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tsthrace · 4 years

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What does a girl do when she realizes she needs to cut an entire chapter from her WIP because it doesn’t fit? She posts it to tumblr.

So yeah, this starts to build a scary world that might look a little too close to our world. It might introduce you to this badass trauma surgeon, Dr. Griffin, who needs to make a quick escape. And then it might leave you hanging. Forever.

Well, not exactly forever. This is now Clarke’s backstory for my WIP. She’ll resurface years later on a church-turned-farmstead. Guess who’s the priest of this church? So yeah...

Content warning: mention of rape (but no rape itself) and just general hits-too-close-to-home: you know—fascism, totalitarianism, misogyny, toxic masculinity. Oh, and Clarke swears a lot.

It’s angsty. That’s what I do.

3,260 words. No tagging for Clexa, because Lexa doesn’t come on the scene yet.

It’s also posted over on ao3 if you’d rather read it there.

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We all thought it couldn’t happen here, even as it was happening here.

Clarke had been running for so long that she wasn’t sure if she was still being chased. She had spent the last six years wandering through parts of Washington she never knew existed. First to an abandoned sawmill a few miles east of Mansford in the mountains. It was a glorified barn, really, but a community of refugees from Seattle had been gathering there, doing their best to patch up the building’s roof and walls. Then, there was still enough gas to transport what they needed if they rationed properly. But they were all adjusting to life without electricity, without phones, without any sense of who they were without those things.

She was there only three months when word came that a militia had materialized in Darrington and was registering children and looking for doctors and healers. Healers. That’s what they called women with Clarke’s skills. People who had gone to school for 13 years, who had prioritized their craft over their health, their family, their relationships for a grueling residency followed by an only slightly less grueling fellowship. They called men doctors, even if they were less educated, less skilled, and less practiced.

Fuck them. Clarke’s response had become reflexive. It was her internal response when the police came that first night of what some called the Resistance but what the police called the Riots.

Unrest had been brewing for months, but It was when the President “temporarily” suspended the First Amendment right to assemble that all hell broke loose. Thousands of protestors became tens of thousands, even in small cities like Spokane and Tacoma. Police traded rubber bullets for real ones, patrol cars for tanks, pistols for AK-47s. Dozens of people landed in Clarke’s hospital, some gone before they were taken out of the ambulance, ripped apart by the people sworn to serve and protect them.

That was the night two officers were trawling the halls of her ward, looking for “resistors” to arrest.

“They’re unconscious,” Clark said slowly. “They’re sedated because they’re waiting to go into surgery.” She knew it was a bad idea to talk to them like they were kindergartners, but she couldn’t stop herself. What these men were doing was sick. Her patients were here because of them. Some of them filled with bullet holes, their lives barely clinging to them, others with collapsed lungs caused by broken ribs, others with simple fractures who would be out to fight another day. But Clarke wasn’t going to tell these guys that.

“Is there someone else we can talk to?” The officer said. His name badge said Blakely. “Maybe your boss?”

Clarke felt her fingernails digging into her palm. “Officer Blakely—”

“Corporal Blakely.”

Clarke went on as if she didn’t hear him. “I’m the person with the highest seniority here right now. If you’d like me to call the Chief of Surgery...”

Blakely pulled out a pad and pen. “What’s his name?”

“Her name is Dr. Marris.”

Blakely scoffed but wrote down the name.

“Is there a problem?” Clarke bent a little to catch his eye with her glare.

“Not at all.”

After that night, everything changed. The President sent in federal troops. There were tanks outside police precincts, and men in uniform carrying AK-47s stood at every corner in downtown and Capitol Hill. They rode the light rail, searching for enemies and booting out anyone who fell asleep on the trains. Curfews were instituted. Clarke had to have her ID and a letter from the hospital ready after every shift. The same soldiers (or were they cops?) stopped her every night, even after the sixth time when everyone knew everyone’s names. She had written theirs down. Because fuck them.

Two months later, the Seattle PD renamed themselves Washington’s 1st Militia when the President had encouraged all “patriots and protectors of freedom to band together, arm, and fight for American values.” Police departments across the country took this as a rallying call. They traded their police uniforms for military fatigues. They tore off their city badges and replaced them with a thin blue line. Bros before everything else, even democracy.

They pulled her out of the OR as soon as she wrapped up a craniotomy. It was her third surgery of the day, and her hands were stiff, her scrubs covered in sweat. The two soldiers’ assault rifles startled her, but she’d seen enough gore in her time to know how to keep a straight face. Blakely was back, but this time he was dressed like he was serving in a desert war zone.

“Officer Blakely.” She remembered he was a corporal but fuck him.

The corner of Blakely’s mouth lifted in a sharp smirk. She watched as his eyes glided down her body. “Congratulations, Ms. Griffin, you’ve been recruited to Washington’s First. We are in need of fine healers like yourself.”

Fuck you. The words raced through her mind, but she kept her mouth shut. She understood by now that those words aloud could do nothing but put her in danger. “How can I be of service?” she asked evenly, looking him straight in the eye. She had heard rumors that the militias were taking medical workers from their hospitals and clinics to set up their own facilities, but she thought they’d only take men for their specialists and surgeons.

“You need to come with us,” Blakely looked down at the sweat stains under her arms.

Clarke didn’t move. “What kind of healers are you looking for?” she asked in her most neutral tone.

“A variety, ma’am.” Blakely’s jaw stiffened.

A small crowd of the floor’s staff had gathered at the nurses’ station, halfheartedly pretending to work while they watched the interaction.

“Like nurses? There are a lot of nurses here who are much better at their jobs than I would be.” Clarke laughed lightly and glanced at the nurses. “I’d make a terrible nurse.”

A few of the nurses nodded, their eyes smiling because smiling with their lips might bring trouble.

“We already have healers for that kind of work.” Blakely took in a breath and looked around the floor, frustrated. He knew he’d said too much. “Maybe we should go somewhere—”

“Then I can’t possibly think why you’d need me. I’m sure there are doctors who can meet your needs.”

“Ms. Griffin—”

“After all, there are two other trauma surgeons on staff here more suited to your, uh, preferences.” Clarke glanced down at Blakely’s groin.

“I was sent to find you, Ms. Griffin.”

The more he called her “Ms.,” the more her resolve solidified. “I just can’t imagine what anyone would want with little old me.” She covered her voice in maple syrup. “Dr. Lee and Dr. Bancroft are very fine surgeons, very respectable. Dr. Lee graduated top of his class from UW. I’m supervising his fellowship, and he’s very skilled.” Clarke let the words roll like waves along a beach on a calm day. “And Dr. Bancroft is who we call whenever we need a feeding tube done right the first time. His focus on fundamentals is exceptional—”

“They want you,” Blakely said more loudly than he intended.

Say it, she taunted him with a sharp look, though the words that came out were light. “I’ll call Dr. Lee. I’m sure he’d be more suitable to you—”

“Ms. Griffin—”

“You’d rather have Dr. Bancroft? Sorry. I thought you’d want the more skilled surgeon, but to be honest, we do perform a lot more feeding tube placements than major—”

“We know you’re the best.” Blakely growled, giving in.

Clarke had won, but she still felt empty. “You can’t even call me a doctor.”

“Protocol.” Blakely refused to look at her. “Come with us, ma’am.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You can appeal on grounds of pregnancy or motherhood.”

Clarke scoffed. “Of course.” She didn’t even try to hide her disdain, though she knew she had to play along. She looked down at her scrubs. “I need to change.”

“Of course,” Blakely said. His smile was sharp, an insult. “Though we’ll need to supervise.”

Clarke bit down hard. She had not joined the Resistance, but she’d been obsessively keeping track of their Instagram posts at @emeraldcityjustice. Militiamen never raped, she’d learned, especially if the woman was white and of marrying age. They didn’t call it rape, though, they called it “sexual theft.” They were not to spoil another man’s property (or potential property), and that meant no touching. This restriction forced men to get creative, find new ways of dominating without ruining the goods. Resisting, the posts said, meant speaking the militia’s language.

“But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” Clarke had memorized some key verses, and she said this one loud enough for everyone around the nursing station to hear it. “Matthew 5:28. I think those are words in red. You know, Jesus. The son of God himself.” She would not let these fuckers anywhere near her.

Blakely squinted and his face turned to stone.

“The locker room is on the second floor,” she said. “You two are welcome to wait outside the door, if you like.” Clarke strode towards the elevator. Blakely glared at her a few moments before nodding at his partner. They followed her into the elevator. Clarke looked at her watch. 10:15 p.m. Shift change. The locker room would be packed.

“We need to sweep,” Blakely said as they stepped off the elevator and approached the locker room door.

Clarke sighed loudly. There was no use in arguing. Blakely nodded towards the key swipe. Clarke swiped her badge and a little red light on the handle turned green. Blakely opened the door then turned conspicuously so that his back was facing the opening.

“This is Corporal Blakely of Washington’s First Militia,” he shouted into the room. The volume of his voice made Clarke jump. “Private Cooks and I will be doing a sweep of this locker room in two minutes. Those who are not appropriately covered at that time will be taken into custody.” Blakely let the door close behind him and set a timer on his Apple watch.

Are you fucking kidding me? Clarke didn’t say out loud.

Five minutes later, Blakely and Cooks were back out in the hallway. Clarke knew they wouldn’t find anything. The locker room was a windowless space that was mostly concrete and tile. It had one exit, a fire hazard long ignored because that part of the hospital had been built 140 years ago. The only other door was a closet full of cleaning supplies.

Blakely nodded at Clarke to go inside.

“You have five minutes,” he said, fiddling with his watch again.

“I’d like to shower.”

“Four minutes and fifty-seven seconds. If you don’t come out on time, we will come in.”

Clarke swallowed and pushed through the door. Dozens of annoyed eyes lifted as she walked in. She just shook her head as she walked past them.

Because it was an old hospital, doctors—female doctors, even surgeons—shared the locker room with nurse supervisors, charge nurses and other medical staff who had seniority. (Male doctors, especially surgeons, did not share a locker room with anyone, of course.) It bothered Clarke on principle, but for the most part she liked being around the non-doctor staff, and it didn’t hurt to have a friendly relationship with the nurses when she was on the floors.

The women’s eyes quickly went back to their tasks of leaving. Between the unrest and a new virus no one seemed to know anything about, the hospital, which was already under-resourced, had been over capacity for weeks now. Everyone was tired, stressed, and getting more and more afraid. They just wanted to get home as soon as possible. The later at night, the more aggressive the patrols got.

Clarke walked to her locker and took a few deep breaths as she quickly spun the lock to its numbers and pulled it open. She took off her white coat and hung it on the hanger inside. She pulled out her backpack and checked that her phone charger was inside. She pulled her wallet out and stared at her driver’s license for a long moment, not sure if it would be a liability. She decided to bring it, along with her curfew papers, and a used copy of The Obelisk Gate she’d picked up from Horizon Books a few weeks ago but never opened. Next, she stuffed her street clothes inside along with two sets of clean scrubs (only later would she wonder why she took the scrubs). Finally, she grabbed the two boxes of protein bars and four bottles of Gatorade that she kept there to keep her energy up on long shifts.

Clarke almost laughed at how much could fit in her small backpack.

She looked at her watch. Three minutes left. Shit. She almost forgot to switch watches. She pulled off the little cheap thing she used at the hospital and replaced it with her dad’s chunky but sleek metal piece. It was heavy on her wrist, but that’s what she liked about it. Somehow she felt safer with it on.

She swallowed. She needed to move, but to move meant everything would be different. She threw her shoulders back, lifted her hands in front of her, palms up as if making an offering, and took in a deep breath. It’s what she did whenever she was about to make a first cut. She closed her eyes, felt the ground solid under her feet, felt her heart slow to steady saunter.

Clarke smiled to herself. It was a heavy smile, sad and defiant. Fuck them.

She grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and walked to the broom closet.

“You alright, Dr. Griffin?” A voice rang out. Veró, the charge nurse from the post-op wing, looked up as Clarke was about to go inside. Her eyes were nervous.

“I will be,” Clarke replied as she closed the door. “Take good care of yourself, Veró. Be safe. You didn’t see me, okay?”

Veró nodded. “You stay safe, Clarke.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. Her smile was heavy with concern. “I didn’t see nothing.”

Clarke held Veró’s eyes for a long moment, then nodded, stepped into the closet, and closed the door behind her. It was a small space, but large enough for two people to fit—a fact Clarke had exploited with Lu, a nurse from the Telemetry unit, several times. There was a small, dirty, pointless window at the top of the closet that she and Lu had covered with a tray from the cafeteria so that the janitors in their breakroom across the alley couldn’t watch them taking their break. During the day, thin streaks of light leaked in around the edges. Clarke was grateful it was so late and that the alley outside got so little light. The metal shelving served as the perfect ladder, sturdy and wide. She disrupted the toilet paper and big bottles of cleaner as she climbed, leaving hints of her escape, but there was nothing to be done about it. The top shelf was blessedly empty, too high up to be useful.

She pulled the tray out of the way to reveal a window that was smaller than she expected. She turned a small latch and pushed the window. It didn’t budge. She pushed it again, harder this time, though she didn’t have much leverage. Nothing happened. The shelf wobbled minutely under her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It held steady as she gingerly pulled her full body onto the top shelf. She barely fit up there. She checked her watch. She maybe had a minute. Probably less. Clarke hit the base of the window with the flat of her palm. Nothing. She hit it again. Still nothing. She took a breath and closed her eyes.

Please.

She hit it again and heard a tiny scrape. One more push, and the window swung open with an achy shriek. It might have been shut for decades. Clarke was lucky. The drop from the second floor window to the sidewalk was short. The alley swept upwards from 9th Ave., ending at the top with the fifth floor’s windows being at street level.

She was out, and she had no idea what to do. By now, Blakely and Cooks would have noticed that she hadn’t come out. Maybe they’d give her another minute. She remembered the Apple watch.

Her mind churned and tumbled. She had opened holes in skulls with drills and saws. She had cracked ribs to expose hearts that stopped beating in front of her eyes. But now, on this warm summer night on an empty sidewalk, she didn’t know what to do. So she ran. The hospital was a mess of old buildings connected by narrow alleys—easy to get lost. But Clarke had done her residency and fellowship here—spent nearly a quarter of her life here—and while she didn’t know the alleys, she knew the buildings, recognized the skyways above linking everything together. She slid from shadow to shadow in the direction of the interstate. It was an intuitive decision, the way she knew exactly where to find the bleeding in surgery.

She kept moving, the rolling rumble of the highway getting closer. Finally, she found herself at the parking garage and knew exactly where to go. She walked calmly through the first level reserved for people going to the ED. She was careful to avoid the security booth where Mitch would be. He was a good guy, and Clarke didn’t want to bring him any trouble. She moved quickly towards an emergency exit which brought her to a fire escape facing the interstate. During her first year as resident, she and Dr. Salem used to meet there to smoke a joint after a 30-hour shift.

She paused. Think. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Her breath caught when she came across her mom’s contact. You could have called, she could already hear her saying. We would have figured it out. Even if there was enough time for her mom to get from Whidbey Island to the city—and there wasn’t—it wouldn’t be safe. Anyone she called could be implicated and punished. Unless she chose to crawl back into the hospital, she was now an RRL, a Resistor of the Rule of Law.

