#derek: i'm just saying. should have let me drive

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [MAYDAY] ❞

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: you've never seen hotchner so mad at you. but maybe it's a good thing. content warnings: power imbalance. age-gap. suggestive. most of these are more of a if you squint kind of deal. word count: 800+ a/n: not the best but i'm not gonna keep working on it whateverrrrr

you fucked up and you knew it, a terrible mistake, a rookie mistake at that. prematurely telling a victim's family the squad had found and detained the unsub and then having to deal with a father getting into the precinct gun in hand when it was leaked said unsub was getting released without any charges.

containing him took all of your strength and derek's help, but having to admit to hotch's angry face, brows furrowed, that you were the reason that it happened... that was soul crushing. your legs had been trembling from the moment he asked, his we'll talk later in a tone you've never heard directed at you doing nothing to help your nerves.

the ride back to the hotel after the actual unsub was captured was a quiet one, so quiet you almost think you're off the hook. aaron looks almost serene while driving, but you should've known better, you should've known he was just holding off.

the minute his hand gripped your wrist and followed you into your room you knew it though, he really wasn't the type to say something and not follow up on it.

"what were you thinking!?" that's probably the first time he raises his voice at you and your heart sank. what were you thinking? on how to bring some comfort to the family. so you weren't really thinking, not the way that you should have. you don't reply, it makes his eyes darken even more, as if you not trying to defend yourself made it worse. "innocent lives were almost lost today because of your lack of professionalism!"

lack of professionalism? supposed to be a nicer way to tell it was because of your big mouth, but it somehow made you feel worse. you were a good agent, you did a good job. you wouldn't have been transferred there two years prior if that wasn't true. he was making you feel small, when usually working by his side made you feel like a superhero of some sort.

"i'm sorry, hotchner, i don't know what else you want me to say." your voice is much lower than his, your arms are crossed in front of your chest as you rub your hands on them, trying to find some sort of comfort in yourself as you dealt with the disappointment coming from the man you secretly harbored only the sweetest of feelings for.

he notices it of course, aaron always notices the small ways your body shows what you're feeling, so his hands go through his hair and he's frustrated so he huffs loudly and he should just drop it off, he knows it, but you're his soft spot and he has to remind himself of that to avoid letting you slip up, you have too much potential to let it go to waste. "being sorry doesn't save lives."

"i know that i—"

"you have to follow protocol." the way he interrupts you makes your eyes water and you know soon enough you're going to be a sobbing mess if he doesn't stop talking. you're not even a crier, so that's about to become much more humiliating if it happens in front of him. "they exist for a reason, you can't just do whatever you want, especially if it's something st—" it is your time to interrupt him.

but with a kiss.

your arms are dropped to your sides, your feet slightly tipped to reach his lips with yours in a act of courage, yes, but mostly despair.

he could not see you cry. seeing you mess up so bad was enough. you couldn't let him think you couldn't handle the job, the scolding.

and that was definitely not your brightest idea, but the way he doesn't even flinch before kissing you back with much more hunger than yourself, his right hand to your throat and the left pulling your waist shows you that maybe you should've done this much earlier.

you melt into his arms and you can feel every muscle on his body tense up when your hands grab onto his waist. his lips only leave yours when he can sense your trouble breathing, but aaron doesn't do anything else that could separate you two, his hands stay glued to you, his eyes almost hypnotized by yours as you worked on catching your breath.

"you're really terrible following rules, huh?" his mockery is followed by his teeth pulling on your lower lip ever so softly, but it still earns him a quick moan from you.

"yeah but..." you stop yourself to gather just a bit more of courage before closing in on him, your lips brushing against his face as you got closer to his ear, your voice a whisper only, as if it made your following teasing less wrong. "i'm very good at following orders."

"i'll be the judge of that."

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Please.”

Stiles stands there, chewing on his pretty crimson lips, pleading.

Derek isn't fully clued in yet, but honestly, the kid is kind of vaguely breaking his heart.

“Please, Derek, I'm really sorry about this, but please just—just don't say anything, okay? And just—let me?”

Stiles had texted Derek earlier, at 3.17am, presumably just before he’d set off from his house to drive his jeep to the loft.

Derek had been lying awake in bed, unable to sleep.

His messages had read:

> dude, i rlly need to come over. that ok?

And:

> ill let myself in if thats cool?

And after a few moments, in quick succession one after the other and before Derek had a chance to respond:

> and i rlly need u to just like. not get out of bed. presuming yr already in bed

> all shall be revealed

> lol i don't know why i put that

> and obvs tell me if any of this is not ok. ok?

> as if you wouldn't lol

> #sourwolf

> and yeah i know im being a weirdo but thats why you like me

And then, a few seconds later:

> right?

Derek had stared at the flurry of messages for a minute or so, then texted back:

Okay, weirdo <

About ten minutes later, Stiles had let himself into the building. Derek listened to the kid muttering away to himself as he rode the old service elevator—except it wasn't really himself he was talking to.

“God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Like, I think we're close enough now for it not to be weird. I mean, at least I hope we are. I'm just so fucking tired, man, and have got to get me some sleep. Anyways, just—don't get up, okay? Or, like, can you get into bed if you're not already in bed? Sorry, I know I texted you this already, I just really need you to trust me. You do know you can trust me… Right, big guy?”

Derek's trust of Stiles was implicit.

When the steel door had unlocked and slid open, Derek smelled fresh, mostly unscented shower gel over the base notes of Stiles's own cinnamon scent, mixed with the very definite chemo-signals that indicated fear, restlessness, apprehension—and also, the strongest of them all; hope.

Let me.

Here, now, Derek still doesn't know what the kid needs.

Let him what?

Derek doesn't have any more time to wonder, though, because Stiles is taking off his sneakers and pants and is slowly, very slowly—as if giving Derek the chance to protest—climbing into bed next to him.

Stiles is now in Derek's loft in the small hours, in Derek's bed, fully under Derek's covers, with Derek wearing only his grey tank and black boxer-briefs and a probably terrified look on his face.

He silently thanks the universe for the cover of night.

“Like, you should obviously say something if this is completely heinous or whatever, but otherwise just—let me do this?”

And all Derek can think is shit, he's freezing, at the same time he is going into a some sort of dumbstruck shock because Stiles is now wrapping his entire sinewy, beautiful body around the entirety of Derek's.

“This okay?” Stiles asks, the air around them spiking with the smell of his anxiety as he Big-Spoons Derek like some human-shaped octopus, skinny but strong limbs astonishingly everywhere.

And he sounds so unsure, and so small, and Derek can't bear it.

Not giving the stoic part of his brain any opportunity to talk him out of doing this, Derek takes ahold of Stiles's wrist from where the kid had draped one of his long arms around Derek's midriff, and hangs on as firmly but gently as he can, manoeuvring them both around in the bed so that Stiles is now the Little Spoon.

“This okay?” he asks gingerly, mirroring Stiles because his own words are failing him.

Stiles says, “Yeah. Even better,” and his anxiety is melting away into something much more pleasing; something like relief.

Derek breathes out the word, “Good,” and feels a little dizzy and a lot amazed, and kind of like his heart is beating wildly in his throat.

The only reason he knows it isn't, is because Stiles says, “I can feel your heart thumping away in your chest, man. But, uh, I don't have wolfy senses, so… I can't tell if it's good thumping or bad thumping.”

Then he promptly stops breathing.

Derek resists the desperate, learnt urge to run away from this. He mentally shakes himself and figures: After so many years fighting monsters together, maybe he and Stiles can fight this one together, too?

He gives himself a moment to ride out the panic, then screws his eyes shut and, praying to nobody in particular, whispers, “Good thumping,” into the shell of Stiles's ear.

Stiles shivers and breathes again, but doesn't say anything else. For once, he doesn't need to. He just needs to sleep.

As the kid settles into Derek's bed and Derek's embrace and, hopefully, Derek's life, he smells like a mix of serene and content and promise—and also, wonderfully, of Derek, now.

Derek is a strange combination of relaxed and freaking-the-fuck-out because that's just the way he's made. His brain won't stop whirring at a speed of a million miles an hour, worrying about everything and nothing, all at once, and before he can bite into his lip to stop himself, he blurts out, “Cora says I sometimes dream-talk about Cajun Gumbo recipes.”

Stiles's only sighs, then hums quietly, his breathing already evening out almost to the point of sleep.

Just when Derek thinks he's not going to get any sort of real answer, Stiles mumbles, “Okay, weirdo,” on an exhale, and then he's drifting off into unconsciousness.

Derek settles then, and smiles into the nighttime thinking that maybe, finally, he might get a good night's sleep, too.

.

for @shealynn88, the bestest of friends. i love you and miss you always... <3 (unedited btw—forgive me!)

[ddejavvu]

could I request something for dilf!derek morgan with a chubby reader, maybe something where she's feeling a little self-conscious to go out with the team to a bar please?

ooh okok so this is older!morgan who still works for the bau and reader is just younger than him (but still over 18 of course)

cw: body insecurities, don't read if this will make you uncomfortable.

"Knock knock," Derek calls, even though he's only rapping his knuckles against the side of your desk, not on a door, "Ready to go, pretty thing?"

"Hm? Oh," You laugh sheepishly, glancing up from where you're packing your things, "I was actually planning on just going home. Bars aren't really my scene."

"They're not Reid's either," Derek reasons, "But he's already in the elevator. C'mon, again? You ditch us every time."

"I'm usually busy!" You defend, standing and throwing your bag over your shoulder, "I have a life, y'know."

"Yeah, but I heard you tell JJ last week you weren't doing anything over the weekend," Morgan watches your eyes grow infinitesimally wider, "-and you still didn't come. What's the deal, you really don't think you'd have a good time? We'd be there with you, it's not like we all split up and leave each other hanging. The point of going is to go together."

"Yeah, I just- I don't know," You shake your head, stepping into the elevator when Derek's thick fingers press the button to open the doors, "Bars just have- atmospheres, y'know? Like, certain expectations. And I don't like those."

"Expectations," Derek's nose wrinkles slightly as he narrows his eyes at you, "Y/L/N, you don't think we go there to fuck, do you?"

"No! No," You shake your head, "Well- I mean, no, but that is the sort of thing you dress for when you go to a bar. I couldn't just wear this."

You slap your hands against your thighs, clad in work pants.

"You could," Derek shrugs, "But you've got your go bag right there. Why not change in the bathroom?"

"These are all work clothes," You huff, "It's okay, Morgan. I'll enjoy a night at home."

"No," Derek insists, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall of the elevator as the doors finally shut, "You're telling me you don't have any casual clothes in there? No shorts? No t-shirts? How do you plan on going undercover if need be?"

"I hope I never have to," You smile forcefully at him, stomach jumping as you pretend it's just from the movement of the elevator, "Shorts aren't my scene either."

"Y'know, it doesn't sound like this is about bars at all," Derek raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "This sounds like it's about you. What's going on with you where you can't wear shorts and don't like trying to look sexy?"

You refuse to answer, staring down at the bulge of your stomach instead, but your silence is all he needs.

"Okay," Derek drawls, fingers jamming the suspend route button on the elevator. He ignores your bewildered protests, "Lemme get this straight. You're not comin' tonight 'cause you've got issues with your body?"

"It's not that deep," You urge, but tears threaten to pool at your lower lids, "Derek, please, I just want to go home."

"It is that deep. Y/N. You got issues with Garcia's body?"

"No!" You rear back, staring at him with an indignant, horrified gaze, "Why would you say that?"

"'Cause yours shouldn't be any different," Derek glares at you, "You think she should stay home, too?"

"Absolutely not! If she wants to go, then she should go." You huff, "And- and she looks fantastic in anything!"

"What are you not getting?" Derek reaches over to flick his finger against your temple, "Dummy, the same goes for you!"

"I don't think so," You swat his hand away, reaching for the resume route button, "People are always meaner to themselves than to others. It's normal. Just- let me be."

"No." He scoffs, "I'm not gonna let you be. You're being dumb. Come on," He takes your hand, dragging you out of the elevator when the doors slide open, "I'll drive you back to your apartment, and you can change into whatever you want. We can even make it a lil' fashion show," He promises, pulling you towards the parking garage, "I'm a great hype man, Y/L/N, by the time we're done you'll feel sexy in a garbage bag."

"But Derek-" You try pulling your hand out of his own, and he stops dead in his tracks.

"Don't. Just let this happen, okay? One time," He promises, staring at you with pleading brown eyes. He holds up a single finger, "One time, trust me on this. And afterwards, if you hate it, then you can call me an idiot. But if you like it, you can't keep skipping out on us."

"I already call you an idiot," You grumble, finally going limp in his grasp so that he can lead you to his car, "You just don't hear it 'cause you're old and going deaf."

"Hey," He warns, opening the passenger's side door for you and keeping your hand in his grip, "Tease me all you want, but I'm right about this. You'll have a good time, Y/N, I promise. Just give me a chance."

"Alright," You sigh, tense shoulders deflating as you settle into his car, "One time."

"One time," Derek grins, pressing the back of your hand to his lips and dotting a kiss there before letting you pull it away, "That's all I need."

[cinemastyles-backup]

Summary: After drunk texting Harry, your brother's best friend, to come pick you up from a party, things start to get a little harder to resist for Harry and y/n

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, road head, fingering, masterbation, slight sexting, etc. general filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

I slip on my dress and turn in the mirror, inspecting myself.

"Isn't that a little short?"

I jump and turn quickly, letting out a relieving sigh when I see it's just Harry, my brothers friend, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

"You're annoying." I roll my eyes and pull my dress down more.

"We'll now you're just showing the goods on the top half." He snorts and laughs. I turn to him, "If you have such a problem with my dress, why don't you dress me? Hmm?" I hold my arms out to my sides.

He shakes his head, "I'd rather undress you than anything."

"What?" I ask shocked. He winks, "You heard me." He pushes himself off the frame and turns around, "Derek, your sister is so annoying."

Derek laughs and agree with him, "You don't have to tell me."

"Screw both of you." I yell out the door. My phone dings and it's Macie letting me know she's pulling up to my house.

I grab my purse and give myself one last look over. I walk into the hall, "Derek I'll be back, Macie is here."

"Be safe. Have fun. Call if you need a ride." He yells from his room. Harry pokes his head out and looks me up and down again while biting his lip.

I roll my eyes and pull my dress up a little as I walk away. I look back over my shoulder before I walk down the steps and he's shaking his head.

Harry has been around for a while, we grew up together. We'll, he grew up with my brother, I was just here because I live here too.

Have I thought about Harry in certain ways, uh yeah I have. I mean look at him, he's so pretty. Like a perfectly chiseled statue from the gods themselves.

I open the car door and get in, "Hey!" She looks me over, "You got out of the house in this?" I give her a weird look, "What do you mean?"

She smirks, "Harry's in there with Derek, isn't he?"

I smile and shake my head, "Yeah." She whistles, "You and Harry just need to get it over with." I look over at her as she starts to drive, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Really?" She asks, "You could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife."

I bite my lip and shrug, "I've thought about it, sure. But what if it goes bad and then it's all awkward between us for the rest of our lives."

"I really don't think you'll have to worry about that. Just, okay." She blows air, "Just have a few drinks tonight, loosen up, and text him. See where it goes."

I gasp, "Oh god, Macie, no. I can't do that." She nods, "Yeah, you can actually. Trust me. You'll want to text him once you're drunk. I know how you are."

"I'm not like that.." I look over at her, "Am I?"

She smiles, "It's okay. It's cute. You like him and he most definitely likes you back, so I say go for it."

"We'll see I guess."

———

... And you want a triple X throwdown, dial 1-900-MIXALOT, and kick them nasty thoughts, baby got back...

I walk over to grab another drink as the song ends, laughing with Macie.

"How do you feel?" She asks handing me a cup. I smile big, "Great."

"Did you text Harry?" She giggles, "You should totally text Harry."

My smile is instantly wiped away and I shake my head, "Oh fuck. No." I start to chug my drink before the anxiety hits me.

"Oh come on! Let loose tonight, girl. Have fun!" She pours more alcohol into my cup. "Okay." I finish my drink and tilt my head, staring at my empty cup, "I'll text him."

"That's my girl." Macie cheers and nods, "I'll be over there if you need me, but please don't need me because that guy is super fine."

She runs away and I bring my phone up. I stare at the screen for a few moments before I finally remember what I was doing.

"Oh right." I giggle. I pour myself another cup and walk over to the empty couch. I sit down and tap on Harry's contact.

Me: How's hanfing wirh my beother?

I stare at my screen waiting for a response.

Harry: Boring since I have no one to pick on now.

I smile and sip my drink before setting it back down. I slowly tap the screen, trying my best to concentrate on what I'm trying to type out.

Me: Oh boo shouls have came eith me

This liquor has me feeling bold. Might as well roll with it, right?

Harry: I didn't get an invite. How is the party?

I pick up my cup and send him a selfie, making sure my cleavage is on full display.

Me: Prety boring avually

Macie comes over and leans over the couch, wrapping her arms around my neck from behind, "Ahh! I love you!" She yells, "Let's take a picture!!"

I go into my camera and start taking snaps when Harry's text appears at the top of the screen.

Harry: Fuck. You look so hot.

"Oooh! It's going well I see." She giggles and hugs me, "Go get him tiger."

I look back at her as she stands up, "You're drunk."

"So are you!" She yells back as she is pull away by some guy.

I go back into our messages and bite my lip.

Me: Inwiah you were here

I pout slightly at the fact that he really isn't here.

Harry: I wish I was there too, sweetheart. Believe me.

Me: Why? So you cam make sureim all safe and sound?

I laugh slightly and lean back, finishing my drink.

Harry: To make sure no other guys touch what I want to be mine.

I stare at his text for what seems like forever before I remember that I need to respond.

Me: yourw so hot Harry. Like reallu really hott.

Harry: where are you at?

I look around.

Me: sittig on a coucg alone. Drunk hahaha

I furrow my brows and bite my lip.

Me: please come geg me

Harry: send me your location. I'm on my way.

I manage to figure out how to send him my location.

Me: im here. Cant wait to fuck you

I blink as I stare at my text, did I really just fucking send that? I smirk, yea I did.

Harry: Oh darling. You better be careful what you wish for.

Me: I willl be outside. Waitin for ya.

I shove my phone into my purse and stand up. I feel semi dizzy from sitting for a while. I shake my head slightly and look for Macie.

