#I found it buried in some folders while I was cleaning my computer and I was like

[faithandfearcollide]

“Please come back to me, mom. Come back.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

New in Town

Warnings: noncon sex.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new job in a new town but find your welcome not so warm.

Note: Another piece for @imanuglywombat​ and @nellblazer​‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I needed me a big, scary Thor so here we go!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

It was your first day and you already felt in way over your head. Your predecessor had left quite the mess and it would take a while to clean it all up. The filing cabinet had little actual organization to it and the computer, well that was just a bunch of nonsensically titled files dropped in random folders. It would take you the better part of a month just to get things in order.

You suspected however, that even that wouldn’t be fast enough for you prickly new boss. Loki, who preferred Mr. Laufeyson, had been short as he showed you your desk and nonchalantly pointed to the filing cabinet and assured you everything was ready to go. Well, it was not at all. Payroll, scheduling, among other admin to be done. Your only saving grace was that last week’s pay had already been doled out and you only need to figure out that week’s before, oh, great, end of the day.

You shivered as the walls of the portable shook with the frigid gust. It was poor protection from the northern chill and you kept your jacket on and only slightly unzipped as you went about your work. If your gloves weren’t so thick, you’d have kept them on as well.

As you jotted down names and hours and switched between windows, the door opened and you sat up as a tall man entered abruptly. He slammed the door behind him as he glared around the office and tilted his head at you. Thick blonde hair poked out from beneath his wool cap and a golden beard trimmed his jaw. His flannel jacket was worn and stained and he smelled of pine and sweat as he neared your desk. He held a hatchet in his right hand and leaned it against the edge of your desk.

“Where’s Kevin?” He asked brusquely.

“Kevin? Oh, um, I was told he quit. I’m his replacement.” You smiled as best as you could as the large man loomed before you. 

Like most of the workers, he lived in the small town an hour down the road. You’d only just moved there and he was no doubt wary of the stranger staring back at him. Your employment had been hurried; so much so that much of your home was still in boxes stacked in your front room. 

“I can help you.” You offered.

“Where’s my brother?” He growled.

“Your brother?” You wondered.

“Loki,” He huffed. You blinked. They didn’t look like brothers.

“Oh, sorry,” You said. “Well, he’s just in his office but he did ask not to be disturbed.”

The man rolled his eyes and turned the hatchet flat. His nostrils flared.

“Typical.” He muttered. “I suppose it’s your job now. I’m short.”

“Short?” You repeated.

“I was paid for maybe 14 hours. I worked almost 50.” He barked. “And my check didn’t clear until last night. You wanna tell me why?”

“Well, sir,” You clicked a few buttons as you switched to last week. “If you give me my name I can see and I can fix the--”

“Odinson, Thor,” He said sharply. “I’m the yard warden. I’m the reason these saws run.”

“I understand,” You placated as you looked at the screen and squinted as you found his name. 

Sure his enough his hours were entered correctly but his pay had been miscalculated. You corrected the typo and clicked a few more buttons.

“The payment should clear by the end of the day.” You assured him.

“End of day?” He sneered and you pushed yourself away from the desk as he raised the hatchet and brought it crashing down into the wood. “I’ll be back if it doesn’t.”

Your eyes rounded and you gripped the arms of the chair. You looked up at him and he gave a sinister smirk. He turned and stormed out as you gaped at him. As the door clattered behind him you stood and reached for the hatchet. You pulled on it but it was lodged firmly beside your computer.

The door of the back office opened and Loki stepped through. He raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“Mmm, that didn’t happen to be my brother, did it?” He asked.

You nodded and let go of the axe. He neared and looked at the hatchet.

“What was it this time?” He touched the handle and his long fingers wrapped around it. He jerked it and the whole desk moved with it.

“Mistake in the payroll.” You answered. 

“Hmm,” He let go of the hatchet and shrugged. “Well, see it doesn’t happen again.”

You bit back your response. It hadn’t been your mistake. He spun away and head back to his office. 

“Wait? What about this?” You asked as you tugged on the axe again.

“Work around it,” He waved his fingers over his shoulder. “Desk is still in one piece.”

🍯

The next day was more of the same. You were suffocated by the amount of work to do and how your list grew ever longer. You wondered if perhaps whoever previously held the post had been plucked from the lumberyard. 

You sat on the floor next to the filing cabinet, the drawers open as you sorted papers into piles. As the door opened, you kept a pile from fluttering away with your foot and looked up at your visitor. It was the same man as the day before. Thor looked just as perturbed as then, if not more.

“Hello,” You said as you gathered up the piles, stack them perpendicularly to keep them separate as you neared the other side of your desk. “What can I do for you?”

“The schedule.” He said. “I need Saturday off.”

“Saturday?” You nodded and bent to look at your computer, searching through your programs. “I’m certain we can spare a saw--”

“No, we have to run all. You’ll have to find someone to cover me.” He insisted.

“Alright, well, it’s pretty short notice.”

“Look, I know how it works in the yard. We’ll fall behind if we don’t run all the saws.” He crossed his arms. “You get it, honey?”

You frowned and scrolled through the names. You’d be lucky to get anyone to say yes to a Saturday.

“Well,” You stood straight. “Why didn’t you request the time off?”

���Excuse me?” He snarled.

“It’s customary to request time off before a schedule is made,” You said. “So for me to find someone at such short notice, there’s only so much I can do.”

“You’ll find someone.” He huffed.

“With all due respect, I don’t go out there and tell you how to cut wood,” You said. “So, if you must have Saturday off, we might just need to be down a man.”

His nostrils flared and his jaw squared as he stepped closer to your desk. He dropped his arms and reached out to grip the hatchet still buried in the wood. He chuckled and ripped it out, shaking your desk.

“See that you don’t,” He warned as he turned and leaned the hatchet against his shoulder. “You can explain to my brother yourself why we don’t meet our numbers on Saturday then.”

“Oh, he’ll know why,” You affirmed and watched him disappear through the door, a draft skirting in past him.

You sniffed and glanced at the slit left in your desk. Great. Wonderful start.

🍯

Saturday was your first day off. You spent much of the day unpacking and settling into your new place. It was a small town and you still felt like the odd one out. Everyone knew everyone and you suspected, they didn’t want to know anyone else. 

As it got later, the night falling earlier there, you took a walk downtown and ordered some old-fashioned fish and chips from the shop downtown. You waited at a table along the wall as the cook talked and yelled in the kitchen and the couple at the front counter called out orders and rang them through.

You played with your phone, playing a matching game to keep you busy until your ticket came up. The chair across from yours scraped and you looked up at the broad figure on the other side of the table. Thor leaned an elbow on the table and stared up at the menus above the counter.

“Not from around here. I knew it.” He said. “Because I know everyone around here.”

“I’m sure you do,” You said stiffly.

He scoffed and scratched his beard. He leaned back against the wall as he sat sideways in the chair and flicked the corner of his receipt in his other hand.

“You city folk are all the same. You think you know everything.” He grumbled. “You’ve got this air about you. The way you walk around with your nose up.” He grimaced. “A real tight ass, just by looking at you.”

“If that’s what you think.” You shrugged. “I haven’t done anything against you so I don’t see why--”

“My town. My yard.” He slapped his hand down and gripped the edge of the table. “You won’t last. You’ll be on the same truck out of here soon enough.”

Your number was called and you stood. You tucked your phone in your purse and gave a tense smile.

“Have a good night,” You said evenly. “Hope you enjoyed your day off.”

You went to the counter and showed your ticket. You took the greasy paper bag and headed out without looking at the man still at the table brooding. You weren’t entirely sure why you’d riled him so, but you weren’t eager to provoke him further.

🍯

On Monday, you hunkered down with a thermos of coffee and set to sorting out the computer. You had to open every file and rename it, place it in the proper folder and back every bit of it up. It kept you busy, not that this job had let up, and you were content to lose yourself in the tedium.

When your lunchtime came around, you went out to your car to grab the lunch you’d forgotten on your passenger seat. You had been so preoccupied with your mental to do list, you had entirely overlooked it. As you carried your purple lunch tote back to the office building with its rippled tin walls, you passed by several of the workers on their own breaks.

Among them was the one man who’d proven himself troublesome. The rest of them had been understanding and were even relieved to be rid of the man who came before you. They were surprisingly patient even if they were a bit grim. Thor sat with several of his men on the log bench as they drank from steaming metal cups.

“So I get her home and she doesn’t even wait to get in the door before she has her shirt off.” Thor’s deep voice boomed as you neared. “I’m like honey, you know the neighbours like to talk. Well, she shut me up.”

You blinked and peeked over at the men. Thor smirked and winked as he caught your eye. You righted yourself and carried on.

“Had her bent over the kitchen table. She said she doesn’t fuck in bed.” He chortled. “Not high-maintenance like some.”

