her stomach and looking on the verge of tears. “I’m terrified! Amelia, please help me!”

Amelia shook her head, crossing her arms. “Alright, alright, we need to get you to a room and call Derek. Just—”

The Reader suddenly burst..

The Reader had pranked everyone at the hospital—her friends, her coworkers. But now, the grand finale had arrived. The moment she’d been waiting for. And who better to target than her husband, Derek Shepherd, and her brother, Mark Sloan? The two were inseparable, and if anyone could truly lose their minds, it was these two.

The lobby was buzzing with activity, and the Reader had set the stage. She made her way toward the entrance, where Derek and Mark were casually chatting, laughing about something ridiculous that had happened in the OR. They were so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t see her coming.

She took a deep breath, placed a hand dramatically over her stomach, and waited for the perfect moment. Then, just as they looked over, she gasped and clutched her belly.

“Derek! Mark! Oh my god, it’s happening! My water just broke!”

The reaction was instant. Derek’s face went pale. “Wait, what?” His eyes darted from the Reader to the hallway, his brain clearly not processing the situation. “No… no way. You’re messing with me, right? You have to be.”

Mark’s eyes bulged as he glanced at Derek and then back to the Reader. “What?! Now? Right here? In the lobby?” His voice cracked. “No, no, no. This is too early. This can’t be happening.”

The Reader made a show of looking panicked, even though she was barely holding back laughter. “I don’t know what to do! My water just broke and we’re in the middle of the hospital, Derek! I’m not ready for this, I—”

Mark cut her off, already walking toward the elevator in a flurry of panic. “Okay, we need to get you upstairs, right now. Don’t worry, we’ll get you to a room, we’ll call the nurse, you’re gonna be fine. Everything will be fine, but we need to move now!”

Derek, still processing, whipped out his phone. “No, wait. Wait. We need a doctor. Stat. You can’t be—” He fumbled with his phone, looking frantically for someone to call. “We need a nurse! We’re not doing this alone, I—”

Mark was already halfway across the lobby, gesturing wildly at the elevator. “Derek, MOVE. We need to get her upstairs now, this baby’s coming fast!”

The Reader stepped back, watching their frantic scrambling with barely-contained amusement. They were acting like this was the end of the world.

As Derek continued to shout into his phone for a nurse, Mark was practically dragging the Reader toward the elevator. “Alright, no time to waste. Let’s go, come on!” he urged, almost lifting her off the ground.

Suddenly, the Reader couldn’t hold it in anymore. She held up her hands, still grinning. “Gotcha!”

For a full moment, Derek and Mark both froze, staring at her in complete confusion, their panic giving way to disbelief. Then it hit them.

“What—what do you mean, ‘gotcha’?” Derek was the first to recover, his voice a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “You’re telling me this was all a prank?!”

The Reader laughed hysterically, holding her stomach as she doubled over in giggles. “Yep! You guys totally bought it! Gotcha good!”

Mark just stared at her, his face going from frantic to exhausted in a second. “I thought I was going to have to deliver the baby in the lobby! Do you have any idea what you just put me through? I almost had a heart attack.”

“I thought I was going to have to call every doctor in this building and get a whole team in here,” Derek grumbled, still looking like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re—” He rubbed his face, still trying to process. “I’m gonna get you back for this. I swear to god.”

“Wait,” Mark said, glancing over at Derek with a raised eyebrow. “So, you didn’t see it coming, either? Not even after everything she did to us earlier?”

Derek shot him a look. “Clearly not, because I thought this was real! It’s her!” He gestured toward the Reader, who was still laughing. “She’s evil.”

The Reader, still chuckling, crossed her arms, giving Derek and Mark a smirk. “What can I say? I’m just keeping you both on your toes.”

The rest of the crew—Meredith, Cristina, Alex, Callie, Arizona, Richard, Jackson, Owen, and Miranda—all emerged from their hiding places, unable to contain their laughter anymore.

“Oh my god,” Owen said, shaking his head. “I honestly thought I’d seen it all in this hospital, but this is a new level.”

“How did you guys fall for this?” Meredith teased, shaking her head. “You’ve been working with her all this time, and you still didn’t see it?”

“Honestly,” Miranda added, wiping tears from her eyes, “I thought you guys would have figured it out by now. I mean, come on. She’s been pulling pranks all day!”

Amelia just stepped forward, smirking. “You guys deserve this. I can’t believe you didn’t see it coming.”

Derek and Mark both groaned, rubbing their faces. “I’m never trusting any of you again,” Derek muttered. “I’m going to start calling every pregnant woman I see a prankster.”

Mark shook his head. “We’ve been had... and I’m not happy about it.”

The Reader grinned. “Hey, I’m just here for the laughs. But don’t worry, Derek. I’m sure you’ll get your revenge one day.” She winked.