I spot her across the room making out with some guy. I walk over to her and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around and her eyes go wide, "Well?"

I smirk, "He is on his way. Will you be okay? Don't drive please." She hugs me, "I'll be fine. You just worry about getting your sexy on with Mr. Harry."

I laugh and nods, "Oh, i plan to." I turn and make my way outside. The cool air starts to sober me up as it snaps against my bare skin.

"I should have brought a coat." I mumble as I wrap my arms around myself. I walk back and fourth, my heels clicking against the sidewalk with each step.

There's a bright pair of headlights that shine on me. I squint and look away until they pass. The car is stopped in front of me and Harry gets out, looking over the top of it at me with a smirk.

"Hey!" I say in a super happy tone. He walks around and opens the door for me, "Hey." He says as I climb in.

He shuts the door and I look around, waiting for him to get back in. He gets in and reaches in the back, pulling a blanket up from the back seat, "Here."

I smile as he lays the blanket over my legs. My breathe suddenly catches in my throat as his hand brushes against my skin.

"Not much coverage on that dress I noticed." He says with a chuckle. I look over at him, "Are you complaining about it?"

He licks his lips, "Oh fuck no."

I smirk and lean down to take my heels off, "Just so you know. I'm not as drunk as I was."

"Oh yeah? So what you're saying is, you'll remember this tomorrow?" He glances over at me. I nod and bring my lower lip between my teeth, looking him up and down.

"Harry." I whisper, "Can I- uh. Never mind." I shake my head and sink down in my seat a little, the nervousness of being in his presence alone starts to settle in.

No, no. Do it. Just do it.

"You can do anything you want to me." He reaches over and gently runs his thumb over my chin and lips.

My drunk confidence returns and I unbuckle my seat belt. I move up so I'm sitting on my knees and I lean over. I place a hand on his chest and slowly slide it down as I kiss his neck.

A low groan escapes from his lips I suck his skin between my lips and bite down gently.

I slide my hand over his bulge, letting it sit on top for a few seconds before I slip my hand between the band of his sweats, "You're so hard for me already."

"As soon as I seen you in this dress.. I couldn't make it go away." He mumbles with a gasp, "I've thought about this. A lot."

I lean back and pull my hair over my shoulder. I lean over and he lifts his hips up so I can pulls his sweats and boxers down to his mid thigh.

I bite my lip and pump his cock a few times, earning low moans from him. I lean down and place my lips around the tip, sucking gently.

"Fuck." He groans low, "Shit."

I take more of him in, working my way down slowly. He places one of his hands on the top of my head, pushing down as he lifts his hips up.

I moan at the feeling of him being in my throat. I slowly pull back and slowly sink my mouth down into him again. I do that a few more times before he starts to tap my arm.

"O-okay, love. You're going to me make me cum and I don't want that yet." His breathing is heavy.

"Awe, why not?" I fake pout.

He reaches over and lays a hand on my thigh, "I want to feel your pussy around my cock before I do that."

I smirk at his words and lean back, bringing my one leg up and spreading them both. I slowly slip my panties off and throw them in his back seat.

"That was so hot. Are you going to play with your pussy for me while I find a spot for us to park?" He asks placing his hand back on my thigh, "You're such a bad girl."

I pull my dress up so it's bunching around my stomach, exposing myself to Harry. I bring two fingers up to my mouth and slowly suck on them. I look over at Harry and pull them out, playing them onto my clit.

I gasp at the sudden feeling of pleasure and whimper as I circle it, "Oh fuck."

He squeezes my thigh, "Oh shit."

I close my eyes and tilt my head back as I slip two fingers in, slowly scissoring my fingers in and out of my pussy, repeatedly moaning his name.

He keeps his focus on the road, hands tight around the steering wheel as he glances over.

He pulls off the road and parks, "Get over here." He unbuckles his seat belt as I climb over into his lap. His lips immediately find mine and it takes my breathe away.

It's so much better than I imagined.

"Are you sober?" He asks between kissing me.

I nod.

"I need to hear you say it."

I lean back and look at him, "I'm sober. I want you." I lean in and kiss his neck up to his ear, "I want you so fucking bad."

He moans lowly at my words and grips my hips, assisting me as I slide down onto him.

I grab his biceps and tilt my head back, "Oh fuck." He lets out a groan and rests his head against my chest, "Shit."

I start to move my hips, sitting gets to be too much. I gasp, "Harry."

"You feel so fucking good." He grabs my face and kisses me, "So much better than I thought."

The seat belt buckle is digging into my knee but I don't care, I lean back against the steering wheel and beep the horn, immediately bursting into laughter.

He laughs and wraps an arm around my waist.

"Sorry." I shake my head laughing. I bite my lip and look down at him. I trace my thumb over his bottom lip as I move my hips.

He closes his eyes and his lips part slightly. I lean down and rest my forehead against his.

"Are you close?" He whispers, "Feels like you are."

I nod, "Yes." I start to move my hips faster, getting into a rhythm that feels incredible.

"Cum for me." He whispers lowly, "I want to feel you cum all over my cock."

His words have a pull on me that's bringing me closer and closer.

I whimper as my knees start to hurt, the feeling of my orgasm rising fast. I claw at the headrest and push down onto him, rocking my hips slowly as I cum.

He holds me to his chest, talking to me gentle as I come down from my high, "Good girl. You did so good."

I slowly lean up, "Your turn."

I climb off of him and lean over the arm rest again, taking him into my mouth.

I pump his cock and suck on the tip, working him up to his orgasm, "Hmm, fuck." He bucks his hips slightly and places a hand on my back. His fingertips dig into my skin.

I take more of him in, swirling my tongue, sucking, moaning at the feeling of him in my mouth.

"D-Don't stop." He gasps, "Fuck, fuck."

He thrusts his hips up and holds my head still as his cum coat my mouth and throat. I lick him clean and sit up slowly, the pain of my legs starting to set in.

I look over at him and he looks back at me with a huge smile on his face, "You're so bad."

I scoff, "You started this, Mr I'd rather take your clothes off."

He shrugs, "I like you, what can I say?"

"You- you like me?" I smile slightly.

"I thought it was obvious. Your brother picks on me all the time for it." He pulls his pants up and looks over at me, "I mean, it really was just a matter of time before anything happened." He winks and I laugh, "Take me home, Styles."

"Your place or mine?"

"Yours."

——

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[ssa-atlas-alvez]

I don't remember where I read this small fic about Reader and the BAU team getting in a car crash but I honestly need more lol

Male Reader isn't a driver, he's more into motorcycles because they don't need as much spacial awareness as cars do. But ue does know how to drive since you need a drivers license to get a motorcycle license. Well during a long drive to find an unsub's location out in the woods, the team took turns driving. Derek knows that Reader is uncomfortable being behind a wheel and volunteers to stay up with him, making sure he's okay like the dad friend he is.

What the team doesnt know is that the unsub knows they're being followed and so the unsub decides to cause a wreck by speeding down one of the darkened trails in the woods and hits the BAU car

You can decide how injured everyone is and I hope this is an okay request

Is there a possibility it was this fic ?

Word count: 1152

Warnings: car crash, impaled, injuries, blood

"How far out is this place?" JJ asks. Your current suspect (who you were almost 100% sure was the unsub) lived in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods.

"Four hours,"

"I'm sorry, it's four hours out?!" You exclaimed, head whipping in Hotch's direction. "He's driving four hours to dump a body? That's commitment..."

"What's the driving schedule?" Emily asked.

"Me, Morgan, Rossi and then (Y/N)," Hotch said.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," You say, hesitant. "I don't drive that often..."

"Hey man, I'll stay up, keep you company," Morgan offers with a grin, knowing that being the only one awake would add to your worry.

"Thanks," You give him a grin.

"What is it with you and motorcycles, anyway?" Emily teases.

"I don't need as much spatial awareness with them," You explain with a smirk.

She turned to Hotch, "Are we really letting this guy drive?"

"Just get in the car," Morgan laughed. The first two and a half hours of the journey, you were fine, not too anxious, knowing that you had a while before you actually had to drive. Then during Morgan's shift, he decides to stop for coffee - and naturally, you drink one too. Which was a bad move because now you're anxious as fuck. It starts with your knees bouncing, hands shaking, before you force your eyes closed and picture a variety of different movie scenes - mentally rewriting them so they ended the way they should have.

And, soon enough, it's your turn. Morgan makes sure to sit in the passenger seat, so that when everyone goes to sleep, at least you have him to chat to without worrying so much that you might wake the others.

Morgan, as promised, stays awake and you both find yourself debating the alternative movie endings you came up with earlier. Apparently, Morgan doesn't believe that Tony should have lived at the end of Endgame (and honestly, he's wrong - and you make sure to tell him that).

You pause the current conversation, squinting into the darkness, trying to figure out what it was exactly you could see just past the light of the headlights. "What the-?"

Morgan joins you in your confusion. You get slightly closer, slowing down just in case. And you can see the number plate, "Is that the unsub's vehicle?" Morgan asks, you're about to answer when the lights flick on and the car's speeding towards you with no sign of swerving.

"Shit!" You yell, swerving until a tree seemingly appears from nowhere and you slam the breaks, but it's too late and the car collides with the tree and then unsub's vehicle collides with the SUV. Your grip on the wheel is tight, even as the car crumbles, even as the metal dents around your legs and sides, even as the air bag activates and winds you, even as a sharp pain hits your torso. And then your grip loosens as you lose consciousness.

When you come to, the first thing you register is the pain, every part of your body hurts. "Is- Is everyone okay?" You ignore the tears that are starting to build, both from the smoke and the pain.

"We're all okay back here," Hotch answered with a small groan, moving his hand over his face.

"Is everyone awake?" You asked, various voices chimed in, confirming that they were all awake and okay. "Morgan?" You turned your head, panic gnawing at your stomach when you saw that he was still unconscious. You reach out, biting back a yelp when pain spread through your arm - you ignore it and lightly tap his face. "Morgan? Derek?"

"I think he's out for the count," Hotch mumbles and you nod, anxiety gnawing at your stomach. And pain. You let your eyes flicker down to your stomach, just to make sure you're okay. You know it's probably a few bruised ribs, maybe a few broken, but nothing major. But then you see the metal rod and your stomach drops.

"H'tch-" It comes out as a whisper, "Hotch-"

"(Y/N)? (Y/N), what's wrong?"

"I-" You have no clue how to even describe it. There was fumbling and the sound of a low groan, Hotch. You shut your eyes, trying to get rid of the mental image of a metal rod sticking out of your abdomen. You open your eyes when a hand gently taps your cheek, Hotch gives you a small but reassuring smile. "Hotch,"

"I know," He replies, eyes not leaving yours, "I know, but you're going to be just fine, alright?"

When you nod, he turns behind him, "Can you check on Morgan?"

Then there's movement to your right, "Morgan?" JJ. Okay, someone was looking after Morgan, that's good.

"Hey," You look back at Hotch. "The ambulance is on its way, okay? You're going to be okay,"

"There's a whole ass metal rod in my stomach right now Hotch-"

"Let's not think about that right now,"

"Okay, yeah, that sounds like a good idea." You nod. "Is Morgan okay?"

"He looks okay," JJ reassures, "I think he's just unconscious,"

You nod and sirens fill your ears and you let your eyes close for just a moment.

As it turns out, it was not for 'just a moment' but rather several moments. Many hours worth. In fact, since closing your eyes, you've had surgery, nurses have monitored your other injuries, set your arm in a cast, and bandaged you up. Derek had also woken up as the ambulance arrived, confused and dazed to say the least, but otherwise okay. He's not happy with the idea of staying overnight in the hospital, but a firm look from Hotch has him sighing and nodding.

You wake up, three hours after the surgery with a groan, you felt a dull ache, despite the numbing effect of the drugs. "(Y/N)?"

"H'tch," You give a small smile, despite the ache. "Morgan okay?"

"He's okay, everyone - including you - is okay,"

"That's good," You hum before you wince slightly, throat hurting. With a small roll of the eyes, Hotch hands you a small glass of water.

"Small sips," He reminds you, studying your face for a moment before turning back to his newspaper ('since when did Hotch reads newspapers?'). "They didn't have any good books to buy in the shop," Hotch answers.

"You're such a dad," You snort.

"Yep, now get some sleep or I'll ground you and that includes visitors," He answers. When you stare at him in confusion, trying to figure out if he's joking, he looks up and you and you quickly screw your eyes shut - just in case.

Turns out, it's a rather affective way to get to sleep and soon enough, you're waking up. This time, Morgan's there and you immediately grin. "Morgan!" You cheer and Morgan laughs.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," He teases.

"Whatever," You scoff, "I didn't have the chance to tell you, but how dare you say Tony Stark shouldn't have survived after defeating Thanos."

[princeescaluswords]

Self-Reflection

Of all the slanders delivered against Scott McCall -- and trust me, if there is a bottom to the barrel that holds them I haven't found it yet -- the ones that drive me to distraction the most are the ones that are so easy to disprove. For example, I recently encountered a story where the author argued that Scott was a "good friend but secretly a bad friend" because he is judgemental about other people's morals, ethics, and actions while never examining his own.

I know, I know, that what they mean is that they see Scott working against Derek or ignoring Stiles because Derek's and Stiles's solution to every problem is to 'kill it before it kills you' as him being judgmental while sometimes making bad decisions himself. You see, white male characters with trauma are to be forgiven if they lie to others, be cruel to others, or hurt others, but a Hero of Color loses the right to criticize those behaviors if they make any mistake ... ever.

But, even so, the idea that Scott didn't think about the consequences of his acts is ridiculous, as much as believing he always thought he was right. I can point out at least one scene every season where Scott reflects upon the morality of his actions. I'll give examples, with the understanding that this isn't even exhaustive.

Season 1: It would absolutely have been easier for Scott to let the Argents use Derek to kill Peter, even though Derek would have died as well. He also consider the actions of the entire season.

Scott: Yeah, but that was - I mean - Would you just stop? Please? What happened the other night, Stiles' dad getting hurt, that was my fault. I should have been there to do something. I need you to teach me how to control this.

Season 2: Scott won't give in to Gerard's blackmail even though his own mother tells him to. (Notice how all anti-Scott people miss this scene.)

Melissa: Oh, I don't know what's happening. I don't know what that thing was or even what you are, but whatever he wants, just give it to him. Scott: Mom, it's not that easy. Melissa: Do what he wants. Just give him what he wants. Scott: I don't know if I can.

Season 3A: Scott is so consumed with guilt over Derek's apparent death that he nearly allows himself to die and realizes he's not always right.

Allison: You know, if he's really dead, it's not your fault. Scott: Maybe. But remember that whole thing that we talked about where I wasn't accusing you of being there, and if you were there you shouldn't be? Thanks for not listening.

Season 3B: Scott has to confront the reality that he lead Allison to her death.

Scott: It happened so fast. Argent: That's right. Say it again. Scott! Say it again. Scott: How are you doing this? Argent: It's what we do. It's what we do

Season 4: Scott, in the middle of allowing himself to be bait for the Benefactor, struggles with the possibility that he'll need to kill.

Scott: I can't do that. I can't kill them. Liam: Someone has to. Scott: Why me? Liam: Because you're the Alpha. Scott: I'm not a murderer. Liam: But you are a predator. Scott: No. We're predators... But we don't have to... We don't have to...

Season 5A: After being betrayed by his pack, Scott wonders if he even has the right to be the leader anymore.

Scott: But this time, I lost everyone. Melissa: You'll get them back. You have to. Scott: Why would they come back? Melissa: Because you're their leader.

Season 5B: Scott rejects the idea that he has a "Code Against Killing."

Scott: Deucalion? You shouldn't trust him. Theo: And you're the one who let him live. Scott: I'm not a murderer. Theo: You still think you're gonna get through all this without killing anyone? Scott: I didn't say that.

Season 6A: Scott accepts that Liam has the right to mistakes.

Liam: This might be a mistake. But you don't know that yet. And you made mistakes when you were learning to be an Alpha. Scott: Yeah, I made a lot. But we don't have time for mistakes. I can't lose Stiles. Liam: So we should try anything we can to save him. Right? Even Theo. Scott: Convince me.

Season 6B: Scott changes his tactics when he realizes that he is not going to be able to find a peaceful solution.

Malia: Hey. What do we do? Scott: No more peace summits. No more running. No more half measures. Malia: What's the plan? Scott: We fight back.

But fandom clings to the idea (proposed by that most reliable of sources, Peter Hale) that Scott sees the world in black and white, so if he does things wrong or chooses a questionable path, he must see it as absolutely correct, even though he never ever said that ! It's amazing to me how they're able to agree with the moral evaluations of a serial killer, yet can't extend an infinitesimal fraction of agreement with someone who had every right to act ten times worse than he did.

Because that's true. There's a reason they can excuse Stiles plotting Derek's death and Derek sending children to kill an innocent girl as being due to stress and trauma, but find it impossible to recognize that Scott is making decisions under the same duress.

BUT IT'S NOT RACISM.

[masterwords]

probably lucky i'm alive

Summary: Derek drives Hotch home from New York (coda to 4x01 - Mayhem) and their car breaks down. It's a comedy of errors but they make the best of it.

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 10.5k

Warnings: concussion, bomb mentions, death mention, grief, vomit...Hotch is a whole mess. It's all canon based so if you know the episode you probably have an idea what to expect. Except you know, Hotch is actually hurt in a more realistic way after having a car explode in his face so he is suffering.

Notes: Another Mayhem story. Yep! You're welcome. I think this is my favorite one to date, if that tells you anything. Thank you all for putting up with me! (I wrote this for the "only one bed" prompt for Day 5 of @criminalmindsweek but it took me forever and totally got away from me. They do have to share one bed it just takes 10k words to get there.)

Read on AO3: probably lucky i'm alive

**

Steam or smoke, that’s the game his mom used to play when her car would go on the fritz. If it’s steam, she’ll make it. Her car will be toast but she’ll probably get to her destination. If it’s smoke, she has to pull over right away before it’s in flames. They went through a lot of beaters when Derek was little, it was more economical for his parents to drop $250 on a new car that would limp them through a few months to a year than to fix problems that would arise on any of them. Fixing anything would have been more than most of the cars were worth.

After his father died, they just started taking the bus for a long time. They didn’t have to play the game with the city bus.