The men laughed as you climbed the steps of the office and turned back. Thor waved at you and then folded all but one finger. He pointed at you and looked at the men on either side of you.

“Not like that one.” He said. “Looking at her, I guarantee she hasn’t been fucked in at least a year. Maybe more.”

You winced and grabbed the door handle. You were embarrassed but angry. You knew if you said anything, it would only be worse, but you couldn’t just let him talk like that. You spun back and slipped inside, quickly snapping the door shut behind you.

You placed your lunch on your desk and crossed to the other door. You knocked and waited for Loki’s response. It was dull and already agitated. You entered and stood by the open door.

“What is it?” He looked up. “I’ve twenty minutes before I’m on my way out.”

“What-- Where?”

“Personal,” He said pointedly. “Now, why have you bothered me?”

“Look, I’m not trying to cause a fuss but… your brother,” You explained cautiously. “He’s been… extremely rude and his behaviour borders on harassment.”

“My brother?” He uttered. “Oh don’t mind him, that’s just the way he is. Repugnant, really, but you’re better off to ignore him.”

“I’ve done my best to but… are you not going to do anything? Say something to him?” You challenged.

“Why would I do that?” He leaned back in his chair and twirled his pen.

“Because if this continues, I will fire a report with the labour board for harassment.” You said.

“You’ve not been here a week and you’re coming up with these unfounded accusations,” He pointed the pen at you. “These men, they’re not used to a woman in the yard. My brother, especially. They’ll be even less hospitable if they hear this woman is whining to the boss.”

“I’m not--” You stopped yourself as he showed little interest in continuing the dialogue. In fact, he’d already traded the pen for his phone. “Suppose you’re right.”

“I am. Now don’t bother with my brother. He’ll leave you alone.” He waved you away like a bug. “Just do your work. That’s what I pay you for.”

🍯

In the five days you’d been at the lumberyard, Loki had left early twice or disappeared for midday meetings. You found your work was straightforward but he didn’t seem to care unless you made some glaring mistake. He was entirely unfazed as he left once more. You couldn’t blame him for not wanting to deal with his volatile brother and yet, that was his job.

Alone, you continued your overhaul of the filing system and reviewed the schedule for the next week. Your life had never been exciting, none of your jobs had been much different than this. A desk, an office, an endless pile of work. And yet this one felt more desolate. The walls did nothing against the cold winds and you could hear the buzz of saws and hollers of men without. All men. It only occurred to you then that there was not a woman beside yourself on the employee roll. Perhaps that was why you’d been met with hostility.

You checked your watch and shut down the old PC and locked up the filing cabinets. As you did whenever Loki flitted off, you killed the lights and locked the front door of the office behind you. You turned and tramped down the stairs onto the frozen ground. You could see your breath as the days grew colder and colder.

You stopped dead as you headed for the row of vehicles along the edge of the yard, all parked at an angle. You stared dumbly at your small Ford. That wasn’t good. A whole tree trunk laid across the car and its weight had sunken in the roof. What were the odds that a tree had traveled to fall on your car in particular. Well, you had a good idea who had left the rather large gift and you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

You turned and strode back to the office but again your fortune was not so kind. Thor strutted towards you with a big grin and his arms brushed against yours as he passed.

“Have a good night, honey,” He said.

“You too.” You returned rigidly and sped up.

You didn’t look back as you dug out the keys and unlocked the office. You slipped inside and closed yourself in as you pulled out your phone. You dialed the cab company as you peeked out between the blinds. Thor was stood by your car guffawing with a red-headed man at his handiwork.

Would Loki do anything about that?

🍯

In the back of the cab, you called the towing company and scheduled an appointment for the next night. Then you tried to phone Loki but he didn’t pick up so you e-mailed him with the picture you’d taken of your car. It was damage of property! Surely he had to do something. 

You checked the time and watched the meter run higher and higher. The commute was long as it was and seeing it in numbers made you even angrier. You wouldn’t have much time to cook or do much of anything.

As the taxi pulled up to your house, you charged the ride to your credit card and climbed out. You shivered as the dark blue sky shrouded your front yard. Voices carried from the next and you looked over the short iron fence. Your neighbour leaned on the rail of his porch as a tall figure stood in his yard. Your flesh went hot as you recognized Thor.

“You live around here, honey?” He asked as you turned away and scurried to your front door.

“Mmhmm,” You hummed as you unlocked your door.

“You’re home late.” He remarked.

You ignored him and swung the door open, quickly closing it behind you. Your neighbour, Earl, had proven an equally unfriendly man. He complained about your bin when you put out your garbage and the little fairy ornament you’d placed in the yard. If there was one thing the people in this stagnant town loathed, it was change.

You dropped your bag and shed your coat and boots. You yawned and stretched as you walked anxiously around your front room. How was it that you ran into Thor everywhere? Work, sure, but why was he suddenly chummy with your neighbour? You hadn’t been there long and it was a small town but it all just seemed too coincidental.

You went to the window and hooked a finger around the curtain to peer out. Thor was closer to the fence now, arms crossed as he nodded up at Earl. He lowered his eyes for a moment and then turned his face slightly. He grinned as he spied you on the other side of the drapes and you quickly backed away.

You weren’t going to run away because of him. You weren’t going to quit and you weren’t going to leave this town. His fragile masculinity could shatter for all you cared.

🍯

The next morning, Loki agreed to drive you to work. The ride was awkward but you were thankful only to contribute half of gas rather than a full fare. You hadn’t slept very well and spent much of the drive staring out the window as classical music droned from the stereo. You hadn’t expected anything different in the overpriced car.

At the office, you brewed a pot inside and poured your second cup of the day. You had to finish the next week’s schedule and finalize the payroll. The noise of the yard kept you working and had almost come to be a comfort to you as you sat staring at tight fonts and endless numbers.

You were interrupted by the door and you didn’t need to look up to know who stomped inside. Thor looked as happy as ever and you peered over anxiously as his heavy boots clunked along the floor.

“My brother?” He asked bluntly. “Has some business to deal with.”

“In his office,” You said.

He smiled and stared at you. He didn’t move at first but finally crossed to the other door. He didn’t knock and you heard Loki’s chagrined greeting as he entered. The door fell closed but did not click into place. You went back to your work and tried to ignore the rising voices that sifted through the thin wall.

“Prove it!” Thor boomed, followed by a bang. The door swung open and he thundered through with a snarl. He marched towards your desk as you sat straight and he planted his hands on the top. “Whiny little bitch.” He said. “You’ll see what happens to those who can’t keep their mouth shut.”

“Thor,” Loki warned from his office door. “Leave her be. Don’t get yourself into any more trouble.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Thor pushed himself away as he barked at his brother. “You sound like father.”

“And you sound ridiculous.” Loki said evenly. “Get back to work. I’m certain you can handle cutting wood. It’s truly not that complicated.”

Thor scowled and spun, sparing you not an ounce of his fury as he did. You watched him go, the door shuddering in its frame as it slammed once more. You let out a shaky breath and glanced over at Loki.

“I assure you, he will not bother you again.” Loki said coolly. “He is… impulsive and needs a little reasoning. Once he’s over his tantrum, it’ll all clear up.”

You nodded as he turned and strode back into his office. You’d been gripping the edge of the desk tightly and it took you a moment to unlock your fingers. You leaned back and clutched your head. You really hoped he was right.

🍯

The next day, you waited at your window, watching for Loki’s sleek black car. Another day after another restless night. You watched the pale morning through the glass and your phone vibed in your pocket. You pulled it out and swiped up as the notification from your boss appeared.

“Emergency in the city. I’ve made alternate arrangements. E-mail me your progress at end of day.”

You frowned and looked up as an engine rumbled outside. You cursed as you recognized the red pick-up and the shadow of the man behind the wheel. Was Loki really that stupid? Certainly he just didn’t care. Or maybe he really thought he could control his brother. You had doubts. Thor didn’t seem the type to be reeled in by any.

Well, you could always rack up even more debt on a cab; there and back. Dammit.

Thor honked and you winced. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. You locked your door as you stepped out into the morning chill and turned to make your way to the idling truck. The doors clicked as you neared and you hesitantly opened the door. 

Thor stared down at you. You didn’t move.

“Well, get in,” He sneered. “Long way to go.”

You climbed up and shut the door. Before you buckled in, he was already in drive. You snapped the belt into place and slid your bag down to your feet.

“Thank you.” You said. He didn’t answer. “Look, I know you don’t like me and I know you don’t have to drive me so I do appreciate it.”

“Anything to get my brother off my back,” He shrugged. 

You were quiet. It was pointless trying to get into this man’s good graces. He had decided to have a grudge against you and you’d only stoked it by tattling on him. You should’ve just shut and smiled, as you always had. It was the essence of professionalism.