This is moment everything changes. The thought cracked across her mind like lightning and disappeared just as fast. The thunder would roll on for years and years.

She closed her contacts and opened Instagram instead. She went to the @emeraldcityjustice profile. Her grin was grim as she hit the Message button. How ridiculous this world had become.

“Canada or the mountains?”

“What?” Clarke shook herself out of a haze. The driver hadn’t spoken since he picked her up from a dark corner under the interstate where @emeraldcityjustice had told her to go. They immediately turned east over the lake to Bellevue.

“You’ll have to decide at the drop point in Everett,” the driver went on. “They can either get you on a ferry to Canada or you can head to a refugee community in the mountains.” He glanced over his shoulder to the back seat where she was lying down to avoid facial recognition cameras on the interstate. “Do you want to escape or do you want to fight?”

THE END. THAT’S IT. I’M SORRY.

#the 100 fanfiction #clarke griffin #WIP backstory #clexa fic backstory #action

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writingjusttowrite8 · 6 years

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Golden (Chapter Four)

Hi friends! I probs sound like a broken record when I say this, but thank you so much to all those who have liked and reblogged these post and given kudos! And a SUPER HUGE thank you to those who’ve commented! I’ve gotten some people who want to be tagged in this, so I’ve started a tag list! If you want to be tagged, just let me know and I’ll add you. Thanks again loves!

P.S.: This is a secondary blog, so whenever I reply to comments on here it’ll pop up as coming from my main one (@galvanator). I’m not really sure how to adjust it and tumblr’s FAQ is, at best, unhelpful. I’m a technologically challenged millennial, so, from the bottom of my heart, my bad.

You can also read this on AO3!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

I had turned in my paper the following day and had been about to avoid going into his office. Mrs. Peters made some comment of how it was ‘good Mr. Laufeyson finally had a student to challenge him,’ but I’d mostly ignored her. After that, I really hadn’t had much to deal with him. I did the readings, took the quizzes, and kept my distance. It did make my heart soar just a tiny bit, when I got my paper back with a large 99 written at the top, and a note that read ‘Always room for improvement, but it is nearing perfection’. I wanted to forget about everything that had happened prior to us in class, but it was so difficult. More than once, a tall, dark, black-haired stranger invade my dreams and filled me with a lust my hand couldn’t provide for my body. I wanted to forget how his skin felt against me, about how perfectly our bodies collided, but my mind didn’t let me.

Professor Laufeyson’s class would have most certainly been my favorite if we hadn’t met previously. He was so articulate and well-informed; he made myself and every student get caught up in every word. It didn’t hurt that he looked the way he did. His wardrobe consisted solely of clothing that fit him to perfection. His tall frame was seemingly thin, but he was so strong and hard. I really couldn’t blame any of the other women who had a crush on him; after all, I’d probably have had one too.

I did my best to be as little noticeable in his class as possible; only arrived exactly on time, turned in all that I needed to turn in, and left promptly as class ended. Everything I finished early, I turned into Mrs. Peters, and narrowly avoided seeing Professor Laufeyson whenever I could. I had nearly memorized his schedule so that I wouldn’t run into him; unfortunately, that meant running into Professor Jinks quite frequently. His leering eyes always made my skin crawl. I could never quite shake the way Loki had warned me about him on my first day. He usually lost interest in my once I was past him, or another girl with better cleavage walked past. But there were instances in which I wasn’t so lucky.

“You know, dear,” Mrs. Peters started, “Professor Laufeyson will be in shortly. Why don’t you just wait for him and you can give your paper in person. You miss him so frequently, I’m afraid he’s not giving you the proper respect a star pupil like yourself should be given.” A small, hysterical laugh escaped my lips at the irony of her words.

“Trust me, Mrs. Peters, Professor Laufeyson is giving me the exact amount of respect I require.” I said. She narrowed her eyes at me, not fully understanding what I meant. Luckily (or unluckily), we were interrupted by the loud, obnoxious voice that could only belong to one man; Professor Jinks.

“My goodness, you come to see Laufeyson so often I’d say you had a crush on him,” Jinks said while walking over to Mrs. Peters and I. I was stunned into silence, my cheeks immediately turning beat red. As it turns our, Mrs. Peters couldn’t stand him either.

“Professor! You really are too much! Mrs. Alavan is here for academic purposes only. Something you should strive to do as well,” Her condescending tone made me feel a bit better. Jinks merely rolled his eyes, and leaned against the counter where I was standing, effectively blocking me in.

“You know if you really wanted to stand out in Laufeyson’s class, I could tutor you. I offer private tutoring sessions to those… outstanding students,” Jink’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, as they trailed down to my chest.

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t need tutoring,” I said, tugging my books close and crossing my arms across my chest. Jinks scoffed.

“My tutoring could be of a great service to you; you sure you want to turn that down?” He stepped closer to me and I continued to back up. His intimidating glare made it hard to figure out the right thing to say, so I struggled with words for a moment. But then my savior appeared.

“If anything, Mrs. Alavan could give you some tutoring lessons,” Loki said, standing across the office. I let out a deep breath I wasn’t aware I was holding. Jinks turned to acknowledge Loki, then snapped it back towards me.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” Jinks said, finally stepping away. I took my opportunity to quickly walk out of the office, but not without giving Loki a quick nod in thanks. I saw the recognition in his eyes, as well as something else…

It looked like rage.

Since I couldn’t forget, I did the second best thing; avoid. I ended up getting an internship at a publishing company because my classes weren’t filling up enough of my time. I worked, and wrote, and refused to go out with Kate. I didn’t need her abandoning me again, and I didn’t feel like explaining what was so disastrous about last time. Three weeks since I’d gone to his office, had passed, and I was actively minding my own business. Kate, however, didn’t like how filled my schedule was and was growing tired of me refusing to spend time with her.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Aurelia, its one measly Friday night! You’re literally the smartest person I’ve ever met, going out for 5 hours isn’t going to lower your IQ!” She pleaded through the phone. I sighed deeply, and contemplated just hanging up.

“I’ve been though this; my work is the most important thing to me. Just because you enjoy going out every night doesn’t mean that I do. I like being able to get ahead in my school work, especially since I’ll be starting my internship soon!” I told her. She whined through the phone. “And I really don’t see how it matters if I go with you or not. Literally every time we’ve gone out together, even back in the states, you found a guy within 5 minutes of being in a bar. You’ll just ditch me anyways,” I said.

“That not true! Well… not entirely. Last time we went you, I very clearly remember you winding up with a handsome stranger who, quite literally, fucked you into oblivion,” She said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. I cringed, my mind flashing back to that night. “I know you’ve thrown yourself into your work to avoid thinking about him, but I have a much better idea than that,” She taunted.

“Continue…” I egged her on. At this point I’d accept nearly any opportunity to get my mind off Loki.

“Come out with me tonight and find a new guy! The best way to get over a man is to be reminded that there are so many others to choose from! If you’re able to find another handsome stranger to rock your world tonight, I guarantee that you’ll forget all about Mr. Tall, dark, and insatiable,” She taunted. Highly unlikely, but I understood her reasoning. I had been left… unfulfilled for a month now. It might be nice to fuck my way out of the hole Loki created.

“Fine,” I heard Kate squeal when I spoke, “BUT, we can’t go to the same place. I don’t want to run into him once more.”

“Oh, I’m way ahead of you. Theres a bar a few block away from there, that’s a little more catered to students. I’m sure you’ll be able to find exactly what you need there,” She insisted.

I smiled to myself. This is a good thing; in a few hours, Loki will be old news.

A slight knock on the door alerted Loki that there was a presence in his doorway. He looked up from his papers seeing Jinks in the doorway with an evil glint in his eyes. Loki checked his watch, seeing that it was just past 5:30.

“Plans tonight, Laufeyson?” He asked.

“Not currently. I’d imagine you’re here to change that,” Loki said, leaning back in his seat. Jinks came in, looking around at some of the loose papers on the usually pristine desk.

“A couple of us are going out to celebrate the first month ending. You’ll join us, won’t you?” Jinks framed his words as a question, but Loki knew he wasn’t working his way out of this one.

But, he had to at least give it a shot.

“The end of the first month means the beginning of exam season. I need to prepare a bit. I’m not sure its the right time to be going out,” He countered.

“Oh, come on!” Jinks said, not persuaded by Loki’s words. “You’re the most prepared lad in all of Great Britain, surely you can afford one night of fun? All of the fun ones are going, even Candice from history, and she’s always had eyes for you…” Jinks leered. Gross, Loki thought, Candice had eyes for anything with a pulse. Loki huffed for a moment, trying to think of a good excuse before something dawned on him.

“Where would we be going?” He asked Jinks. He seemed to light up at the question, sensing he was getting closer to his goal.

“Sullivans, uptown. You’ve been there?” Jinks ask’s Loki. The name was familiar, but what really mattered is that it wasn’t where he’d met Aurelia. The chance of him running into her again would have prompted a much harsher rejection.

“Fine, but I’ve got to go home to change,” He said, standing up to put on his coat. Jinks slapped his hands together.

“Fantastic! I send you the address and you can meet us there. This will be fun! Even us esteemed professors need a night for ourselves,” He leered in the door way, with a facial expression Loki could only describe as disturbing.

Loki quickly made for his house, not really needing to change clothes, he just wanted a minute to himself. Thinking of Aurelia always threw him off, and he needed a minute to shake the thoughts out of her. But his idea to go home to get her out of his mind probably wasn’t the best plan of action. He’d washed his sheets 4 times since she was there, but every night, without fail, he’d swear he smelled her scent. It was engrained in his head; her smell, her eyes, how she’d exhaled when he’d touch her, like she was burning without his touch. It was too much to forget; not that Loki had done a good job of attempting that. He’d look at other women, and instantly compare her to Aurelia. He’d accidentally brush against a girl and sensed how different her warmth was from Aurelia. Everything reminded him of her, and it was eating at him. Her tiny, black-lace underwear were hidden in the pages of a hollowed out book he use to store sweets in as a child. They were a sweet in their own right, just a different context behind it.

Loki had built up a catalogue of things he regretted in his life, but the morning he left Aurelia was the one that stood out most. He hadn’t been able to sleep, but rather, watched her intently after their night together. Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, her sweet lips parted slightly, how her hand was so tightly gripped with his; all of these thoughts were burned into his mind. It wasn’t until the early morning he was able even to look away from her. He didn’t have a huge stock in his kitchen, so he didn’t think there would be any harm in stepping out for a few minutes to go pick something up. It was only when he returned to his empty house, her scent already infused in his entryway, he realized what a mistake he’d made. That evening he’d even gone back to the same bar to see if he could find her, but after no sightings and three over-zealous women, he’d left.

Loki didn’t want to feel this way; he hadn’t even wanted to go home with somebody that night. But when he caught her gaze, something drew him in. It was like a rubber band pulled him to her until the collided, making an irreversible mark in his heart. That same rubber band that pulled them together, snapped from the tension and hit him right in the face the day he saw her in class. She was looking down, obviously panicking, but her unmistakable tendrils of hair had given her away. To every other student, he was just taking stock of who was in his class, but the slight clinching of his fist and deep swallow in his throat almost gave him away.

He knew when he saw Aurelia in class that whatever pull he was experiencing was would need to be squandered, but it wasn’t completely gone. Despite him not wanting to go out, Loki couldn’t help but think this was a good way to finally remove whatever tug Aurelia had on him.

My short, velvet skirt didn’t provide a ton of warmth for my legs as the cool wind hit my body. London is such a beautiful place, but its temperature left a lot for a native-Floridan to be desired. Kate walked briskly, her long legs forcing my short ones to nearly run. I looked around at the people standing near the bar and noticed, pleasantly, that this crowd was much more college-friendly. Despite her promising not to abandon me again (I made her recite the mantra ‘I will not abandon you’ in the cab over here), we weren’t two steps inside until she saw someone familiar and ran to the other side of the bar. Great.

I found myself in an uneasy and familiar situation one again and vowed to myself that this was the last time I accompanied Kate to a bar. I noticed some girls that I vaguely recognized in a few of my classes by the bar, and decided that standing near them was better than standing on the wall by myself. Another girl who was in a situation similar to myself, was also seated at the bar, and looked at me curiously when I ordered a drink.

“You’re in Professor Laufeyson’s class too, aren’t you?” She asked, slurring a bit. I nodded my head, taking my drink from the bartender. She stuck out her hand and I shook it.

“Daisy McGee,” She said.

“Aurelia Alavan,” I told her.

“Where are you from?” She asked, clearly recognizing my accent.

“Near Miami, but I go to school at NYU. I’m just doing a semester over here,” I explained. She nodded. “What about you?” I asked.

“Near Dublin. Got a nice scholarship to come over here, so…” She shrugged her shoulders and I laughed a bit. “How are you doing in his class?” She asked.

“Not bad; he’s a little stingy on grades though. Gave me a 99 on the first paper because there’s ‘always room for improvement’.” I told her. She looked at me with wide eyes.

“You’re actually able to pay attention? Good god, more power to you. Every time he opens his mouth all I want to do confess my love to him,” She said, resting her head on her hand and looking away from me. I laugh a little bit; partially out of her words, partially out of how ridiculous the situation was. “Even now, there are plenty of eligible bachelors here, but I can only focus on him…” She said, sighing. I looked at her confused.

“What do you mean?” I asked. She pointed into the direction she was looking, and lo-and-behold, Loki was there. His sharp facial features pressed into a stoic expression while he watched the man I’d come to know as Jinks. Jinks was clearly drunk and hanging on the arm of a fake-looking woman, but Loki seemed to be unimpressed. I, on the other hand, was fuming. ‘Would it ease your worries if I told you that I don’t often do this as well?’ his voice rang so clear in my mind from that night. I believed him! Even after everything, I believed that this wasn’t a normal occurrence and that he wasn’t some mid-thirties perv who uses his prowess to influence young women.

I felt stupid, humiliated, and entirely heart-broken. There was something very comforting about the fact that I was the exception, and now… I felt tears clouding my eyes and my skin burn bright red. Daisy had said something to me, but I was too wrapped up in my furry to notice. It wasn’t until his bight blue eyes cast themselves in my direction, that I felt my body unfreeze. His expression faltered only slightly, but his eyes didn’t leave mine, and I didn’t have the heart to turn away. Finally, I was able to hear over the blood pounding in my ears to see what Daisy had to say.

“Those eyes could peer into my soul. Isn’t he charming?” She said.

“Yeah,” I hopped off the stool, grabbing my bag, “A real charming son-of-a-bitch.” Maybe if Loki hadn’t been captivating her, she would have noticed me stomping off, but thankfully she was too enamored with looking at him. I tried to navigate my way through the still-growing crowd, but a large, pale hand grabbed my waist and began pulling me in a different direction. I turned back to yell at whoever it was, but when I saw his face, my voice fell silent. He gripped me a little tighter when I stopped fighting him, and very delicately pulled me through a door near the back. The cold air of the outside hit my over-heated skin like a ton of bricks. I turned to face the wall to collect my thoughts and make sure we were alone before tearing into him.

“Aurelia,” he started, but I cut him off.

“How dare you! How dare you tell me you don’t do this often! You’re even worse than that Jinks character; at least he has the decency to wear his creepiness on his sleeve. You hide behind that cool exterior and pretend to be one of the good guys, but all you really are is some sleaze!” I huffed. My fist were balled up at my sides and I was stomping around, trying not to look directly at Loki. His firm hands grasped my shoulders, forcing me to stop and take a breath. His eyes were wide and his mouth was set in a firm line. “What!” I yelled at him.