Derek hasn’t ever had to play that game with any of his cars. He’s made damn sure of it. But now he’s playing it with a government issue SUV that should be in tip top shape. He’s playing it on a long road trip back home after a really bad case, a road trip that really just needed to go smoothly. He glances at the dash, checks for indicator lights, checks the engine temperature and the oil pressure. Nothing is indicating that it’s an immediate thing, not yet. The car’s precious sensors haven’t registered what the problem is.

Hotch is asleep in the passenger seat. He’s been asleep since they crossed the New Jersey state line. They’d been talking, just awkward small talk that felt forced until he sort of went quiet. Got a faraway look on his face and then let his eyes drift closed. Derek was glad for it. They’d never had trouble talking before, hell they were practically inseparable from the moment they met but the last few weeks things have been challenging and it came to an explosive climax in New York. Derek thought driving him home might fix it. Or at least put them on the right path.

The trajectory they were currently maintaining was not supportable long term. Something had to give.

After a little too long convincing himself that it’s definitely steam and it’s disappearing, it’s fine, he’s absolutely certain that what is coming out from beneath the hood in fine little tendrils is in fact smoke. And those fine little tendrils are taking on more substance as the miles tick by. There’s no shoulder to pull over on, not here, so he angles the SUV toward the next exit and tries to get them to a safe place to pull over before the engine erupts in flames.

After the night they had, this is about the worst thing he can think of to happen.

“Smoke,” Hotch mumbles, shifting in his seat. He hasn’t even opened his eyes yet but the smell has permeated the vehicle now. “Is that smoke?”

“Yeah, hold tight I’m finding a spot to pull over. Dammit.”

The last thing Hotch needs to see after last night is another SUV in flames and Derek is right, the minute the other man registers what is happening his entire body goes rigid. He’s doing his best not to show it and maybe if it were anyone but Derek they might not see it right away it but he knows better. He knows Hotch better.

“It’s all good, man,” he says in as calm a voice as he can muster when he knows he’s pulling them off of the highway in the middle of nowhere. It’s not really the middle of nowhere, they’re just in that stretch of no man’s land between townships, a place where cell reception is weak at best because you don’t stop here you zip right on through. Unless your SUV starts billowing smoke and making creaking, popping and hissing noises. Hotch squeezes his eyes shut and Derek worries that he’s on the verge of a panic attack but he quickly pulls himself back out of it and looks straight ahead. Trains his eyes on the horizon. There are a few sparse patches of trees among an endless sea of cropped green grass, buildings off in the distance but nothing nearby.

“That doesn’t look good.” Hotch deadpans it, but Derek can hear a little tremor in his voice. He manages to angle the vehicle off the road enough not to be a burden but he can’t justify driving it any further, they’re dangerously close to seeing flames. He can feel the heat against his knees. It would be just his luck to have it erupt while they were both still in it. Lucifer’s poetic justice.

“Yeah, okay it’s not good but we’re fine. She’s overheating. Probably a coolant thing. I’ll take a look as soon as it’s safe, just relax okay?”

Easier said than done. Hotch is watching the smoke curl out from the seams and the smell of it is making him sick to his stomach, taking him back to the night before. To standing on the street watching his vehicle burn. Derek puts his hand on Hotch’s shoulder, a reassuring weight, and squeezes.

“Really. It’s just the engine being a shit head. Nothing to worry about. Worst case scenario we call a tow truck and hitch a ride somewhere to wait.”

Hotch doesn’t move beneath the weight of Derek’s hand, and for a beat too long Derek leaves it there. “Come on, let’s hop out huh? I’m gonna pop the hood and let it air out, see if I can get a feel for it.”

“Do you know anything about this engine?” Hotch has his doubts, but ultimately he does trust that Derek won’t make it worse anyway. A smoking engine seems about as bad as it can get, at least with the vehicle still in one piece.

“I know my way around under the hood.” He smirks a little and catches Hotch doing the same, a brief but welcome change in mood.

He can tell where the problem is, and has a pretty good idea of what needs to happen, but he also knows he can’t fix it. They need a few parts and a lot more experience than he has tinkering around with broken old cars. Maybe if it was a Ford Pinto with carburetor troubles, he could manage it. A faulty alternator? Or a broken muffler that needs a patch job. He became his mother’s personal home mechanic at a young age, helping her limp her broken cars along until payday after his father’s death. Becoming the man of the house at 10 came with a steep learning curve, but as he pops this hood and the smoke obscures the world around him he can only cough and shake his head. Whatever is causing this much upheaval is beyond his limited mechanical abilities. These vehicles are all computerized, he’s

Hotch coughs and covers his nose and mouth with his forearm, turning away from the acrid smell before he really does get sick. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Derek poke around, hiss as the oil cap burns his fingertips and step back. He massages his aching shoulder and sighs.

“Gotta call for a tow. This old girl is toast.”

Hotch’s phone is broken.

Not just broken. Obliterated. It had been in his pocket during the blast and shattered on impact, he’s got a slice on his upper thigh from the broken screen. Derek pulls his out and frowns.

“Of course. No service. I’m gonna take a little walk, shouldn’t be too far. Just sit tight.” Derek starts walking right away, doesn’t even wait for Hotch’s response but he can hear uneven footsteps behind him. Limping, he’s limping and he won’t stop. “Hotch. Come on. Just wait here.”

Hotch scowls and it looks a little scarier with all the bruises and cuts on his face. Derek stops long enough just to lock eyes with him. “The last time you disappeared you drove an ambulance rigged to explode into Central Park.”

“Ahh, very funny. Good one. Thought I was gonna have to wait a year for you to pull that one outta your pocket. Feel better now?”

Hotch smirks and limps behind Derek for a few more steps, not exactly keeping up but moving away from the still smoking vehicle. He’d like to put a little distance between the SUV and his body.

“Hotch. Stay with the car, dammit.”

“No.”

“Hotch. You can barely walk. I’m just gonna go until I’ve got enough service to call for a tow truck, I’ll be right back. Just rest okay?” He no longer sounds sharp or authoritative, just pleading. He’s worried, there’s no hiding it now. Acute acoustic trauma and shrapnel in his leg. There’s no way that’s all of it, Derek can see it plain as day. “You need to take it easy.”

It’s true, he can barely walk. But he suspects Derek can see something that looks dangerously like PTSD in him when he looks back at the smoke plume emerging from beneath the hood of the SUV. And that changes Derek’s mind, he realizes why Hotch wants to move away from it. He can’t fault him for that. Derek doesn’t want to smell smoke right now either. They’ve both had their fill of vehicles and fire.

“Okay, man. You can come with. It’s not like we have anywhere we gotta be. Just tell me if you need to take a rest or something okay? I don’t know how far we’ll have to go to get a signal and you look like shit.”

Hotch won’t say a word. He’ll just limp along with his lips set in a grim line, forcing one foot in front of another no matter how badly it hurts. The further they go the slower he walks, and Derek is checking his phone almost obsessively, willing that stupid little triangle to fill with bars so they can stop. So Hotch will rest.

They talk about nothing. Just bullshitting. Hotch can’t hear very well, his ears are ringing and his head is pounding but he keeps up the best he can. It’s nice, he thinks, being alone with Derek when there isn’t anything really on the line. They’re easing back into that comfortable space again.

“Remember when our car broke down in buttfuck Idaho?” Derek asks, slowing his pace a little. He’s conscious about which side of Hotch he walks on, makes sure he’s near the good ear. The less bad ear, maybe. The one that isn’t crusted with flecks of dried blood. The one that Hotch doesn’t reach up and cover every time a car whizzes by on the interstate nearby. “On that huge stretch of nothing highway?”

“It was 98 degrees,” Hotch says quietly. “But it felt like 150 out on that blacktop. I remember thinking the soles of my shoes were going to melt before we got help.”

“It’s always you and me. Been on a hundred road trips with Reid, never a problem. A few with Em, with Jayj, even Rossi. But you and me? It’s like disaster follows us. My blisters were out of control.”

“Mine too. My socks were full of blood. Dress shoes and socks are not ideal for July in hell.”

“I’m not sure any shoes would have been ideal. That was a nightmare.”

It’s not hot now, the walk is almost pleasant. They’re walking on a stretch of road that butts up to an expanse of green, maybe grass, maybe something else. It’s autumn but the leaves haven’t started changing much yet. There’s a crisp breeze that keeps them comfortable while they walk, it’s nice and keeps them comfortable. Derek keeps checking his phone obsessively, every step he expects he’s moved into a sweet spot. It finally happens about ten minutes in and he stops abruptly.

“Got some bars, I’m gonna get us a tow truck. Pop a squat, man.”

Hotch listens this time. He lowers himself down into the cool grass in the shade of a small tree and leans his back against the trunk. It does feel good to take the weight off of his sore leg. The shrapnel tore through his shin and his knee is swollen, he isn’t even sure why. Maybe if he’d let the doctor really check him over he might not be so surprised when a new pain rears its ugly head...but it doesn’t matter. If he had let the hospital continue checking him out, they would all have died. For once his impatience with doctors, at hospitals, at all of it paid off. His stubborn refusal to play by their rules saved lives.

He doesn’t fancy himself a martyr, he didn’t do it for him, but the unexpected kickback wasn’t so bad.

“Okay. Half hour. We got time to hoof it back to no man’s land even at your snail’s pace.” Derek extends a hand and helps Hotch back to his feet, noticing the way he favors his knee. His entire left leg, really. It seems to be getting worse. “You good to walk back or you need another minute?”

“I’m okay.”

“You sure? I can piggy back you.”

“I’m fine Derek.”

Derek isn’t surprised to hear Hotch say that, he expected nothing else. If Hotch ever owned up to really feeling like shit, he would know they were all doomed. He could read the vocal inflections, though. There were certain tonal changes that he could detect easily, the words were superfluous at best.

“Good,” Derek says, but he starts them out at a slower clip and Hotch notices but says nothing. He appreciates the more leisurely pace. They’re really starting to find their way back now and it’s an easy, comfortable thing. He’s missed this comfort. Adrian Bale’s bomb blasted it to pieces and they never really bothered to put it back together, just mended what they could quickly and let the rest settle where it lay. Hotch didn’t realize until now how badly he really needed this, Derek’s friendship, this closeness. Someone who knows him intimately and more importantly doesn’t take his shit.

“Hey. I’m sorry about Joyner,” Derek says to break the silence. It’s on both of their minds and Derek doesn’t want Hotch thinking that he’s glad she’s dead, or that he isn’t busted up about it. She died on his watch and he’s feeling the weight of it. He’s responsible, culpable. At least in his own mind. They might have had some friction but she was a good Agent and he hated the way everything went down. That she probably died thinking he was a hot head, an asshole. “How well did you really know her?” He heard Emily and JJ talking of course, he’d heard it all but he wants to hear it from Hotch’s mouth. He wants to get Hotch talking, make him open up before he suffocates.

“She came over and worked in Atlanta during the 1996 Summer Olympics when she was with Scotland Yard,” Hotch says, slowing his pace a little. He’s worn out. Pain is exhausting. “She was young and eager, we share a lot of the same traits.” His head is swimming and his chest feels tight. He realizes he just referred to her both in past and present tense and there’s a squeezing sensation as his heart thumps that he doesn’t like. “I was a new recruit with the Bureau and volunteered for some security detail, it seemed like an interesting assignment and would pad my resume. I joined later than most people do, I guess I wanted to make up for lost time. We met at that time and became friendly. When I joined the BAU she called me for a consult on a serial killer she had in London, they didn’t have the resources on behavioral science that we did. I wrote her a letter of recommendation when she decided she wanted to join the FBI not long after.”

“Did you keep in touch?”

“Not well. Haley admitted that she was threatened by my friendship with Kate, so out of respect for her I didn’t pursue it. I wouldn’t have…”

“I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I think I do. I heard the way Prentiss and JJ were talking about Kate and I. And after the way things happened in New York, how the two of you...I owe you an explanation.”

“Nah. It’s good. Really. I never thought you slept with her, not if you were married to Haley. Now...whether you wanted to or not...well that’s none of my business, but I didn’t think you actually did.”

“Maybe an apology, then.”

“Yeah, I’d take an apology…” Derek smiles. He’s not sure he deserves to get one any more than he needs to give one, he thinks everything kind of came out in the wash. But if it’ll make Hotch feel better to offer it, he won’t turn it down. He’d been so angry. He could still feel the last embers of that fire in his belly, the way Hotch looked at him and told him to take a walk, told him it wasn’t his place...yeah an apology didn’t sound half bad.

“An apology then. I’m sorry, Derek. I should have been more open with you. Kate pulled me aside when we arrived and told me that they had their eye on you, that her job was on the line.”

Derek nods and picks up the pace when he sees that there’s a car pulled over beside theirs and someone looking in the windows. The road is deserted, there’s no reason for anyone to be out here unless they were broken down. He didn’t expect anyone to stop and couldn’t remember if he bothered to lock the vehicle. Wouldn’t that just be his luck? Break down on the side of the road and abandon a government vehicle full of case files and other sensitive materials with easy access. Like a big neon sign saying come rob me.

“Hang back a sec,” Derek says, and Hotch grunts his displeasure at being coddled.

“Derek, I’m perfectly capable of...”

“Dammit Hotch. Just listen to me for once okay?” He might be a little too sensitive, but after the case they just put a pin in he’s not sure he trusts anyone that isn’t on his immediate team. The world is fucked and he’s just trying to get them home safely. It feels like things are spinning wildly out of control, a car bomb, the ambulance, their SUV breaking down and now this guy wants to poke around in their business? He’s about to go off and he doesn’t even know what the guy is doing yet.

Derek’s hand is on his weapon as he approaches. He’s an open guy, loves to smile and make friends, but now is not the time. He might be feeling a little over protective of Hotch, and maybe that’s not even warranted but he’s going to listen to his gut right now and remain on alert.

“Saw the car pulled over, thought someone might need help…” The guy smiles, but his body language isn’t friendly. The way he stands tall feels like an attempt at intimidation.

“We’re good buddy. Already got a tow truck on the way. Thanks for checking.”

The man takes a step forward and stares Derek down. Even from his vantage point Hotch knows this is trouble – messing with Derek right now is bound to get messy. “How do I know this is your vehicle?”

Hotch’s head swims and his knees start to buckle. He stands there, comes completely still and he curses his body for its terrible timing. It takes this moment to turn on him? The smell of smoke still emanating from the car doesn’t help, it’s taking him back to a moment in time he’d rather forget. He plants his feet and considers reaching for his weapon too but for the time being, he listens to Derek. The sound of his voice. He’s still in control of the situation. The SUV is full of confidential documents, full of weapons, full of things this man shouldn’t see and he has no idea if he’s been picking through it. Derek is wracking his brain and for the life of him can’t remember if he locked the SUV before they left.

“It’s mine and that’s all you need to know. Back off.”

Derek and the other man are bristling now, too close for comfort. Derek produces the key fob and clicks it, flashing the lights on and then off with a sarcastic smile. Of course, it occurs to him a moment too late that now he’s clicked it he’ll never know if it was locked or unlocked when the interloper arrived. “See?”

“That don’t prove a thing. You coulda found those keys on the side of the road.”

Hotch is about two seconds from being sick all over the ground, and on sheer will alone he manages to produce his FBI credentials before he goes limping toward the two of them. His knees are about to buckle but he’s going to fix this situation without violence first. He’s in no condition to jump into a fist fight, let alone draw his weapon, but there will be no choice if the man goes after Derek.

“This vehicle is ours, sir. There’s a tow truck on the way to help us. I appreciate your concern but it’s under control.”

The man leers at Hotch, and then at his badge, and back at him skeptically. He’s a whole mess of a man with scrapes and bruises on his face, favoring one leg heavily, he looks like the kind of guy who broke out of a hospital. He wouldn’t be hard to take, and Hotch can see him calculating the risk while he studies the credentials. “We’ve got everthing under control.” Hotch repeats himself, a little more firm, rising up to his full height against the angry protest of broken ribs. Recognition flashes in the man’s features, he believes Hotch now. He looks like FBI, there’s not a question in the man’s mind as he takes in the suit and tie, the severity of his set features.

He hesitates though, one last flash of indecision. The items in the vehicle are tempting, whatever they are. And he wants to fight Derek, he wants to do that badly, maybe for no other reason than he doesn’t like his smug face. Still, he gets into his vehicle and drives off without another word, at least not another that either of them can hear. Derek rifles through their things, makes sure nothing is missing while Hotch collapses in the passenger seat with his head in his hands willing the lightheaded feeling and the intense screaming pain in his skull to pass. They never said he had a concussion but he’s no stranger to that, he knows exactly what it feels like.

“You locked it,” Hotch says quietly through his fingers, not looking up.

“You sure?”

Hotch doesn’t want to say why he’s sure, but his body knows he heard that sound. Every part of his body is certain. He felt it in his teeth. “I’m sure.”

Derek pops his head up from the file box in the back and studies Hotch curiously, like he’s putting it together somehow. PTSD. The letters float around and bash into one another in his head, they flash like a neon sign. Hotch is suffering and he doesn’t know how to help him, not out here. Maybe not at all. “You good?”

“I’m okay.”

“Does it ever occur to you not to lie?” Derek asks, sitting down on the edge of the bumper when he’s satisfied everything is intact. The SUV tilts his direction briefly and stabilizes. Hotch lets out a strangled laugh that makes his chest hurt. It would never occur to anyone but Derek to ask him a question like that. They might think it, but no one would ever say it. Not even Dave, he would just raise an eyebrow in that silent judgmental way he has but he wouldn’t make a peep. Derek blurts it out and damn the consequences.

“In my experience, it’s better this way.” He pauses and smirks. “Don’t profile that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He’s already doing it. There’s no way around it. But he smiles and shrugs like it’s nothing important, like everything is casual and cool.

It’s closer to an hour by the time the tow truck finally shows up and Hotch is reclined in the passenger seat with his arm thrown over his eyes, sick to his stomach. The smell of smoke has permeated everything and he can’t get far enough away, it’s in his clothes now. His best bet has become simply not moving, instead focusing on breathing in and out through his mouth. Moving makes his head swim, makes his brain feel like its come dislodged. They’d been talking at first, but after a while Derek quieted down, like he thought Hotch might get some sleep if he just left him alone. When the driver arrives, Derek catches him before he even gets halfway to the SUV. They go through the paperwork together at the end of the tow truck, far enough away that their voices don’t carry all the way to the SUV. He knows Hotch isn’t asleep but operating under the guise that he’s helping in some way makes him feel better about the situation they have found themselves in.