You bent your elbow against the door and held your chin as you watched the houses pass outside the window and thin to lumpy fields and forests. You were almost lulled to sleep by the steady mutter of the engine and the motion of the truck.

Then all at once you were tense. A warmth settled on your thigh and squeezed. You sat up and tried to pull away from Thor. He kept his other hand on the steering wheel and grinned at the road. You tried to shove his hand away and he gripped you tighter until you cried out.

“You shouldn’t distract me while I’m driving,” He said. “It’s dangerous.”

“What are you talking about?” You tried to pry his fingers off of you. “What are you--”

Slid his hand further and leaned over, just a little, as he turned his hand flat along your pelvis. He was strong and forced two finger down between your legs.

“Thor!” You gasped as you slapped his arm.

He veered, just a little, but didn’t relent.

“You don’t want me to lose control, do you, honey?” 

He pushed his fingers against the fabric of your pants and rubbed. You could feel the seam through your panties as he moved his hold hand. He was rough and it hurt. All the same, you felt a tingle. You clung to his arm in shock.

“Stop! Stop! You’re--”

“Shhhh,” He kept going as his other hand gripped the wheel tighter. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

He moved his hand faster as you tried to crush it with your thighs. He wedged his hand between your legs and kept on. You trembled as a painful pressure began to build and you sank back against the seat, terrified. 

“That’s it, honey.” He purred as your thighs quivered. “You just need to relax… get that stick out of your ass.”

“Thor--” You gulped. “Please-- st--”

His fingers were right on your clit. The fabric chafed but still the ripples swirled around you. You went rigid and then the sudden and unexpected release swelled and crashed. You let out a pathetic squeak and gripped the door as you spasmed, your legs falling apart as you rode out your orgasm against his large hand.

His palm dropped against your leg and he caressed you before slowly drawing away. Your panties were soaked and you were certain it was seeping through your pants too. You looked at yourself in the rearview mirror and covered your face. 

What just happened?

🍯

You hid in your office. When you finally arrived at the yard, you’d almost sprinted to the building. You closed yourself in and sat behind your desk as if it were a shield. It took you a while to focus, to be able to read clearly, to comprehend anything in front of you. And yet, you could still feel his hand between your legs. Every time you moved, your panties tickled your tender cunt.

At noon, an e-mail chimed in your inbox. Another message from Loki. He wasn’t half as attentive when he was on-site. You opened it and sighed. There was a severe weather warning and the yard would have to shut down for the storm. That meant everyone had to go home before they got stranded.

You zipped up the jacket you hadn’t taken off and went to the door. Go out, go out, go out. The sooner you were home, the better. But getting there…

You stepped outside and the door clattered behind you. You ambled down the stairs and crossed your arms against your chest as the wind swirled the light powdery snow around you. For now, it was little enough, but it would get worse.

You crossed the yard and followed the sound of saws. Arn was loading up a trailer with Cameron and they paused as you neared. You smiled, then frowned.

“Storm’s coming. Boss says we need to shut down.” You called to them.

“Shit,” Cameron looked up and wiped away the flakes that fell on his cheek. “Yeah, it’s coming.”

“We’ll tell the other,” Arn offered. “Thanks, miss.”

“Not at all. We need the saws off and everyone gone within the hour.” You explained loudly.

“What’s this?” Thor, as was his habit, appeared as if out of air. He clapped sawdust from his thick gloves. “Saws off?”

“Your brother. He wants the yard down for the storm.” You turned to him and edged away as he got closer.

Thor shook his head and huffed. He nodded to Arn and Cameron as he shrugged. “Go on. Tell the men. I’ll get the rest sorted.”

The two other men left their pile of chopped timber and strolled away to the saws. You spun away, eager to shut down the office and lock up. Thor’s voice stopped you.

“You’ll need a ride,” He said. “It’s gonna be a big one. Storm, that is.”

“Uh huh,” You grumbled as you turned back and crossed your arms. “I gotta go deal with the admin stuff.”

“I’ll stick around. Loki’s always the last to leave.” He said. “You’ll need to do a walk through. Make sure everything’s down.”

“I know,” You assured him. “It won’t take long.”

“I’ll take you through it.” He offered. “This is my yard, after all.”

“So you keep saying.” You uttered.

“I own half of it.” He countered. “My brother just does the paperwork.”

“Alright,” You continued to edge away. “I’ll just--”

“This is a place for men.” He hissed. “Women… just get in the way.”

You swallowed and said nothing. You turned and walked away as you felt him watching you. As you rounded the corner of the storehouse, he called out behind you. “I’m patient. I’ll be here.”

🍯

Thor’s truck was the only one left as you locked up the office and began your walk through of the saws and checked the doors of the storehouses. You checked that the cranes and lifts were all shut down as well, all the while Thor watched. It was as if he was judging you. You ignored him as best you could and announced that all was in order as you secured the edge of the tarp thrown over the stack of timber at the edge of the yard.

“You’re a quick learner,” Thor mused as you neared. “So you might know.”

“Know what?” You asked as a large flake hit the tip of your nose.

“That it’s too late,” He pointed up. “We won’t make it back in time.”

He kicked his boots in the blanket below. It was building by the second and the sky was almost pure white with the downfall. He was right and you hated that. Your stomach sank.

“You have chains?” You asked.

“Won’t do me much good if I can’t see,” He tilted his head and smirked. “There’s a kit in the office. Not the first time this has happened. You learn to expect it up here.”

“A kit?” You shook your head. 

“Some blankets, some food,” He came closer. “Keep ourselves comfy until this all clears up.”

You stared at him dumbly. You checked your watched and looked up at the sky again.

“No, we can--”

“We can’t,” He said firmly. “What’s wrong?” He neared. “You afraid of the big bad wolf?”

You shouldered past him and kicked through the thickening snow. “No.” You snipped back at him, his heavy boots crushed the snow in your snow. “I suppose you’re right.”

You climbed the stairs to the office and took out the key, fumbling with your thick gloves as Thor came up behind you. He pressed himself to your back as you frantically turned the key and stumbled inside. He chuckled as he followed and closed the door. You tucked the keys away in your purse and took out your phone. No signal.

You left your purse on your desk and sighed. Thor went to the door of Loki’s office and glanced back at you. “Kit’s in here. Easier to keep warm, too. Smaller space.” He waved you along. “He’s got an electric heater hidden under his desk too.”

You said nothing as you followed. You really had no choice. Stuck here with no way out but him, you’d just have to fend him off through the storm.

He held the door for you and shut the door behind you. His hand grazed your back and ass as he drew away and you watched him round Loki’s large desk and go to the corner behind the standing cabinet. He dragged out a large bin hidden there and unclasped the lid.

You watched him, twiddling your fingers as your mind raced. You felt the ache below still and you looked at his large glove hand as he turned to push the desk against the wall. He laid out a thick duvet on the floor and the small travel pillow atop it with a quilt. He untangled the cord of the electric heater and placed it beside the blankets. He flipped it on and stood.

“Well,” He said. “Some soups in there. Some preserved fruits.” He offered. “You hungry, honey?”

You were quiet as he removed his gloves. You went to the other side of the blanket and sat. You took your boots off and left them to melt on the floor. You pushed your feet under the quilt and leaned against the cold wall.

“Don’t call me honey,” You crossed your arms. “And I’m not hungry.”

He nodded and lowered himself next to you. He untied his boots and set them aside with his hat. His shoulder rested just above yours as he sat back. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath.

“He’s got whiskey. Bottom drawer.” Thor said. “It might warm you up… loosen you up at least.”

“No, thank you.” You opened your eyes and slid down onto your back and turned your back to him. The electric heater buzzed in the silence.

“What wrong, honey?” He taunted. “You want more, hmm? This morning wasn’t enough for you?”

“Leave me alone.” You hissed.

He slipped down behind you and before you could sit up, his arm was around your waist. He pushed himself against your back and his hot breath seeped into your scalp. He nuzzled the back of your head. It was even more apparent, laid against him, how large he was. You shivered.

“I can keep you nice and warm, honey,” He bent his arm and tugged at the zipper of your jacket. “Keep you distracted.”

“Stop,” You grabbed his hand as he pulled your zipper past your chest. “Thor!”

“I felt it earlier. The way you quaked.” He snarled. “You need this.”

“No,” You clutched his hand as he forced your zipped further. “Stop. I just… want to sleep. Wake up when this is… over.”

“Feel that,” He pushed his pelvis out so that his crotch was against your ass. “You owe me.”

“I said--” You gasped as he broke your zipper entirely and slid his hand under your jacket. “Thor!”

“Are you fighting me or yourself?” He rasped. “Hmmm?”

He slid his hand up your blouse and cupped your tit. You wiggled against him but were trapped in his embrace. He squeezed and pinched until you cried out. He snarled and brushed his lips against your ear.

“I bet you’re sweet, honey,” His hand crawled down your stomach. “Aren’t you?”