“Jinks made me come; I didn’t want to. And the only reason I allowed him to choose this place is because I couldn’t risk seeing you again at the other bar. I don’t come here, not to places with students. I would never do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, you must know that,” His piercing blue eyes bore directly into mine.

“You… came here to avoid me? Ha…” I said, somewhat hysterically. “I came here to avoid you,” He finally let me go and I slacked against the brick wall.

“We really are a pair, aren’t we?” He breathed, mimicking my actions. I slid against the wall until I was seated on the ground, and he followed me as well.

“Why can’t we seem to stay away from each other?” I asked. I didn’t know if I was asking him, or just the universe in general.

“Maybe we shouldn’t…” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it rang in my ears.

“No…” I got up and started pacing again, trying to hold back tears and not let him see the one’s that had already fallen. “You can’t say that to me! You hurt me so much; letting me wake up alone like that! I thought it would be easy to just have fun and not get attached, but you woke something in me that just won’t go away now! You left me, Loki, you’re the one-“

“I didn’t leave you!” He yelled. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. He stalked over to me and gently slid on large hand on my cheek. “I didn’t leave you, not like that. I wen’t to get breakfast and when I came back, you were gone. I figured you didn’t feel what I felt that night and just left. I wanted to come back and ravish you for the rest of the day and take you on a proper date that night, but you were gone! I didn’t want you to go, I never would have left if I thought you’d taken it as a sign to leave,” his usually strong voice was pleading and soft.

I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t resist gently pressing my lips to his. He felt so cool and soft, making my beat red skin tingle at the contact. It was a gentle, momentary kiss, but it felt like hours. When I realized what I’d done, I tensed up and quickly broke away. His eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted, and he slowly opened up his eyes to me.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done-“ His lips were back on mine, but this time it was feverish. His mouth was hungrily devouring mine, while his hands went to grip me too him. I clawed back at him, pulling him as close to me as possible. He pushed us against a wall and hiked up my leg around his hip. His tongue dove into my mouth and tangled with mine. My arms wrapped around his neck and my hands played with his soft hair. After a while of an intense make out session, he pulled back and rested his forehead on mine, catching his breath.

“Give me one more night with you… please” He said quietly, letting his warm breath fan across my face.

“Yes.”

Forewarning for the next chapter... prepare for Da Smut™.

Tag List:

@thevixeniris @lovinghiddlestom

#Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x OFC #Loki x reader #Loki x OC #Loki Fanfiction #Loki fanfic #loki (marvel)#Tom Hiddleston #Loki Imagine #Golden #Chapter Four

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maxrev · 6 years

Text

Since I haven’t been able to write, so I’m answering these fanfic writer questions. I decided to go ahead and do them all because...why the hell not? I will try to answer from both fandoms I’m in - Fallout 4 and Mass Effect.

It will be under the cut because it’s long ;)

Fanfic writer questions

favorite fic you wrote this year - For Fallout 4: Ode to Eyebrows (fallout 4) - a collab with an amazing artist @marvilus73 about Danse’s eyebrows featuring her f!sole Charlie! For Mass Effect: Think I’m going to have to go with the first one I wrote for the ME fandom - When Darkness Comes. I had no idea I could write angst before this game. It’s fshenko and I’m still ridiculously proud of it.

least favorite fic you wrote this year - Alliance Training for Kaidan appreciation week. It didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to and in fact, I think it was just too long and too detailed.

favorite line/scene you wrote this year - line: I actually have several I’m really proud of but we’ll go with these. Mass Effect AU - “Face it, I’m my own brand of badass and you’d be lost without it. Now turn around and I’ll help strangle you with that.” Scene was in Fallout 4: It’s long, so I’ll link it here if anyone cares to actually read it. Starts with the sentence after the second line break, "Walking slowly and carefully..." ends with "Maybe we could begin again?" -- I love this scene because it’s really emotional for Alice, my f!sole, which is unusual for her.

total number of words you wrote this year - Wow. A lot. I think I’ve been most prolific this year after finding myself immersed in the Mass Effect fandom. So, I will include anything written for A New Reality (Fallout 4) and anything Mass Effect, including NaNo. Basically, not counting A New Reality (chapts 10 through current!) or the endless bits and pieces I have, over 50 thousand words.

most popular fic this year - (By hits) Fallout 4: Confusion. A little drabble about Boone and Danse. Boone realizes that Danse is more to him than just a a fellow soldier to travel with, more than just a friend.

least popular fic this year - Mass Effect - How It All Began. Written for Shepard appreciation week. A brief glimpse at Riley’s beginnings.

longest completed fic you wrote this year - Not counting my ongoing long-fic for Fallout 4, it would be Supergiant (3330), which was written for Shepard appreciation week. An mshenko fic about some emotional upheaval in John’s life concerning his scars.

shortest completed fic you wrote this year - Mass Effect: Haunted (245). From a prompt list on tumblr. An mshenko/fshenko (neutral) drabble.

longest wip of the year - Fallout 4: A New Reality (ongoing). About my f!sole Alice and her journey through the Commonwealth. A lot more involved than that but...yeah.

shortest wip of the year - At the moment? Would probably be a Mass Effect wip -- Shore Leave part 2. An mshenko continuation of sorts to something I wrote for Kaidan appreciation week.

fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year - Mass Effect. Wow..this game blew me away. The interactions between the characters, the dialogue - serious, hilarious, snarky - all of it. The characters felt like family in a way I didn’t get from Fallout 4 (the only other game I’ve been completely immersed in). It gave me incredible creativity with my writing, getting me to write POVs and emotions I’d never written before. It’s been a wild ride and I’ve enjoyed every single minute!

favorite character to write about this year - Long answer, which you can find here!

favorite writing song/artist/album of this year - I think I’ll go with Breaking Benjamin because their music has been the most consistent influence with writing ME fanfic.

a fic you didn’t expect to write - Anything Mass Effect? I didn’t expect to fall quite so hard into this black hole that literally took over my life. Then, we can go a little further and say anything mshenko. They also took over my life and honestly, I think I’ve done some of my best work writing about the boys and their ME romance. (I was going to elaborate as to why but we’d be here forever lol) I suppose I should list the one that really blew me away as a writer. That would be - A Wonderful Life (AO3 title - Black holes/Neutron stars for Shepard appreciation week).

something you learned this year - It’s okay to lose momentum. It’s okay to step back and take a break. I don’t have to like it -- and believe me, I don’t and I’m really having a hard time with that -- but it is okay.

fic(s) you completed this year - That’s a thing? Endless drabbles/one-shots...whatever you call them.

fics you’ll continue next year - Pirate AU, MEBB fic (which may or may not be used for that), A New Reality

current number of wips - 3 major ones, a lot of one-shots

any new fics to start next year - Not if I can help it! We’ll see what happens ;)

number of comments you haven’t read - Exactly zero. I read them all and do my best to respond.

most memorable comment/review - Damn. I honestly had quite a few that made me grin and/or laugh and it’s so hard to choose! Mass Effect: OH MY GOSSHHH IM DEAD D ECEASED this is so sweet omg !! and your writings absolutely lovely ! Fallout 4: MAX I FOUND YOUR SINS lol Deacon tho. Gotta hand it to him. He scores some devious pointage ;)“Blue, he wouldn’t know fun if it ran straight at him. He’d probably laser it to death.” Fucking yes lmao Verdict: cute af, would read again. you rock

events you participated in this year - NaNo...though that was a bomb lol, Mass Effect Flash Fanwork, Shepard appreciation week, Kaidan appreciation week, Sole Party 2.0 (Fallout), several different themed prompts for Mass Effect, Cactuarkitty’s Mass Effect Romance week. There might be more...it’s been a proliferative year for me as a writer, which may explain my burnout!

fics you wanted to write but didn’t - Mass Effect: Pirate AU for ME, though I have started it. I was trying to finish it for NaNo and get it out before the end of the year. However, that didn’t quuuuite happen xD Fallout 4: Finish Boone’s story after the Institute maybe someday

favorite fic you read this year - Fallout 4: Always By Your Side Mass Effect: There were 2 and I refuse to choose between them. Soldier’s Heart and Wish You Were Here.

a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read - See above question.

number of favorites/bookmarks you made this year - 6 between both fandoms (AO3).

favorite fanfic author of the year - There are way too many that I absolutely love and go back and reread what they write. I refuse to narrow it down or accidentally exclude anyone.

longest fic you read this year - Mass Effect: (still reading) Zero Hour from @scottrydcrs. To be honest, I’ve read quite a few long fics this year. I don’t remember them all but that is my current one that I’m thoroughly, enjoyably immersed in ;)

shortest fic you read this year - Mass Effect: Welcome to the Suck xD from @nightmarestudio606

favorite fandom to read fic from this year - Mass Effect. The fandom has been around for so long that I keep finding hidden gems every time I search back a little further in various tags. It’s like searching for treasure and always finding a bit of sparkle in places you wouldn’t expect it. I love it!

#fanfic writers asks #writing prompts #sort of?

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ultcharge-archive · 7 years

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heya gang i mentioned being a writerman on my about so i wrote a small chapter for the shimada brothers week run by @supershimadabros-inc ....i didn't see anyone else posting in the tag and a non-*ncest week for siblings is pretty cool. the prompt was 'dark days', and i came up with an au (i think i saw it on tumblr before it was pretty interesting) last week......okay that's enough, proper summary and fic under the cut:

AU in which the Dragons that guard the Shimadas only do so for a price of a decade-annual sacrifice. And it just so happens that Genji is this generation’s lucky kid.

The old bell reflected the sun as it sunk below the horizon of the city. It shone golden light onto the wooden floor, and onto Hanzo, where he sat on his knees, attempting to clear his mind of all thoughts. He focused on the cool summer air, breathing in and out in time to his counting. He listened to the birds flying through the courtyard, chirping and flapping their wings, flying from trees to the perches of the house. He traced the outlines on the bell with his eyes, each carving and coil as it twisted and turned, each detail on the dragons’ bodies. Hanzo had the same designs on his arm. He knew their design like it was a part of him. The ink felt heavy on his body as he sat, meditating, and trying not to think of what was yet to come.

It had to happen tonight. He had been told of it weeks in advance, his grandparents and mother leading him into their meeting room after he was supposed to be asleep. They’d explained it all to him, and answered nearly all his questions, except for one: why? Why would he be the one to do it? Why could it not have been his father, or any of his family instead? Why would the Dragon demand such a thing of them? He had always been told it would protect him, and his whole family for the centuries to come. All they had to do was keep it pleased. Hanzo hadn’t known what that meant until he’d been told last month, and now he wished he hadn’t known at all. But there was no backing away from this. He had to be the one to make the sacrifice.

He had tried to stay away from Genji since he’d woken up this morning, dread and fear filling every inch of his body. He’d spoken only a few words to him when he ate, and had avoided him during training completely. His behaviour shouldn’t have been suspicious to Genji; they’d been disagreeing on more and more things more often, and Hanzo could feel the distance between themselves growing. All that piled atop of what he knew he had to do had been making him feel terrible. The knowing looks his grandparents gave him as he walked through the house today made him feel sick. They did not speak with him either. It had been a silent day. Nearly everyone knew what was to happen. Everyone except for Genji, of whom Hanzo had noticed looking confused for most of the day. He couldn’t tell him. It would just make the task harder to complete.

Hanzo had felt the day coming for a few weeks, now. The dragons that attached themselves to him had been growing weak, disappearing for hours, and becoming unable to use their full power. He knew it was because their master was weak, and would not be sated until it was given what it needed. Hanzo’s family had warned him of completing his task on time, or else all of the dragons attached to each of them would return to their master. There was no telling if they’d come back, or what would happen to the family if the sacrifice was not made. The dragon had guarded their family for centuries, and it had always been given what it needed every ten years. A small price to pay for endless strength and guidance, his grandmother had noted. Where would we be without it?, she’d asked Hanzo. He hadn’t replied.

He’d practiced with his sword for a few hours in training, when Genji was nowhere in sight. Every slice he made into the thin air felt worse, and every step he took made him feel sick. This would be how he would kill him. He wouldn’t make it last longer than it needed to. There would be no fighting. Hanzo hoped it would be over quickly. He couldn’t stand thinking about what he was doing for more than a minute at a time. Even though his life and training had never been perceived as normal, no man should ever have to practice killing his brother. He tried to pretend as if he was practicing for a fight, in which he’d slay his enemies one by one, and return home without any change. It made the training easier, but the thought that the scenario was fake remained in his head. When he had finished, he’d left for his room, and hadn’t come back out until an hour ago.

The weather was becoming colder as Hanzo stayed sitting by the bell. Sunlight had not yet faded from the sky, and a weak golden glow was still reflecting from the bell. He was alone in the courtyard, his sword lying in front of him, his hair out of its tie and tucked behind his ears. The loose clothing he wore covered his whole body, keeping him from shivering in the summer evening cold. And yet, while he tried to meditate and think about anything other than what had to be done, he could not take his mind away from it. He was going to kill his brother. He had to. It wasn’t a choice. He couldn’t have said no. He couldn’t have refused and saved him, disregarding years of honour and loyalty to his family. It was his duty to them, and to the Dragon.

The carvings on the gold bell seemed to swim before Hanzo’s eyes. “I am afraid,” he confessed in a whisper, checking to see if anyone had come into the courtyard, and could hear him confessing weakness to the bell. “I know you are weak, and I promise you will not be for any longer…not for much longer…but I am not ready for this.”

The dragons carved into the bell did not reply. All was quiet, the birds even silent in the distance. Hanzo looked at his sword that lay at his feet. It was a gorgeous katana, the blue silver handle shining beautifully in the sunset. Hanzo always cleaned it after a fight so that blood would not stain the blade. He made sure that it always looked presentable and threatening, so that his enemies would not assume he was an untrained killer. Just looking at the clean blade made his stomach turn.

“Why?” Hanzo asked the dragon bell. “Why do you want to take him? He is still young, still has hope….why couldn’t you have wanted me, instead?” He was met with silence once more. “Why do you want for me to do this?” Hanzo bit down on his lip, so hard he felt a small taste of metal. This would not unravel him any more than it already had, he told himself. He would not let the guilt and the fear destroy him, destroy his exterior. He had to do this. It wasn’t a choice. He was not to question it. Hanzo returned to his silence. The summer air was cold, and the courtyard was fully silent. He closed his eyes.

Hanzo lost track of the time. He did not move for a long time, afraid of what he had to do once he did. He didn’t even notice the footsteps behind him. “You’re out here?” Genji’s voice asked, and Hanzo’s eyes opened. There was his brother, standing above him, staring in confusion. “I was looking for you.” Hanzo didn’t say anything. He tore his eyes away from him, staring back at the dragons carved into the bell. “Did I interrupt something?” Genji asked quietly. “No,” Hanzo replied, lying. “I was only about to come inside.”

“It’s not really that late. You don’t have to leave just because I interrupted you.” The sun was finally fading behind the horizon. The glow had stopped shining from the bell. Darkness was falling over the courtyard. The handle of Hanzo’s sword glimmered in the last fading light. He could feel the weight on his arm sinking into his skin, almost tearing into him, as if a reminder. “It’s alright. We’ll walk back together.” Hanzo said. He stood, picking up the sword and holding it in his hand.