“Hey,” Derek says, tapping Hotch gently on the shoulder. “He’s about to hook us up then we’re outta here.”

“Thanks.” Hotch doesn’t move until the SUV rocks beneath him and the sound of metal grating against metal fills the air. With one hand pressed against a sudden pulsing in his forehead, Hotch falls out of the side of the car and stumbles away as quickly as his legs will carry him. He’s aware that it probably looks funny, like Igor lurching through Dr. Frankenstein’s castle, but he can’t get away from the sound fast enough. Every scrape and bang makes his skull feel like it’s coming apart at the seams.

“Hotch?”

He raises his hand, tries to keep Derek back. He doesn’t want to be touched right now, he doesn’t want anyone near him. He walks away faster and leans against a tree, breath heaving angrily in his chest. It’s getting hard to pull in enough and he’s aware of just how close he is to passing out. His vision has narrowed to a pinpoint.

“He okay?” the driver asks, thumbing in the direction of Hotch when Derek walks back. He’s concerned, rattled, but he’s got to mask that and pretend like it’s fine. Just get them out of there. That’s his only objective, get them the hell off the side of the road. His only consolation through all of this is that he’s glad it’s him and not Agent Davis out here with Hotch. She’ll be glad when he tells her about it, too. Tells her how she dodged a bullet.

“Oh, uh yeah. Rough night. You know how it is.”

The driver chuckles and shakes his head like he gets it. Like it was a night of hard partying. Derek is content to let him think it’s as simple as a hangover. He wishes it was just a hangover. That this could be fixed with some Tylenol and hashbrowns.

“You guys need a ride somewhere or you got someone coming for ya?”

“If you got one,” Derek says with a smile. “We’ll take it.” He sprints over to where Hotch is hugging the tree for dear life and grabs him, practically pulling him toward the truck. “Guy thinks you’re rocking a wicked hangover. Just go with it.”

Hotch nods, or tries to anyway but the movement is too much so it’s stunted and he stops, miserably resting his forehead against Derek’s shoulder for a moment. He leans heavily on Derek while they walk, willing his body not to give out on him, not here on the side of the road, not in front of a perfect stranger. Doesn’t have much choice though, if it’s going to it’s going to and that’s just how it goes. He’s about out of energy to control the way things go.

In the truck, Derek slides into the middle seat and lets Hotch take the window. He rests his head against the cool glass and closes his eyes, hands clasped in his lap. Giving some kind of an image that he’s got it together, that he’s not a dead man walking. As the day wears on, he becomes more and more aware that there is more wrong with him than he’s been willing to admit or explore. All he wants is a bed and a few hours of sleep, convinced that will fix the worst of it.

The engine is too loud and Hotch instantly feels sick when the pain strikes. He can’t get away from it, he’s trapped in the truck and the sound is a hot knife picking around in his brain. The driver smiles and turns the radio on, unaware of Hotch’s plight. He’s not going to say anything. “There’s a little motel next to the truck stop a few miles up ahead. They can fix your car up at the mechanic shop a little further down, you boys can stay the night at the motel if you need to and there’s a greasy spoon right there too. One stop shop.”

“Good deal, man. Thanks for coming out. You’re a lifesaver.”

It’s hard to rest in someone else’s vehicle. They’ve seen too much. Derek does his best to form a sort of human shield between the driver and Hotch, just in case anything gets weird. Hotch is vulnerable and it’s just radiating off of him, he can’t hide it anymore. It’s going to be pretty obvious it’s more than just a hangover soon and no Derek doesn’t exactly think the tow truck driver is a serial killer but he’s still on edge. It’s in his nature to be suspicious.

So, he talks. He strikes up every conversation with the driver he can think of until they arrive at the mechanic shop. It’s an hour before they get there, and he’s not sure if Hotch slept a wink but he didn’t say one single word the whole time. He was just lost inside of his head, willing the pain to settle, willing his body not to give out entirely before he has somewhere to crash.

The mechanic shop is small, derelict vehicles practically piled up all around it. Half junkyard, half mechanic from the looks of it and the land it sits on stretches as far back as the eye can see. It doesn’t instill confidence in Derek that the mechanic shop is surrounded by acres of junked cars and trucks but he doesn’t have much choice. “You saw the motel we passed? It’s nothin’ special but they got beds.”

“I did,” Derek says, not giving it much thought. They can just call someone back at Quantico for a ride but he’s not going to say that. The guy has been more than helpful, he’s been kind, he had great taste in music. Derek found himself enjoying the ride when he could stop himself from worrying about Hotch for a minute or two.

“Hope it don’t take them too long to fix you boys up. Feel better, buddy. Get you some gatorade and some greasy food. They got biscuits and gravy over there that’ll cure anything.”

Hotch doesn’t think either of those things will fix his problems but he thanks the man anyway. What he really needs is a bed and a week long nap. He’s starting to feel completely detached from his life. Like he’s just out here bumping into things, un-tethered, and everything hurts.

While the mechanic checks out the vehicle, runs a complete diagnostic, Derek calls Penelope. He knows he should probably call Strauss first, or Rossi maybe but he calls Penelope because he’s about as anxious as he can possibly be and he needs to hear her voice. She’s been sending him a barrage of texts all morning, most of which he isn’t even seeing until right now because he’s been in and out of service.

“I can try to send a car but it’ll be about 6 hours before they can be there,” she says. “They’re all being used right now. That is if Strauss even approves it. She’s going to throw a fit about you guys breaking this car after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, like any of that last night was our fault. Plus we didn’t break this car, we didn’t do anything but drive it.”

“Be that as it may, sunshine, light of my life, she’s going to blow a gasket. Much like your vehicle. Do you want me to try and get someone up there? Or if you don’t mind waiting I can drive up when I finish here...”

“Six hours?” he asks, frustrated. “Nah. I don’t want you driving all the way up here like that and I don’t think Hotch will fit in your car anyway. We’ll just stay the night, drive this car back if they can get her road ready or figure something else out tomorrow. I don’t think Hotch is up for any more excitement. He’s dead on his feet, I just need to get him somewhere quiet and leave him be.”

“That bad?”

“I think the sound of the tow truck hooking up our SUV almost killed him. He’s a wreck.”

It’s a slow walk to the motel, and Derek is avoiding telling Hotch that there isn’t anyone coming to get them. Right now Hotch just thinks they’re going to find somewhere to sit, maybe grab a bite to eat and wait it out. He’s got to find a way to break it to him that they’re stranded. The way Hotch is walking, it’s doubtful he’ll mind much when met with the alternative: a bed. Right here. The motel looks quiet enough, nothing fancy but it’ll have a bed and a shower and by the looks of it, blackout curtains. It all seems like a recipe for sleep if he can get Hotch there without a fight. He doesn’t look he has any left in him.

“Is someone coming to pick us up?” Hotch asks.

“Nah. It was gonna be like 6 hours at best, then we got 4 more hours in the car. Garcia offered to drive up when she’s off work but I figure we just stay the night here and get back on the road in the morning, that guy said it should be an easy fix, at least enough to get us home in one piece.”

Hotch isn’t keen on the motel thing and the “one piece” bit doesn’t instill him with confidence, but Derek does make a good point about waiting until morning. He’s beat and as much as he’d like to tell Derek he’s fine, that excuse wore itself out hours ago.

The motel room has pink floral comforters and turquoise carpets. It’s an eyesore. The blankets are scratchy and thin, and the rooms smell like cigarette smoke but Derek was right, the blackout curtains covered a multitude of sins. They could sleep the afternoon and the night away if they so desired. They were able to splurge with their per diem and each get their own room, adjoined by a thin door just in case. Derek insists that the door remain unlocked, just in case. Strength in numbers. He’s really just laser focused on the fact that Hotch isn’t as okay as he wants everyone to believe.

“You hungry? There’s a greasy spoon attached...I could go for a burger and fries. We can try to blow your hangover away.”

Hotch forces a smirk at that and nods. He is hungry, and the last meal he ate was long enough ago that he couldn’t remember exactly when or what it was. And if he eats then he can take the percocet the doctor so kindly prescribed. That should have been a dead giveaway that his body was a complete mess if the doctor, who barely had a chance to look him over, would prescribe such big guns.

The diner is small, only a few booths scattered inside of a dark room. The roar of the semi-truck engines outside the window echoes in Hotch’s head and he rests his head on his hand, covering his painful ear carefully. Trying to be casual about it so he doesn’t alarm Derek. The man has been making too much fuss today. Touching it hurts but that’s less than when sound enters therefore better.

“What happened in the ambulance?” Hotch asks, sliding a fry absentmindedly through his ketchup. He wasn’t as hungry when he sat down as he thought so he stuck with a turkey sandwich and a side of fries. A safe bet. Derek talks on the third pass through the red glob, waiting for Hotch to finally put the damn thing in his mouth instead of playing with it.

“Garcia blocked the cell signal with her crazy magic just long enough for me to get the ambulance away from people. I jumped out and booked it out of there just before the thing went up. Don’t think I’ve ever run so fast in my life. You know those stories about the moms lifting cars off of their kids to save their lives? It felt like that. An out of body kind of thing I guess. I jumped and rolled and somehow got right to my feet and just ran like fuckin’ Forest Gump. Wish you coulda seen it.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Nah, I’m alright. A little sore but it’s all good. This is what I work out for, right? I got far enough away before it went up.” He pauses and sips his water, willing Hotch to just eat the damn fry. The poor thing is about ready to break off and sink into the ketchup like it was quicksand. “You would have died, Hotch.”

“What?”

“I know you were gonna do it and there is no way you would have gotten away from it in time. You can barely walk. As soon as we realized what was going on, I knew you were gonna try to drive it outta there and everyone would have let you. Hell, you drove it in, you already knew the thing, and you’re Hotch. Right? They all think you can’t get hurt, you’re invincible, nothing happens to Hotch. No one would have argued with you.”

“You would have.”

“You’re damn right I would have, but you know what happens then? We die arguing. Everyone dies. The arguments we get into get pretty epic. No time for that, man. I had to stop it before it got to that. If you want, we can go at it now.”

“I don’t.” He finally bites into the fry and Derek grins like he’s just won a prize.

“Not even a little? Come on...I know you’ve got something to say...”

“You already win.”

Yeah, Derek thinks. Hotch is in bad shape. Not even willing to argue.

Derek wants to say something else, something helpful or positive, he’s not sure exactly what but he’ll wing it...his phone buzzes just before he has a chance to open his mouth. Hotch takes the opportunity to drag himself out of the booth and limp toward the hostess stand to pay the tab. Derek sighs and glances down at his phone, not overly interested in answering it but it’s Spencer and he can’t let that just go to voicemail. He’d feel awful. Spencer has been sending him texts all day too, worried and kind of desperate ones.

“Are you okay?” he asks, clearly agitated when Derek picks up. He doesn’t even start with hello. His voice is a high-pitch whine in Derek’s ear. “Garcia told me your car broke down. I can come get you. Just tell me where you are.”

“It’s fine kid. We got this little roadside motel we’re gonna shack up in and our car should be good by morning. I think Hotch is glad not to be in a car. He probably needed another day of rest before travel.”

“Well a car did just blow up in his face. How is he anyway?”

Derek sighs and watches Hotch move slowly toward the restroom. He’s limping hard on his left leg, using the backs of the booths for support when there isn’t anyone sitting there.

“Not good. He won’t say anything of course, but he’s in bad shape.”

“Watch for signs of PTSD.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a little early, but I’m looking.”

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah kid, I’m fine. Got some bumps and bruises, found some grass and twigs in my boxers when I went to bed last night...looked like I got into a fight with Sasquatch or something but I’m good.”

“You guys are too much alike.”

“No, I’m serious. I’m okay. I got away from the thing before it exploded, ran like hell. I tumbled a little in the grass and breathed in some smoke but I’m good. Promise.”

Reid keeps him on the phone a little longer, and Derek is pretty sure he’s being profiled through their conversation but he lets it happen anyway. If it makes Reid feel better to do it, he won’t argue. He’s not hiding anything.

They walk back to the motel in amiable silence, hardly any space between them on the stretch of broken sidewalk between the diner and their rooms. At almost timed intervals, Hotch seems to dip, like his knee is giving out on him and Derek twitches, ready to reach out and catch him if he goes down. It’s not a fun game to play.

It’s hardly late afternoon, way too early for bed in Derek’s book but Hotch looks beat so he doesn’t argue about retiring in the daylight even if it makes him feel like a geezer. “What’s your plan?” he asks, fitting his key in the lock. Hotch takes a minute, fumbling with his own key and shrugs.

“A shower and sleep.”

“Yeah, shower does sound good. I can still smell the smoke on my clothes.”

Hotch nods and hopes that Derek won’t look too far into that himself, it’ll just make him come through that door that adjoins their rooms every half hour to check on him. He’s doing everything he can to avoid Derek’s scrutiny. It’s all well-meaning, he’s not doing it for work, he’s doing it because he cares but Hotch isn’t ready to address anything except the immediate pain in his head and the smell of smoke on his clothes. And even then, he’s willing only to do that in private.

“You get a hankerin’ for pie or something later, give me a shout okay? Doesn’t look like there’s much nightlife here but we could watch a movie or something.”

“Sure.”

Derek is in the shower before anything else. The minute his door is shut he’s throwing his bag on the bed and turning on the hot water. He’s not worried about anything other than just washing off the day. The smell of smoke and motor oil are pungent enough to make him gag if he thinks about it too long. Getting under the spray of water and forgetting, relaxing, is all he wants. Hotch is as safe as he can be tucked into his hotel room, and Derek can hear him on the other side of the thin wall moving around.

The hot water rushes over his sore shoulder and he rotates it, loosening angry muscles. No clicking. He’s not hurt, not badly, just sore. Exactly like he said.

At his feet, soap suds collect near the drain in little cloud mountains. The drain is slow and the tub is collecting a little more water than he’d prefer. As he stares down at the suds, he pushes his toes through them and over the drain cover to see if there is something obscuring it. His toe touches something with a lot more substance than bubbles and as he pulls his foot back, it moves. He tells himself that it’s just his mind playing tricks on him. There’s nothing there.

But then it moves again and he takes a step back so he can bend over and get a better look. That was a mistake. He realizes it once he’s hunched over, catches a glimpse of something like a worm swish in the water and beady eyes blinking up at him, calm and collected. It’s a mouse, and it’s in the damn shower with him. He takes another step back but this one is hastier and he doesn’t pay attention to anything, his eyes are locked on the mouse.

He hears the snap before he feels the metal slicing his heel, scraping and pulling at the taut skin. A mouse trap, he’s just stepped on a mouse trap and now he’s crashing to the ground more out of surprise than pain. As he lands with a deafening thud, he does the only thing he can think to do. The only thing he’s ever thought to do in situations like this since joining the BAU.

It comes out so naturally it never occurs to him not to.

“HOTCH! HOTCH!”

He wishes he hadn’t done it immediately. Hotch is hurt, he doesn’t need this shit, but it’s done and he can already hear the door that adjoins their rooms flying open. It’s too late. All he can think to do is throw his hands over his dick, hide what he can before Hotch is in the bathroom and throwing the curtain back.

His gun is aimed right at Derek, right at his junk. “Woah, woah, hey,” Derek says automatically, turning away from the gun like that’ll do any good.

“What is it?!” Hotch asks, lowering his weapon, glancing frantically around the room to catch a sight of what could have scared Derek so badly. For a second he wonders whether he actually heard anything or if his mind was playing tricks on him. The thought chills him to the bone. If he’s just broken in on Derek in the middle of a shower for no reason…

“Sorry man, I’m sorry...there’s a damn mouse...I panicked…”

Hotch sees the twitch in the bubbles, sees the tail and reaches for it. His hand snaps forward, fingers pinching through soap suds and he comes up with the mouse dangling in his grip. The thing seems so calm and collected it doesn’t even flip around in his hand, it just hangs there. His lips twitch at the corners and he smiles, turning toward the door to walk it outside. Catch and release. Though he has his doubts about how long it’ll stay outside. A few minutes, maybe.

Derek’s chest heaves and he grunts, trying to sit himself upright with some dignity. There’s a mouse trap digging into his back dangerously close to his ass and he’s not exactly thrilled with this situation. Hotch comes back in once he’s gotten out and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“You’re bleeding.” There is blood on the floor behind Derek’s foot and he glances down at it, craning his neck to see the damage.

“The trap snapped my heel.”

Hotch waits for more, an explanation, a wild story, but he gets nothing. Derek is still on edge, staring at the tub like it might sprout legs and start walking around.

“There are traps in my room too,” Hotch offers finally. “I didn’t see any mice, but I called the front desk. They have an exterminator coming tomorrow.”

“They couldn’t say anything when we checked in huh?”

Hotch shrugs and leans against the counter for support. He’s been getting dizzy spells all day but they’re coming more frequently now. “She said she’ll comp our rooms.”

“This is fucked.”

Derek can’t believe how unbothered Hotch is over this entire ordeal. Before he has a chance to ask why he’s so calm about it, he hears a scraping sound behind him and looks back to find a mouse slipping down the sloped wall of the tub. “I can’t sleep here.”

“You can stay in my room. Strength in numbers.”

Then it hits him. The way Hotch stands with his hand planted against the counter, the way he sways a little on his feet, he’s taken his percocet. He’s half cocked on pain meds. The thought makes Derek laugh, and feel both jealous and guilty all at once. He was ready to zonk out in bed when Derek shrieked his name and even in the state he’s currently in...he came running. Damn that big softy, Derek thinks. He’s kind of cute in his slacks and t-shirt though.

“You sure?”

“Get your bag. Hurry up.”

Hotch’s room looks lived in. Torn apart. The blankets are pulled entirely off the bed and left in a heap at the foot, chair on top of the desk, the furniture pulled away from the walls where he could get it. It looks like Axl Rose and a bottle of top shelf whiskey got paid to do the housekeeping. Derek has to laugh at the absurdity. “You checked for mice huh?”

“There’s a trap beside the trash can, saw it right away.” His words slur just the smallest amount, and Derek detects a hint of the south in the accent that slides with it. “No mice. So far.” What Hotch doesn’t say, what he only implies, is that he’d planned to be passed out before any of them made an appearance. Out of sight out of mind.