You whined helpless as his hand pushed beneath the elastic waist of your pants. He pulled free of your grasp as he continued lower and slipped down the front of your panties. You gasped as he pressed a finger to your cunt and found your clit. You squeezed your legs together and he pulled his hand back to pinch you.

“What do you want, honey?” He growled. “You want to let me in or you want me to hold you down?”

“Please--”

He withdrew his hand and grabbed your leg. He bent it and drew it back over his.

“You think you’ll win?” He shoved his hand back down your pants gruffly. “Really?”

“Please--”

“That’s it, keep begging, honey,” He pushed two fingers to your clit and twirled. You twitched and he snickered in your ear. “Weak.” He sneered as he pushed his fingers along your folds. “You’re already wet… or is that from earlier?”

You murmured as he dragged his fingertips back and once more focused on your clit. He nibbled your ear as he snarled and rocked his hips into you from behind, grinding against your ass.

“You’ll want to be ready for me.” He gristled. “Nice���” He flicked his fingers and you groaned. “And…” He did it again and you whined. “Ready.”

You bit your lip as you fought against the tide that flowed from his touch. He rubbed you until you were breathless and ready to cum. He stopped suddenly and felt you tremble against him. He pulled his hand back and pushed your leg down. He brought his fingers up to his lips, just beside your head and sucked them noisily.

“Sweet as pie.” He muttered.

He gripped the back of your pants and wrenched them down roughly along with your panties. The cold air raised bumps on your flesh.

You reached out and tried to drag yourself away from him. He swiftly caught you and rolled you back to him.

“You don’t want to do that, honey,” He warned as he squeezed your hip. “Do you really want me to break you?”

You gulped and reached to grasp the small pillow lodged beneath your neck. He reached between your bodies and pulled up his jacket and you heard the subtle whisper of his zipper. He shifted behind you and snaked his arm around you once more. He pushed your pelvis until you arched your back and a deep rumble rose from his chest. 

He poked between your legs, parting them as much as he could as your pants confined your thighs. He leaned into you and his cock prodded along your ass and he angled it lower. He spread your cunt with two fingers and blinding pressed himself against you, guiding his tip between to your entrance.

A chill went through you and your arms shot out. You tried to roll away from him and he pushed inside you all at once. You cried out and he grunted as he forced himself even deeper. You threw your head back as your body curved backwards and yet, there was more of him. You whimpered as he filled you completely. 

“I told you, honey,” He jerked his hips and you yelped. “You gotta be ready for me.”

He thrust, slowly. You murmured and slapped the floor with your palm. You were breathless, senseless as your walls clenched him hungrily. Your arm flew back and your fingers tangled in his thick hair. He drew his fingers back to your clit and teased you once more. The scent of his sweat and evergreen mingled and engulfed you as he grunted with each tilt of his hips.

“I didn’t think you could do it, honey,” He sped up. “I didn’t think you could take it all.” He rutted with dusky breaths in your ear. “Ah… you’re so fucking tight.”

You whimpered. He was so big it hurt and yet it was the type of pain that had you wanting. His fingers drove your hunger and you panted wildly as you closed your eyes and drowned in the delight. His warmth chased away the cold and you forgot where you were, who you were. There was only the twisting coil inside you.

He pounded into you harder and pathetic mewls tumbled from you. You clung to him tighter and his grunts punctuated each thrust. The wet sound of your cunt added to the lurid rhythm and your body quaked as you crept closer and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me,” He snarled in your ear. “Come on, I can feel it, honey. Cum--”

You cried out and your entire body shook as your nails grazed his scalp. Your orgasm was disorienting and left you dizzy as it turned to wispy murmurs. It only spurred him on. He crashed into you even hard as he brought his fingers to your lips and poked them inside your mouth. You sucked on his fingers and tasted yourself. It was sweet.

He turned you on your stomach and kept his motion as he lifted himself over you. He crushed you beneath him as his pelvis snapped down into you. His hand spread over your head as he held you down and his other arms pinned your shoulder. His grunt grew louder and louder as he hammered into you.

He moved your whole body as his thrusts turned frantic. You clawed at the duvet as your face was buried into the small pillow. You could barely catch your breath and you gave muffled whine as your hips and ass throbbed.

He planted his hands on either side of you and lifted himself as he slammed into you. He roared as you felt his release spill inside of you. He jerked into you harshly and impaled you completely. He stayed like that as he shuddered and eased himself down onto you. You turned your face out as you suffocated beneath his weight.

He inhaled your scent as he dragged his nose along your cheek.

“You should’ve stayed in the city, girl.” He wiggled his pelvis and you winced. “Where you belong.”

[fumbling-fanfics]

IT Support – Juice Ortiz x Reader...

@adela-topaz-caelon​ So I’ve kind of changed your request, as I couldn’t figure out how to slot the reader into the Ireland trip without making the story super long, and we all know I ramble loads, so I scrapped what I wrote for your idea (so so so sorry) and went with this which I was able to make a bit shorter.

Pairings: Juice Ortiz x POC/WOC Reader

Warnings: drug use (smoking weed mention), mention of death of parents/family, really sad reader but Juice being cute and sweet.

Reader is WOC/POC, like with all my stories. ***************************************************************************************************

When you opened the door the look on your face made Opie forget what he had actually come around for and go into full protective older brother mode. Jax, standing slightly behind him, also became angry – automatically thinking your distressed state had something to do with that punk ass that had been sniffing around you lately. Jax immediately thought over how he would teach the creep a lesson, better yet, he’d ask Happy.

“What’s wrong?” Opie asked stepping through the front door. Through red eyes and tears you turned walking into your living room to point at your laptop.

“I somehow deleted the photos of mom and dad. Fucking Apple!!!! They said they can’t help, that they’re gone. The photos are gone Op” Another wave of hysteria, panic and dread washed over you and you collapsed into to sofa crying hard into the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing. Opie picked up the laptop and both him and Jax looked at the device puzzled. They both knew nothing about phones let alone computers so they couldn’t even pretend to try. They were also cautious of the fact that they could make things worse.

Jax nodded and disappeared further into your house, while Opie sat down next to you. You collapsed onto his lap, and all he could do was rub your back.

Jax appeared 20 minutes later with two duffle bags on his shoulder. “Maybe Juice can help?” he shrugged, still seeing you tearful and stressed. Jax had never gotten used to seeing you cry. Opie was slightly more used to it, as you spent the time after your parents death with him and his family, quickly becoming his little sister. But it still didn’t make it easier.

“Get your shit kid, let’s see Juice” you sat up and nodded, unable to speak, throat almost closed from crying.

Opie put his spare helmet on you and you rode on the back if his bike to Teller-Marrow, while Jax had the duffle bags on his bike.

You buried your face into the back if Opie’s kutte and cried more, your tears soaking in the the dirty reaper patch on the back. Your mind raced over the loss of the photos. You had no backups of the photos, not even the originals. While you had other pictures, pictures of your second family, Opie’s family, those would not replace the ones that were lost. Again. You never let Juice live down the day when he has suggested you digitalize old photos. It was as if he knew what would happen to the original 2 months after you finished.

Digitalizing old photos is how you and Juice got closer while he was prospecting for the Sons. He’d be told to help you move place, a demand of Opie and Jax as they couldn’t help you, and while unpacking you got talking to him and showing his old photos. Juice then showed you the new software he knew of that scanned up old photos. A function of it even colorized black and white photos – practically turning them into a whole new photo.

The following weeks after moving in Juice continued to came over to your new place to do odd jobs, paint and help scan in photos. He laughed with till you both had tears in your eyes and couldn’t look at each other. He also comforted you when you cried at old or incomplete memories. He wasn’t that surprised when you kissed him one evening, over beer and pizza. He put it down to you guys being high, but blushed when you told him it wasn’t the weed.

You felt silly that in your hysteria you had forgotten that Juice was probably one of the few people who could help you, more than the laptop manufacturer. But you were so used to hiding the relationship you had with Juice he didn’t spring to mind, especially in the presence of Opie and Jax.

“Go wait inside, I’ll get Juice” Opie unclipped the helmet leaving you to wait inside the clubhouse.

“Yo Juice!” Opie shouted. Juice slide out from under a car with a concerned look on his face. “I need your help” Opie started. Juice tried not to show his concern when Opie mentioned your name.

Juice found you sat at one of the table and chairs in the clubhouse, your head in your hands, laptop open next to you. Juice cleaned his hands on a rag and sat down next to you. You were still crying, your head throbbing with a headache but you didn’t care.

“What happened?” Juice asked softly. With words and sentences punctuated by hiccups and tears you explained to Juice what had happened as you saved a folder of work for your Master’s course, he listened and nodded, patiently taking in everything you said. He disappeared for a moment, to wash his hands and come back with an arm full of other equipment and his own laptop.