Mark turned to Derek and sighed. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, man.”

“Don’t worry,” Derek said, still shaking his head, “I’ll definitely get her back. She thinks she’s so clever.” He shot a look at the Reader. “But you are clever. I’ll give you that.”

The whole group laughed, knowing this would be a day they’d all remember for a long time.

---

The End.

[masterwords]

👋👋 Hotchgan part genuine question part what if.

The genuine question is how do you think the team found out? Like Hotch is a pretty private guy and Derek’s always been pretty open about who he’s sleeping with but not always who he’s dating. So is it just a profilers profiled and no one had to say anything situation or what?

The What If part is in a universe where the gay panic is not an inherent part of both their characters (it is for good reason.) What is the most absolutely batshit way the team (Emily) call them out on/tease them about their relationship.

I say Emily cause you know if nothing else I’m team Demily besties through and through.

Okay, first of all Demily besties is SO GOOD. Top tier. And I think of anyone, it would be Emily who rags on them most - with love, mostly. Sometimes with irritation because they're insufferable but mostly with love.

I think if anyone could hide a relationship from the team, it would be them. Mostly because I just can't see anything changing for them, they already invade eachother's personal space at every opportunity, they already bicker like an old married couple, they already communicate without words and they already automatically seek out the other in a room full of people. So really, it would be hard to tell.

Someone (Emily) would have to stumble on them somewhere in public I think. They would probably go on dates off the beaten path, nowhere that they'd be found out, but she would find them doing something so stupid like shopping for groceries. Or she'd drive by Jack's school and happen to see Morgan in the pick up line. Or maybe she'd drop by Morgan's house for a beer and find Hotch already there, which might not be such a surprise until she also notices that his toothbrush is also there (and maybe so is Jack's) which is a surprise.

And all of that to say, once she knows, it's going to be endless fun for her. She might be inclined to keep their secret for a while, too, dropping little hints here and there to scare them but never really giving them up...until she figures it's time. They've been together so long that it's not fun anymore to tease them, so now she's got to devise a plan to out them in the most fun way possible...for her. Not for them.

"Is that Morgan's shirt you're wearing, Hotch?" she might ask when Hotch isn't wearing a suit, but instead just a black button down. Hotch might blush and say no, of course not, but everyone in the room starts to wonder.

"Is that the same outfit you were wearing yesterday, Derek?" she might ask when she knows that he slept over at Hotch's the night before. She looks directly at Hotch when the questions about Derek's walk of shame start rolling in.

Maybe she never outright says it, maybe she just leads the team to water so to speak. It's more fun that way. And Rossi will claim he knew all along (he didn't), and Reid will play dumb (it's easier that way) and Penelope will want all the details (she'll never get them) and JJ will just be happy for them.

I dunno, I'm not the most creative at these outing them stories and I'm definitely not great at channeling Emily. What do you think?

[little-diable]

Mine to own, mine to hold - Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 7/?)

Chapter seven, here we go! Thank y'all for the love on the past chapters! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: 18+, some angst, some mild smut, thighriding, talks about stalking, short mention of a panic attack

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (2k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Eight

“We treat this case like any other.” Aaron’s voice echoed through the room, gaze set on his team, flickering to (y/n)’s uneasy eyes at any given chance. The second she had told him about the pictures, and the texts, he had called Penelope, asking her to contact the others. There was no time to lose, set on finding whoever was stalking (y/n), following her around like a shadow that blended in with the night whenever she tried to look for it. 

“Hotch, this clearly also goes against you, I mean, c’mon, you’re on these pictures too.” Derek’s words left (y/n) shuddering, fingers tightening their grip on the sleeves of her sweater, hoping that the fabric would swallow her whole. Tears had instantly begun to pour down her cheeks as she had opened up to Aaron, apologising for keeping this from him, forcing the walls she had oh so carefully begun to build to collapse. 

“Forty percent of stalking victims are stalked by a former partner, forty-two by an acquaintance, and more than twice as many victims are stalked with technology than without. Seeing (y/n) with Hotch could have been the trigger that forced our unsub to escalate.” Spencer kept rambling, statistics (y/n) couldn’t focus on, once again forcing her mind to race, trying to figure out who was behind this all. 

“Hey,” Aaron whispered the word, hand placed on (y/n)’s trembling knee. Her glassy eyes found his dark and stormy ones, trying to appear strong in front of the team, not wanting to come across as scared, petrified even, and yet she clearly failed to do so. “We’ll find them, I promise.”

“It could be anybody, a person you smiled at when picking up a coffee, another student you paid a few seconds of attention to, this isn’t your fault, (y/n).” Dave shot her a warm smile, trying to soothe her pain with his somewhat comforting words. “Is there anybody you can think of, somebody you noticed these past weeks?”