“I saw the sunset as I was walking over,” Genji said, looking into the sky behind the two. “It was nice. There hasn’t been one that pretty since all the storms last week.”

“Colours are always better than grey.” Hanzo agreed. He hadn’t gotten the chance to look at the sky behind him while he was meditating.

As the two walked back from the courtyard, Hanzo tried to memorize what his brother’s face looked like. He tried to memorize the sound of his voice, the way he looked around as they walked, the colour of his eyes. They would not return to the house together. The time had come for the Dragon’s sacrifice to be made. It was too late to say anything, too late to abandon all honour and run away. The sword was so heavy in Hanzo’s hand. He tried to remember the steps he’d practiced that afternoon, slashing and stabbing at air. And he tried to focus on the evening around them, these last few minutes before the Dragon would return to its full strength, and Genji would be gone forever. Hanzo’s mind was so full of all these things, he couldn’t hear a thing Genji was saying to him. It didn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t need to hear it.

As Hanzo returned to the house, the night had turned dark. The first face to greet him as he approached the doorway was his mother, concern in her eyes, her lips pursed and hands folded.

“The Dragon is sated.” Hanzo said, holding the handle of his bloodied sword in his hand. His mother nodded, and went inside the house. Hanzo’s tattooed arm was no longer hurting, and he could feel his dragons still with him. He listened to the empty sounds of the night, biting down on his lip, drawing blood once more. His family would be safe for another ten years. He would be safe and protected by the Dragon for the rest of his life. It was a small price to pay for so much in return.

But Hanzo no longer knew if that price was so small and important anymore.

#writer tag #shimadabrosweek #Validate Me #i might do a followup for the last day i've got a small plan #sorry if the read more doesnt work btw #i'll fix it tomorrow if it doesnt #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #overwatch #shimada brothers #don't tag as or read if ur a shmadacst lmao #overwatch fic #k peace

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1989dreamer · 6 years

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More Than a Face in the Crowd

AO3

Cover

Title taken from Anthonio by Annie

Summary: A one-night stand with a mysterious man, who disappears without a trace leaves Derek pregnant. At least he isn’t alone; he has his sisters. Of course, between Laura the cop and Cora the tech savvy, they track down Derek’s one-night stand. Now, all Derek needs is for Mieczysław to answer his phone.

Warnings: No happy ending, unconventional Mpreg

~ * ~

Derek spends a full thirty seconds staring at his sister before he breaks down.

He covers his face, trying to hide the tears. He can’t be pregnant. He just can’t be.

Laura sits next to him, letting him lean against her. She rubs his back and pats him when he starts hiccupping from crying too hard.

Cora comes back from school and joins the group hug. Eventually, though, she nudges him up and kisses his cheek.

“We still love you,” she says. Of that Derek has no doubt.

“I always thought I’d be the first one to have a baby,” Laura says. “But, I’m glad it’s you. Now I get to be the cool aunt and see how to do it right.”

Derek halfheartedly smacks her, but he has to admit, his sisters are making him feel much better.

“I need to tell the other father,” he realizes. “But, all I have is his name.”

He has more than a name; he has memories of dancing, of grinding on a lithe man with moles speckled over his skin, constellations spelling his future if Derek could just learn how to read the language. He knows the language of the rising member against his backside better, and sweet kisses exchanged with fevered bites.

He sighs softly. “Mieczysław,” he says.

“What.”

Derek grins before it fades quickly. “His name,” he clarifies. “It’s Polish. But, I don’t have his last name.”

He just has a bed covered in rose petals, high quality lube, and four fingers in him. He doesn’t remember the coupling, but the sticks he urinated on yesterday and this morning say it happened.

“And how do we find Meechum?” Laura prompts. The answer she wants is for Derek to say, ‘He left me his number’—he didn’t—or ‘We’ll find him by scent’—but they’d all been wearing scent blockers at the club and they hadn’t worn off before the night was over and Derek was left alone sleeping in a bed still covered in rose petals with lube and semen dripping from him.

He sighs again. “It’s not a common name. I’m sure a search will turn him up, especially if he’s in the city.” He doesn’t want to say that he thinks Mieczysław fled. Why else hadn’t he left his number when he woke before Derek?

Rejected.

Laura loops an arm over his shoulders and rocks with him. “We’re going to make it through. We’ll find him.”

“I’ll post something online. How do you spell that atrocity of a name?”

Derek spells it carefully, watching as Cora pulls out her phone to tap at the screen. A moment later, she shows him what she’s made:

Wanted: Mieczysław Last Name Unknown

Please Call: 718-xxx-xxxx

Reason: To Discuss Delicate Matters

“I’ll put this on my Tumblr, I’ve got like a million followers that reblog my content,” Cora says.

Derek nods even though he doesn’t know how a cup and/or acrobat can help him or why Cora has that many people invested in a cup/acrobat. Or even what exactly a “re-blog” does.

“Let’s order in for supper,” Laura suggests, grabbing a take-out menu from the coffee table. “Deep dish pizza sound good?”

~ * ~

Over the next few months, Cora keeps Derek updated on her Tumblr—which he has learned has nothing to do with either cups or acrobats (he isn’t sure if he’s disappointed about that).

The initial post has been shared (re-blogged) hundreds of times. A few people have added comments (Tags too, Derek. What is a tag? Ugh, you’re impossible) about helping the omega find his true love.

Derek cringes at those comments. Just because he and Mieczysław had sex that resulted in a child does not mean that they are truly meant to be together. Especially if one of them does not wish to be told of the child. (Also, Derek is NOT an omega, which Cora again had to explain to him.)

Laura runs into the apartment one day, a piece of paper clutched in her hand, excitedly yelling.

Derek smirks into his hot chocolate while Cora barely looks up from her advanced physics homework.

“I found it!” Laura all but yells when the door slams shut behind her.

“Found what, your sanity?” Cora asks innocently. Laura glares at her.

“I found Mychaw’s phone number!”

“Mieczysław,” Derek corrects absently. He’s beginning to suspect that Laura will forever refuse to say the father of his child’s name correctly.

“Really?” Cora says, looking up finally. “How? Where? Gimme!”

“Nu-uh.” Laura sticks her tongue out. “I found it!”

“Through less than legal means, I’d bet,” Derek says dryly. He reaches over and snatches the paper from her hand. Laura shakes her head.

“He applied at my precinct,” she explains. “It stood out, so I copied it down.”

“Less than legal,” Derek admonishes. He folds the paper without looking at it and tucks it into his pocket. He rubs his stomach on the way back up. It’s only just starting to round out. Laura is fond of ambushing him to touch it now.

“Aren’t you going to call him?” Cora demands.

Derek shakes his head. “Not right now,” he says. “Maybe later, after my doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Laura squeals loudly. “You’re going to get the updated sonogram tomorrow!”

“Can I come with?” Cora begs. “Please?”

“You have school,” Derek says. “And you,” he points at Laura, “have work. I’m perfectly capable of going by myself.”

“Well, if you’re not going to call Mychow’s number, can I have it back?”

“No.” Derek rinses his mug out and sets it in the sink before heading to his room. He pats the pocket with the note. “I know you’ll call him once I’m asleep.”

Laura pouts.

Derek tries not to laugh as he shuts his door.

~ * ~

Everything progresses normally. Derek’s stomach grows with each minute it seems until it’s difficult to rise in the morning, and oft as not, he just falls back asleep. He called Mieczysław’s number the day of the ultrasound and got a disconnected message.

He thinks he misdialed, with his fingers that keep swelling because of water retention, but he’s a bit too afraid to try again.

Derek should give the number to one of his sisters and have her call for him, but again. He’s afraid.

He knows he won’t be able to get the phone back in time to prevent either of his sisters from yelling at Mieczysław—or whomsoever is unfortunate enough to be holding onto the phone. And apparently, Mieczysław is Polish through and through because his last name is Liszewski, which means fox.

Derek sighs and rubs at his eyes. It’s 2:00 in the afternoon. Laura will be home soon. Thankfully, Derek’s job as a translator for fiction books can be done anywhere, and his agent is understanding of his condition—he’s pregnant with his third right now too, and he promises that what Derek is experiencing will only get worse as time goes on.

Derek digs out the number again and one of those sticks Cora uses on her tablet when she doesn’t want to use her fingers. He pokes the buttons on his phone, checking and double-checking the digits before he presses send.

The phone rings four times before a groggy, familiar voice answers with “’Ello, whosits?”

Derek swallows, overcome with a sudden urge to be held by Mieczysław again.

“Hello?” the voice says again, clearer. Derek thinks of mole-speckled skin, soft lips, kind hands. Fingers and tongue and.

“I’m hanging up now.

“Wait!” he says, but it’s too late, the call has ended and he’s left staring at his home screen. Faintly, he hears the front door open and close.

He isn’t aware of whining, but Laura drops to her knees next to his bed, hands on his shoulders, saying, “Derek? What’s wrong? Tell me, Derek, are you hurt? Is the baby okay?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Derek wipes at his eyes and crams his phone under his pillow. Laura eyes him, but thankfully doesn’t say anything about his lie.

“Come on.” She grabs his hands and tugs him up. “We’re going out to celebrate a successful ultrasound. Tacos on Sixtieth.”

Now it’s Derek’s turn to eye her. “That sketchy food truck that gave me food poisoning?” he shakes his head, sticking his tongue out at her. “No thank you. I’m sure Cora would prefer if we ate from that much more reputable shop on Fiftieth, considering then she might actually still have siblings.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Laura smiles at him. “Go, take a shower. I’m going to call Cora and make sure she’s actually coming home after class today.”

That’s right. Cora has a girlfriend that she’s spending all her time with. A pretty brunette she had mentioned last week when Laura confronted her about staying out all night.

They’d thought it was some underground club for werewolves. Turns out it was just his little sister discovering that she liked girls better than boys. Of course, the fact that her girlfriend is also her best friend bodes well, Derek thinks.

“Is she bringing Allison?” he asks. He knows Laura is waiting for him to leave the room so that she can look at his phone. He’s tempted to go back to the bed just to get it, but he decides it doesn’t matter.

“I called Mieczysław’s number,” he tells her. She fights the interested look off her face, and he smiles at her fondly. “I wasn’t fast enough with my words before he hung up. Please don’t call him again. We’ll all do it Saturday.”

Surprisingly, that’s the end of it.

~ * ~

Saturday, Derek is soaking his feet while he watches Rachael Ray with Cora. Laura marches into the living room and throws his phone at him. Derek lets it bounce off his chest.

“Call Mouse Chow,” Laura commands.

Derek sighs. He picks up the phone and stumbles over the buttons with his swollen fingers. The number he types isn’t right so he hands the phone to Cora and rattles off the number he wasn’t supposed to memorize.

Cora puts it on speakerphone and they all lean close as it rings four times.

When the answering machine service kicks on, Derek fumbles the phone back and accidentally hangs up when he just meant to take it off speakerphone.

Laura grabs it out of his hand and redials the number. She waits until the service picks up again before growling into the phone and then hanging up.

Derek covers his face. “Laura, how does that help?”

“It shows that I’m not screwing around,” Laura says, proudly.

Cora shakes her head. “All you did is call someone and leave growls in his voicemail. Derek’s right, that doesn’t help him at all. It just labels his number as a creep.”

Laura looks contrite.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she says, and he accepts the hug she gives him.

“Maybe we can try again later?”

He puts his phone back under his pillow and then joins his sister as they watch some reality TV show. It makes him drowsy, and he imagines Mieczysław’s lips on his, his fingers tripping down his front, over the swelling of his belly.

Laura clears her throat and points to his bedroom. Derek would be embarrassed, but he’s actually smelled her before when she’s been in love. She doesn’t smell any less weird than he probably does.

His phone, when he digs it out, has two missed calls and one voicemail.

The calls are from Mieczysław’s number.

Derek brings up his voicemail, and follows the prompts. When the message plays, Mieczysław’s angry voice barks in his ear, and his heart sinks. He fights back a sudden onslaught of tears.

Cora was right: Mieczysław does think he’s a creep because of Laura’s growl.

“If you contact me again, I will involve the authorities,” Mieczysław says on the phone and the message ends. Derek deletes it and the missed calls. He tears up the little slip of paper with the number and throws it and the phone against the wall.

His sisters slam open the door, and that is the final straw. He buries his head under his pillow and sobs. This, more than anything else, even when Mieczysław left him for the first time, makes Derek believe that Mieczysław doesn’t love him at all, that the impregnation was an accident more than an oversight.

“I don’t ever want to contact him again,” he tells Laura when she removes his pillow. “He hates me! He doesn’t want this child!” Laura soothes him, her hand firm in his hair. Her eyes are almost red, but she fights the color back, somehow knowing he needs his sister more than he needs his alpha.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “How can we make it better?”

Cora picks up the pieces of the phone and sets them on Derek’s desk. She pokes at them and sighs.

“Maybe it’s not what we can do to make it better,” she says, “but rather where we can go. Obviously, New York is upsetting Derek. We could move?”

“Where?” Laura demands.

“Beacon Hills,” Derek answers. “Back to our old house.” He hiccups a little, drying his face and sitting up. “We could remodel or rebuild or whatever. I could raise my baby on Hale land.”

“See?” Cora says, triumphant. “Better already.” Laura moves to put her hand on Derek’s stomach, but it’s too close to what he was thinking about earlier, and he shoves her hand away.

“Of course, we probably have to wait for my graduation ceremony before we can go,” Cora adds.

“Two months, Derek.” Laura places her hand on Derek’s stomach, and he lets her even though it still makes his skin crawl. “Can you do that for us, for your child?”

Derek lifts her hand so that he can rub his stomach unfettered. The ultrasound says the baby is moving. Sometimes, he thinks he can feel it, but then it turns out to be just gas. Two more months and outsiders (Laura and Cora) will be able to feel it move too. Two more months of being in the same city as Mieczysław. Two more months and then he’ll be free.

He sighs. “I should reach out to him again, let him know about the baby.” Laura nods, an alpha answer as much as a sister answer. “I’ll do it after I get my phone replaced.”

“Sound plan, little brother.” Laura hugs him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Cora pats his head, ruffling his hair. “Get some rest. We’ll be right here if you need us.”

The door closes behind them, and Derek turns over, burying his face back in his pillow. He’s still upset, feeling more than rejected, but the solution they’ve come up with gives him hope that he can move forward.

~ * ~

A week passes before Laura is able to take time off to go with Derek to the kiosk in the strip mall a few blocks from their apartment. Derek drags her down to the taco stand and gets the spiciest thing he can stomach. When Laura gives him a disgusted look, he shrugs and says, “Cravings.”

She smirks when a few minutes later, he starts complaining about heartburn.

Of course, since Laura is the account holder and has to be there, she forces Derek to pick the least advanced smart phone he can find.

“What am I going to do with this?” he asks her. “I don’t acrobat like Cora and I don’t work on my phone like you.”

“Acrobat?” Laura says. “Do you mean Tumblr?”

Derek remains silent while Laura doubles over laughing. When she doesn’t stop after ten minutes, he says, “I’m feeling a little queasy,” and leans over her. She quickly straightens and marches him to a unisex bathroom.

Then, she smacks his arm when she realizes he was pulling one over on her.