“Can you help?” Opie had come inside to get the downlow, hands on his hips looking down as your puffy teary face, while Juice fired up his own laptop and other equipment.  

“I think I can. I mean I’m sure I can. It’s just that it might fuck up your laptop” Chucky appeared momentarily, placing a glass of coke on the table for you and giving you a reassuring smile. You smiled back at him.

“I’ll just buy her a new one” Opie stated. Juice looked at you.

“I don’t care about the other shit on here. It’s just school rubbish” Juice nodded.

“I’ll back it up anyway, but I’ll get the picture back” Opie nodded and walked out of the clubhouse.

“You okay?” Juice asked, rubbing your back. You nodded, pressing your palms into your eyes, not wanting to cry anymore.

“So I’ve back up your laptop, but we now just have to let the software run to recover the lost stuff, so feel free to go home or whatever” You shook your head. “I wanna wait, go back to work. I’m sorry I interrupted” you watched the software progress bar jump slowly, and only by 0.5%.

“I guess Chucky can keep you company” Chucky nodded from over at the bar as he dried glasses. As Juice started to get up you stopped him.

“Thanks Juan” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in to a long hug. “Seriously, thank you”

***

At lunch Juice ran out to a shop along the street Teller-Marrow was on. He picked up a sandwich for him and one for you. When he came back you were asleep, slumped onto the table top, arms folded under your head and hood pulled up, next to the laptops set up.

“Hey” He gently woke you up. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

When Juice picked up the laptop’s you panicked slightly. “It’s fine, just follow me”

Juice made his way back to his dorm room in the clubhouse.

“If I leave these here” He placed both laptops on top of the dresser, and plugged them into the mains. “Then, you can eat his, and then sleep” He handed you one of the sandwiches wrapped in paper. You shook your head.

“I know you’re hungry, at least eat half”

“I have a headache” You winced. “Do you have vallium or something?”

After giving you some painkillers, Juice forced you to eat. It was clearly needed as you finished the while thing. Juice set a can of coke on the bedside table.

“You need anything else? I have to go back out”

“Do you have another hoodie, this one’s wet” Juice lightly laughed and pulled out one of his Sons hoodies. Juice watched you take off your wet hoodie, not at all surprised to see that you weren’t even dressed properly, only a bra on under the hoodie. You slipped off your sneakers and socks, you gave Juice another hug and then climbed into his bed.

Apart from getting rid of your headache, the painkillers had also knocked you out. You were unaware that the software had restored the deleted pictures, as well as some other deleted items.

When you woke up, the laptops were gone, so you put on your socks and shoes and wondered out into the clubhouse to see if you could find juice.

Your laptop as sitting neatly next to your backpack, but with no one around. You climbed up onto one of the empty bar stools to check out your laptop.

Juice had just finished saying by to a customer, only to be met with you throwing yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his arms wrapped around your body. “If I owe you my life will that be enough” You voice was muffled but Juice could hear and laughed.

“Don’t worry about it” He shrugged. Ever the humble person.

“What do you mean” You slightly released Juice to look at him. “Actually, just shut up and hug me please” Juice laughed and hugged you back, not caring that you were both standing in the middle of the Teller-Marrow lot and hugging for everyone to see.

Opie looked at Jax. Jax looked at Opie. Both had  “I mean, she could do worse. It could be Tig” Jax laughed. Opie punched Jax and then started over to you and Juice. He wasn’t mad, just felt a bit left out. “Op, you guys gave Juice such a hard time while being a prospect, how could I have told you” Opie laughed, scratching his neck. “True”

*****************************************************************************************************

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Supernatural- Hook Man (1.07)

Pairing: N/A, Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: A second old-time classic rears its ugly hook, the siblings still can’t find their dad, Sam and Olive get hurt again

Warnings: stabbing, mentions of a dead parent, cursing, etc

Word Count: 5154

“Alright, thank you for your time.” Sam hung up the payphone and came back to the table with a sigh.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis.” Dean called, not looking up from the laptop.

“Bite me.” Sam hissed before sitting down next to me.

“Anything?” I turned, eyes wide.

Sam shook his head. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Doe’s fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.” He sighed again, seeing the disappointment on my face. “I’m sorry, bug.” He wrapped an arm around me.

“Guys, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.” Dean spoke, and Sam’s face dropped into one of disappointment too.

“Check this out.” Dean tilted the computer toward us. “News article out of Planes Courier.  Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road.” Sam read, disgusted.

“Keep reading.” Dean instructed.

“Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Could be something interesting.” Dean grinned.

Sam shook his head. “Or it could be nothing at all. One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out.” Dean persisted with a wide smile, knowing he had us hooked now.

                                                        ***

We pulled up to the frat house the victim lived at, and I groaned.

“Do I have to come with you?”

“Shush.” Dean patted my face with his entire hand. “You’re just our little sister, you’re tagging along for today while Mom and Dad finalize the divorce.”

I rolled my eyes, but stuck myself to Sam’s side as he slid out of the car. He held my hand and kept me tucked half behind him as the frat boys looked at us.

“One more time, why are we here?” Sam hissed.

“Vic lived here.” I whispered back, wrapping my free hand around his arm.

“Nice wheels.” Dean grinned at the boys on the street, who were fixing their ugly little car.

They only received strange looks. Dean grinned again, and if it were a sorority house, we would’ve been welcomed with open arms.

“We’re your new fraternity brothers. From Ohio. We’re new, transfers. Looking for a place to stay.”

One boy arched an eyebrow and pointed at me. “She’s not a boy.”

Sam squared his shoulders. “This is our sister, Olive. She’ll only be here for a few days.”

One snorted. “Why would you bring a sixteen year old to a frat house?”

“Because our parents are finalizing the divorce today and she doesn’t feel like being there.” Sam almost hissed.

“Oh.”

“Hey, that your car?” Another boy broke the tension.

Dean’s grin grew wider as attention was averted to Baby. “Yeah, she is.”

“Oh, sick. C’mon, there’s a few places to stay inside.” He beckoned for us to follow him into the house.

                                                       ***

“Who are you?” The boy slathered with purple paint and wearing yellow shorts turned as Dean knocked on the door.

“We’re your new roommates.” He smiled, then pointed back to me. “Well, not her. She’s temporary.”

“Do me a favor? Get my back. Big game today.” The boy asked, holding the paint can and a brush out to Dean.

Dean shook his head and pointed to Sam. “He’s the artist. Things he can do with a brush.”

Sam looked horrified, and I sighed. I took the paint can and the brush with a roll of my eyes. Sam stood in the doorway, uncomfortable. Dean dropped onto a chair and picked up a porno magazine, glancing at me before tossing it aside and picking up another one.

“So…” He looked for a name, and found one on the magazine. “Murph. Is it true?”

“What?” The boy turned, and the paint went onto my shoes as the can jolted.

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath, and Sam sighed, coming to my rescue. He turned Murph back around and told him to stay, then took the paint from me.

Dean held a hand out and I took it, sitting on his lap as I pulled my boots off.

“We heard one of the guys around here got killed last week.”

Murph’s posture fell. “Yeah.”

“What happened?” I asked as I wiped the paint off my boots.

Murph shrugged. “They’re saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter passing through. Rich was a good guy.”

“Rich. He was with somebody?” Sam asked.

“Not just somebody. Lori Sorensen.” Murph wiggled his eyebrows.

“Who’s Lori Sorensen?” Dean asked, taking my other boot and helping me push off the layer of paint. 

“Lori’s a freshman. She’s a local. Super hot. And get this, she’s a reverend’s daughter.” Murph smiled.

Dean’s face turned grim. “You wouldn’t happen to know which church, would ya?”

                                                      ***

“Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter.” Reverend Sorensen spoke, and Lori was in the front row, looking embarrassed.

“And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church.”

The boys walked in, having parked the car while I cased the place. The doors slammed shut, and I groaned mentally, burying my head in my hands from the back row. Everyone stared, and after a moment of silence, Reverend Sorensen continued.

“As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings.”

I flagged Dean down with a glare, and he inches into the pew next to me. Sam followed, and Lori stared at him. I eyed him, and he sent a weak smile.

“So, please, let us pray. For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.” We bowed our heads out of respect.

Dean raised me, and Dean didn’t believe in God, so neither did I. Sam bowed his head, and I wasn’t sure where his idea of faith laid. Dean’s head didn’t go down, so I elbowed him. His green eyes widened and he blinked before looking down at our feet. He nudged my purple stained boot and smiled.

                                                      ***

“Are you Lori?” Sam asked as the blonde came our way.

“Yeah.” Lori nodded.

“My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean, and my sister Olive.” Sam pointed to us, and we waved.

“Hi.” I smiled, and Dean did the same, albeit begrudgingly.

“Dean and I just transferred here to the university.” Sam explained. “Olive’s staying with us for a few days.”