“No, I keep on thinking about this since I got the first text, but there’s nobody. I didn’t really mingle with other students or professors, and besides studying at home, I’ve spent time here with you guys.” 

“I tried to trace the texts, but the unsub know what they’re doing, so far I could only narrow the radius down to the city.” Penelope’s voice dripped with annoyance, annoyance directed at whoever was tormenting her friend, annoyance directed at the unsub that tried to play games with (y/n). 

“Garcia, I want you to look at the security cameras on campus, follow (y/n) around, and try to find somebody suspicious, Reid and JJ will help you. Dave, Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to check out the cameras near (y/n)’s apartment, let’s try and follow whoever dropped off the box. (Y/n), a word in my office please.” Aaron was the first to rise from his seat, opening the door for (y/n) with a warm smile thrown her way, hand placed on the small of her back. No words were spoken between the two as they walked back to Aaron’s office, but while (y/n) was still shaken up, she couldn’t help but relax into the comforting touch, feeling safe enough to take a deep breath. 

“I want you to stay with me till we know who the unsub is, you’re no longer safe at your apartment.” She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to bite down the protest wanting to leave her. If there was one thing (y/n) didn’t want to do, it was give in and hide, not when the unsub felt as if they had the upper hand in this game, a game they’d eventually lose. 

“I won’t give in, I don’t want them to feel as if they won. And if they see me living with you, things would only escalate further. Also, I won’t be the reason for Jack to feel unsafe in his own home.” Even though she hadn’t crossed paths with Aaron’s son yet, she knew all about him, intently listening to the stories Aaron shared with her every now and then. 

“I won’t leave you alone, not if I can protect you. Jack will stay with Jessica, it won’t take us long to catch the unsub, that much I can promise. I won’t take no for an answer, (y/n).”

……

Ever since (y/n) had stepped into the lecture hall, she had felt uneasy, unable to concentrate on anything but the people surrounding her. Her eyes couldn’t stop wandering, trying to memorise every face, wondering if one of them could be her stalker. 

She tried to keep her eyes from finding Aaron’s, not daring to give into the pull she felt, should their unsub be close. If she couldn’t stay at her own apartment, she at least didn’t want to pose a threat to her fellow students.

As her eyes kept wandering she momentarily met a pair of familiar ones, allowing her racing heartbeat to slow for a few moments, shooting Spencer a small smile. Even though (y/n) felt bad that Spencer had to follow her around on campus, the one who could blend in all too easily with the other students, she felt awfully safe with him and Aaron near, grateful for their support.

Her eyes kept moving, not listening to the talk one of the students had prepared about their research project, unable to focus on anything with this kind of uneasiness sticking to her. With her breath hitched in her chest, she found the eyes of Josh Lorey, the guy who tried to belittle (y/n)’s every idea, making fun of her whenever she spoke up.

Could it be him? Could it be the guy who talked her down? Could it be the guy who left her feeling awful about every theory she spoke out loud? 

He shot her a smirk (y/n) couldn’t read, torn between too many emotions. The room began to close in on her, vision growing blurry, heart picking up its racing beat once again. Fuck, she couldn’t breathe, struggled to hold on as panic began to take over her body. Without being able to control her movements, she hastily rose to her feet, clinging to her bag as she made her way out of the room, body shaking, eyes glassy. 

A sob rippled through (y/n) once she made it out into the hallway, having to press her palm against the nearest wall to stabilise herself. Shaky breaths were inhaled into her aching lungs, trying to get herself under control, all too used to these moments, to these attacks she had struggled with for years now. 

“(Y/n), look at me, hey.” Spencer’s soft voice managed to calm her tense body, eyes struggling to focus on his concerned expression, having to blink away her tears. It took her a few moments to get her breathing under control, choking on a raspy “Sorry” rolling off her tongue. “There’s nothing you have to apologise for, (y/n). Do you know what set it off?”

“There is,” another heavy breath was forced into her lungs, “There is this guy, Josh Lorey. He isn’t the friendliest to me, what if it’s him?”

“Let me text Penelope, if there’s something off about him, she’ll be the first to figure it out.” (Y/n) kept on counting her breaths as she watched Spencer text Penelope, grateful for her friend’s support. “Alright, should I drive you back to the BAU? Hotch has two meetings after class, and I doubt he’d want you to spend any more time here than needed.”

……

With her eyes set on the ceiling, (y/n) kept shuffling around on Aaron’s couch, waiting for him to make it back to the BAU after his meetings. Ever since her panic attack she had felt restless, not able to concentrate, not able to help the others comb through the security feed, eyes glassy, mind hazy. 

Though the second she heard Aaron approach, already used to the sound of his steps, she rose from her position, meeting Aaron halfway. The door to his office fell shut, arms finding their way around (y/n)’s middle to keep her close. She deeply inhaled his familiar scent, eyes squeezed shut to cling to the wave of safety Aaron’s closeness washed through her.