“I’d say I’ll take the floor but that is not happening. We’re getting cozy.”

“Be my guest.”

Hotch falls asleep almost immediately. Derek finds the remote and clicks around aimlessly through channels, stopping for a while on jewelry infomercials and spaghetti westerns that hold his interest only mildly. Every so often he glances over at Hotch who looks almost peaceful with his head cradled in his arms against the thin pillow. He’s curled up beneath the papery sheets and the scratchy comforter like it’s the most comfortable nest in the world and Derek finds himself more than a little frustrated and jealous. He’s buzzing, he won’t be sleeping a wink, which really doesn’t work because he’s got to drive in the morning as long as their car is ready to go. No way Hotch is in any condition to get behind the wheel.

He’s certain he won’t sleep but eventually it does happen, he nods off while he’s still sitting up and watching a Jackie Chan movie marathon. His chin tucks into his chest and he leans slightly to the side as his eyes slip shut.

They sleep for hours while the world continues buzzing right outside. The late afternoon sun gives way to a deep orange blaze of sunset that melts like a popsicle on hot cement as it drips in beneath their blackout curtains. Derek is lost in some kind of fiery dream he’ll barely remember when he hears a thud and a whimper beside him. His first thought is mouse, huge fucking mutant mouse and his eyes shoot open.

“Hotch?” he asks, patting the empty place on the bed beside him when he realizes he’s alone. “Hotch where are you?”

He can hear it before his eyes adjust, Hotch dragging himself along the turquoise carpet miserably toward the bathroom while he gags, trying to fight off the sick. Derek leans over the edge of the bed and squints, watching the shadow of his friend move and then the bathroom door closes and he’s on the outside listening to it.

Hotch sounds miserable. There’s no hiding it, no pretending it’s anything but what it is. Derek knows that Hotch has a concussion and with that comes a slew of symptoms that neither of them has done a very good job of managing or even acknowledging.

When he comes back, he’s on his feet but just barely. Derek pretends he didn’t see him crawling, pretends he hasn’t spent the last fifteen minutes listening to him getting sick. His instinct is to once again ask if he’s okay, but that’s a pretty stupid question at this point and all he’ll get for his trouble is a lie.

“Rumble in the Bronx…” Hotch rasps through his raw throat, all but collapsing on his side of the bed. “Haley’s sister Jessica loves this movie.”

“It’s a classic.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t recommend you for the job,” Hotch says on the verge of tears, completely out of the blue. One minute it’s Jackie Chan, the next it’s a sob fest. Derek can’t keep up no matter how hard he tries. Hotch’s head hurts worse than it has all day, like someone is pulling his skull apart with a crowbar. There is no relief except what little he can do to distract himself, and sleep isn’t going to do the trick. Not now. So he’s going to try talking. “I should have. It was childish.”

“What was childish?”

“I didn’t want you to leave. It was never about Kate. I just don’t want to lose you…”

“Lose me?” Derek asks, his heart leaping into his throat. He’s a little concerned that this sudden outpouring of emotion means something is terribly wrong so he mutes the television and turns to focus on Hotch half-expecting to watch him having a stroke or something equally terrifying. But he just looks normal. Drained, half-lidded eyes sensitive to the small amount of sunlight seeping into the room but nothing alarming. “Hotch, all I ever do is fight with you. You’re gonna miss me being a pain in your ass?”

Hotch nods and lets his half-lidded eyes slip closed. He can tell Derek wants to argue, wants him to bristle a little. He wants to see that he’s okay but his head is splitting and he doesn’t have the energy to keep up with that. It’s an abrupt change of course, avoiding the inevitable argument and he just barely manages it. “Do you remember the room we got in Idaho? When someone finally found us out on that highway and gave us a ride to town?”

“Do I ever. That place was worse than this one. The water ran brown and there were cockroaches everywhere. They were in the fuckin’ fridge.”

“I’ll take mice over cockroaches,” Hotch whispers, pressing his face into the pillow. The pressure on his forehead feels almost soothing. “Your feet had to hurt as bad as mine, but you walked down to that gas station and bought bottles of water and a bag of ice and that styrofoam cooler so we could soak our feet in water that wasn’t brown.”

“Nothing ever felt as good as that ice. I’ve never had sex that felt better and I’ve had some good damn sex.”

Hotch smiles a little wistfully while his stomach knots. “We used the whole box of bandaids in my go-bag.”

“My feet never hurt so bad in my life.”

“Me neither. Derek,” Hotch says, rolling on his side. It takes all of his strength to make his body move that way and the pressure change in his head is instant and furious. He takes a couple calculated breaths before he’s able to continue. He just has to say this...it’s important and getting the words out might just kill him, he’s starting to get that panicky feeling that comes with the knowledge that the injury he’s been ignoring for days might be more serious than he wanted to admit. Either that or his mind is shot to shit. He has no idea. It could just be panic, it could be the sound of the trucks outside putting him on edge. He can barely tell up from down anymore. “I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You keep saying that you’re gonna lose me…isn’t it up to me if I even go? Who says I want that job anyway?”

Hotch looks up at him and offers him a sad little smile. The tears in his eyes might be from the swell of emotion or the intensity of the pain in his head, he’s not sure at this point. “I would be lost without you. Everyone thinks I can’t be hurt, you said it yourself. They all have this idea that I’m invincible, and I am only able to be that way because you’re beside me. Look what happens when…”

“None of this happened because of anything you did. You know that.”

“Maybe if my judgment hadn’t been so clouded, if I hadn’t been so focused on Kate keeping her job I would have seen what was happening sooner.”

“None of us saw it. This isn’t on you. We’re a team and we failed collectively.”

It’s not within Hotch to believe something like that, not when everything stacks up in his favor. But Derek is trying to cheer him up and he’s not in any shape to mope around, he’s got bigger problems than etching what-ifs into his conscious. He’s got a splitting headache and all he wants to do is sleep it off, his eyes are practically closing of their own accord now. It’s probably the worst concussion he’s ever had and that’s saying a lot, he’s had some real winners.

“Are we cool?” Derek asks, tossing the remote onto his nightstand. Hotch doesn’t have an opportunity to answer before two mice come darting out from beneath their bed at the sound and Derek nearly jumps out of his skin. He slides quickly to the center of the bed, crashing into Hotch’s prone form and Hotch can’t help but let out a small laugh. He thinks it’s kind of cute the way this big strong man who can face down the biggest monsters humanity has to offer is terrified of these tiny little creatures. Slowly he drags himself upright and rests his aching back against the headboard.

“There’s one on my side too,” he adds, figuring Derek will want to know that. He saw it when he fell out of bed and dragged himself to the toilet. There’s at least one mouse between them and the bathroom and that seems like a pretty big deal now that Derek is practically clinging to him. “They have us surrounded.”

“I’m never sleeping. It’s all I can hear. I can’t close my eyes.”

“You should have stayed a little closer to the ambulance when it exploded, your hearing could be ruined like mine. I don’t hear anything, and even if I did the headache makes it impossible to think about anything else.”

Derek makes a sarcastic ha-ha-ha and leans against Hotch. They’re cool, he knows it now. Whatever weirdness had settled between them was gone now. “You remember how we passed the night in Idaho?”

Hotch gives Derek that little smile that only shows some of his teeth, it’s a little devious and not many people get to see it. Derek likes to think that this smile belongs to him. “I might need a refresher. Head injury and all.”

“Oh. Yeah. Head injury...you gonna milk that all night?”

He really wants Derek to kiss him right now. It’s all he can think about, the only thought rattling around inside his skull. It bypasses the circuits of pain and takes center stage. After everything he’s done and said, after everything with Kate, he can’t be the one to reach out and make that first move. It’ll be too much.

Derek knows it too. He knows it and he wants it, but he’s having a little fun teasing. He leans forward, pressing their foreheads together and whispers something Hotch can feel against his lips but he can’t hear. And Derek knows damn well he can’t hear it above the high-pitch ringing in his ears. Asshole. Hotch swallows hard and decides he’s going to take the bait, whether he heard what Derek said or not.

He’s right there. No space between them, nothing else to do with this moment. He’s got a bruised jaw and a split lip, a headache that’s bordering on emergency level pain even for him...what he really needs is another painkiller and some sleep but what he wants is Derek and at this point he thinks he’s made that pretty damn clear.

Derek gets to it before Hotch decides to. The contact is soft and sweet, a little hesitant until he feels Hotch move with him, hears the small strangled sound in the back of his throat that tells him all he needs to know. He’s gentle, hand cupping Hotch’s jaw, his lower lip sliding between teeth, all breath and heartbeat and Hotch can feel the warmth spreading down the length of his spine. He’s trying to play it cool but Derek can sense it, the way Hotch presses harder into the touch. Like it’s inconceivable that Derek could let him go, could break the connection. He presses into it like it’s giving him sustenance.

“Ringing a bell?” Derek asks between kisses, one hand sliding down Hotch’s arm, gripping his wrist, pulling him in. Hotch hums and nods, smiling into the litany of small kisses that he hopes are leading to something bigger, deeper, something that’ll erase every memory and every sensation that isn’t Derek.

“Getting there…”

Derek is content to spend all night reminding him of that time in Idaho, a time when everything was simpler. Hotch and Haley hadn’t been married yet, they’d decided to take some time apart before taking the plunge. Carefree time to explore what else was out there, just in case...and Hotch found Derek out there and that was good, so good, but too complicated. He isn’t sure it isn’t still too complicated. It’s probably worse now, he’s got an ex-wife and a child and more responsibility...but he’s also got a newfound appreciation for how quickly it can all be taken from you, too. He lost Kate and nearly died himself the night before, and if that isn’t enough to tell him how fast things change he’s not sure he’ll ever learn that lesson. Derek is here right now and his kisses are just as intoxicating now as they ever were, and he’s pretty sure that the New York job will remain unfilled for the time being...so, complicated or not, it’s a chance worth taking.

They’re content to continue this slow, quiet reintroduction to their past while ignoring the mice that skitter around in their carpet. In the morning they’ll call Penelope and ask her to send them a car and a driver, neither of them will be in any condition to drive...instead, they’ll sit in the back seat and sleep all the way back home.

And after that? Who knows. They’re not going to make plans, they’ll just wait and see. Things change pretty damn fast.

[babeyvenus]

My Future

Derek Hale x OC

Samantha, Stiles and Scott are always joking about the impossible. Who wouldn't when your best friend's dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills? All jokes stop when they realize the impossible is indeed possible.

Chapter 68: Bleeding Brother

A/N: gonna be a spam of chapters bc I think it's about time. Feedback always welcome!

As the four headed back to Scott's house, they were debating on whether or not to call Stiles and tell him about what had happened with the possibility of killing a Hellhound.

It made no sense to either of them as to what was going on, and Stiles was the brains of the pack.

But…

Scott sits down on the edge of his bed, glaring at his phone screen as he looks at the voicemail Stiles had sent him moments ago.

Malia and Lydia sit down beside him as Sam paces, still refusing to ruin Stiles' time where he was.

Scott was in a limbo. He knows his best friend wanted the best for Stiles, but they also needed him too. Scott’s voice is hesitant as he calls out to Sam. “Sam–”

She fixed him with a widened eyed look and pointed at him with a snap. “You call him and I'm snatching your damn fingers. The boy deserves a break. It's enough that he's already had the responsibility of being the sheriff's son, but being here hasn't been too kind for him in the past couple of years. He finally has a chance to just do him.", she rambled.

She'd finally stopped pacing, her shoulders sagged. She frowned sadly, as she remembers all the times he was in danger. “We almost lost him. Again and again and again. I'm not risking it anymore.”

Scott frowns, but nods in agreement. However… “If this turns out to be something big, and we don’t call him…”

Sam sits by the bed, letting out a sigh. "I know. He won't like it. But it'd be worth it if he won't get hurt."

Malia looks between the three and shrugs as she speaks. “Maybe we should go back to the woods tonight and find the killer?”

Lydia sighs and turns her attention to Scott. “Scott…”

He frowns and looks at his phone. “You guys didn’t hear his voice. He sounded really excited to be there.”

“And he should be. We shouldn't ruin that. Just play the damn voicemail.”, Sam said.

Scott presses the voicemail on his phone and plays it on speaker. “Hey, Scott. So, I’m here. I’m in Quantico, Virginia at the FBI. I’m at the fucking FBI! It’s real. I’m really here–”

The four smile at the sound of his voice. “And I kinda told Lydia that I miss her and I can’t wait to get home, but listen, Scott…"

They all sigh.

Scott frowns. "Whatever you’re doing right now, either of you, just make sure you’re still getting out of Beacon Hills. I mean, maybe you think you can’t leave, you know, like the whole thing falls apart if you’re not there, which, I get… but you have to. I know you’re supposed to drive out tonight, so, if you don’t call me back, just promise me you’re actually going. Just get in the Jeep and go. If you have to drag Sammy out of there, you do it. I know she won't leave. Not if she's still waiting for that stupid sourwolf.", Stiles says, making Sam roll her eyes.

"Alright, later man, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Scott turns off his phone. “We’ll try to figure this out, find Argent, maybe this won't all be something big and we can just tell him when it’s over.”, he said with hope.

Sam frowned. “Let's… give it a couple of days. Maybe a week and if it all goes to shit, we’ll call him.”

Scott stands up with a sigh. “Then, let's head back to the woods.”, he said and the girls nod.

After arriving at the preserve, they look around.

"So what else could we look for?", Malia asks Scott, but he doesn't answer.

The girls frown at him. "Scott.", Lydia called. Suddenly, Scott runs off as if he was chasing something. The girls look at each other before running after him.

Malia pants, "We can still catch him." They catch up to him and Scott turns to them, confused. “Catch who?”

Sam looks at him with furrowed eyebrows as she catches her breath. Malia frowns and shares a look with Lydia. “The killer. What were you thinking about?”, Lydia asks.

Scott holds up the bullet casing in between his fingers. “Getting the bullet to Argent.”

“Even if he’s the one who fired it?”, Malia asks and he nods. “Especially if he’s the one.”

Scott turns away and freezes as if he is on high alert. “Do you hear that?”, he asks, looking at Malia and Sam.

They nod. “Heartbeats.” Sam feels for any presences and frowns at the familiarity of them. Before she could speak up, panic struck on Scott’s face. “A lot of them. They’re coming.”

Lydia and Malia frown at him. “Who?”

Scott turns back to where he heard the heartbeats.“Hunters – run!”

Scott takes off running, leaving the girls in confusion before taking off after him. “Scott, wait! Scott!”, Malia yelled.

He ignored their calls and seemed to run faster. As they try their best to catch up, they're met with deputies with their guns drawn and flashlights beaming at a pair of bodies on the ground.

The girls' eyes widened as they took in the sight of Scott and Noah.

Noah lifts one of his hands towards the Deputies and warns, “It’s okay. Everybody, stay back. it’s just a kid.”

As they got closer, they could hear one of the female deputies ask, “What’s wrong with his eyes?”

“Shit.”, Sam mutters and moves up to the two. Parrish's order rings clear, “You heard the Sheriff, stand down!”

Sam kneels next to Scott, giving an apologetic look to the sheriff before taking Scott's hands who looks at her with embarrassed expression. He was still struggling to get his breathing and pounding heart in check. “Deep breaths, Scotty. You remember?", Sam asked.

Scott swallowed and nodded, following their traditional technique. Once he calmed down, she looked at him and gave him a nod. "What happened back there?”, Noah asked.

They help Scott stand up and Sam looks at the sheriff. "There's…something we need to show you."

They head back through the preserve towards the area where they found the dead body of the hellhound.

They show the body to Noah, Parrish and a few other deputies who search around the crime scene, looking for any more clues.

Scott turns to Noah, embarrassed. “I’m really sorry.”

Noah dismissed it with a smile and a shake of his head. He didn't blame the boy for a freakout. So long as he wasn't committing mass murder, that is. 

Sam frowns as she looks at Parrish. “How much you think they saw?", she asked, nodding over to the deputies. Parrish shrugs. “No more than they’re used to.”

Noah crosses his arms. “I still wanna know what happened.”

“He’s a Hellhound.”, Parrish explains, pointing at the body. Malia clarifies. “A dead Hellhound.”

Lydia frowns at her as the sheriff shakes his head. “Yep, got that.”

Parrish frowns. “Well, I don’t get it. I didn’t think you could kill a Hellhound.”

Malia flicks her eyebrows up, unimpressed. “Looks a lot easier than we thought.”

A pause waves over them and the sheriff and deputy looked at them almost suspiciously.

Noah speaks up. "You got anything you wanna add?”

Scott fidgets but doesn't say anything. Sam rubs behind her neck. “We just didn't think any bullet was able to do that.”

Noah nods and Parrish frowns as he looks at the hellhound’s body once more. “I'd hope not.”

As they drove back to Scott's house, they all sighed. Lydia looks at Sam, frowning. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Sam frowns and looks at Scott. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Malia looks at all of them. “Why didn’t any of you say anything? Wait, was I supposed to say something?”

Scott frowned. “No. None of us said anything because it’s Argent, and he deserves a chance to tell us himself what’s going on.”

Sam looks at them. "So none of us are gonna say anything until we talk to him. For now, we'll just have to figure this shit out ourselves.”

Lydia and Malia look unsure but Lydia sighs. “As long as we talk to Argent soon.”

Sam frowns, tiredly. "Now would be preferable."

Scott rubs his hands over his thighs, raising his brows and nods. “Finding Argent is the first priority.”

Moments later, Lydia brings Sam over to the Sheriff's station after having to explain she had a premonition of Parrish. Their first plan was having to ask Parrish for access to the card readers because of the sound Lydia heard.

He agrees and helps them down to the holding cell area. Once they were there, Sam sighed as Lydia stared at the bars of the cell. “Is that it? The sound you heard?”, Parrish asked after sliding a key card.

She shook her head. “No, it’s something else.”

They left the holding cells and made their way through the station and into the bullpen where the other deputies were working.

Parrish sits on his desk, having Lydia and Sam stop in front of him. He frowns as he thinks out loud. “It could be any kind of public facility. Hospital, a fire station, or…”

Sam frowns deeply. “Or a mental institution.”

Parrish's head snaps up as he frowns at Sam. “No.”

“Eichen House.”, Sam muttered. Parrish sighs, shaking his head. 