On the way home, they detour through a tiny park hardly large enough for the double swing set or the miniature twisty slide. They sit on the lone bench and Laura grabs his phone, entering Mieczysław’s number from memory.

When he answers, she hands the phone to Derek.

“Um, hi,” he says, softly.

“Hey,” the voice on the other end says. Derek frowns. It isn’t Mieczysław.

“I’m sorry, I think I have the wrong number,” Derek says. “I was trying to call Mieczysław Liszewski.”

“Oh, yeah,” the man says. “No, yeah, this is his phone. He’s just in the shower right now. Can I take a message?”

“Yes, please. Can you have him call me back at this number? I really need to discuss something with him.”

“Sure, sure. Ready whenever you are.”

Derek rattles off the new number Laura just got him.

“Got it. Any names to attach?”

“Derek.”

“Got it. Thanks, buddy. I’ll have St—uh, Meechie-slav give you a call later.”

The phones goes silent and Derek stares at it in confusion. At Laura’s questioning eyebrow, he shrugs. “He doesn’t know how to say my baby’s father’s name either.”

“Odd,” Laura agrees. “Well, ready to go home?”

Derek nods. So ready. All he wants to do is curl up in his bed and maybe eat another burrito.

Laura laughs when he tells her this, but when he’s under covers and ready to pretend to read over a manuscript because he still does need to work, she brings him one anyway.

“Thank you,” he says.

“What kind of alpha would I be if I didn’t provide for my pack members?” Laura smiles at him fondly before she reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Even if that Michael-slaw doesn’t come through for you, you’ve still got Cora and me. Remember that, okay?”

Derek bites into his burrito. “I will. I love you. Baby loves you too. Now leave me alone while I muddle through this French romance that is decidedly nonromantic.”

Laura laughs and kisses his forehead. She does a finger wave at him before closing his bedroom door.

Derek cradles his stomach, smiling down at it. “You’ll always have your aunts and me,” he tells his baby.

~ * ~

Mieczysław does indeed call Derek…one whole week later.

“Hey, so my buddy Scott said you needed to get a hold of me?”

“Yes, hi,” Derek says. He’s sitting at his desk, nervously tapping his fingers on the wood. The desk, his bed, and a box of clothing are the only things that are still in his room. He’s already packed, ready to go even though Cora won’t graduate for another month and a half. To be fair, they all are packed and Laura’s already shipped most of their belongings out there. She’s on a trip now making sure the house is set up and good to go, minus a few things that can’t be done until they’re in Beacon Hills.

“Um, I need to talk to you about—”

“Are you that asshole that kept calling me earlier?” Mieczysław breaks in, startling Derek badly.

“Uh,” he stutters.

“You are, aren’t you. Well, now I’ve got your number. I told you I would send the cops after you if you didn’t stop bothering me.”

“Please, don’t hang up on me,” Derek begs. “I need to tell you something!”

It’s too late. Mieczysław is gone, the line disconnected. Derek puts his head down and tries not to cry.

Cora finds him about an hour or so later.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Is baby okay? Are you okay?”

Derek tries to smile at her, but he’s just too tired. “I’m fine, baby’s fine. I called Mieczysław again today. He refused to listen to me again.”

Cora helps him to the bed and then sits and runs her fingers through his hair while he curls around his stomach. He can feel the baby kicking, as if reacting to the fact that her carrier is still upset. He rubs at a particularly hard kick.

“I have an idea,” she says and digs out her own phone. “Laura said you talked to one of Mickey’s friends. Did you get a name?”

“Scott. He called him Scott.”

“Got it.” Cora dials Mieczysław’s number with her phone. When he answers, she says, “Hello, yes, this is Cora. I’m trying to reach Scott?”

Through the phone’s speaker, voice tinny and more like the breathy moans Derek recalls, Mieczysław yells for his friend.

“Hi, yes, Scott, this is Cora, sister of Derek.”

Derek can hear Scott say hi before Cora passes the phone to him.

“So, Derek, what can I do for you?”

“I need to tell Mieczysław something important but he refuses to talk to me,” Derek says.

“Well, maybe you can tell me, and I can pass along the message?” Scott offers.

“It’s a bit disconcerting to hear. Can you ask him to sit down when you tell him?”

“Sure.” Scott sounds amused. “I can do that. What am I telling him?”

Derek draws in a deep breath and rubs his stomach for courage. “I’m pregnant and the baby is his.”

Scott remains silent.

Derek hurries to continue before Scott decides to hang up on him too, “Last Halloween, at Los Lobos, it’s a bar that caters to the supernaturally inclined, I met Mieczysław. We—” made love “—had sex and that is how I came to be with child.”

“But how are you ‘with child’?”

Derek sighs softly. “I am a born werewolf.”

“Oh no way, dude! I’m a bitten wolf!” Scott interrupts, and then immediately says, “Sorry, continue.”

“Sometimes, biology gets mixed up—” this is the explanation Derek’s mother gave him when he wanted to know why he had both Mommy and Daddy parts under his unisex tunic “—and then a wolf has two sets of working sex organs.”

“Meaning you can get pregnant,” Scott breathes.

“If the semen goes in the right hole.” Derek refuses to look at Cora—his whole face feels hot and Baby kicks him hard in response to the tightening in his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Scott sounds strangled, “I’m going to have to tell my best friend that he knocked some dude up. No offense, Derek.”

“Some taken,” Derek replies. “I’m not ‘some dude.’ Mieczysław actively participated. I thought we’d used condoms, but I guess not.”

Scott snorts. “Not if you’re pregnant. Gotta wonder, though, were either of you inebriated?”

“I don’t think so,” Derek says. “I don’t like imbibing, and I didn’t smell anything on Mieczysław. We danced for a bit before we—”

“No offense, Derek, but I really don’t want to hear about my best friend having sex. He’s like my brother! I’m sure you don’t want to hear about Cora’s sexual exploits.”

Derek thinks of Allison and wonders how that works, two women having sex. He knows good sex isn’t limited to putting things in holes.

Cora smacks his chest, and Derek hunches over the flare of pain in his tender breast. Cora looks apologetic and takes the phone back.

“Sorry about that, Scott, but Derek’s incapacitated right now. Oh, just you know, baby things. So anyway, how can we get Meek-ser to listen to my brother?”

“Mieczysław,” Derek says, a little bitterly. Cora waves him quiet, humming at whatever Scott is saying.

“Okay, will do. Thanks a bunch, Scott.” She hangs up her phone and sets it on Derek’s desk.

“Well?” Derek demands when she just sits there. “What did Scott say?”

“He suggested writing a letter. Apparently his friend really likes getting mail. Thinks it’s a dying art or something. He’s going to text me the address in a bit. He also said that Michael-so is moving soon, so he’ll get the updated address after that happens.”

“A letter?” Derek stares down at his hand. Letters are more personal than phone calls with less return. But, since Mieczysław hasn’t decided to allow Derek to speak with him, it’s going to have to be letters. Maybe Derek can include some sonograms and pictures. Ask for some in return.

Yeah, writing letters will be fun.

“Oh, Allison is moving too. She’s going back to her father’s local sport and gun shop out in, guess where, Beacon Hills! We’re going to get to keep having our relationship too!”

Derek hugs her, happy for her.

“Why are you crying in my hair?” Cora asks.

“Hormones,” Derek replies, sniffling loudly. “Now I want ice cream. We should call Laura and update her on things.”

“You do it; I’m off on a mission as your temporary alpha.”

Cora scoots off the bed and grabs her phone on her way out.

“Strawberry swirl, please?” Derek calls after her, already dialing Laura. He wipes away the drying tears and sighs. Things are going well, he thinks.

~ * ~

The first letter is written and hidden under his bed by the time Laura comes back from California. The next step is helping Cora study for her finals while she and Allison work through rooming issues at their chosen university.

Cora tells Laura all about the letters Derek is going to send because My-coleslaw is being a stubborn butthead. Derek would be mad, but Laura buys him a book of stamps and fancy stationary to write on. Cora uses some of her graduation money to buy him a quill set.

“What’s wrong with ballpoint pens?” Derek wonders, practicing his cursive with large, swooping lines. He signs his name a dozen times and then starts outlining a novel idea he’s had for a few years now. When he goes on leave to care for the baby, he plans on writing as much as he can. Since the baby will be born in early August, Cora and Allison should be around to help babysit for a short while.

“Nothing’s wrong with them,” Laura says through a mouthful of Mu Shu Pork. She swallows before adding, “They’re just very, y’know, lowbrow.”

“As opposed to what?” Derek raises an eyebrow. “How is this not hipstish?”

“What?” Laura asks while Cora falls over laughing.

“He means hipster-ish,” Cora clarifies when she can breathe again. Allison, curled in the armchair—the only piece of furniture aside from the couch left in their apartment—waves a hand at Derek.

“I think I agree with Derek on this one,” she says. “Really, Cora, a quill? What, is he trying out for Hogwarts?”

“I never got my letter,” Derek mutters, jokingly. He grabs a container of fried rice and stabs at both Laura and Cora when they try to wrestle it from him. Graciously, he scoops some into Allison’s bowl when she puppy-eyes him.

“The ink doesn’t dry fast enough for my liking,” he admits. “Maybe I can draft the letters and then re-write them?”

“Whatever works,” Cora says. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to kicking your butts at Rummy.”

~ * ~

Of course, Derek would still be pregnant during the heat wave that strikes during May. Somehow, miraculously, he’d forgotten. Cora’s outdoor graduation has a heat index of 105ºF and Derek swelters in the thinnest tank top and button-up shirt he could find that still fits over his almost-eight-month swell.

Cora is wearing shorts and a crop top under her gown and she still looks like she wants to kill the sun. Laura has a ridiculous sunhat that Derek is honestly thinking about stealing because it feels like his head is about to combust off his body.

“Water?” he asks Laura and she digs into the cooler by her feet to hand him a reusable bottle. He uncaps it and liberally pours it into his mouth and over his head. Laura smirks at him and raises the camera.

Immediately after the ceremony, Cora drapes an arm over Derek’s shoulder and gulps down water, some of which drips onto his still-wet hair. He sighs in pleasure at the relief it brings.

“I left my forwarding address with the school,” Cora says when she finally stops chugging. “All we gotta do is pack the last of it and go.”

“One more night in our apartment,” Laura says, almost wistfully. “At least Derek can still work on the road with his intellectually stimulating magical theory book.”

“The next Harry Potter,” Cora adds. “Why can’t I read it too? Please? I’ll be so fucking bored on the trip.”

“You’ll be sleeping so you can take over driving when Laura needs to sleep,” Derek says. “Considering that I have to be awake at least most of the time—” Baby likes tap dancing on Derek’s bladder and kicking his kidneys which makes it difficult to sleep “—I think you’d be glad you get to drive.”

“Whatever,” Cora scoffs. “You’re still naming her after me, right?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not naming her—it—after anyone.”

Before they leave, they stop to say goodbye to Allison—at least for a couple of weeks. She will fly out later to meet with them before school starts up again in the fall.

Her father eyes them coolly before stiffly shaking hands with all of them and congratulating Cora.

“Come now,” he says gruffly to Allison. “Your mom will want to go out to celebrate.” Allison makes a face.

“I’d rather celebrate with my girlfriend,” she tells him honestly. “Why can’t I go with the Hales now?”

Chris frowns. “You know why.” He leans in to kiss her forehead, and Derek notes the sour-sad tinge to his usual woody scent. Lowly, he murmurs, “If it were up to me, you’d go with them in a heartbeat.”

Chris is a reformed hunter. His wife Victoria is not.

Allison is in the middle—or rather, she was before she had a decided side-change when Cora kissed her at Prom last year.

Derek still feels nervous around Chris, but Laura trusts him, so he pretends he does too.

“It’s too hot to keep Derek out in the sun any longer,” Chris says. “Let’s go, Allison. You can see Cora again tomorrow before they leave.”

“I wanted to have sex again,” Allison says as she and her father walk away.

Cora turns bright red in embarrassment. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she says to Laura.

“Hey, you’re almost eighteen.” Cora won’t be eighteen until September. “Anyway, I already knew you were sexing it up. Just because you can’t end up pregnant like Derek, it doesn’t mean I can’t still smell when you’re aroused or wearing your girlfriend’s clothing after spending the night with her.”

“Please stop talking,” Cora begs. “I will pay you to stop talking.”

“Will you buy tacos?” Derek asks. “I think I want tacos.”

Cora stares at him, incredulous. “You always want tacos. I think that’s your pregnancy craving.”

“Could be worse,” Derek says. “Could be fried pickles and cheese. And not the good kind, that plastic stuff inside the wrappers. Or in the can.”

Cora turns to Laura. “I feel like tacos, tacos are good. Let’s go get tacos.”

Laura laughs and makes Cora carry the cooler.

~ * ~

Allison and Cora kiss for a long time while Derek scribbles notes onto the back of the manuscript he’s working on. Laura waits patiently—for an alpha, and for Laura—before she presses the horn.

The girls jump apart and Cora hurries to the truck, throwing her bag into the back with Derek and buckling into the passenger seat.

“Gimme,” she says, snatching the pages from him.

“Hey!” he grabs them back and slides behind Laura’s seat so that she can’t take them again.

“Leave him alone,” Laura orders. “I brought you a bunch of trashy romance novels. Maybe you and Derek can discuss their finer points while I drive us to our destination.”

“Maybe,” Cora says doubtfully, holding one up so Derek can see the cover, a shirtless, muscular man embracing a fainting woman.

“No thank you,” Derek says, scratching a line through a block of text that vaguely resembles the cover. He rewrites it to better reflect a more equal scene, and then, because his hand is cramping and they’re finally out of the city, he lets Cora read over it.

“Not bad,” she says when she hands it back. “But, why does your character have an unpronounceable name? That seems a little on target, don’t you think?”

“Fine, what would you suggest?”

“I don’t know, something normal, like George or Evan or something normal.”

“You are the last person to lecture me about normal,” he says, because he can, and predictably, Cora stretches out of her seat and thumps him soundly on the head.

“Screw you, Allison and I are normal. You’re the odd one out.”

Derek grins at her, but he falls quiet, wondering. He doesn’t tend to gravitate toward relationships but he really thinks he could have something with Mieczysław even if it is just for the sake of their child.

“Maybe you’re right,” he says quietly. “Maybe I am not normal.” He puts his hand on his stomach. “Maybe that’s why her father doesn’t want anything to do with her.”

“No, hey, you can’t think that way,” Laura says at the same time Cora squeals, “Her?!”

Laura immediately pulls over and unbuckles her seatbelt. Derek cringes. Of course they’d latch onto that little detail.

Laura kneels in her seat so that she can look at him. “I thought you were waiting to reveal the sex,” she says.

Derek shrugs. “It wasn’t like you wouldn’t be able to hear her heartbeat soon anyway.” He hasn’t let them put their heads on his stomach because he doesn’t like the extra heat, but Laura’s already been able to pick up the baby’s heartbeat, which is discernible a few feet from Derek.

He pulls out his travel box, with his laptop and a charging cable, pens and pencils, the quill and stationary, and tucked in the front pocket, the most recent ultrasound. He passes it to Laura first, because she’s alpha.

“Right there,” he taps the picture, “that means it’s a little girl.”

“Have you thought about names yet?” Cora asks when it’s her turn to hold the ultrasound.

Derek sighs. “I know I said I wasn’t naming her after anyone, but I thought the name Emily would fit.”