“Are you okay? I was worried after you left.” A hum left (y/n), not wanting to let go just yet. Aaron kept holding onto her as he guided them towards the couch she had been sitting on, plopping down on it with (y/n) placed in his lap. “Talk to me, sweetheart, I’m here.”

“I hate feeling like this, I want to be strong, I want to help you with finding the undsub. But I feel so anxious, I hate not knowing who is watching me.” He cupped her warm cheeks, grateful for the closed blinds that gave the two some kind of privacy. Their lips met in a slow kiss, drawing a soft moan from (y/n) as her arms found their way around Aaron’s neck.

“We will always protect you, I always will. I promise you.” Aaron murmured the words against her lips before he pulled her in for another heated kiss. She tried to shuffle even closer, groaning against his lips at the friction her movements caused, leaving her thighs trembling. Without breaking the kiss once, Aaron repositioned her, making (y/n) straddle one thigh, hands placed on her waist to guide her movements. 

“Fuck, just like that, baby.” Aaron’s raspy voice left her shuddering, head rolling back as she kept grinding against his thigh, feeling her bundle pulse, soaking through her panties. Curses rolled off her tongue all too softly, not wanting to attract any attention, hoping that the team couldn’t pick up on what the two of them were currently doing. Aaron kissed his way down her throat, holding onto (y/n) with a possessive grip, leaving marks he’d kiss later that night. 

“Oh god, Aaron, I’m so close already.” His proud chuckles left her smiling, teeth nibbling on her lower lip. Just the sight of him, cheeks slightly flushed, pupils dilated, could push her over the edge, trembling on his thigh as he pulled her even closer. With his name rolling off her tongue, (y/n) came on his thigh, forehead pressed against his. “Fuck, thank you for the distraction.” 

Another hearty laugh left Aaron, pressing one last kiss to her slightly swollen lips before he rose from the couch, grateful for the dark colour of his trousers. She kept catching her breath as she watched him move around, picking up a few papers, “I’ll drop these off at Strauss’ office, and then we can go home.”

Even though she wouldn’t admit it just yet, she loved the use of “home”, imagining a life with Aaron together, waking next to him every single day. Just the mere thought of it left her heart racing in excitement, praying that whoever was listening would pick up on her wishes.

“Alright, I’ll wait downstairs. Car keys?” He tossed them her way, sending her another quick smile before he left his office. Within moments she had shouldered her bag, making her way down the stairs leading up to Aaron’s office to say goodbye to the others. 

“Do you want me to accompany you till the bossman is back?” Derek rose from his seat, ready to reach for his jacket, but the shake of (y/n)’s head stopped him, leaning back against his desk. 

“It’s alright, he won’t be long, and there are cameras everywhere, so Penelope would be the first to notice something sketchy.” She shot Derek a smile and murmured a quiet “I’ll see you tomorrow” before she made her way to the elevator. Seconds kept passing by as she rode the elevator downstairs, eyes focused on her phone to read through the notes that had been uploaded to her study drive, catching up on the things she had missed due to her panic attack. 

Her feet carried her towards the parking lot, unlocking the dark SUV she had rode in too many times to count by now. Only as she plopped down on her seat did (y/n) lift her eyes, freezing as an unfamiliar voice spoke up behind her, making goosebumps rise on her skin. 

“Good evening, (y/n). It’s finally time for the last round of our game.” 

[grimmz-dottr]

I am loath to put my opinions out there to get hated on for, but I gotta get my thoughts down in words on Stardust Rhapsody

I wanna preface this by saying that I'm usually a 'let the chips/cards fall where they may' kind of person and I'll continue to watch, and I'm excited to see where this goes, but first I can be a lil disappointed in how things happened.

I'm so sad that chuckles is now reduced to just the "more marketable" 'choockles choockles warcrimes' version of him that haunts Gideon in OUAW, when he's so much more, and we were just getting the beginnings of some of his backstory when they blew right past it for the sake of where the story was headed.

Like trans-dwightschrute said, Mikey IS capable of playing things more serious and being tactful with his comedy in times of heavy emotion. I understand why Rett reacted the way he did but chuckles is a discordiant of JOY, it's not something that he can just STOP doing. If Dandy were there maybe she would have pointed that out, but she was gone.

And if Derek and Mikey loved the characters so much then why not give them a proper send off? Have solo epilogue scenes where it's just one of them at a time at the table alone with Mace.

Leboosh goes and puts Kavir to rest on his home planet, sees Kavir's family, and maybe gets contacted by the Spider guy, or learns about someone who happens to have a lead on how he can cleanse or control his corruption.

Let Chuckles go back into the Honk Weave and encounter Jolly again, or have him find another type of Discordiant planetoid, or meet another drifting alone and wandering like him, and give him even more hints at these memories that he's missing.