Lydia gives him a grimace. “The card readers on the doors?” He nods. “It’s the Closed Unit.”

Parrish stands once more, giving the girls a firm look. “You’re not going back to Eichen, and you’re definitely not going anywhere near the Closed Unit.”

Lydia almost pouts but leans a little closer to him. “What if there’s a connection to the…” She lowers her voice. “Dead Hellhound?”

He immediately shakes his head anyway. “Absolutely not. What if you go there again and someone tries to kill you? Which seems to happen every time either of you go in there!”

Sam frowns. “It’s what we got right now.”

He frowns at her. “If I bring you anywhere near that place either the sheriff will kill me, Stiles will kill me or Derek.”

She raises an eyebrow. She expected the first two, but Derek?

Parrish catches onto her confusion. "He made it very clear, before he left, not to let you get into any more trouble while he was gone or anywhere near the Eichen House again. Said something about you being drugged or something…", he trailed off.

"Look, if you're so worried, then you can come with us.”, Lydia suggested. Parrish smiles and shakes his head while reaching over to his desk chair and grabs his jacket. “Or… I can go alone and the two of you can stay here in the nice, safe Sheriff’s station.”

Before he leaves, Sam walks up to him. "Hold on, Jordan.", she says and makes a motion for him to lower his head.

Confused, he does just that, only flinching once he feels a strand of hair being plucked from his head. His head snaps back up, frowning at the girl as he rubs the sore spot. "What was that for?"

She grins, "Gray hair."

He narrows eyes, slightly offended and leaves the girl at the station. Lydia looks at her. "It's not a gray hair.", she says and Sam gives her a unimpressed look with an eyebrow raised.

Looking around, Sam makes sure none of the other deputies were watching and makes a resin in the floor before putting Parrish's hair strand in the middle.

Once she placed a hand over the circle, the crescent moon appeared on her forehead, indicating that the linking spell worked.

Moments of waiting and they were getting nowhere. Hadn't heard from Parrish or anything.

However, Lydia's attention was gathered by a calendar reminder on her phone.

Last day to register for MIT– today, 6:00PM.

Sam frowns sadly as she looks at her friend who frowns as well. "You should've registered.", Sam mutters. Lydia looked at her.

Sam glanced at her. "Register for online classes, at least.", she said with a smile. She didn't want her friends to miss chances of their lives outside of Beacon Hills and its troubles.

Lydia smiles. "I'll do that." Before she could get another word out, she sat up straight, looking at a deputy placing her walkie talkie on a charger.

The girls share a look and Lydia gets up, sneaking over to the walkie talkie. Sam watches as the girl messes with the device, listening for whatever she was listening for.

Lydia raises the volume, and the sound of static enters the room from the device. The girls looked around to see if anyone was paying attention and no one was so Sam nodded at Lydia to continue.

In seconds, Sam's wrist felt like it was freezing as the small crescent moon appeared on her forehead once more. The girls looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Time to go.”, Sam mutters, leading Lydia out of the station.

Once they arrived to the Eichen House, Sam paused as she tried to sense where Parrish could've been. 

After a minute, it was faint, but she sensed him in a cell.

The moment they walk in there, she'd be powerless. The only thing she could think about was how they rushed in there to search for Stiles, only for him not to be there. To look for Lydia as she was getting tortured, only for Sam, Scott and Kira left Stiles and Lydia to look for Valack while the dread doctors tormented them with their presence.

Each time she remembered, she felt helpless. How the hell were they gonna get Parrish out?

Lydia notices the girl's hesitation and holds her hand. Sam's eyes locked onto Lydia who gave her a soft smile. "I got you."

Once the gate slammed behind them, Sam accepted her fate. There was no turning back as they entered the building.

As they walked the hallways for the closed unit, Sam made sure to keep Lydia close. Lydia was more bound to this place than she was and it'd hurt her if Stiles knew that she let Lydia get in trouble with the place.

However, the dark hallways were keeping her on edge. It wasn't easy to keep a brave face as they looked around.

“Why aren’t the lights on…?”, Lydia whispered as they looked at all the unlocked doors. If only it was that easy when they were trying to save her the first time.

"I'm not liking the looks of this, Lydia.", Sam muttered. They both jump at the sound of gates slamming behind them.

Lydia yells for Parrish but Sam glares at her. Her yelling was gonna give them away. Whoever was here obviously didn't want anyone down here. 

She wished she could just sense someone's presence. Even if it was just theirs.

Something.

It was better than nothing.

They pause as they hear a female voice. “It’s here."

“We should be killing them.”, another voice says.

“Wait!”, they heard Parrish yell before jumping at the sound of a loud, echoing gunshot ringing through the hallways.

The girls glanced at each other before sneaking to where the sound came from.

Their eyes widen as they see a doctor pointing a gun at Parrish's forehead, muttering that he didn't have to be afraid anymore.

Before he could pull the trigger, Lydia raised her arms and let out her banshee screech at the man, and sent him flying toward the wall of the cell, and fell to the ground, knocked out.

Sam rushed over to Parrish, taking in his state. He was freezing, just like how her wrist felt earlier. "You regret not letting us come with you now?", she asked, taking off her hoodie and wrapped it around him before helping him up.

"I-I had h-him…", Parrish weakly scoffs, but gives the girls an appreciative smile as they help him out of the institution.

After leaving the sheriff's department, Lydia and Sam drove back to Scott's house, finding out they had found Chris at a gun deal that he was supplying the entire time.

Chris informed Scott that he wasn't avoiding the teens, but had been busy providing and investing in gun sales.

It didn't make any sense, though. They hadn't seen any hunters in so long. The Argent clan practically stopped going after supernaturals in Beacon Hills ever since the incident in Mexico.

"Well…I asked him about the casing and he said he hadn't stamped a bullet since… y'know.", Scott explains, making Sam frown sadly.

It was understandable but still made no sense as to how the bullet was still stamped by his family's graving.

After Scott's explanation, Lydia and Sam inform them about what had happened to Parrish and Dr. Fenris.

Scott and Malia's eyes widened. “He killed every supernatural in the Closed Unit? All of them?”

The girls nodded. Lydia shrugged her shoulders. “He said he couldn’t see it any other way.” 

Sam frowned. “Apparently, he was so angry because he struggled to "protect the world" from the things in the closed unit and decided he shouldn’t cage the supernatural and then killed them so humanity wouldn't be afraid anymore.”

Malia scoffs. “Well, I’ve got another way. You don’t kill everyone.”

“He was afraid.”, Lydia frowns. It made a little sense. “The wolves, the rats. Everything links back to fear.”

Scott frowns in thought. “But what is everyone afraid of?” In a second, Scott takes the casing out of his pocket, frowning sadly. “…Us.”

He placed the bullet on the kitchen island and drums his fingers on the island. “We don’t know what fear would do to somebody. I mean, it can change them. They’ll look at us differently. They’ll do things that they’ve never done before.”

Malia frowns in frustration. “People can be so stupid.”

Lydia shakes her head. “They’re not stupid, they’re scared.” 

Sam stares at the bullet. “And when people are scared, they'll do things way beyond their expectations."

The next day, Scott informed the three of Brett's assault, and was introduced to Brett’s sister, Lori, who was already waiting for them. The girl informed them that she had found a bloody lacrosse stick by Brett’s car.

Mason and Liam showed up with each other along with Lydia and Malia.

After they discuss their plans, Lydia speaks of hers. “I’ll stay here and try to see if I can get anything.”

Scott, Malia, and Sam nod.

Mason jabs a thumb over his shoulder toward the school. “Corey is in a study group so we can stay with Lydia, we can – you know, try to be helpful?”, Mason suggests, much to Lydia's surprise.

She shrugs. “Fine, meet me in the Chemistry classroom.”

They walk to the school while the other 5 move to where Lori saw her brother's blood. “His blood is over here.” Liam nods, jogging over to her “Let's go.”

They follow the blood trail into the preserve with Liam leading ahead. He stops at a tree with an arrow in it and lifts his hand up to the end of the arrow, turning and aiming his arm from where the arrow was shot. “Here.”

The older four watch, catching onto his line of sight. Suddenly, Sam hears a crunch under her foot and steps back to see a black phone that Lori picks up. She looks at Sam. “It’s his.” 

The boys look at the phone. Liam frowns, “I think he set a trap.” Scott gains a look of agreement on his face. “He’s fighting back.”

"And now we know he’s alive.”, Sam says.

Lori turns towards the tree, looking around frantically. “But he’s still hurt. We need to find him. He needs to know we’re here,” she says, worriedly. In a beat, she takes a deep breath in and turns towards the preserve, making Malia's eyes widen as she stops her. “You want the hunter to know we’re here, too?”

Sam frowns as she senses another presence. "She's right. It's not a smart move. Could be a setup for the rest of us."

Liam shakes his head. “He’s new – we can take him.”

Malia turns to the boy. “What if Brett howls back? He’ll lead the hunter right to him.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, we could find him first. There’s no human that can track sounds faster than we can, and we’ve got the advantage. We’ve done this before. We know what we’re doing, guys.”

Malia's eyebrows furrowed as she looked around. “How come I can’t catch his scent?”

“He’s masking it.”, Lori explains. Malia grumbles “Can someone tell him not to?”

Liam walks past them, pointing to the ground a few feet away from them. “He went this way.”

He takes off down the trail. "Liam–!", Sam calls before chasing after him with Lori, Scott and Malia.

They stop after a moment, catching their breath. Malia places her hands on her hips “The trail’s gone.”

“Uh, maybe he just stopped bleeding?”, Scott suggests.

“Guys, I think we should split up. Lori and I go this way, you guys go that way.”, Liam says. Lori speaks up. “Or maybe we go in five directions?”

Sam frowns. “Yeah, no.”

“Sam, we have a better advantage. it’s five against one.”, Liam frowns. “This isn't a 5v1 game, Liam. If we split up, only one of us is taking him on.”, Sam says.

Liam frowns. “I’ve been doing this the past three months without your guys’ help. I think I can make a decision.”, he says, making Sam raise her eyebrows at his boldness.

“Well, if you’re deciding to do something stupid and die, then go ahead.”, Malia huffs, making Sam give her an unimpressed look. “It’s one hunter – one amateur – who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

Scott kneels on the ground, moving some dirt around and revealing footprints in the mud underneath. “Scott?”, Sam calls.

Liam looks at footprints. “The hunter.. he’s covering his tracks.”

“There’s another.”, Scott informs as he moves more dirt that was moved over to cover the other set of prints.

Malia gets closer. “Two of them?”

“Probably more.”, Sam huffs. The feeling of being scouted even with her detection didn't settle her at all.

Lori looks at Scott. “How many hunters have you seen out here before?”

Scott looks at her. “…a lot.”

Sam frowns at Liam. “Still think it's a good idea to split up?”

Almost pouting, Liam looks at her. “We can deal with it later. We just need to find Brett’s trail.”

Lori shook her head and pointed at a stack of rocks. “No, we don’t. Rock balancing – Satomi taught us. It’s him, and I know where he’s going.”

Lori led them toward the balancing stack of rocks. There was a grate covered by a fallen bushy tree branch, and they climbed down into the tunnels.

After making their way in the tunnels, they found puddles of black liquid, easily resembling black blood. Lori kneels down and swipes her fingers through one of the puddles, letting out a sigh as she turns back to them. “He’s been poisoned.”

“That’s why he’s not healing.”, Scott said, dreadfully.

"I don't think we'll make it to Deaton's.", Sam mutters to Scott.

"What if he only has a few hours to live?”, Lori asks with wide eyes. Sam sighs and looks at her packmates.

Liam frowns, “Well, if we howl, we can find him.”

“That’s too risky.”, Malia counters. Lori frowns at her. “Who cares about the risk? He could be dying.”

Malia turns to Lori. “He’s still moving.”

Scott looks at Sam and she closes her eyes before taking a knee and placing her hand on the ground. If she could feel where Brett is, it'll probably give them an indication of how long he has.

Scott sighs as he watches her. “We just need time to think.” Sam looks at him with furrowed eyebrows. "I can't concentrate under pressure.", she warned.

Lori frowns at Scott. “I need him to know that I’m here, that I’m coming for him.”

Liam looks at Scott. “Yeah, Lori’s right. He has to know we’re here!” He turns back to the black trail and takes a deep breath in.

“Liam, wait!”, Malia yells, but Liam ignores her, roaring down the tunnel.

The silence they heard unsettled them. "Shit.", Sam muttered. They continued down the hall, worriedly.

“Why didn’t he answer…?”, Lori asks. Liam grimaced. “Maybe – maybe he didn’t hear us…”

Sam frowns at him. “Well, I got two solutions. Maybe he's too weak to give a howl or he's been caught. Y'know, by the hunters that's out here??"

Before Liam could retaliate, Scott yells. “Lori, no!” The rest saw Lori's legs walking into a tripwire.

Sam grabs Liam and Malia, after hearing a clicking noise, pulling them back from where she assumed the trap would've come from but her eyes widen once she hears Scott groan. She, Liam and Malia see him hit the wall and let out gasping breaths.

Scott lifts his hands to his stomach where a metal pipe impales him.

Malia and Liam rush over to grab at the end of the pipe, slowly trying to remove it from his body, finally getting it out. Scott lets out a loud groan as he slides down the wall.

Sam walks over to the pipe and sees spikes on the pipe, resembling a mace. "They planned this.", she mutters, looking at the three in front of her. Scott nods, gritting his teeth in pain. “They knew we were coming.”

Malia kneels beside him. “Don’t talk. Just heal and let us figure this out.”

“They’ve been a step ahead of us the whole time.”, Scott growls, holding his stomach in pain. Sam walks over to him, placing her glowing hands over his stomach. "Stop talking, you'll make it worse.", she scolds gently as her arms fill with pain.

Lori frowns sadly, glancing between Scott and down the tunnel. “I’m sorry, but I can’t wait around… we have to go.”

Sam glares at the girl.

Liam nods. “We still have the numbers. Four to two. We’re faster, and we’re stronger. We can take them."

"We'd be faster if she hadn't walked into a tripwire.", Sam growls. She winces, but Scott grabs her hand. "I'll be fine.", he says, trying to get her to stop.

He tries to sit up properly. “They’re smarter too.”

“I don’t care who’s smarter, or faster, or whatever. My brother’s going to die.”, Lori says. Sam turns to her once again. “You have no idea what the hell you're getting yourself into. This isn't just some coincidence. This was planned. Elaborate.”

Sam looks at Scott. "This sounds like something the Argents would do." Scott frowns in realization. He couldn't deny that. They've been through situations like this too long to not know.

Liam looks at Sam. “But they’ve never fought us before.”

“You never from them before.", Sam says. "You’ve never fought hunters, Liam. We need to stick together.”, Scott reminds. Lori shakes her head. “I need to go.”

Liam stops her. “No, you’re not going alone. I’ll go with you."

Sam stands, stopping him. “And how are you gonna do that? Again, you haven't fought any hunters. So what's your plan?”

Liam frowns sadly. “Look, Sam. I know who we are. And we never give up. Especially when it’s someone innocent. When it’s someone alone. When it’s one of our friends.”

Sam frowns at him. "Yeah, against anyone other than hunters. These hunters are way smarter. I just feel like we're running head first into their traps. Picking us off one by one and then what? How're we gonna save Brett?"

She sighs once he gives her an almost pouting look. "Fine. I'll go with you."

Scott nods. “All of you go. I’ll catch up.”

Scott tries to stand, groans and falls back onto the ground, letting out a huff. “I just need a minute.”

Malia looks at Sam. “You go, I’ll stay with him.”, she says.

Sam nods, "Just…stay safe. I'll know if something happens.", she says and leaves with Liam and Lori.

[mischiefashale]

Okay last ten minutes.

I'm going to ignore the fact that Derek is going to burn himself the same way that his family burned in front of him as a teenager and just try and go with the flow but I still fucking hate it I honestly even debated about watching the last 20 minutes of this.

It seems to me like Scott who would presumably be the person who left the jar in the hands of Liam and Hakira should be making the ultimate sacrifice especially as it appears to me that he's the alpha who left the territory that made him an alpha unprotected on the first place. But I digress.

Honestly it looks like Jordan was holding him just fine.

Is there a reason that couldn't let go after he was on fire?

Honestly if Allison gets to live through being killed by a Nogitsune then Derek should too.

And of course he becomes a True Alpha of anyone deserves it it's Definitely Derek.

And of course Scott wants to Mac up on Allison before remembering that his so-called Brothers son is there mourning his father.

What happened to the test is the LAX game?

The rage I feel inside my soul that Stiles is not at the memorial will burn with the passion of a thousand burning Suns for eternity.

Oh my God I fucking hate this so much.

Your son did not leave it behind sir he left it in the care of his very most best friend scoot McCall. Who then apparently abandoned it when he moved to LA.

I am a sucker for those montages.

I hate the Jennifer is included right at the part where the sheriff says the people that he loved

Where the fuck is Cora?

Complicated feelings about that jeep my dick.

Is my firm belief that Eli is driving straight across that bridge to the owner of said Jeep.

Chicken possibly mean the 15 years that she spent dead and not emotionally growing like the rest of her peers could she?

I am just going to hold out hope the Eli is visiting at the animal shelter while he lives with the sheriff. And don't him walking up pride Rock and looking over BH I'll let that sustain me as much as it can.

Well we already know Eichen isn't very secure.

Well we have made it to the end. I am so disappointed even more than I originally was when I was reading all the synopsis and what I gathered from other posts. It felt very disjointed and I wish we would have seen more of the "pack" and working together.

Especially Liam and Mason TBH. They were brothers too and I don't think they got one scene together.

It almost feels like one of those shows where all of the cast hate each other so they have to film their scenes separately.

AND WHAT HAPPENED TO MONROE?????

[arrowenchantress]

Unexpected

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!BAU!reader

TW: Mentions of rape, Blood, Violence, Guns, Swearing.

Summary: Getting shot in your pajamas wasn't something you expected, especially not in front of the man you loved.