“After our aunt,” Laura says, wiping away a tear. Aunt Emily died the same night as their parents, the lone human adult and the only one unaffected by the wolfsbane used to incapacitate the rest of their family. She had managed to break the ash barrier laid by a rogue group of hunters but had been killed when the hunters had discovered her. All the children made it out but the adults hadn’t. It’s been ten years. It’s time to go home.

“Emily is perfect,” Cora says. She passes the ultrasound back to Derek and he puts it away. Laura buckles again and pulls back onto the highway. Cora glances back at Derek and smiles, watery. “Keep your unpronounceable name. It suits the character.”

~ * ~

Derek dozes most of the way to Beacon Hills, about a three-day journey for werewolves driving a truck, and when he isn’t sleeping or begging for a bathroom break or eating more spicy food, he writes. By the time they pull up to the seedy motel at which Laura booked a week’s stay, he has the first hundred pages of his story done. Plus, he finished the translations he was working on before he officially goes on leave and most of Laura’s stupid romance novels. If he reads about one more ‘heaving bosom’ he might just chuck the whole crate of them out of the truck.

“I have a meeting with the Beacon County Sheriff’s department tomorrow,” Laura tells them as they drag in pillows and blankets and some bare necessities. “There’s a supernatural clinic out toward the preserve that can help with your birth, especially since it’s your first one. Cora, I want you to stay with Derek at all times until we can establish that Beacon Hills isn’t the same way as we left it.”

“And how was that?” Cora whispers to Derek.

“Full of hunters protesting the fact that the Sheriff was arresting everyone who had something to do with the murders of our family,” he whispers back.

“It’s been ten years, but grudges don’t fade. I want both of you to be very careful. If you find yourself in a situation where you feel unsafe, call for me and I’ll be there. For now, though, we all need to rest. Good night.”

“Dibs on shower!” Cora calls, grabbing her pajamas and sliding into the bathroom uncontested. Derek crawls onto the bed furthest from the door. Normally, as Laura’s second, he would take the bed closest to danger, but Emily excuses him.

“Can I listen for a moment?” Laura asks, and Derek nods, making room for her. She lays her head on his raised abdomen, gripping his hand loosely while she sings her niece a lullaby. Derek recognizes it as one Mom used to sing to him when he had bad dreams.

“I miss them,” he says softly, running his hand over Laura’s head.

“I do too,” she says. After a quiet moment, she adds, “They would be so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“I think they’d be proud of all of us,” Derek says. “Cora graduated a whole year early. You’ve been a good alpha to us for ten years, and I’m successful at my job.”

“And you’re making the first grandbaby.”

Derek laughs softly. “Would they have approved of how I got knocked up, though? Just a simple one night stand.”

“I wouldn’t call what you’ve gone through ‘simple,’” Laura says, sitting up. “Derek, I know Meechum hasn’t responded to any communication that you’ve sent, but just because he doesn’t want to be in his child’s life, it doesn’t mean she won’t be loved. And besides, aren’t you excited to meet Scott? He runs the supernatural-friendly clinic you’ll be visiting tomorrow.”

“That sounds more promising than anything,” Derek says. And Scott knows Mieczysław. He can finagle a meeting between them. It’ll be harder for Mieczysław to ignore Derek when they’re face to face.

Laura goes back to singing to Emily, even after Cora comes out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head while she brushes her teeth. Derek yawns, letting himself drift off, feeling peaceful in spite of how it hurts to be back in Beacon Hills after so long.

~ * ~

Cora wakes Derek up by throwing open the curtains and yelling, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

“Just for that, you can buy breakfast,” he says. “I feel like hot sauce omelets.”

Cora grouses, muttering about always eating spicy things while Derek hauls himself upright and lumbers to the bathroom where he multitasks and brushes his teeth in the shower.

When he comes out, wearing only the strained button-up over his girth, Cora has a backpack packed full of essentials, like her tablet and Derek’s medical history.

“Let’s go get heartburn,” she says, like a battle cry and charges out into the sunshine. Derek moves slower, taking time to close the curtains again and make sure the things they brought in last night are out in the truck. Laura must have walked to the Sheriff’s Station since it’s still here and they didn’t have time last night to rent another vehicle.

“You’ll have to drive,” Derek says, once he’s locked the motel door and climbed into the passenger seat. Cora shrugs.

“Oh, also, Allison texted me last night. She and her dad are flying out tomorrow. Apparently her parents are getting a divorce. She’ll explain more when she gets here.”

“Is that a good thing?” Derek asks. He remembers the one time he met Victoria, shortly after they moved to New York and Cora and Allison were assigned to work together for a project. Derek, just turned sixteen, had been tasked with retrieving his sister after her homework date. Victoria had scared him, cornered him in the front hall of the Argents’ brownstone, and threatened him with a knife dipped in wolfsbane. Chris had caught her and gotten Cora and Derek out of the house safely.

Because of that, Laura trusts Chris more than she probably should. Derek just wonders why it took Chris nine years after that incident to decide to divorce his wife.

“I think so,” Cora says. “I hope so. Allison seems happy at least. She was so excited.”

Derek nods, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He hopes Laura won’t offer to share a house with the Argents. Reformed hunters are still hunters to Derek.

The tires hum pleasantly on the pavement all the way to clinic, but the closer they get, the more nervous Derek feels.

He clutches the straps of the backpack tightly, afraid that if he lets go, something bad will happen. “We’re meeting with Scott, right?” he asks as Cora pulls into a parking spot just left of the door.

“That’s what Laura said last night, isn’t it?”

Of course Cora could hear them over the running water of her shower. Derek doesn’t know why he’s surprised by that.

Cora helps him out of the truck and doesn’t let go of his arm all the way up to the door.

Inside, a man with a wide grin and long, dark hair pulled back into a bun on the top of his head greets them.

“Welcome,” he says warmly, and Derek sags in relief. This is Scott.

“Hello,” Cora says. “I’m Cora and this is Derek.”

Scott’s eyes widen and he sniffs pointedly. “Welcome,” he says again and it sounds impossibly warmer. “Shall we?” He leads them into the back and then detours into a replica of a doctor’s office. Derek needs both their help to get on the examination bed. He would be embarrassed but he’s nearly eight months pregnant. He’s allowed to waddle places and be unable to climb onto ridiculously tall beds without the help of a boost or two.

Scott goes through a thorough checklist before he even wheels in an ultrasound machine. This is the first time one of his sisters has been in the room with him, and Derek blinks back sudden tears. He grabs Cora’s hand and holds on tight while Scott spreads the gel and starts moving the wand over the swell of his belly.

“There’s the little one,” Scott says happily, as the magnified sound of the baby’s heartbeat fills the room. Cora looks a little misty herself.

“There she is,” Derek says softly, in awe.

“Yep, there she is. She’s looking healthy and active. Did you want a picture today?” Scott grabs a soft towel and wipes off Derek’s belly. Then he pushes a little button on the side of the machine and hands Derek the developing picture. “Emily,” Derek says, sighing a little. He thinks he could almost count her fingers and toes if she wasn’t so active. Even in the still frame, he can see a bit of blur around her limbs.

Cora leans over his shoulder, staring down in awe at the tiny person living inside Derek’s womb. “I want one,” she says, wistfully.

Derek laughs. “You’re seventeen,” he reminds her. “Even if you want one now, wait until she’s here to see if you really want one then.”

Cora socks him lightly on the arm. “Just for that, I’m going to spoil her rotten.”

“If we’re all done?” Scott interrupts. He looks amused. “Now, have you given thought to how you want to deliver your baby?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. He’s done nothing of the sort. He always thought he’d give birth through the usual means, vaginal, like his mom.

Scott nods. “So, we’ll try for a vaginal birth—which means I have to examine you sometime soon. Can you have your doctor fax over your records?” He holds out a business card.

“Sure.” Derek puts the card in his wallet, then he reaches for Cora and she helps him off the bed. Scott eyes him with concern.

“You appear to be about eight months along.”

“I am.”

“Do you know your due date?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

Cora rolls her eyes. “He’s due the first week of August. A full ten months since he last had sex.”

Derek growls at her. “Just remember, until your birthday, you can’t have sex with Allison. Especially since she’s already eighteen and you’re still seventeen.” Cora punches his arm hard.

“Hey now!” Scott scolds. “Derek, no picking at your sister, and Cora, no hitting your brother.” He flashes his eyes at them and they both bow submissively. Scott’s an alpha, apparently.

“Okay. Derek, I’ll see you in two weeks. Tell your sister I said hi.”

He hands Derek a lollipop shaped like a cat’s head and sends them on their way.

Safely tucked back in the truck, Cora steals Derek’s sucker—not that he was actually going to eat the defenseless animal—and heads back to the motel. They detour for their omelets, and despite the fact that he knows he’ll pay for it later, Derek empties an entire bottle of Tabasco sauce onto his plate.

Laura is back from the Sheriff’s Station and she appears pleased (and sated, but Derek choses to ignore the stench of fading arousal).

“Wonderful news, oh siblings of mine,” she chirps.

Cora crunches through the remainder of the sucker. “You got laid?” she guesses. Laura colors slightly.

“Well, yes, but also, I got the job! Apparently I impressed my new partner so much that he threatened to disown the Sheriff if he didn’t hire me.”

“That sounds unprofessional.” Derek frowns at her.

Laura waves a hand. “My new partner is the son of the Sheriff. Don’t worry,” she says to Derek’s deepening frown, “it wasn’t nepotism.”

“Still,” Derek says. “You impressed him so much that he wants to disown his own father? And who exactly did you sleep with? Not your new partner?”

Laura punches his arm, and Derek scowls. He’s had it with being hit. He has a bruise that isn’t healing because all Cora and Laura do is smack him.

“No, you asshole. It was the baker on the corner.”

“What corner? The one with the prostitutes? Or the one with the cops?” Cora ducks behind Derek when Laura jumps at her.

“Hey!” Derek shouts when Laura’s claws swipe a little too close for comfort. “Knock it off!” Then, when they don’t settle down, he grabs his manuscripts, a notebook, three pens, a random muffin box, and the keys for the truck. He settles in the back seat with the windows cracked enough for a breeze, the muffin box open next to him, and starts scribbling more of his novel.

He ignores when first Cora and then Laura come to apologize or entice him from the vehicle. Finally, hours later, when he’s eaten all the muffins and completed at least three chapters, he unlocks the doors and heads into the motel. Cora is asleep, and Laura is on the phone.

Derek waits patiently while she finishes. It sounds like she’s got their home ready to move into tomorrow. So they won’t have to stay here too much longer. Good.

As soon as she hangs up, Derek tosses her the keys. “I want burritos,” he says. “And ice cream.”

“Sure,” she says. “There’s a restaurant Mom and Dad used to take us to. Wanna go there?”

It shouldn’t hurt, this reminder of their parents, but Derek feels the twinge in his heart. Cora, perhaps smelling the sudden sadness rolling off him, sits up and flashes a worried glance at them.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re trying to pick a place to eat. Derek is in the mood for burritos.”

“Again? Can’t Emily give it a rest yet?”

Derek cups his hands over his belly, hurt again. Cora smells guilty but doesn’t apologize nor does Derek expect her to.

Inexplicably, he wants to cry, wants to go to his childhood home and have his mother hug him and kiss it better. His sisters are great and he’s thankful that he still has them, but sometimes he wishes he could spend an hour with his parents again.

Instead, he’s stuck here in this moment where he doesn’t feel right or ready or anything resembling the loving brother he knows he should be.

“The house is ready, right? There is no reason we have to stay here.”

“Yeah,” Laura says. “But, what’s one more night here?”

“This place stinks of other people and I don’t care if the house smells like other people too; it can’t be this bad.”

“Fine. You want to move into the house? Go ahead, take the truck.”

Cora climbs off the bed. “I want to go too. I know, you think it makes us stronger when we spend time submersed in other people’s lives, but I think we all need our own place.” She wraps an arm around Derek’s waist, her hand stroking the underside of his belly. He grips her hand because it tickles too much and makes him want to pee. He realizes though that this is her apology, so he settles her hand on the top of the swell, and Emily obliges by kicking her palm.

“Burritos sound awesome, actually,” she says.

Derek shakes his head. “I don’t really want to deal with the heartburn. What do you want?” Cora is too young to remember the restaurant their parents always took them to, so she won’t have the memories that are ingrained in the wood of the booths, in the cheap art printed over the walls, the ambient lighting hiding the dried spills and scuffed carpet.

He sneezes recalling the scent of the peppers used to cover the stench of too many unwashed bodies and the reek of the restrooms.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea to go back there again,” he suggests to Laura. She nods.

“How do you feel about Italian?” Cora asks.

Emily beats a tattoo against Cora’s hand while Derek thinks about it. Fettuccine with a side of broccoli and chicken.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

~ * ~

The house stands at the end of a dirt lane all by itself. The nearest neighbor is a young couple who waved from their front porch, the woman’s belly big enough to rival Derek’s. Cora whistles sharply. Derek forgets that Cora was young and probably didn’t remember as much of their old house. To him, this is decent, not too large, not too small. Laura even had someone install a set of swings and slide on the side of the house. There’s a garden too. Derek hurries as fast as he can to where he can see Canterbury Bells and lavender stalks. Nestled amongst the greenery and bright spots of color is a metal bench. He sinks onto it gratefully, rubbing at Emily.

Cora joins him, her hand over top of his.

“It’s nice here,” she says.

Derek nods in agreement. “Dad used to have a garden like this,” he tells her, pointing out the different flowers. “We’ll plant hyacinths to edge the yard.” He nods at the playsets. “They mostly symbolize playfulness.”

“Like wolves,” Cora says. “Is Emily a wolf?”

Derek shrugs. “We won’t know until she comes out. Right now, her scent is overpowered by mine.”

Cora shifts her hand and leans down, ear against Derek’s stomach. “I can hear her moving,” she says.

Derek opens his mouth to respond to her and clamps it shut when a wave of something breaks over him. He clutches at his stomach and groans lightly. It’s more of a twinge than outright pain, but the promise is there. Cora rubs her hand over him, and it helps.

“You’re in pain,” she accuses, and he stares at the black veins standing out on her hand.

“I am,” he says. “Why?”

“Well, is it time?”

Derek shrugs. This is his first child. How is he supposed to know if he’s never done this before? “Maybe? Do you think we should go back to Scott?”

When he curls on himself and breathes through the pain despite Cora taking some of it, she nods. “I’m calling Laura too.”

Derek doesn’t argue.

~ * ~

Laura practically flies into Scott’s examination room, and in his slightly hysterical state, Derek starts laughing at her.

He’s on an IV for fluids because Scott is worried about his saturation, and Cora has a hand on his wrist, pulling pain nearly constantly even though he told her she doesn’t need to do that.

Otherwise, his labor is progressing normally, according to Scott, who also thinks that the shorter gestational period of wolves is a factor in his early birth.

It isn’t until they pass the eighteen hour mark that Derek starts complaining. His back hurts, he has to pee again, Scott keeps telling him to push and breathe, and Cora isn’t fast enough with the ice chips, and Laura won’t stop pacing. Laura and Cora take his vitriol well, Laura offering to find Meechum’s number so she can threaten to castrate him.

Derek shakes his head and pushes one last time. If he can’t get Emily out, then Scott will have to perform a C-section. No one wants that since anesthesia won’t work.