Give us something to chew on if you're going to shelf these characters- for very valid reasons- that you and your audience grew to love. I do agree that things got too big too fast, and something needed to be done to scale it way back down.

Like we could've had it all. Have Rett assemble a new crew, if they wanted to play new characters. Have him find out what happened to Graff, dead or alive, or taken by the empire as well.

Have Rett and his new crew (can include a throwaway character for Andy who dies or has a 'I'll hold them off' moment before they get to Pyke) plan a heist/jailbreak for Pyke and maybe a solo scene with Pyke, and maybe a fellow inmate or a few (played by the rest of the players) planning their own escape that's happening at the same time as Rett's crew is infiltrating the prison. That would've been so fun and has potential to go awry setting them up for a bounty that they have to take in order to set everything square if they get caught.

I understand that the characters they were left with no longer worked together and they needed to go separate ways. They had enough time to think about who Rett and Pyke were, since they decided to stick with those two. They had time to plan out characters for Derek and Mikey that could work with the other characters, or at least have interesting but not too derailing conflicts that they can figure out as they play.

All that being said, I did enjoy the episodes. The betrayal and PvP, and the reveal of Mikey playing the big boss in a 2/3 V 1 boss battle when things were already in dire straits had me on the edge of my seat wondering what the hell was happening.

I already love the new character Ziggy. His frantic disposition kind of reminds me of Caprice, but that could've just been the panic of the situation he was in, and he'll probably mellow out.

I'm kind of confused about something, but I may be misremembering or missed something being explained because I was having a hard time focusing because I was so tired when it was airing. And I came back to it the next day where I left off due to a power outage and needing sleep, but I don't think it was explained.

When Glup did like a scan for intelligence and got two minds/blips and we only saw Ziggy. I thought he'd have someone else with him or a pet, maybe. That might be revealed later. But I'm so confused, did Mace misspeak and only meant one? Or did they unknowingly leave someone to die in the factory explosion?

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

JJ: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: It's up to you and your team to find a woman who has been missing for three days. The police already have the suspects in custody, but they're not talking. You trust your instincts to get the job done but you can't seem to feel like there is something... bad... waiting for you.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"A tragedy need not have blood and death; it's enough that it all be filled with that majestic sadness that is the pleasure of tragedy." – Jean Racine

Reports of a missing woman come through and local police caught who they think are in connection to it. Without substantial evidence, they can only hold the two guys for so long before they're forced to release them, and they have only twelve hours left. They need your help because they believe they have the two suspects in custody. If either of them was charged with anything, they won't be able to charge them again if evidence comes up.

Nineteen-year-old Kate Joyce, an honor student, was vacationing at the beach with friends when she disappeared nearly three days ago. Detective Bob Mathias is expecting your arrival just as soon as JJ and Hotch are done talking to Strauss in his office. You're not sure about what but you can feel everyone's silent panic.

"They've had suspects in custody the whole time, but nothing," Derek sighs.

"They can't even charge them with anything unless they find her body. What are the chances of that?" You look up and see JJ, Hotch, and Strauss still in Hotch's office. They've been in there all morning, and that's got half the team worried. "They're still in Hotch's office, huh?"

"It can't be good."

"JJ's still in there?" Penelope asks when she and Emily join the group.

Spencer reaches for the chocolate you got him yesterday and pops three candies in his mouth. When he gets nervous, he eats and he's as nervous as it gets not only for himself and the team, but for JJ.

"Again with the dairy?" Emily asks.

"I can't help it. I love dairy."

You run your fingers through Spencer's hair which is a lot shorter than it was when he first got it cut. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes briefly, and he looks up at you with a smile.

"It's been, what, twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, and we're in the air in ten. Do you think it's about the case?"

"I don't think so," Emily answers.

"Do you know something?"

"Do I know something?" she repeats Pen's question.

"She just repeated the question. You always say that's a sign."

"Do you know why JJ's in there?"

"I have no idea."

"Y/N, can't you figure out what they're saying?" Pen asks.

"I'm not God, Pen. I can't hear conversations through walls and windows."

"I know, but you can feel the vibe, right?"

"Yeah, you're right." You concentrate on what you can feel. Anger. Desperation. Frustration. "I don't think it's about the case. I think it's something more personal. There's a lot of anger in that room, mostly coming from Strauss."

JJ knows everyone is watching the closed office door in anticipation. She'd be worried, too, if someone else was in here.

"I have given it thought. I'm not interested."

"Clearly. You turned down the job twice without consulting your unit chief," Strauss says.

"Agent Jareau is under no obligation to discuss it with me."

"If the Pentagon calls one of your team members, you should know about it. Why didn't you tell Agent Hotchner that you turned down the position?" Strauss asks JJ.

"I never wanted it to get this far because—"

"--because you know it's a better job."