Not Proofread!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a rare sunny day in Virginia, I wanted to stay in bed and rest today but working at the BAU never lets me plan days like I want to. Rolling out of bed after getting called in at 4:30 AM was as lucky as I could get. Quickly throwing on a black button up blouse, black jeans, and black flats, I grabbed my to go bag and my coffee cup, then I was out the door. Driving into the BAU parking garage something felt off, though I work somewhere where I chase serial killers everyday for a living so I guess I should feel off all the time. Walking into the office I was immediately greeted by Penellope's smiling face, "Why is she smiling so big at 4 in the morning, who tripped, and did you record it?" I asked while sipping on my coffee. "No one tripped unfortunately, although why are you smiling so big Pen?" Emily said turning from me to Penelope "I'm just happy, can I not just be happy?" she shot back at us, I look over at Emily who is matching the smirk on my face "You totally got some last night" "I did not!" "Oh you so did!" "Who got some?" Derek chimed in as he set his stuff down at his desk, "Penelope did, she just won't admit it", Derek looked at her shocked "Damn babygirl, I thought we had something special" he said while shaking his head. We sat there and talked for a little while longer before JJ walked out of her office "We have a new case in Colorado" she said walking into the briefing room "This chat is not over" I said standing up and grabbing my coffee, walking to the briefing room.

Reid, Hotch and JJ were already in there "Did you two teleport in here or did you sleep in here" I said sitting in my designated chair next to Hotch as the others did the same in their seats, "We didn't sleep in here, in fact if we slept in here we probably would've gotten in trouble since we're not really supposed to be here when no one else is" Reid said not even raising his head. I nodded my head in silence as JJ handed out the files "This case was brought in by a Mr. Carlisle after his siter went missing and was found dead with her uterus cut out, 4 y/h/c females have been found with their uteruses cut out every Sunday within the last 4 weeks, they were drugged and abducted from their homes, they were raped and then they were found dead in various fields throughout Colorado" she said putting pictures on the screen "I know the Carlisle family, they're nice people" I said, "One girl a week" Derek says a thought aloud, as I looked through the photos I realized these girls looked a lot like me, I subconsciously reached over towards Hotch , but realized what I was doing so I just rested my hand on his chair. "Wheels up in 30" Hotch said abruptly standing up and walking out.

I walked on the jet and sat down next to Emily and across from Hotch, he looked up at me through his eyelashes, but quickly looked back down at the file and pictures. "The edges around the cut are smooth so he's definitely used some sort of professional tool" Reid points out tracing the outline of the cuts "wait guys look, where the uterus is cut from the actual body, the wounds are cauterize" I pointed out the to cauterized wounds "So what he would cut out their uteruses and then what, try and save them?" Emily asked trying to figure out why he would cauterize the wounds if they were already dead.

After we landed we went straight to the Police Sation to set up "I'm Supervisory Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone, and this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, SSA David Rossi, SSA y/n y/l/n, and Doctore Spencer Reid" JJ introduced us "It's nice to meet you all, I'm Cheif Taylor Claunet, thank you all for coming" he said shaking all of our hands "Thank you for calling" JJ said. "Prentiss and Morgan go talk to the victims families, Rossi and Spencer go set up and start on a geographical profile, Y/l/n you're with me, we're going to go to the dumpsites" Hotch said commanding people around.

Riding in the car with Hotch was awkward "Are you ok?" Hotch broke the silence "yeah why wouldn't I be" I asked looking over at him with a small smile on my face "Back at the office, you realized that the girls look like you so you subconsciously reached out towards me but stopped halfway to make sure I didn't realize that it made you unsettled" "You're profiling me Hotch, you aren't supposed to do that" I said rolling my eyes at the fact I wasn't so subtle as I thought, but why was he paying attention to me in the first place? "yeah yeah" he said shaking his head.

Getting a call saying another girl was missing was always my least favorite part, not knowing if this is the girl you can't save because you can't figure it out fast enough. "Lilly Carlisle, 22 year old female was abducted from her home 2 hours ago, husband just called it in after he came home early and found a bloody near the front door, but it's not Lillys" JJ said "He Made a mistake, didn't expect the husband to come home so early so he panicked and she landed a hit" I said "Y/l/n let's go look at the scene".

This case was taking a tole on everyone, no matter what we got, the unsub was always a step ahead of us, after not finding anything at the scene besides his blood that was being tested, Hotch told us to go back to the hotel and get some sleep, but I knew I wasn't going to sleep tonight. After changing into pajamas and sitting in bed while looking over the case I realized something, I wrote it down on a notepad and got up to go tell Hotch since I can almost guarantee he's awake. I got one foot out into the hallway "Put your hand above your head and do not move or so help me I will kill you" I heard from my right, I immediately stopped moving and put my hands up, I looked over and saw Lilly Carlisles husband standing there "Mr. Carlisle you don't have to do this" I said dropping the notepad "Shut up!" he yelled cocking the gun. The door right across from mine opens, Hotch, but I don't even flinch "You, you met my family and they loved you, more than me" he said shaking his head "I can guarantee that isn't true, you're their family, I'm not" I said in the most monotone voice I could. "I killed them all because they're like you" he said sounding crazy as ever, more doors started opening up but he didn't notice, Hotch must've called the others. "Why cut the Uteruses out" I said trying to get anything out of him "Because people like you shouldn't be able to have kids" he said before shooting.

Waking up under bright hospital lights is not a nice way to wake up, especially not with the pounding headache I had, I opened my eyes fully to see the team standing around me. "Ow dude, I feel like I just got shot" I said sitting up and laughing a little, I looked around to see a bunch of "Are u serious" faces "Oh shit, I got shot!" I said immediately going down and feeling gauze around my lower stomach "Yeah you did sweetheart" Derek said sadly smiling while petting my head. "Can I have a moment alone with Y/n please" Hotch requested, I look at him as everyone filed out of the room "What you did was stupid and reckless" he said as soon as everyone left "Hotch he was going to shoot me anyways" as I looked at him more I realized he had dried blood under his fingernails "Where is she!" I hear from outside the room "uh oh" I said with a growing smile on my face, not even five seconds later the door swung open to reveal Penelope.

"No Pen, I don't remember anything after I got shot, I got shot and the boom, I was waking up in the hospital" I said, the entire team was in my room basically on top of each other. "Excuse me" Hotch said as he got up and left the room, he was acting very weird ever since I woke up.

Staying in a hospital bed for days with nothing to do is not fun, especially when all your friends are off at work, well, most of them. I was watching a dumb show that was on the hospital T.V. when I heard a knock "come in" I said shutting off the show. Hotch walked in "Hi" I said giving him a small smile "Hi, I wanted to come by and check on you" "On your day off? I feel so special" I said putting my hands over my heart and smiling "Jack heard what happened and wanted to come by and give you something, if that's ok with you" "Yeah, yeah of course that's ok with me".

Today I was getting the news I was dreading was coming today, I got shot so low that the doctors weren't sure if I was going to be able to have kids or not. I sat on my bed biting at my fingers, tears started to sting my eyes, I always wanted to be a mom, I could always adopt I said to myself in my head. As tears started to spill out of my eyes I heard a knock on my door "Come in" I said with a slight voice crack "It's me" Hotch said as he walked in "Bad timing Hotch, I'm waiting on some results" "I know that's why I'm here" my head snapped up to look at him "You shouldn't have to get life changing news on your own" he sat down next to me and rubbed his hand up and down my back. Another knock at the door sounded, in walked my doctor, she looked at Hotch and then looked at me, I subtly nodded my head "You can still have kids, the bullet went right above your uterus, you're very lucky, I'll give you time to process the news and then I'll be back with your discharge papers" she said with a small smile before leaving. That's when the tears started, I cuddled into Aarons side, he pulled me closer and just held me there.

I walked around my house trying to find a magnet to hang up the picture Jack drew me when I was in the hospital, on my fridge. I finally get to go back to work tomorrow after almost 3 months. I sat down on the edge of my bed as the thunder grew loud outside, I started to massage my temples, suddenly i got a flash of memory from the night I got shot.

~~FLASHBACK~~

I landed on the ground with a thud, pain immediately shooting through my stomach, I hear yelling but it sounds far away as I close my eyes, I feel a pair of hands push down on my wound "hey, hey, hey, look at me, keep your eyes open, keep your eyes on me" it sounds like someone you know, I open my eyes "Hurts Aaron" "I know, I know, but you have to keep your eyes on me" "I can't" "yes you can, tell me something" "I'm in love with you, does that count" I whispered it out, a small smile graced his face "Yes, that counts, you're doing an amazing job sweet girl" he wiped a stray tear that slid down my face. My eyes started to close "Y/n no, you keep your eyes on me honey" I shook my head as I let my consciousness slip into darkness, I heard Aaron yell for me, but I was too tired.

~~ END FLASHBACK ~~

"Holy shit!" I yelled as I stood up and looked for my phone, after I found my phone I immediately called him

~~RING~~ ~~RING~~

"Pick up Aaron"

~~RING~~ ~~RING~~ "Goddammit Aaron pick up!"

~~RING-

"Hello??" a groggy Aaron filled my phones speakers, I stood there shocked at the events that just happened "Y/l/n?? you there??" he said sounding a little panicked "yeah, yeah, I'm here" "Is everything ok?" "I remember" I said out of breath. Silence filled the air before he hung up. shit.

I tried to call him about ten more times, I fucked up, tears welled in my eyes as I sat on my bed, why did I not think, why did I think he would like me back, god I'm so stupid.

~DING DONG~

what the fuck??

~DING DONG~

I walked downstairs slowly and looked out the window, I raced over to the front door and swung it open "Aaron what the fuck are you-" I only got so much before a soaking wet Aaron Hotchner was smashing his lips against mine.

"I love you too sweetheart, always have" he said against my lips with a little smile before pulling me back in to kiss me deeply.

What's that saying?? oh yeah!

Expect the Unexpected.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N- First time writing!! So exciting!!!!! hope you enjoyed!! please feel free to request some things!!!

Much love!

[hotxcheeto]

Hey it me the who sent in the reader with powers and with poly of Rachel and Chloe ask but I have come up with a scenario, could you do the one junkyard scene where Derek attacks Rachel but reader uses her powers to defend Rachel

━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐘𝐀𝐑𝐃

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Chloe Price x Fem!Reader x Rachel Amber ( poly )

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, light description of blood, light knife description, knife, mention of drugs and drug dealing, threats, angsty, fluffy ending

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - sorry this took so long babes! here it is hope you enjoy <333

Reblogs are extremely appreciated

It was a cool afternoon, calming, considering the stress you'd been under.

You could do things no regular human should be able to do. And you hated it. You already felt weird you didn't need an extra reason to feel that way, but the world decided to give it to you.

And you knew what Rachel and Chloe would say, they would think you were probably the coolest human to every walk to Earth. Making you use your curse to entertain. Knowing them they'd accidentally start a religion behind it and then boom –

You're a cult leader.

"How does that look?" You were shaken from your thoughts, looking at Chloe holding a sheet that she'd ripped down. "Pretty good." "Hey, you alright?" You nodded but it was so obviously a lie that it made you want to smack yourself in the head. "All good Chlo, and don't even try to touch me with those hands." Chloe laughed and looked down at her dirty hands from fixing the truck.

"What, you don't want a hug?" "Absolutely not." "Oh, c'mon." Chloe began walking after you as you dodged her, running around the hideout while she chased you. "Chloe I'm not fucking kidding I just got this sweater!" You yelled, laughing while you both did the tango around a box in the middle of the room.

"It's cute, you should let me touch it." "No!" You ran, and turned right smack into Rachel hearing her laugh. "Shit, sorry." "What the hell are you both doing?" She crossed your arms looking at you both while you glanced at one another. "Chloe's trying to ruin my sweater." "Am not."

"Chloe your hair." Rachel touched the streak of blue in the front, seeing you grin with pride. "A work of art, done by muah." Instead of keeping your eyes on them you turned around, looking out the window of the little building.

Your gut felt like it fell to the ground, something was wrong, off.

"Hey, everything okay?" Rachel set her hand on your shoulder making you turn to her, nodding with a tight smile. "Everything's fine Rach, promise." But if you could do anything, it wasn't lying to Rachel. The human lie detector herself staring at you like you were dumb, like you knew better than to tell her anything but the truth.

"Y/n." "I don't want to talk about it." It came out harsher than you meant, Chloe staring at you both with slightly wide eyes like she'd walked in on something she wasn't supposed to see. "Okay, sorry." "I didn't mean like that." She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly as you let out a short laugh.

"Don't look at me like that." "How can I not?" You walked passed her and out the door with a playful roll of your eyes. "You drive me crazy." "That's my job, now seriously, just tell me if I need to be worried about you." Chloe walked beside you both, not really sure what to say while you shrugged to Rachel.

"Dunno." "Y/nnnn." Chloe groaned before you all three of you seemed to freeze. "Frank... you're a bit early." You muttered. "What's the occasion?" Chloe asked, almost playfully while Rachel grabbed your hand. "It's his fucking Bar Mitzvah." Damon walked around the truck making you all stop in your tracks. Looking at each other wide eyes.

Fear-filled eyes.

"Frank here's becoming a man. Aren't you big guy?" "What's he doing here?" Frank looked at her. "What do you think? We're not dealing with a couple of dime bags anymore, Chloe. Where's the money?"

You could feel the tension in the air, the feeling in your gut never holding up. Especially once Chloe answered.

"For fuck's sake, the money wasn't there. What do you want from me?" Frank and Damon stared at her for a moment, then Franks eyes went to you. All three of you never letting up your gaze. "I don't think she has it." Frank finally said to the other man. "Oh. It's cute how she acts like you two are friends." When you heard that you swore your heart dropped.

The man beginning to walk closer to Chloe, menacingly stepping towards her with a harsh look in his eye. Grabbing up her arm making you and Rachel jump.

"You heard what happened to Drew, right? Maybe try keeping that in mind when talking to me." You didn't know if it was the knowledge you had over what you could do, or if it was seeing Chloe that afraid. But you didn't stay put.

"Let her fucking arm go, asshole." You snatched his arm, shoving so hard he fell to the grass. "Leave her alone." "Y/n." Franks voice rung in your ears but you stared the man down as he stood from the ground.

"Why is it that chicks think it's okay to hit me, but if I lay a single finger on them, suddenly it's a whole other thing?" He said sticking his finger in your face while you backed up. Biting your tongue hard not to say another word, but you didn't look away from him. Challenging him with your stare.

"Frank says you were asking about a client of his. That true?" "Yeah, it's true. I don't see why you should give a shit." "You don't? Maybe I'll show you. See, you three Nancy Drews decided it would be a good idea to call your drug dealer and ask about his business."

You could've sworn you seen guilt in Franks eyes when your gaze flickered to him. Watching you.

"I didn't go to a fancy academy but that doesn't strike me as smart. Maybe it was this man's sunny disposition that confused you. But he's got a whole other side to him that I don't think you'd like. Should we let them see it?" You almost missed the quick flick of Franks head, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"We're just talking here."

"Okay. Then let's talk. I want to know, right now, why you give a shit about this woman." "This is between us and Frank. It's none of your fucking business." Chloe crossed her arms, looking at you while you stared straight at Damon with a sharp stare.

"Problem is, you made it my business. And you and that bitch right there's 'tough girl' shit is starting to get on my nerves. Especially you." He turned, nodding to you standing there. "Look, none of this matters. All we care about is that you stop asking questions. Got it?"

They both turned to walk away, feeling yourself nearly let out a breath of relief until Rachel stepped up. Pushing both you and Chloe.

"No." Chloe stepped in front of her, shaking her head, practically begging her with her eyes to shut up. "Tell me where she is. Now." Rachel shoved passed her once more.

"Rachel." You and Chloe both snapped. "Wait a minute. No way." Rachel let out a pissed laugh, getting in his face while she said, "What the fuck is your––" "Rachel, as in... Rachel Amber? That makes so much sense. This is James Amber's fucking kid." "Damon." Frank said sharply.

"You're dad's a real piece of shit, you know." "So, we don't have anything to do with him." Chloe then said, shrugging. "Right." "Do you think we'd be standing here with fucking drug dealers, if we did?" You asked, watching Damon glare at you. "Here's what happens next."

He then pulled a huge knife out from his belt, pointing it right in front of Rachel's face. You could feel yourself, all three of you stepping back with fear.

"Come on, man. They're just kids." "No they're not. This one is the fucking DA's daughter. And right now she's going to fill me in on what her daddy's up to and how he's connected to that whore everyone's asking about."

"Damon! Calm down. We're still talking. Everything's still cool. No need to get crazy–" Frank barely got time to finish his sentence when a plank was smacked against Damon's head sending him back to the ground. "Oh fuck–" You whispered, backing up, but when you seen the look in his eye, you knew what was coming next.

"You fucking bitch."

Especially once Rachel ran at him again, he grabbed the knife from the ground and everyone swore time had stopped. The man just scraping her skin when he flew backwards into Junkyard scraps, banging his head hard against something metal.

Then everyone's were on you, holding your hand out, staring at him while taking a few breaths.

"Get him the fuck out of here, or I'm gonna snap his neck." You looked at Frank, then at Damon whose blood gushed down his face and down his neck. "That's if he lives on his own." "How–" "Don't start asking me questions, don't you think we've had enough talking for today? Don't say a word, to anyone."

You sputtered out everything that came to mind that you'd seen from movies. Trying to hold yourself high while your knees threatened to buckle underneath you, shaking in fear.

"And if he asks, tell him she hit him again and again." Frank didn't know how to respond, looking at Damon groaning in pain, then at you who stared at him with pleading eyes. "Get the hell out of here kid. No one say a damn word to nobody." Frank stuttered out, turning around to Damon while you hurriedly moved back to Chloe's truck.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Get in the fucking truck."

You got behind the wheel, taking Chloe's keys and speeding out of the Junkyard with the two girls holding on for dear life. Your knuckles in pain from how hard you squeezed the steering wheel.

"How long?" Rachel asked. "No, you don't get to talk. What the fuck was that?" You turned to her meeting her shocked expression. "What?" "You fucking attacked him Rachel!" "What was I supposed to do?" "Maybe, I don't know, shut the fuck up?"

Rachel opened her mouth but when she earned a look from you, she shut it, leaning back against her seat.

It was silent for a while, driving with no real direction.

Driving so your mind would clear and maybe you wouldn't cry.

No, you were definitely going to do that at some point.

"So.. how'd you do that?" Chloe then muttered, playing with her hands while staring at your side profile. Rachel watching the road ahead.

"Dunno. It happened when... when everything happened. I freaked and.. shit went nuts." It was silent, tense. Tears beginning to for in your eyes.