Lori nodded. “I saw you inside.”

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean frowned. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

“I kind of know what you’re going through. I-I saw someone… get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.” Sam’s eyes glassed over.

Lori nodded, and her father walked up to us. Lori turned, and stumbled across her words.

“Dad, um, this is Sam and Dean. They’re new students. This is their sister, Olive.”

Dean shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

The reverend smiled. “Thank you very much. It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

I coughed, and Dean patted my back with a chuckle. “Listen, uh, we’re new in town, actually.” He led him away, and pointed me to Sam, a silent gesture to stay. “And, uh, we were looking for a, um, a church group.” He led him away entirely.

“Tell us, Lori.” Sam squeezed my hand.

“What are the police saying?” I tugged him to walk, and Lori followed.

“Well, they don’t have a lot to go on. I think they blame me for that.” She mumbled.

“What do you mean?” Sam tilted his head.

“My story. I was so scared, I guess I was seeing things.”

Sam stopped, and I stumbled over my feet as I was pulled to a stop. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

                                                      ***

“So, Ollie, you believe her?” Dean asked as we sat down at the library table.

I shrugged. “Sounded like one of ours. Sams, you?”

Sam nodded. “I do.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.”

Sam shook his head with an eye roll. “No, man, there’s something in her eyes.”

Sam was sounding sappy, and it scared me because Jess had only been dead for a few months. I jumped in.

“And, get this. She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.” I moved to sit next to Dean instead.

He looked down at me. “Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the-”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, we know, the Hook Man legend.”

Dean scoffed. “That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever. You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

Sam and I looked at each other. I shrugged.

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.”

Dean sputtered. “Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?” Sam arched an eyebrow.

Dean looked at me, and upon seeing my agreeing with Sam, sighed. “Let’s go.”

                                                      ***

“Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851.” The librarian dropped the box in front of us.

Dean blew some dust off the top, and I breathed it in. I cleaned my throat, and began to cough.

“Thanks.” Dean patted my back.

She nodded and walked away. Dean coughed now too, and I had to duck under the table to finish coughing.

“So, this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?” Dean rubbed my back.

Sam grinned as I popped back up, handing me a folder. “Welcome to higher education.”

                                                      ***

“Hey, check this out.” Sam spoke and Dean shook my arm.

“No.” I groaned, huddling closer into him.

“Bug. Up, we found something.” Sam nudged my feet under the table.

“What?” I opened my eyes, climbing into Dean’s lap.

“1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against the sins of the flesh.”

I grimaced, ducking my head into Dean’s neck. He gave my side a pat, and made me look at a paper. “Get this, the murder weapon? Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

Sam handed me another paper. “And look where all this happened.”

I sniffled, fixing my glasses back onto the bridge of my nose. “9 Mile Road.” I grumbled, voice crackly.

“Same place where the frat boy was killed.” Sam pressed.

I smiled at him, then up at Dean.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkman. Let’s check it out.”

                                                      ***

“Here ya go, Sams.” I tossed him the hunting rifle.

“Buckshot won’t do much good if it’s a spirit, bug.” Sam eyed me.

“Yeah, rock salt.” Dean nodded and handed me another rifle.

“Huh. Salt being a spirit deterrent.” Sam nodded, impressed.

Dean took a coil of rope out and shut the trunk. “Yeah. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.”

We walked to the trees, and I held my rifle up, shaking. 

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?” Sam walked in front of me, trying to calm me.

I smiled. “Dean told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

There was a noise in the trees, and Sam raised his gun. Dean pulled me between them.

���Over there, over there.” Dean pointed.

Sam raised his gun, and a figure emerged from the trees. Dean saw it first, and he shoved the keys into my hand.

“Drive to the motel, don’t come back, I’ll call.” He shoved me away before I could protest.

I ducked behind a tree, peering around the corner.

“Put the gun down now! Now! Put your hands behind your head.” It was a sheriff.

“W-w-wait, okay, okay!” Dean dropped the gun and put his hands up, and Sam followed.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

I watched as the boys complied.

“Now get down on your bellies. Come on, do it!”

“He had the gun!” Dean defended himself, laying down on his stomach.

The sheriff’s light came my way, and I ran as silently as I could, getting back to the car and booking it out of there.

                                                      ***

The phone rang, and I dove across the bed, checking  the caller ID.

Deano ♥.

“De!”

“All good, baby. Saved Sam’s ass! Talked the Sheriff down to a fine. Sis, I am Matlock.”

I snorted. “But how?”

“I told ‘em he was a dumbass pledge and that we were hazing him.”

“What about the shotgun? Did he hear me?”

“Told him we saw a deer nearby, chalked it up to that.”

“Shotgun?” I repeated.

“Said that he was hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?”

“Well, Sam kinda looks like a dumbass pledge.”

Police sirens rang, and Dean stopped talking.

“De?”

“Come pick us up. Cops are bolting somewhere.”

“On my way.”

                                                      ***

Dean parked the car, and Sam was the first to scramble out.

“Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else.” I suggested. “Maybe he wants to finish the job, come for Lori?”

Two girls came out of the side entrance, and we ducked to hide by a bush. Dean grinned, pointing.

“Dude! Sorority girls! Do you think we’ll see a naked pillow fight?”

I hit the back of his head. “Come on, dumbass.”

Sam was climbing up a tree, to the balcony of the house. His foot slipped, but Dean caught it. He pushed him up before pulling me ahead of him.

“C’mon, bug.” Sam held his hands up, pulling me up as I got my feet against the tree, clambering over onto the balcony. Dean came last, and by then, Sam had the window open.

“Go first, you’re a girl.” Sam whispered.

I crawled in, narrowly avoiding Sam and Dean tumbling in. Dean was on top of Sam, who groaned.

“Shit, sorry!”

“Be quiet.” Sam groaned, shoving him off.

“You be quiet.” Dean scoffed.

“Both of you shut the fuck up.” I hissed, tugging Sam onto his feet.

                                                      ***

Sam peered through the door. He waited, then opened it all the way. We moved from her closet to her bedroom.

“Come on.” He whispered, leading us from the dark to the light.

AREN’T YOU GLAD YOU DIDN’T TURN ON THE LIGHT? was scrawled on the wall in blood, with big blocky letters. I shivered in the darkness. Sam grimaced and Dean sniffled, hugging me into his side.

“That’s right out of the legend.” I whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man alright.” Dean tapped his nose, again sniffling. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

I coughed, now smelling what he smelled.

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before.” Sam snorted.

“Hey, come here.” Dean called Sam over.

I looked down at what he pointed. It was a cross symbol, beneath the red, bloody writing on the wall.

“That look familiar to you?” I asked.

                                                      ***

“Same symbol.” I pointed to the picture that Sam had in his hands.

“Seems like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns.”

“Alright, alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down like the dirty son of a bitch he is.” I grumbled.

Dean looked at me, eyebrows raised. “When did you become me?”

Sam tried to snort, but choked instead. “Watch your language, bug.”

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “Let’s just go.” I shoved another paper into Sam’s hand.

Sam rolled his eyes again, shuffling through the papers. “Alright, okay, here. ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery’... In an unmarked grave.’ Just our luck.” Sam scoffed.

“Super.” Dean grunted, and I huffed.

“Okay. Okay, so at least we know it’s Karns. But we still don’t know where he’d manifest. Or why.” I sighed.

“I’ll take a wild guess about why. I think Sammy’s little friend Lori has something to do with this.” Dean glared at him.

Sam groaned, throwing his head back.

                                                      ***

“Hey, De.” I rubbed my eyes as I latched onto his arm.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me. This college thing is awesome!” He winked at a blonde that passed by.

“This wasn’t really my experience.” Sam scratched the back of his neck.

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?” Dean rose an eyebrow, and Sam nodded. “What a geek.” Dean turned and ruffled my hair. “Alright, you do your homework?”

I nodded, fumbling with Sam’s jacket and pulling out a paper. “Yeah. It was bugging me, right? We haven’t been able to figure out how the Hook Man’s caught up with Lori, right? Sams and I think I came up with something.” I handed it out to Dean.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.” Dean read with a sigh.

“De, there’s a pattern here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, pointing to the paper again. “Both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out, get this, with a sharp instrument.” I pressed.

Dean shook his head and threw up a hand. “Okay, so what’s the connection to Lori?”

Sam and I looked at each other, rolling our eyes.

“Dean.” Sam sighed. “A man of religion? Who openly preaches against immorality?”

Dean’s face became one of understanding, and he nodded, motioning a hand to continue.

“Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his only daughter.” I offered.

Dean’s eyebrows knitted across his forehead. “Reverend Sorensen. You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe. Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing.” I offered again.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight, Sams.”

He nodded at me. “What about you two?”