“Keep going,” Scott encourages him once, and then he says, “Here she comes.” Scott lets Laura cut the cord while Cora holds Emily.

The baby is beautiful with Derek’s large eyes and his pouting mouth. The nose, though, is all Mieczysław.

Her lungs are all Cora and Laura though when she decides she’s had enough being passed around and cooed at. Derek tucks her in close, letting her find his nipple and suck. Scott gives him a receiving blanket and a little cap and pacifier and then excuses himself while they bond with their newest pack member.

Looking at his daughter, Derek knows they’ll be all right. She’s a wolf like him. Her only feature from her other father is her nose. Derek had plenty of cousins with that nose. He can play it off as a family trait.

Emily nurses a lot, and Derek works on his novel, using voice recognition as he holds his daughter.

They move into the house before she’s a day old, and during the ensuing months of settling in, Derek edits his novel into something a little more coherent and without the exclamations of pain as his daughter uses her surprisingly hard gums to bite him.

Life goes on.

~ * ~

Laura invites Derek and Cora to the annual Sheriff’s Department 4th of July barbecue cookout at her boss’s house.

Allison tags along. She and Cora are rooming together college, but now that they’re on break, Allison has moved in with them. Derek likes her more than he ever thought he’d like an Argent. She’s quiet, and she likes watching Emily when he needs a break.

Plus, she’s great at making pancakes. None of the Hales have the patience not to undercook their pancakes.

Derek’s novel is with an editor, Emily is starting to walk, and Allison showed Derek the ring she picked out a week into dating his sister.

“We’re bringing the cake,” Allison tells him when he manages to make it downstairs the morning of the barbecue. Emily is already in her high chair being fed mashed bananas by Cora. Allison and Laura are frosting the big sheet cake they made last night.

Derek nods at them. “Anything else we should know?” he asks his sister. “Like, does your boss know that we’re werewolves?”

Beacon Hills doesn’t have as large of a supernatural population as New York did mostly because it’s smaller than New York. They have a higher percentage though.

Laura nods. “He made me show him my shift when I first started.”

“That’s why you work in cold cases,” Cora says. “Because of your heightened sense of smell.”

“Exactly. And it helps that my partner isn’t too shabby in the intelligence department.”

“Yes, the fabled Stiles.” Cora pretends to swoon. Emily growls at her until she feeds her another bite. “Do we get to meet your partner finally?”

“Words, Emily,” Derek reminds his daughter, taking over feeding her. She chirps happily at him and then bites the spoon when he gives her the next mouthful.

“You can meet Stiles,” Laura says. “I never stopped you before. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t met him before now.”

“Done!” Allison throws her icing bag into the sink and starts washing her hands. “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. I might need some help.” She winks exaggeratedly at Cora, who shoves her chair back and leaps to her feet.

“Bye!”

Derek shakes his head while Laura wrinkles her nose.

“Young love,” she says wistfully.

Derek waits until the water starts before he asks, “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?” The baker from their first week in town is a long-gone memory.

Laura shrugs. “Maybe, but I know he doesn’t see me the same way.”

“It’s not Stiles, is it?”

Laura shrugs again, which is telling. Derek sighs and sets aside the bowl of banana. He lifts Emily up and rests her against his hip.

“How do you know that he isn’t interested in you?”

“Maybe because he never calls me anything but my last name. Maybe because I invite him out for drinks and he always begs off. Maybe because I never actually see him outside of work. I don’t know, Derek. Maybe he just isn’t interested.”

Derek bites back any response to that he has. It’s obvious Laura doesn’t want his opinion or advice. She’s dealing and that’s all she needs to do. He lets it go.

“I’m going to clean Emily up a bit before we head out. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I’ve got it under control.”

Derek leaves her smoothing the edges of the cake.

~ * ~

Cora and Allison carry the cake to the picnic table serving as a buffet line while Laura heads off to bump shoulders with her coworkers and Derek works at undoing Emily’s straps. She sits patiently for him, patting at his cheek when he swoops in to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

He settles her onto his hip and hefts her diaper bag, squaring his shoulders as he turns to face down the lawn full of deputies.

He makes it all the way through the gate without being accosted.

Derek finds a seat and drops the bag down to claim it. Emily wriggles until he sets her down and she toddles a step before dropping to her knees and scrambling away. He keeps an eye, ear, and nose out for her as he makes his way to where Laura is talking to her boss, the Sheriff.

“Derek,” the Sheriff says, clapping him on the shoulder, “how are you, son?”

“I’m fine,” Derek says. “It’s nice to see you again.”

The Sheriff laughs. “When I’m not giving you a ticket for speeding, you mean,” he corrects. “Where’s that rambunctious gal of yours?”

“Over by the sandbox,” Derek says, pointing out Emily, already surrounded by the other kids of the deputies.

“Adorable,” the Sheriff says before he goes back to his conversation with Laura.

Derek wanders aimlessly, dodging friendly greetings and touches with practiced ease. About an hour in, Emily needs a new diaper, and Derek seeks the Sheriff’s permission to go inside.

As he heads up the porch steps, he freezes.

There, standing in the doorway, carrying a tub of potato salad as large as his head is Mieczysław. Derek can feel his mouth opening, and he shuts it hard enough to click his teeth. at his hip, Emily hiccoughs, and the man Derek has spent the better part of a year wondering about even as he told himself he didn’t owe him anything looks at them, eyes widening in what Derek can see is attraction until he takes in Emily’s diaper bag and his eyes dull considerably.

Derek doesn’t need this. He doesn’t deserve this. Emily doesn’t deserve this. He moves forward, brushing past and murmuring, “Excuse me,” as he goes. He does not cry. He doesn’t. He finds the bathroom and uses the wide counter to lay out the change pad. Emily reaches up as if to brush the liquid from his face, but he is not crying. He isn’t.

Once done, he warps the diaper into a plastic bag and throws it away. He washes his hands, washes Emily’s hands, and buttons up her little romper, already dirty with grass and dirt stains.

He neatly packs his supplies away, splashes water on his face, and picks up his daughter and the bag, heading back outside. He makes it all the way to the car before Laura catches him.

She draws him into a long hug. Behind her, Mieczysław stands, watching with interest.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asks. She doesn’t inquire about Emily, because it’s obvious it is Derek who’s upset. Emily is just fine, fingers in her mouth as she babbles.

“I can’t,” Derek says around the lump in his throat. He risks a glance at Mieczysław, and Laura follows it. She looks back at Emily, at her nose, and then back to Mieczysław. Her eyes narrow. She’s putting the pieces together, he knows. It’s a relief when she whirls away from him and marches up to Mieczysław instead.

“What the hell, Stiles!” she growls.

Stiles is Mieczysław? Stiles is Laura’s partner. Mieczysław is Laura’s partner. Derek didn’t move away from him; he moved right to him. The fact that it’s been nearly a year means nothing.

Mieczysław does a full-body twitch. “What?” he demands, nasally. Derek doesn’t remember his voice sounding like that.

Laura looks like she’s about to shift. Derek rumbles in his throat, pulling her attention back to him.

“Emily,” is all he says. She subsides, and lets him position himself between her and Mieczysław.

Derek clears his throat. He sticks out his hand, and Mieczysław stares at it wide-eyed. “Hi,” Derek says. “I’m Laura’s brother, Derek.”

“Yeah,” Mieczysław says. “She talks about you often.” He stares past Derek’s head at where Laura is leaning into the car to speak to her niece, distracting herself because Emily sure as hell doesn’t care about shoes right now.

“Can we talk?” Derek asks. He winces at the bluntness. All those letters he sent even after he promised himself he wouldn’t. Scott had been a great help, agreeing to make sure Mieczysław actually received the letters. The only thing Derek had included were updates on their daughter. Looking at Mieczysław now, he shouldn’t have bothered. Anyone who fathers a child and then turns their nose up at the child shouldn’t have the privilege of knowing the child.

Mieczysław pauses before nodding. “Inside?” He jerks his head at the house. Derek shakes his head. Right here is fine. That way Mieczysław can go back to the barbecue and Derek can go home when they’re done.

“You were in New York,” he starts. Mieczysław snorts.

“Not for a while.”

“No, I know. But, do you remember Los Lobos?”

“The bar that caters to the supernaturally inclined? Yeah. I only went there a couple of times. Why?” Mieczysław’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he looks at Laura and Emily again. “You trying to tell me something, Derek, brother of Laura?”

His voice is cold, so different from when he was whispering endearments and forevers in Derek’s ear. More like how he was on the phone.

Derek says, “I just wanted to let you know about your daughter. I’m not asking you to be in her life or to give us anything. I just wanted you to know about her.”

“I had sex with you?” The disbelief hurts.

“Yes,” Derek says, defensive. “You did. And I got pregnant.”

“What, are you an omega?”

“No,” Derek snorts, unamused. “I’m a born werewolf. Sometimes we come out with both sets of equipment. It’s rare, but not unheard of.”

“And you can get pregnant?” Mieczysław looks ill. Derek is glad he wasn’t there for the birth, the long labor, or for Scott pushing on Derek’s stomach to help expel the afterbirth.

“If you manage to get semen in the right passageway.” Derek shrugs. This is 9th grade sex ed.

“And that’s my daughter?” Mieczysław cranes his neck to look at Emily again. Instinctively, Derek steps between them again.

“I wrote you dozen of letters,” he says softly. Mieczysław turns back to him. “I mailed them to the address we got from Scott. He felt bad about you yelling at me.”

“I never yelled at you,” Mieczysław snaps. “I kept getting calls from a blocked number. I yelled at that asshole.”

Derek nods, waits. Mieczysław’s eyes go wide. “You?” he says. Derek nods again.

“Cora called the number from her phone and Scott answered. We were able to explain to him why we wanted to reach you. We all agreed that you did not remember me, and Scott gave me your address so I could write to you instead of calling you again.”

“I never got those letters,” Mieczysław says.

“Bullshit, Stiles,” someone says. All eyes go to where Scott stands behind Mieczysław. “I watched you shred each and every letter as you got them. I was able to salvage some of the pieces, but,” he shrugs, “a majority of whatever Derek sent you is gone.”

Mieczysław wavers on his feet. “I got you pregnant, you had my daughter, and somehow you managed to never tell me?”

It’s too late to be acting like a victim, Derek thinks bitterly, for BOTH of them. The only victim now is Emily, and the immediate curtailing of attraction is telling. Derek refuses to let Mieczysław hurt her.

He bristles. “I reached out dozens of times only for you to shut me down at every turn. I am fine with being a single parent—that’s not why I wanted to tell you.” Derek softens his gaze. It may have been one night almost two years ago, but there is a part of him that still wants to love Mieczysław in spite of his actions. “I wanted you to know so that you could choose whether you wanted to be part of her life or not.”

“Obviously,” Scott says, not kindly, “you did not. I even told you why this ‘stranger’ was reaching out to you and you still chose to ignore him.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Mieczysław says. “I mean, look at him. If I’d told you I’d bagged something that hot, would you have believed me?”

“Excuse me?” Derek says faintly. “‘Bagged’?” Laura growls behind him, but he’s feeling too stunned to do anything about it. He’d thought it was love, pheromones at the least. Instead, Mieczysław only slept with him because he was hot?

“And you’re here to, what, entrap me with a child?” Mieczysław shakes his head. “Why are all the hot ones crazy?” he asks Scott.

Scott winds up and punches him in the mouth.

If he hadn’t, Laura would have, Derek realizes belatedly, his wolfed-out sister standing over Mieczysław’s prone body.

“I’m going to find Cora and Allison and then we’re leaving,” Laura says. “Get in the car and keep Emily calm.”

Derek climbs into the back with his daughter. He feels dazed and stunned, like Scott punched him instead of Mieczysław. Emily picks up on his distress and starts babbling, edging into crying. Alpha order, he recalls numbly. Keep the baby calm.

He finds her rattle-keys and shakes them for her. When that fails, he starts singing softly. That only makes her cry harder.

He begins crying himself, overwhelmed and rejected again.

Allison climbs behind the wheel while Cora takes the front passenger seat and Laura squishes in next to Derek.

“Are we staying in Beacon Hills?” Cora asks softly when they’re almost home.

“That depends on if the Sheriff is going to keep me on considering I was about to murder his son.”

No one says anything else, and immediately after they disembark, Derek takes Emily and hides in their rooms.

He can hear Laura pacing downstairs while Cora makes an excuse and she and Allison head out.

A few hours later, Laura leaves too.

Emily is asleep, and Derek is playing Minesweeper on his phone when he hears a strange vehicle pull into the lane.

A low-level hum of danger, danger starts in his chest, and he fumbles a text to Laura. Then, he goes downstairs and stands on the front steps staring down the blue Jeep sitting in the driveway.

Mieczysław opens the driver’s door and steps down. Scott climbs out from the passenger side.

“Go on,” Scott says, sharply. “Say it.”

Mieczysław scuffs his shoe before mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

“Again,” Scott says. “Louder. Clearer.”

“I’m sorry,” Mieczysław repeats. “For those things I said to you. For looking at your daughter like she was a mistake. For disrespecting you and your family.”

He rubs at the bruise on his mouth, wincing as he cracks open a clot. “I’m sorry that I was such a shitty person to you.”

Derek looks at Scott, who shrugs, and then back at Mieczysław. “I don’t accept your apology,” he says. “I made my peace long ago. My daughter is too young to accept your apology. I don’t know about my sisters.” He closes his eyes to fight back the tears he knows are coming.

“I only wanted to do the right thing,” he says softly. “I accepted that you were not receptive of me. And then I ran into you again and you looked at me like nothing had changed, like you still wanted me.”

“I do,” Mieczysław says.

Derek shakes his head. “You might have until you noticed Emily.”

“Emily? Our—your daughter?”

“She doesn’t deserve to be subjected to disinterest from her father.”

Mieczysław raises a finger before ducking back into the Jeep. He reemerges with a large scrapbook in his arms. “Scott made this from the things he salvaged from your letters,” he explains. “I just spent the last three hours reading everything. And there’s so much missing.”

“Because you shredded the pictures,” Scott reminds him.

“Dude, not cool. You promised you were going to protect me if an angry werewolf decided to attack me.”

Scott snorts. “You forget which angry werewolf punched you,” he says.

Laura howls from the bottom of the lane, and Scott ushers Mieczysław into the Jeep.

“What is he doing here?” Laura demands when she skids to a stop next to Scott.

“He’s trying to apologize,” Derek says. “It’s not working.”

“Legally, I have rights,” Mieczysław says from behind the closed door.

“Shut up,” Scott says over Laura’s growl. “You are not helping yourself right now.”

“Stiles, I liked you,” Laura says. “I enjoyed working with you. I should have known that it was you who knocked up my brother, but I didn’t. I would have been willing to forgive your oversight except I saw what you did to him. I saw how you rejected him again and again without giving him any chance to defend himself.”

“I’m giving him that chance now,” Mieczysław says.

Derek shakes his head. “I already explained. I wanted to give you the opportunity to be in Emily’s life if you accepted her. You don’t. You haven’t. I sent you updates, and you destroyed them. You have given me no choice here, Mieczysław.”

“What?” Mieczysław says. “You can actually pronounce my name?”

“Get off my property or I’ll be forced to call the Sheriff about a trespasser,” Laura says.

“What if I can prove that I want to be in Emily’s life, that I want to be a father to her?”