"Because I don't want to leave this one," she glares slightly.

"You've been here six years."

"Nearly seven, ma'am."

"Change is good, and from what I understand, there's less travel with this position. You could stay home with Henry."

"Excuse me?"

"I understand the sacrifices."

"I do what I love. It's made me a better person and a better mother. Any 'sacrifices' I have made have been for my family. I don't have a single regret."

JJ is someone you never want to piss off and Hotch can see she's getting angry at Strauss.

"We're all in agreement that Agent Jareau is a valuable part of this team, and it's understandable why the executive branch is requesting a transfer. However, if Agent Jareau respectfully declines their request, there's no way you can make her go."

"No, I can't." She turns her focus to Hotch. "Have you looked at the video of the missing girl?"

"Everyone is watching it now."

"You're expected in Maryland within the hour."

"We'll be there. Thank you." Strauss leaves the office angrily but knows how to hide it well. "JJ... Pentagon?"

"Sorry, I didn't tell you."

"It's okay. It's just a big deal. A liaison for the Department of Defense? It's a major promotion. Are you sure you don't want this?"

"Hotch, I belong here."

JJ leaves the office and notices everyone staring at her. Knowing that you're caught, everyone looks away and pretends to be busy. Rossi heads up the stairs to talk to Hotch, passing JJ by.

"You'd think profilers would cover better than that, wouldn't you?" Rossi chuckles.

"You read up on the suspects for the case?"

"It presents like the typical dominant/submissive, but I doubt it's that textbook."

"We've only got one shot at this."

Since takeoff is in five minutes, no one wastes time in getting to the plane. Hotch leaves his office and you all gather around him as you walk to the elevator.

"How long have they been in custody?" Derek asks.

"Sixty hours. We have twelve more to get a confession or find the body."

"Syd Pearson has a lot of money and connections. If we let him go, we may never see him again. James Barrett doesn't have the same resources."

"Do you think these guys did it?" Pen asks when everyone piles into the elevator.

"The locals do. They tried to get them to turn against one another, but that didn't work. It seems they have a bond that dates back to childhood."

"We only have a thirty-minute flight. That's not enough time to delve into their histories."

Penelope passes out papers to everyone.

"These are bullet points on the missing woman. The second and third pages are all about the suspects."

"Garcia, we're gonna need phone records, credit card receipts, and anything else you can find."

"Yes, you'll have them when you get back."

JJ joins the group and you're all off to the plane. Since you're running ten minutes behind, the pilot wastes no time in getting into the air. Spencer immediately goes to the bathroom, and you join JJ's side by the small kitchenette.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"I know," she smiles.

"Does this have anything to do with Strauss?" She doesn't say anything which gives you your answer. "Look, I'm not going to force you to tell me but whatever it is, I know you'll make the right decision."

JJ pulls you into a hug before returning to her seat. You knock on the bathroom door lightly and put your ear to the door.

"Spencer, are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

You go back to your seat and look at JJ who addresses the entire team.

"I got this offer from the Pentagon. I turned it down twice. I never told Hotch or Strauss. That's what the meeting was about."

"Strauss wants you to take it," you sigh. "Of course, she does. It'll make her look good if you get promoted."

"I don't trust her for a second."

"You shouldn't."

Spencer comes back from the bathroom and wipes his mouth. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it but you know he's been having headaches a lot recently.

"Are you okay?" you whisper.

"I threw up," he whispers back.

You put your hand on his thigh and your head on his shoulder in silent comfort as the conversation moves along to the case at hand.

"Okay, let's review," Hotch says.

"Kate Joyce, nineteen years old, was last seen leaving a bar with these two men, Sydney Pearson and James Barrett, both twenty. She was reported missing the next morning when she didn't meet her friends. That was almost three days ago. Their story is they dropped Kate at the motel, but there were no cameras to confirm that. Search and rescue have been all over the island and dragged the inlet but found absolutely nothing. Both said they had sex with Kate. They're claiming it was consensual."

"There's no way to confirm. There's no body."

"I doubt it was consensual."

"We've got to prove they're guilty of more than just being seen with her."

"Well, the police weren't able to find any holes in their stories. We're gonna have to break them down psychologically."

"I'm good at that," you grin.

"Morgan, I want you and Y/N to lead the interrogation. Dave, you, Reid, and Prentiss start at the bar. JJ, Kate Joyce's family is still at the station."

"Still? For three days?"

"They never went to the hotel. I want you to stay with them."

You and Derek make a good team and you think that between you two, you'll get the men to confess. Detective Bob Mathias greets the team eagerly when you arrive shortly after landing. Rossi, Spencer, and Emily separated from the group to go to the club while the rest headed to the police station. Kate's parents are in an empty office, heartbroken for their daughter.

"They haven't left. The mayor personally set them up with a penthouse suite at the Harrison Grand, but they won't go."