Dean was looking at a blonde by the pool table. He was practically drooling over her, eyes wide and mouth open.

“De.” I shook his arm.

“I’m gonna go see if I can find that unmarked grave. Ollie, you should stay with Sam.” Dean’s eyebrows furrowed again, this time in concern.

I shook my head. “I’m coming with you.” I looked up.

Dean sighed, looking back at the blonde, then to me. “Fine, let’s go.”

                                                      ***

In the gleam of my flashlight, I saw a headstone, a cross engraved on it. I hit Dean’s arm and pointed.

“Here.”

Dean gave my hair a ruffle and walked forward, tossing me a shovel.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch, babes.”

                                                      ***

I hit the wood of the coffin and coughed, sweating.

“That’s it. Next time, we get to watch the cute girl’s house.” Dean huffed, breaking the rest of the coffin far enough to see the rotted body of Jacob Karns.

“Hello, preacher.” I trilled, tossing aside my shovel.

Dean helped me out of the grave. I dug the salt out of the duffle bag, and tossed Dean the can of lighter fluid. I poured over half the container, and I stepped back as Dean lit a match.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean sang in the same tone and threw the match over the grave.

It went out on the way down, and I laughed. He turned to glare at me. I leaned against his shoulder and laughed again. He sighed, pulling out another lighter. I took it and tossed it into the grave, and the bones went up in flames.

                                                      ***

“What the fuck happened? Sams!” I tried to push past the two deputies that were in front of Sam.

The reverend had been attacked, in his own home. Sam had tried to stop him, but it was too late. Reverend Sorensen was in the hospital, and we were stuck trying to continue cleaning the mess.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s our brother.” Dean pointed. “Hey! Brother!”

“Sams!” I popped to my toes.

“Let ‘em through.” The sheriff stepped aside.

“Thanks.” Dean whispered to Sam as I ran to him, jumping into his arms.

“Hey, bug.”

“The fuck happened?” I asked again, pulling back to look at his face.

“Hook Man.” Sam scoffed, letting me drop back onto the ground.

“Y-you saw him?” I tilted my head.

“Damn right.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Why didn’t you guys torch the bones?”

Dean and I scowled. “We did! We burned them, through and through.”

“Sams, are we sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns? Maybe we’re wrong, maybe we got them all mixed up.”

“It sure as hell looked like him. That’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching onto the reverend.” Sam shook his head and lowered his voice.

“Well, yeah, no shit. Dude wouldn’t send the Hook after himself.”

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” Sam lowered his voice even more.

“So what?”

I rolled my eyes. “De, she’s probably upset about it.”

“She’s definitely upset about it. She’s upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.” Sam explained.

“Okay,” I nodded. “So she’s conflicted. Preacher is latching onto her repressed emotions and he’s doing the punishing for her.”

“Right.” Dean nodded furiously. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her a party girl, Dad has an affair. Jeez.” He sucked in air through his teeth. “Jesus, remind me not to piss this girl off.”

“Okay, but we burned the bones. I dumped half the fucking container on them. Why didn’t that stop him?”

“You guys must’ve missed something.”

“No. We burned everything in that coffin.” Dean shook his head.

“Did you get the hook?”

Dean and I looked at each other, and his nostrils flared in his confusion.

“The hook?”

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him.” Sam shrugged.

I snorted, threw my head back, and groaned. “So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power. It’s keeping him here.”

“So. If we find the hook…” Sam started.

“We stop the Hook Man.” The three of us smiled.

                                                      ***

“Here’s something. I think. Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary.” I plopped into Dean’s lap, and he caught me with a grunt. “Karns, Jacob. Person affects, disposition thereof.” Dean read over my shoulder.

“Does it mention the hook?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I smacked Dean’s hand away and flipped the page. “Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church.”

Dean seemed to flinch, and I looked at Sam “Isn’t that where Lori’s dad preaches?”

“Yeah. She lives there too.”

“Okay, so maybe that’s why the Hook Man’s been haunting reverends and their daughters for the last 200 years.” I closed the book, shoving it away.

“Yeah, but if the hook were at Lori’s house or at the church, don’t you think someone might’ve seen it? I mean, a bloodstained, silver-handled hook?” Dean asked, leaning his chin on my shoulder.

“Let’s check the church records.” I made grabby hands at another stack of books, and Sam slid them toward me.

I handed one to Dean, and he put it off to the side, reading it with his head still on me. I skimmed through it, but I couldn’t find anything. I sighed, and shoved it aside, picking up another book.

“Got it!” Sam perked up.

“Shh!” The librarian shushed us with a glare.

“Sorry.” I mouthed back.

“St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.” He sighed.

“Reforged?” I rubbed my forehead.

“They melted it down. Made it into something else.” He sighed.

I groaned.

                                                      ***

“Alright, we can’t take any chances. Anything silver goes in the fire.” Dean grunted as we got out of the car.

Sam nodded. “Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in.”

“Alright, take your pick.”

“I’ll take the house. Ols, you with Dean or you with me?”

“I’ll go with Dean.” I grabbed his hand.

“Okay. Hey, Sam!” Dean called over his shoulder, and the giraffe postured boy turned, eyebrows raised. “Stay out of her panty drawer.” He mocked.

Sam rolled his eyes and flipped him off, then winked my way, sending an air kiss. I caught it exaggeratedly, putting it up to my face and grinning.

                                                      ***

“Get that.” Dean pointed to the last thing, a silver candle holder.

I tossed it to him, and he threw it in the fireplace. We watched it, then looked around once more to make sure we hadn’t missed anything.

“Alright, I got everything that even looked silver.” Sam dumped a pillowcase on the floor.

“Better safe than sorry.” Dean nodded.

Dean and I dug our hands in, tossing handfuls into the fire as Sam got the rest. The wood ceiling creaked, and Sam and I froze. Dean hit my shoulder and I threw the chained necklace in my hand into the fire.

“Move, move.” Dean yanked his gun out of his waistband.

Sam moved up the stairs first, and I was forced to follow in the middle. We popped into the temple to see Lori sitting in a pew, crying. I nodded at Dean over my shoulder and he headed back down the steps as Sam walked over the Lori. He sat down next to her and I sighed, trudging back down the stairs.

Dean was crouched in front of the fireplace, watching as the rest of the things were thrown into the fire. He saw my slouched shoulders and stood, holding a hand out to me. I sighed, crashing into his chest. He kissed the top of my head.

“It’s okay, sweetpea. What’s got you so rough?”

I sighed again. “Jess hasn’t been gone that long. It’s been maybe a few months. And here he is, flirting up another girl. I get he’s sad and he’s bonding with her, and I get it’s his choice, but I know Sam. I know him, De, and this isn’t him.”

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry, babes.”

There was another creak from the floorboards, but it wasn’t around where Sam had ended. I looked up, and it got cold. I shivered, and my breath left my mouth in a cloud. Dean and I looked at each other, eyes wide. I snatched the rifle off the floor and scrambled up the stairs, almost faceplanting onto the floor.

“Sam, drop!” I screamed.

Sam crouched down, and Dean shot at the Hook. He disappeared into dust. Sam shot back up, looking at us with panic in his eyes.

“I thought we got all the silver!”

“So did we!” Dean shouted back at Sam as he helped Lori get to her feet.

“Then why the fuck is he still here?” I scowled.

“Well, maybe we missed something!” Dean scoffed.

Sam froze, and he snatched something off Lori’s neck. In the wall off to the side of Dean and I, a long scratch came across the wall, and I flinched. Dean turned around and looked at it. We saw nothing, and I felt panic rise in my chest.

“Sam!”

I tossed him the rifle, and he threw the necklace at us. Dean caught it, shoved his rifle in my hand, and he ran back down the stairs. I shot at the space in front of the scratch. Nothing happened, and I was quick to reload as Sam took his shot. Lori cowered behind him, and I felt a sharp pain in my leg. I looked down to see the hook embedded in my leg. I felt myself pale, and my head got light.

“Sammy!” I cried out.

Sam pushed toward me and took a shot. The hook went from me to his forearm, and he hissed.

“Shit!” I growled, and Dean ran up the stairs.

He scooped me off my feet as Sam tried to tie his arm off.

“I’ve got you, baby girl. I’ve got you. It’s okay. He’s gone, he’s gone.” Dean whispered.

I winced, and curled into him. He shushed me again, and I let myself black out.

                                                      ***

“And you saw him, too? The man with the hook?”

“Yes, I told you. We all saw him, he hurt our baby sister and then he hurt him. We fought him and he ran.” Dean growled.

He had me in his hold. I hadn’t been hurt too bad, but it was, by Winchester luck, the same leg I had sprained. They had patched me up, and I was fine, but left stunned and scared. Sam was right next to me, arm wrapped up and already bleeding through. The paramedics left, and Sam scrambled away.

“And that’s all?” The sheriff asked.