“You have three seconds,” Laura says.

“Wait,” Derek grabs her shoulder, “let him try.”

He steps back, pulling Laura with him. Scott opens the door, and Mieczysław climbs out, the scrapbook held in front of him like a shield. He flips to the front of it and starts reading it aloud. When he’s done with the scraps, he closes the book.

“There’s Emily in these pages, and my own stupidity is keeping me away from her,” he says. “I want to start small, meet her, learn her. These letters, if I’d read them the first time, would have more than convinced me to be there for her. Thank you, Derek, for writing them.” He pulls out an intact photograph. Derek remembers taking that a month ago, sending it in the last letter he’d mailed. Why it isn’t damaged, he doesn’t know.

Mieczysław smiles down at the picture. In it, Emily was standing on the table while Derek tried to dress her in coveralls and a hat for an outing to the park. She’d had none of it until he pulled out his camera and started taking pictures of her. She’d started posing like a model for him, even letting him put on her shoes without fuss.

“I stopped letting him have the letters,” Scott explains. “I didn’t realize this was the last one.”

“He wouldn’t give it to me at first,” Mieczysław says. “I’m glad he kept it though. It showed me just how much I was missing and how much more I would miss. Derek, I know you are within your right to not accept my apology, but please, don’t deny me time with our daughter because of it.”

Derek doesn’t know what to answer. And Laura can’t answer for him. All he can think to say is, “Give me time.”

He goes back inside, goes to his daughter and crawls onto the bed with her. She is still sleeping, and he just lies there, watching her breathe.

He could give Mieczysław another chance, could maybe have the love he’s been dreaming of for the past two years. Or, he could excise the wound, let his daughter spend time with her father but keep their contact minimal. But, even that might not be enough to guard him from falling in love with Mieczysław again.

Risk his heart or his daughter’s well-being?

It’s a no brainer.

Derek just wishes it would stop hurting already.

~ The End ~

#Teen Wolf Fanfiction #Derek Hale #Stiles Stilinski #Laura Hale #Cora Hale #Not Happy Ending #My Story/My Writing

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chelsorz07 · 7 years

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ooh yaaas 100 questions. please don’t unfollow me for posting a million of these tonight

Are you young at heart, or an old soul? Both I guess? Like the activities I enjoy are what most people my age would consider boring, but I’m not mature enough to take care of myself.

What makes someone a best friend? Someone who doesn’t abandon you no matter how busy you both get or how far apart you are, who makes you laugh, who you can do absolutely nothing with and still have a good time, who you can talk to about anything without judgement or having your feelings invalidated, and ideally someone with the same or similar taste in music so you can jam the fuck out in the car together.

What Christmas (or Hanukkah) present do you remember the most? My first guitar when I was 14.

Tell me about a movie/song/tv show/play/book that has changed your life. Supernatural has changed my life by consuming it.

Name one physical feature that you like about yourself, and one you dislike. I like my face and hate just about everything else. Psoriasis makes my skin terrible and my body hurt everywhere all the time, my hair never cooperates, I can’t lose weight, and my boobs are too big so they hurt as well. I suppose my nails are kinda pretty. At least as far as shape. Underneath they look terrible, also because of the psoriasis, but I always have them painted.

Would you like to reconnect with any friends you’ve lost contact with? The friends I’m still in contact with are the only ones I need. Shouts out to @amandavanhalen and @sloan28allday

What’s more important in a relationship: physical attraction or emotional connection? I mean, both.

Name a movie that you knew would be terrible just from reading the title. Oh jeez...um...Mean Girls 2? Because nothing could ever be as good as the original.

What holiday do you most look forward to? Fourth of July. Except this year I did absolutely nothing because I’m stuck here all alone and have no money.

How is the relationship between you and your parents? Dad: used to be horrible but now is good and I really miss him and he’s one of the main reasons I want to move home. Mom: used to be good as long as we swept all our issues under the rug, then got really bad because I refused to do that anymore, and now is getting a little better because we’ve had so much distance between us for two years and haven’t been able to be at each other’s throats all the time.

You’ve got the TV on, but you’re not really watching. What channel is the TV on? The Netflix home screen.

Name a song that never fails to make you happy. The Jock Jams Mega Mix. Don’t judge me.

You know at least one person named Michael. Tell me about him. He’s my best friend in the entire world.

Have you ever read the “missed connections” on Craigslist? Have you ever posted one, or wanted to? I don’t get on Craigslist because where I lived wasn’t even listed under the cities. We have Pennswoods Classifieds.

If you could pick anywhere to live the rest of your life, where would it be? Bradford. Unless I could pack my family and friends up and take them to Nashville with me.

Can money buy happiness? Yes. Not that material things equal happiness. But money would definitely buy me a house in Bradford so I could be with the people I love.

Do you drink? Smoke? Do drugs? Why, or why not? Used to drink, don’t anymore because I either get so smashed that I puke and cry and pass out or have half a beer and want to take a nap. Smoke at least a pack a day. Have smoked weed and done a few different types of pills, but they also just made me sleepy so I don’t see the point.

Is there anyone close to you that you know you can’t trust? You don’t have to give names. I don’t really fully trust anyone but my dad.

Where was your favorite place to go when you were a little kid? The Erie County Fair. It was like a big deal okay?

Have you ever spent a night in the hospital? Once. Got my tonsils out when I was 10. But everything else I’ve gone for has been same day.

Do you enjoy being with only one or two friends, or with a large group of people? One or two.

Do you like the type of music your parents listen to? Do your parents like the type of music you listen to? My parents like country and so do I because I was raised on it, but my musical tastes extend far beyond that and theirs don’t. My dad likes some classic rock too but my mom doesn’t.

Have you ever been bullied? Have you ever bullied anyone else? Yes and yes.

If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? Pizza.

If your partner wanted to wait until marriage before having sex, would you stay in that relationship? I’ve been married for two years and haven’t had sex since February (not my choice, he’s just uninterested) so I think I can live without it. I’d rather do it myself anyway. It’s faster, less gross, less weird, less painful, and I know I’ll have an orgasm every time.

Do you believe in a god? No. I’m a Satanist, which means I believe in self-indulgence, not that I worship the devil. Since most people are fucking uneducated sheep who seem to think that’s what it is.

Of all the social networks in the world, why use Tumblr? Because I know everyone I follow has the same interests as me and won’t think I’m crazy because of my passion for those interests.

What’s your favorite Tumblr tag to track? I don’t track tags, I just follow pages with content that I like.

Would you call yourself/your family “middle class?” Lower middle class.

Name a TV series you didn’t enjoy until after it ended. I just watched Parks and Rec in its entirety this week and I fucking love it.

Have you ever bought a product from an infomercial? Dave bought me my last guitar off of HSN.

If you could give up your car and never have to drive again, would you? I’d stop driving but I don’t think I’d give up my car because it’s freaking AWESOME, I’d just hire someone to drive it for me.

If you go back to one point in time to give advice to yourself, when would you go and what would you say? I’d go back to 2015 and say “Get married in a fucking courthouse because marriage is cool but weddings are terrible.”

What’s your “quirkiest” habit? I don’t know if this counts as quirky but if I like a movie or tv show I can memorize the entire thing after watching it twice.

What is “normal?” Are you normal? There’s no such thing.

Someone close to you is dying. You have the choice to let this person live for 10 more years, but if you do, you cause the death of 10 strangers. You don’t have to see them die. Do you take the offer? Of course. I don’t care about strangers, only people in my life. Don’t give a shit if that makes me a horrible person.

What is one thing you could never forgive? It’s not a matter of forgiving anymore, I just stop caring. Like you’ve fucked me over, you’re gonna continue to fuck me over, I’m not even surprised.

Would you rather be in a relationship after the honeymoon period ends, or be single? My relationship never had a honeymoon period and I’m still in it after eight years so.

Is it possible for guys and girls to be just friends? Yes.

Where do you and your friends go to hang out? We don’t because they live too far away.

Write the first paragraph of your obituary. I don’t want an obituary. Or a funeral. Just burn me and cast me into the wind.

What is the best TV theme song ever? The Friends theme, OBVS. But the Buffy theme is my jam too. Shouts out to Nerf Herder.

When you were young, what would you dream you would be when you grew up? A musician.

When you’re alone in your own home, do you walk around naked? Only from the bathroom to my bedroom. Which is literally two steps.

What gets you out of bed in the morning? The urge to pee. And it’s not so much “in the morning” as it is “every motherfucking hour of the day”.

Do you want to have more friends than you have right now? Nope. Two is good.

What part of the past year sticks out in your mind? Realizing how badly I want to move back to PA.

You win a scratch-off lottery game that gives you $2000 a week (after taxes) for the rest of your life. Do you keep your job? I’d probably work somewhere just so I didn’t get bored.

Could you be in a long-distance relationship? If you’re in one, what makes yours work? I’ve been in a straight-up long distance one before and it didn’t work. Dave and I are sorta long distance because he’s out of town for work for two weeks at a time, then home for six days before it starts all over again. And honestly I think the time apart is WHY we work. Because if I had to spend every moment of every day with him, someone would get their throat cut.

What’s the best route to your heart? Don’t treat me like shit. It’s really not that hard. Or maybe it is, idk.

Have you ever met someone through the internet, then met them in real life? No.

What is your favorite sport? Football.

What has been troubling you lately? Not having a job. I just got one though. I’m excited because the people seem cool and it’s at a store I love so helllll yeah 20% discount.

Did you enjoy your high school prom? If you haven’t gotten there yet, do you look forward to it? If you didn’t go, why not? I did not go. Because I was hanging out in a cemetery with friends and that was more fun.

What do you use more often: your intuition or logical reasoning? I try to avoid problems at all costs but if I actually have to solve one I’m usually more logical.

Do you know what makes you happy? Escaping reality.

Tell me about the last book you read. I don’t even know what it was.

What is the nicest compliment you’ve ever been given? Couldn’t tell ya. I don’t get a lot of them.

Who was your first crush? Celeb: Luke Perry. IRL: Charlie Burns. I’ve mentioned this before. He’s still hot.

Do you believe that there is life on other planets? Don’t care.

Predict what your life will look like a year from now. Hopefully my address will be in Pennsylvania instead of Ohio.

Often, people will ask how your last relationship ended. I want to know how it began. His ex was a crazy, lying, abusive bitch and he only got away from her after we graduated because she was a year behind us, so we started talking online and then texting and just decided we were in a relationship but it was doomed from the beginning.

Where is your favorite place to go out and eat? Renna’s Pizza, oh how I miss you.

What is something you want to change about your current situation? My address, my health, my weight, my bank account, and the fact that I am almost 28 and childless. So yeah pretty much everything. Oh, I also want it to be October because I’m tired of waiting for SPN and TWD.

Early bird or night owl? Night.

Are there any childhood possessions you still hold on to? Lots.

Give me an unpopular opinion you have. I don’t like Game of Thrones. Really wanted to, I just thought it was boring.

What was the last song that was stuck in your head? Weightless - All Time Low.

Where do you live? Be as general or specific as you want. Dover, Ohio. I know I complain about it a lot but it really is a lovely city. There’s tons of things to do and places to eat. Certainly a lot more places to find a job. I just want to go home where my family and friends are.

Do you believe in giving kids medals and trophies for participation? FUCK. NO. This is the only generation where you don’t have to earn your accolades and it turns kids into giant wimps, sore losers, and even worse, sore winners. Drives me up a wall.

What was the longest car ride you’ve ever taken? Took us about 12 hours to get to Cumming, GA because idk if you’ve ever driven through the Smoky Mountains but holy BALLS are those roads scary.

Have you ever taken part in a protest? I protest things all the time. Just not in public with people because I don’t like public or people.

Would you ever use an online dating service? I signed up for a few back in the day but never actually met or even talked to anyone I was matched with.

What is your ethnic heritage? White. Mostly Irish/English.

Describe a person that inspires you. Not necessarily specific people, just musicians. Music is my heart and soul and I wish I had half the talent or drive that any of them do.

If you earn minimum wage doing what you love, would you? I mean yeah any money is good money at this point.

Do you believe in luck? No.

Describe the last time you were very angry at someone. I’m sure it wasn’t that long ago, and I’m also sure I was more angry than the situation warranted, but I really can’t remember right now.

Do you want to live until you’re 100? Hell no I don’t even want to live till I’m 70.

Do people change? If so, how do you keep a relationship together when both of you start to change? People change on a daily basis. And if you’re in a relationship, you’re either gonna change and grow with each other, or you’re gonna grow apart. Or fall apart. There’s nothing you can do about it.

Have you ever risked a friendship by telling someone you liked them? Every guy I’ve ever been with or liked was my friend first, so there’s always that risk. Usually it doesn’t turn out as bad as you thought. I mean, Mike and I were friends, then together, then on and off throughout several years, then didn’t speak for a long time, then almost got back together, then didn’t speak again and now we’re best friends. Shit just happens that way. Onnnn the other hand, there’s a girl I like but I can’t tell her because she’s got a boyfriend and I’ve got a husband and I probably won��t even be living here a year from now so it’d be pointless anyway. But she’s a lovely person and doesn’t annoy me like most super-chipper people do so I’m glad to be her friend.

Would you rather be alone doing something you enjoy, or doing something you don’t like with your best friends? If I don’t like the activity I’ll probably just be surly and ruin everyone else’s good time, and I don’t want my best friends pissed off at me for that, so I’ll say doing something I enjoy alone.

Do you practice what you preach? I don’t really preach anything. Or practice anything. Look man, I literally just sit on my couch watching Netflix and playing Words With Friends on my phone. I’m not that complex of a person.

If you take precautions to stay safe, do you ultimately act more recklessly? I try my absolute hardest to avoid any situation that could potentially be dangerous.

What do you value more in a significant other: Attractiveness or intelligence? Intelligence.

Are you hard-headed? You betcha. Not complaining. Thanks dad.

Have you ever laughed uncontrollably when it was socially inappropriate? I think that’s when I laugh the most.

When have you felt most alive? Any time I’m at a concert.

Would you prefer to live? A city? The suburbs? The countryside? The mountains? Suburbs but of a small town.

Do you often skip breakfast? I don’t have legit meals. I just eat whatever when I’m hungry.

How do you know what true love is? You don’t. Nothing is ever that straightforward. It’s just trial and error.

Would you want to know the exact date and time you were going to die? No, I’d like to decide.

Where is “home” for you? Bradford.

What song best describes your life right now? Weightless. It’s described my life since the first time I heard it eight years ago.

Do you want to be perfect? Again, no such thing.

What have you never tried, but would really like to someday? What’s holding you back? I want to go to the motherland (Ireland) and Greece, but it’s expensive, I don’t fly, don’t have a passport, and am scared of other countries.

How do you express your creativity? Music, art, makeup, and the way I dress. Which is literally just band t-shirts and flannels. So also music.

Describe your neighborhood. Decently clean, lots of duplexes, a couple weird neighbors but nothing scary, some old people, and there’s an elementary or middle school (not sure which) one block over so it gets kinda noisy and the street is busy when it’s not summer.

Name something you only liked because it was popular. I’ve never liked anything based on popularity. I just like what I like. And usually it’s not popular at all. At least not where I’m from.

Give me the story of your life in six words. I don’t know what I’m doing.

#not spn #personal #about me #bring back myspace surveys 2k17 #i do what i want

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