"They can't. You're their only source of information. To be even a minute away would add to their torture," JJ sighs.

"I've kept them away from the suspects. Now, I don't get why you want them together."

"Trust me."

JJ leaves to talk to the parents while Mathias takes the rest of you to the empty conference room. On the big screen is the only video surveillance of Kate, Syd, and James at the club.

"It hit the national news yesterday. A lot of pressure. The mayor would rather have a great white attack than a homicide."

"Sure. A shark attack makes the mayor a victim. A killer makes him responsible."

The video plays and Kate gets into the car that either belonged to Syd or James. Both boys embrace before James gets in the back and Syd gets behind the wheel.

"Once she got into that car, we have no idea what happened."

"The suspects' stories hold up. They've told them dozens of times without variation. There's got to be some truth in them."

"Syd Pearson is a handful. Jimmy Barrett is dumber than a box full of rocks. They've only been out of their holding cells to be interrogated or to use the John."

"You've got video?"

"Yeah, we've got cameras in both rooms."

"Good. We'll have to rely on nonverbal cues. That'll expose their weaknesses."

"I'm on it," you say.

Both suspects come out from a room on the other side of the police station, walking right past the office that Kate's parents are in. Her dad sees red when he notices them and storms out of the room.

"Hey! What did you do with Kate?!" he yells.

"Calm down, man!" Syd says.

Police officers jump between the two men and hold the father back from doing something he might regret. James looks down and tries to get out of there quickly but Syd is riled up at the attention.

"I will kill you, you understand? Do you understand me?!"

"Keep them away from me!"

"Barrett avoided conflict. Pearson was provocative."

"The blond one is getting off on this," Derek says.

"If he knows where Kate is, that's his power."

Mathias, Derek, and Hotch sit in the room between the two interrogation rooms while you approach Syd's room. These officers have been doing the same thing for two days straight. What they need is a change if you have any hopes of getting them to confess. You open the door to Syd's room and poke your head in. You made sure to keep your jacket off and show off your shirt that accentuates your breasts. He perks up when he sees you and smirks slightly.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Soda? Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

"What do you want? Anything."

"Hmm. Tuggie's roast beef with fries. The Curly ones."

"You got it," you nod.

"And a beer."

"Nice try," you smirk and leave.

You join the three men and put your jacket back on, buttoning it back up and covering your breasts.

"What the hell was that?" Mathias asks.

"We're just trying to establish some trust."

"Uh-huh. Are you going to ask the other one, too?"

"No," you shake your head.

"In other words, you're not going in there?"

"Not yet."

"You know, we don't have a lot of time here," Mathias sighs impatiently.

"They've been slammed with the same questions for the last two and a half days. If we go in there with that strategy, we'll get nowhere."

"I don't get it."

"If we go in there, they have all the power."

"So, what, we wait?"

"For a while."

According to her parents, Kate is a sweetheart. She went to a good school, got good grades, and had great friends. Everything points to her being the golden child, so it doesn't make sense that she'd go off with Syd and James. There aren't many videos or images of the trio during that night but all of Kate's friends said they were bar hopping. They were constantly on the move. The suspects didn't move, they waited for her.

A sea of opportunity. Why was she drawn to these guys? She could have known them but all of her friends say that wasn't likely. She was only here for a week before meeting Syd and James. If she trusted them enough to go with them, then that means she met them before Friday. She'd be too cautious to go off with total strangers.

Hotch's phone rings and he answers Penelope's call.

"Garcia, what do you have?"

"Oodles of records. Cell phones, credit cards, and some juicy juvie. Sending details now. It is safe to say these two have always been in trouble."

"When did it start?"

"The summer of 2000."

"They were only ten. What did they do?"

"See for yourself."

You get a notification and open the email from Penelope. There is a long list of shit they've done, and you shake your head apprehensively.

"Naughty boys. Shoplifting, vandalism, and burning a house down albeit an abandoned building. Fireworks. Assault charges were dropped last summer."

"It looks like they bring the worst out in each other."

"Are you two ready?"

"I want James."

"Why?" Hotch asks.

"I know he kidnapped her. She's not dead, I would have felt it all over them. Her energy is all over Syd but that energy is more lustful than dead. They had sex. The energy on James is fearful. He's the unsub and I don't think Syd knows. I'll prove it to you."

"Okay, I trust you," Hotch nods.

You want to know how it goes with Syd so you watch Derek's interrogation with him before going over to James' room.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

[masterlist link]

[thewriterwithsnakes]

Alea Iacta Est - the die is cast : Part 2

FBI HEADQUATERS - QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

Aaron Hotchner paces back and forth, hand running through his hair. He's strung-out and unbelievably exhausted. This case got under his skin, or more specifically, a question a reporter had asked him on live television.

"Why try to stop this boogeyman? What if he killed the man who took your daughter?"