"I don't know what it is, and it's terrifying and I just probably killed someone." Your voice cracked as you held in a sob, pulling the truck over. "I don't know what to do." "Hey, it's okay... we'll figure it out."

You looked over to Rachel.

"And if we don't then fuck it you're a superhero." She hugged your side. "Hey, c'mon let me in." You laughed, wiping your tears while Chloe leaned over Rachel, hugging you.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." "Y/n. That's a lot to tell." "It was awesome." Rachel gave Chloe a look before turning back to you. "But never hold anything back again." "M'kay." You nodded, Chloe wiping your face while Rachel kissed your cheek.

"Good." "Do you think he's dead?" Rachel shrugged while Chloe looked at her. "Hopefully." "Rachel!" "What?"

A/n: JFkdjf;kdsa

[ellayuki]

30102022 - Teen Wolf

surprise, surprise (but, oh, i'll try to make things right)

~

Well, shit, Stiles thinks, coming in from the balcony and ending up face to face with a very irate werewolf.

"I'm going to give you a grand total of two seconds to explain to me why there's a party, again, in my loft, without anyone so much as asking me if I'm okay with it."

Dammit, Scott. I told you to ask him first. Also, why is it that it's Stiles that has to explain things? The party wasn't even his idea, and he'd told Scott Derek would hate it. "Hey Derek," he says with an awkward wave. "We weren't expecting you back until….well, Christmas, maybe?"

Derek growls. "Stiles."

And well, what can Stiles do in the face of Derek's obvious (and justified, honestly) irritation?

He grabs Derek by the elbow, with a pleading look when the werewolf frowns at him, and drags him out on the balcony Stiles had just vacated. "Look," he says, once the noise is dimmed slightly by the closed door. "It's Halloween, and we're finally having a murder-free holiday, which, even you have to admit, is something. And I don't know, Scott and Lydia thought we should all unwind and have some fun for once."

"Still doesn't explain why here, Stiles."

Honestly, Stiles has been asking that since the day the party was planned.

Because there are other places in Beacon Hills where they could have held a decent party without disturbing anyone, and he knows, and he knows Scott knows, that Derek isn't exactly happy with people just coming into his home uninvited. Hell, he doesn't even want to think about what the place might smell like to Derek's wolfy nose right now.

He sighs. "Just." Of course no one listens to him, and he's always the one who has to fix things. "The party's winding down at this point. I'll help scrub the place down after everyone's gone, okay? I know the scents must be driving you up the wall."

Derek growls again, though softer this time. "That's not the point and you know it."

"I know, okay? I do know. And I'm sorry." It isn't even his fault this time, but somehow it feels like it is. He should have been firmer when he suggested another location.

Derek's shoulders sag, and he shakes his head. "I swear to God."

"I know."

"I want this place spotless in the morning."

Stiles nods. Then, he swallows. "You can… You can go sleep at my place. If you want. Dad's on shift tonight, so the house is going to be empty." Derek raises an eyebrow at him. Then both, in surprise, when he sees that Stiles isn't actually joking (which, rude. He wouldn't). Stiles just shrugs. "Or not, if you want to suffer the noise and smells until it's over and we've finished cleaning. Your choice, big guy."

After a moment, wide-eyed, Derek nods. "Okay. I'll- Yeah, the scents are too much."

"Okay." Stiles fumbles in his pockets for the keys for a second, before presenting Derek with the one to his front door. "Here. You know where my room is."

And just like that, Derek's gone, and Stiles… doesn't let himself think about the implications of letting him sleep in his bed.

Instead, he returns to the party and goes to find Scott.

[vatt-world]

hi

movie star

I think we should start looking at the blocking.

Josh, you want to set that up?

Right, thanks, Rebecca.

Oh, thanks.

It's okay?

Yup. welcom to rebecca im good

//

So…Marilyn Monroe, she was part of the, you know,

the actor's studio.

Mm-hm.

We should see it. The classes, the characters.

Okay, the problem with that is that in this scene

we just don't really have enough time to get into all of that.

But that's exactly my point.

There really isn't time in any of the scenes

to dig into her psyche.

They're too short.

I mean, personally, I'd rather see longer scenes

and a little less singing and dancing.

Heh, well, it is a musical after all.

Yeah, but it doesn't mean it can't be deep and smart.

I mean, and that song, it's boring.

I mean, it should be more fun.

Okay, you know what?

Um, this sounds like a longer conversation.

Wha…Uh…

I'm driving you crazy, aren't I?

No, not at all.

Yes, yes, I am, I know.

I'm such a pain in the ass.

[Cars honking]

Boring! She thinks my music is boring.

It might be a little less boring //

You see? This is exactly what I'm talking about.

This scene, it's just getting started

when suddenly I… ? Break into song ?

You know what?

Uh, this sounds like a sidebar conversation.

I didn't want to interrupt the rehearsal, the--

Not to worry.

I think everyone could probably do with a break.

Okay, that's ten.

Oh, um, don't forget. // And if she wants you to write an extra-long scene

before dig deep, you will write that extra-long scene

and you will have it on my desk by 5:00, understood? // Anyway, the real reason I came by

is to talk about the scene.

I just got the pages from Julia.

It's inspired.

She's such a talent.

Mm, I agree.

In fact, it gave me so many other ideas

on how to deepen the rest of the show.

Oh.

I'd love to get everyone together for a pow-wow. // ou run a bar in the city

you're gonna get your hands dirty.

But if you're looking for a way out of this with me,

you're don't have to hire a Detective.

Just tell me you're not interested.

I'm not looking for a way out.

It's just…

I've been through a lot.

Okay.

So now we're getting somewhere.

And I'm out of practice.

You can take this as slow as you want.

You're the one who's always rushing around.

I'm just such a… //

We have a lot to show you.

Wonderful.

Okay, ladies and gentlemen,

let's take it from the top, please.

Rebecca, you ready?

You better believe it.

The challenge for the act is to use sense memory

of childhood trauma.

All: ? Aaah, use the past ?

The actor must deploy the conscious

and dig in to the unconscious.

The challenge for the actor is to learn to be private.

I dig it the most.

I'm through with Hollywood.

It's New York and the actor's studio for me.

And if any of those boys from Hollywood come a'calling,

you can tell them I said this… // rebecca unable to sing tom says great they will sit down she is on key find costructive solution we need ivi back real ivi need tosing debra and tom ivi enters rececca sings with tom dev and kathy talk rebecca talks to derek actors studio songs boring

she thinks boring - tom angelina calls

alright nick whats wrong with u rebecca with acting coach - derek ex bf comes write that scene to tom - angelina rebecca with angelina talk about scene other ideas rally the troops derek meets angelina keep it tht way rebecca meets team u need bigger skin - angelina meets bartender i have been thru a lot derek - challenge for actor

publicity kathy and derek talk can we start something idea what r u doing tonite i hate her y dont u direct she cant sing it let them in who should sing it karen will sing they exchange clothes - kathy rebecca i texted u dev u never came home movie star problem smoothies no free minutes i having food with rebecca in indian restaurant i want to be keith richards can i borrow ur phone stop messing around with me she went home voice on ur head i think marlyn should sing that song

Karen, can I talk to you for a moment, please?

Sure.

Everything okay?

Why, did I do something wrong?

No, no, sorry.

I'm just letting you know I won't be needing you anymore,

obviously.

For Marilyn, I mean.

You won't be needing me?

I wouldn't be so sure of that.

No, I mean, Rebecca's gonna be needing all my attention.

And I'm just the understudy. I get it.

Don't worry, Derek //

understudy

she doesntshowup star plane hicup u want to understudy kathy - derek asks i know all the blocking iva i was a mess -iva dev and kathy meet times sq walk trian wreck mom and kid eva she walks thru times sq music kathy sexual harass tells dev rebecca will be soon angelina in bar talks to bartender bartender gives money derek u can be smarter towel dance songwriter/tom sings kathy do u have a pencil …gives her direction derek bartender makes him meet rockstar kids perform angelina meets rockstar -- nolimit to return kathy /eva walk thru times sq debra and kid talk tom and date talk at coffee ..reading newspaper debra calls husband angelina on computer just do it derek angelina bartender u introduced us kathy at home /derek comes u did great work/ i want to apologise derek meets boyfriend fight karen bf hit me why dont u start call u bombsell latest investor - randy cobra debra in restaurant kathy singing infront of derek rebecca duvall comes

hell on earth its a lot i have a audition tom and bf meet republican fundraiser ava with pills i worked ass of on that workshop going thru stars we need title whats the problem finish the script can we get hughes ivi len rushes maryln workshop talking i got the commericial greenscreen costume tom and gal talk ivi works as background marlyn on brooklyn bridge it wasnt anything she wears green screen debra husband meet michael u came to my house we are looking with new director she lands everything iva im not sick of that sick what are u reading ivi's glasses ivi takes tablets replacing with derek with hughes are u in or out he puts on backup uniform she sees tablets ivi are u there ivi walks out u are about to go on u didnt fight enough ivi dad is leaving kathy and ivi become friends they dance at times sq ivi falls flat on bed its 5am i would not answer phone thanksfor meeting out here they come up with title bombshell

[theatrekidmonologues]

Dear Zachary (Performance Script)

By Kurt Kuenne

My name's Kurt, and I'm a filmmaker.  So I decided to make  this movie because I wanted to learn everything that there was to know about the guy and to make one last movie with him.  So I started at home  and, as soon as I could, I grabbed a camera. And said... Action! 

Now how would I describe Andrew to someone who had never met him? The man never wore pants. He only wore shorts. Graduation, he was in shorts. Prom, Shorts. Church, Halloween, all of Winter. Shorts. That’s why I’m making this movie. You’ve got to know the whole truth about Andrew.

There are some things you should know about Andrew: He was the most determined person I ever met about being a doctor. His go to move with the ladies was to tell them how much he knew about the birth control pill. His mom was a nurse and when they had dinner they’d discuss venereal disease. Fun. Andrew was also great at pool, quite frankly he was a pool shark. Well, he had a great teacher. But yeah, I probably owe him about $30,000 dollars. Everyone wanted Andrew to be their best man. Because that’s who Andrew was, he was the best man. And if he got married I really hoped to be his best man and give my toast to tell him “Why am I standing up here? We’re brothers. And I love you. And I know you love me. Yeah, and I’m a male and we don’t gush that much. So let's get drunk and party!”

He appeared in every movie I made growing up. And I know I drove him nuts sometimes. I’d say, Could you do that one more time? - One more time. Okay, one more time. One more time. That was perfect. Okay, one more time. He loved playing bad guys... Shut up! Jeff, get the cocaine. A free pass to smoke and swear in front of his parents. F you! F all you f-ing people! I did not say the F-word. 

Andrew came into the shop one day, and said he had two English nurses who wanted to go to Disneyland. So I took the little one and left him with the tall one. But the girls were too short to ride the rides. And we were too cheap to pay their cab fare back home. So they didn't work out so well, but we did. Andrew was always picking up girls. Girls that were never going to work out. 

The day Shirley showed up, Andrew said, "You'll never guess who showed up on my doorstep "The psychotic witch." And I told him, I said, "You know, Andrew, when I break up with somebody and put them on a plane and send them 1,300 miles away, they knock on my front door, I'm going out the back door and I'm calling the police." I said, "Andrew." "Be serious. Nobody drives 16 hours after you've just broken up with them." I said, "Do not meet her in private." He said, "What can happen?"

Shirley. Shirley? I couldn't figure out who she was in relation to Andrew since Andrew talked a lot about women but never really mentioned her. A summary of the evidence against Shirley Turner. He was found dead after being shot five times. That didn't sound random. That sounded like rage and vengeance.  I've never hated like that. Rage. Absolute vicious rage. I thought it was crazy. This should never be, this should never have been. I thought it was insane, I mean who the hell is the system protecting. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Someone has done that to someone you love. If the person who did this had been here, I'd kill them. Period. No questions. Kill them! Strangle them right here, right now! Period. No questions. Kill them! On November 14, 2002, Judge Derek Green declared Shirley guilty and ordered her incarcerated. Zachary, you'll never know what you missed. And I can remember Andrew saying, "If I die tomorrow, all I want you to do is sit and toast a beer to me." We have one remaining. To Andrew, my good friend, I can't wait to see you again.

Hello Zachary. First of all I’ve seen your pictures and you look just like Andrew. For better or worse. And you’re not going to grow up with your biological father, but you’re going to grow up with all the people who loved him and that makes you the luckiest little boy in the world. And if you ever need anything, I’m not far away and when you’re old enough and you watch this, you should know that you’re loved and I love you and I care about the person you’re going to become and if you’re anything like Andrew, you’re going to be great.

[dogmomwrites]

Find the Words!

This tag came from @menagerie-of-monsters, so thank you for the tag! I'm gonna pass it along with soft tags to @monstrousfreedom, @sleepyowlwrites, and @regalserpent, as well as an open tag for anyone else who wants to join!

Your words will be flower, panic, shift, and witness. If you can't find one, leave a fun fact about your WIP, OCs, or writing process!

My words were silent, star, stop, scar, and surround. These excerpts were taken from yet another WIP without a name (RIP that WIP lmao)

Silent Derek placed one finger on his lips and he fell silent instantly. “Don’t even start that.” His face was dead serious, a slight frown creasing his brows. “I’m not a kid, you just said that. We’re adults. We can make decisions for ourselves. If I want to fall for someone nine years older than me, then dammit, I will. If I want to fall for someone nineteen years older than me, then dammit, I’ll just go and do that.” He paused to drive Karl crazy by slowly licking his lips. “Yeah, I had some wine. Yeah, I’ll admit I’m a little bit of a lightweight. But no, I’m not drunk, and I’m definitely not so drunk as to get sloppy with the first guy I see. I usually save that for when I’m sober.”

“You—”

He cut him off with a kiss. A gentle, tender kiss. No tongue, just a quick pressing of lips. “Go. I’m a big boy, I can wait.”

“You fell for me?” Karl asked, feeling more dazed than he probably should.

Derek let out a soft, awkward laugh. “You caught that, did you?” He was starting to blush again, but instead of saying anything else, he just shoved Karl out the door and shut it in his face.

Karl stared at the door for a moment. “You fell for me?” he repeated quietly, though Derek could no longer hear him. That was not at all how he’d expected the night to go.

Star He was staring. Derek had to wave his hand in front of Karl’s face before he jolted out of his thoughts, which had quickly turned inappropriate.

“Hello? Earth to Karl.”

“Yeah, I’m here. Karl to Earth, I’m on Earth.” Why did he say the things he said? “We need to get out of here, find somewhere safe.”

Stop He saw Karl and stopped, panting. As often as he had to chase the bus, one would think he’d lose a little weight, but it looked like he’d actually gained some since last week. “Hiya, Mister Odin!” he wheezed.

“Hey, Quinn,” Karl said good-naturedly. In every way possible, Quinn reminded him of Chunk from the Goonies movie. Maybe that was why he liked him.

“Watering your flowers?”

Karl stood in his front yard, hose in hand. The water sprayed in a gentle mist over the bed where several kinds of flowers grew—irises, tulips, jonquils, petunias, pansies, and a few he didn’t know. “No, I’m hunting elephants.”

Scar Slightly embarrassed, Karl kissed him. He felt like a kid the way he was leaning over the rails, but he felt Derek’s smile, and that made everything okay. “I love you. Wait.” He felt the frown against his lips.

“Wait?”

“Yeah, I didn’t mean that.”

“What?”

“Shit.” Karl put his head in his hands to hide his face. “I meant it. I did. I just didn’t mean to say it. I messed it all up—”

“Why not?” Derek asked, interrupting before he’d even finished speaking.

“What?”

“Why not say it?”

He frowned, confused. “It’s too soon.” His frown deepened. “Isn’t it?” Things had always moved a little quicker for him than for most people, or so he’d been told. His habit of forgoing the filter between brain and mouth had scared off as many relationships as it had sped up.

Surround Don’t have this word in this WIP, but tbh it’s under 10k, so I’m a little surprised this was the only one I didn’t have. Anyway, onto the little fun fact!

This drivel was technically based on a dream I had when I was around 16 or 17, but hadn’t actually gotten to the part that was in the dream. I wrote a couple short chapters to fill in the blank lead-up scenes…and then I kinda forgot about it. Whoops?

Lately I’ve been struggling to find one of my WIPs to work on, as I can’t seem to settle down on anything, so I started going through some older WIPs and found this one. So that’s why you get these random excerpts! Hope nobody minds something unrelated to any of my other stuff!

[glitterfairyandpotatochild]

My thoughts on the Teen Wolf movie.

Derek should not have died. that was completely idiotic.

Stiles would have probably made the movie 10 times better but that's a given!

I'm sure I speak for everyone. when I say there were a lot of OC things about Stiles. Even though he wasn't there, we all know he would not have let fly. lol. he was literally seen driving the Jeep in the last scene of the series so why the hell he didn't have it makes no sense to me. there is also no way that he is not been back to beacon hills the entire time at least not see his father. Scott doesn't even mention him that much so it's like are they even friends????

The plotted self wasn't actually that bad. Could it have been executed better absolutely.

Jackson's character being there was useless. I felt like he was just the token gay character giving sassy comments and eating.

Harris being the villain was interesting but not necessary.

I do wish that they developed Hikari character more. I personally was a fan of that kitsune storyline. Even though She is a bootleg kira.

I feel like a lot of friendships were ruined or put on the back burner for the sake of the plot which was not necessary. Liam and Mason not interacting the entire time when they were supposedly best friends makes no sense to me. The same goes with Malia being awkward it almost felt like she didn't mesh with Lydia and Scott, which is strange considering the three of them were the main characters in the last season.

Malia and Parrish together were weird. It was very forced not a fan.

I'm not even going to address the whole Derek had complicated feelings about the jeep shit. Jeff Davis is a bitch who should have given us sterek when we asked for it 12 years ago!

We all knew Lydia and Stiles wouldn't last, her breaking up with him over a dream is pretty silly. Let's be real He would never have let her break up with him over that.

This movie was essentially a love letter to Scott and Allison's love for each other. It was really cute to see all of the memories played back of the two of them together.

All in all, I feel like the movie can be disappointing to some because it's not really what you expected or wanted but if you look past that the plot really wasn't that bad.

I say give it a watch. it's your personal opinion if you like it or not.