It rang in his head ever since. It's been years, she's gone. He tells himself. It feels like yesterday she was a bubbly young 13 year old girl with a bright and promising future. He waved goodbye to her and kissed his pregnant wife before running off to another case. He never saw his daughter again. It took 3 years for Aaron to stop looking. And another 2 for him to agree for a service, a funeral of sorts.

Unbeknownst to him, you were very much still alive. Your kidnapper, or killer, considering how you viewed that little girl you once were to be gone, caught wind of this funeral and made sure to securely gag you before forcing you to watch your supposed family give up on you. There may have been no body, but Aaron Hotchners' daughter was buried in that coffin. Now, 5 years later, He has to try and lead the team to your capture, among other cases, while attempting to figure out how to raise his son.

He keeps pacing in his office, the chatter of coworkers outside muted for the moment. You watch him from afar, you shouldn't stay for long, it's riskier than you'd like. But you have to see him. Your whole family, really. It was Spencer who taught you about the romans, first introducing you to a world of culture you were fascinated by. It was Derek who played catch with you whenever he was free, who tried and failed at teaching you to play football. It was Penelope who gave you the trinkets lining the walls of your childhood room. JJ who stepped in whenever you needed a shoulder to lean on, if ever a big sister was needed. Emily didn't get to see you often, but when she did it was always her spoiling you with whatever takeout you wanted while you played with Sergio. Rossi gave you the love of music you have now, sitting in his big old house listening to those skipping vinyls as you both drank pomegranate juice and pretended it was wine. This team was your home. And then it wasn't.

You wanted to blame them, believe the man who first took you away, that it was their fault. But you knew better, deep down. You knew your father did everything he could, you knew at some point he'd have to let go, at least partially. The day you'd escaped, your first thought was running to whoever you could find and getting them to call your father. But you quickly realized how impossible your dream was, how your old life was gone and never coming back. Because you didn't simply escape, no, you got lucky. His brother showed up unannounced while he was with you. His brother caused quite the commotion. In the hectic panic and brawl that ensued he killed his brother trying to get to you, and then you killed him. Two dead bodies, both your fault. You reached your family's house, peered into a window and saw your little brother perched on your dad's lap. That's when you realized that no matter if your family blamed you or not for the killings, that it would ruin everything. They just began making progress again.

Were you supposed to walk back in that door? Soaked in blood, missing for over 5 years? Nearly nineteen and completely traumatized? That glimpse was all you needed for an answer. No, you had to figure this out on your own, you couldn't ruin them. So you set out on a journey of sorts, it began with hitchhiking and morphed into doing odd jobs in the country that didn’t ask questions. You tried to ignore the rage, the trauma, and most importantly, the urges. You tried to ignore the nightmares, and how your good dreams were of murder. You tried to ignore the way seeing abusers made you flip a lid, made something in you snap each time.

You lived in a barn by the time you were 21, working as a farm hand and making enough to pay for food, at least. It was there, standing in front of the stables with a pitchfork when you decided what you would do. You wanted to see your family so badly, wanted to help them. But you knew the risks, so you began working harder. Managed to get a full-time job that distracted you from feeling blood on your hands every time you looked. Once you had saved enough, you thanked the family for the barn and the job, and put a mortgage on a house in the countryside of Virginia under a fake name. Not big or grand, and mostly falling apart, but yours.

It quickly became your home base, spending all of your time working, fixing the house, or researching the BAU. You found as much as you could before beginning to stalk their cases. Your time was spent working or watching, barely sleeping or eating. It became an obsession, helping those who your family didn’t help. It slowly made resentment gnaw at you with every silenced gunshot, every screaming and confused victim, every blow of your axe. You wished your family did their job, wished you could've had a chance. Rationality was long gone as hunting the hunters became more of a necessity than oxygen.

So, now around 25, you set your sights on a new target. It took a while, the BAU seemed more interested in catching you than in saving real victims, which did not help the anger towards the family that abandoned you, or that you abandoned, you're not sure if the distinction matters anymore. There was a man in South Carolina, you had your suspicions but you couldn't get any solid proof. Never caught him in the act, never got your hands on anything substantial. You refused to kill any innocents so you grew frustrated, not letting your gut choose random people to die.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to something you never wanted to do. Going on the internet to catch him. You knew the risks, new it might get you caught, but saving any potential people was more important. After finding out different apps and forums he used, you created a fake account. An Ai generated image of a 16 year old girl who took an interest in his shitty podcast. He was gullible enough to believe it. He gave you your proof. Sent vulgar images and messages, leaned right into your trap. But everything came to a halt quickly when you noticed your father in the area. Was it a sting operation? A trap for you? You continued messaging the predator, and it didn't seem like a trap. You resolved to find out two things, what the hell was your father doing here, and what were you gonna do about it?