“Yeah, that’s all.” I mumbled.

He nodded at me. “Listen. You and your brothers,”

Dean cut him off, “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

Dean fixed me in his grip and carried me over to the car. He helped me slide in, letting me curl my feet up on the seat as I cuddled up to his side. Dean’s head went up to the rear view mirror, and he stared.

“What’s he doing?”

“Just said goodbye. Here he comes.” Dean whispered. “He’s upset.”

Sam slid into the car with a somber look on his face. I forced myself to sit up and break the silence.

“Hey, Sams.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, baby girl.” He whispered.

“We could stay.” Dean offered.

Sam only shook his head, taking me from Dean holding me against himself. He pulled me in with a sigh, resting his head against mine. Dean looked back up at the rear view mirror, shook his head in disappointment, and drove off.

Previous Ep: Skin (1.06)

Previous fic: Dean the Birthday Boy

Next Ep: Bugs (1.08)

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

title: he’s like cold coffee in the morning

summary: tj works at the local coffee shop in college, and finds that the most attractive boy seems to spend all his time buried in books and lattes. so naturally, he does the most logical thing. he tries to flirt with him.

word count: 6752

ships: tyrus, muffy

notes: this is for @illbeyourreasonwhy for the pride exchange! there’s another thing on the way, but i hope you like this!

“And that’s a wrap on practice, great work today, boys! Keep up the good work!”

TJ walked out of the gym, wiping his sweat with the hem of his shirt. He quickly hopped into the shower and turned the water on, sighing softly. It was nice, just sitting here and letting the water hit him, but he had a shift soon, so he needed to get going. Drying himself off with a towel and changing into his clothes, he headed out the door, nearly running down the street.

Pushing open the door to the cafe, he was reminded of why he took this job in the first place. There was really nothing better than the smell of coffee to make him feel happy. He slipped on his apron and his nametag, hopping behind the counter and prepping the machines.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Marty said, untying his apron and putting his elbows on the counter. He seemed exceptionally mopey today.

“And you’re just so thankful I’m here to handle our-” he looked out into the store, counting the customers with exaggeration, “three customers, one of which already has a coffee?”

Marty rolled his eyes, nudging TJ’s shoulder and sighing loudly. “I’m just glad I have someone to talk to.”

TJ chuckled, running his hands along the coffee machine. “Ah, yes. Your little flirty friend isn’t here to keep you company.”

“First of all, her name’s Buffy,” he started with an exasperated tone, “and second of all, she’s not my flirty friend. She’s just my friend.”

TJ snorted. “Says the guy who continuously writes pick-up lines on her orders.”

Marty spotted a few people coming in, and started grabbing a couple of cups, without thinking. “When are you going to stop bugging me about my love life and start focusing on yours?”

“When I find a cute boy, who also likes cute boys,” TJ commented, retying his apron.

“Oh, you think you’re cute, Kippen?”

“Very.”

Marty shook his head, walking towards the exit. “See you later.”

“I’m going to die,” Cyrus groaned, throwing himself onto his bed.

Buffy took a seat by him, patting his back. “You won’t die. You say this every semester, Cy, and you always make it through. This week’s gonna be rough, but I promise that you’ll do fine.”

Cyrus sighed, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never had to write a paper this long before, and I just kept putting it off, and now I only have a week? On top of studying for midterms? I’m going to die.”

“Just. . .go and grab a coffee or something, to, you know, keep you going,” she suggested, and he perked up at that.

“Come with me?” Cyrus asked, almost pleadingly.

Buffy hesitated. “I would but. . .I kind of already promised someone that I would hang out with them today after classes.”

“Don’t you have midterms too?”

Buffy smiled proudly, crossing her arms. “Perks of playing a sport at the collegiate level is that I get to take midterms early. ‘Cause of the game schedule. It actually works out quite nicely.”

Cyrus sighed, leaning back against the back of his bed. “You’re going to make me go and interact with the barista and order a coffee? You know I’m just going to stumble on my own words.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, as if to try and reassure him. “You’re gonna be fine. You’ve done it before. Plus, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I see a cute boy and short circuit, forget my name, he thinks I have amnesia and he takes me to a hospital where they find out that I have-”

“Cyrus!”

“Sorry,” he caught his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “dream I had. Fine, I’ll go. . .but please, can’t you come?”

“I already promised Marty that I’d-”

“Marty?” Cyrus interrupted her, “you mean that guy that you’re always flirting with at the coffee shop?”

“It’s not flirting! We’re just friends, and he invited me to go bowling.”

Cyrus smirked, crossing his arms. “And are you going with a group of friends?”

“Well, no,” she answered, shaking her head, “but that doesn’t matter.”

Cyrus waved her off, ushering her out of his room. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a date, even if you won’t admit it. Tell me about it afterwards. Also wear a blue shirt, it brings out your eyes.”

He closed the door before she could say anything else, and started to pack his backpack full of things he would need to work. Normally, he would work in the library, but during midterms week, he always found it either too quiet or too loud. The coffee shop seemed to have the perfect blend of quiet chatter in the background in order to keep him focused on his work, and not allow him to listen to his thoughts. It was a good environment to work in. Probably one of his favorites. He knew he couldn’t stay away no matter if he was alone or with a friend.

And that’s how Cyrus found himself rushing to coffee shop during the rain, papers in hand, sliding through the door and plopping himself down in his usual seat; a booth near one of the windows. He started setting up his computer, plugging it into the outlet, and turning it on. Pulling out a folder of his, he shuffled through piles of paper to find the one with the assignment. That’s when he decided to go up and order, running a hand through his hair.

TJ saw the boy approaching, and swore that for a split second, he lost his breath. With his soft brown hair sweeping across his forehead, slightly upturned nose, and rosy complexion, he was, in short, beautiful.

“Hello?”

TJ snapped out of his reverie at the boy’s words. He looked down at him, slightly flushed. “Sorry, what can I get for you?”

Cyrus sighed, squinting up at the menu and then just bowing his head slightly. “Can I just get five espressos, but all in one cup?”

If TJ were holding a cup in his hand, he would have dropped it. Picking one up from the stack, he started to write on it. “That’s bound to kill you.”

Cyrus shrugged with one shoulder, smiling a little bit. “It’s either that or exams, so I’d rather it be coffee that gives me the sweet release of death.”

TJ laughed out loud at that, smiling far too widely given what Cyrus said. It wasn’t particularly hilarious, but it sure seemed that way to TJ. Maybe it was just because the boy in front of him was exceptionally cute.

“What are you, going to med school or something?” TJ wondered aloud, scooping some of the coffee grounds into a container.

“No, I’m a double major,” he replied, leaning against the counter.

TJ nodded. “Ah, the silent killer.”

Cyrus laughed so hard at that he snorted, immediately flushing a deep shade of red. Oh, Buffy was going to get an earful of this later.

Meanwhile TJ was trying to keep his composure and not spill the coffee grounds all over the place. Turning on the machine, it started to hum and drip the espresso into a cup. He had to continuously add more grounds to make it to five shots, but he eventually got there. Capping the cup, he slid it over to Cyrus, before noticing the pile of stuff, which he assumed was his, in the corner of the shop.

“Oh shoot, I assumed this was to go, sorry,” he mumbled.

Cyrus waved him off, sliding him the money for the coffee. “That’s fine, I’ll stay here, keep you company, seeing as there are almost no people here,” he laughed a little.

TJ ignored him for the moment, focusing intensely on getting the amount of change right, and handing it to the other boy. “Don’t you have studying to do...I would use your full name, but I don’t even know your first name.”

“Well,” Cyrus squinted at his nametag, “TJ, studying can wait. I’m Cyrus, by the way.”

Cyrus. What a beautiful name to match a beautiful person. “Well, that’s cool then. Maybe I’ll just take my break now,” he decided, walking out from behind the counter.

During the time that they talked, Cyrus learned that TJ was here on a basketball scholarship, but that he was majoring in psychology, with the intent of becoming a school counselor, and a minor in gender studies.

“What made you wanna minor in that?” Cyrus asked, sipping his all too bitter coffee, and making a face about it.

TJ smiled shyly, sliding him a couple of sugar packets. “Oh, uh, I guess it just sounded cool, or something,” he mumbled, trying to brush it off.

Cyrus made a mental note to himself that TJ looked cute when he was slightly flustered. “That’s cool. Sounds really interesting.”

TJ learned that Cyrus was double majoring in film and journalism, with the intent of either becoming a playwright or a writer. He still didn’t know which one he wanted to pursue; as he sipped his coffee, he seemed to talk faster and faster, which increasingly worried TJ.

“Hang out here for a while, alright?” TJ told him, getting up from his seat, “I’ll walk you back after I finish my shift.”

Small groups of people filtered in during the rest of TJ’s shift, and he kept an eye on Cyrus all the while, who was typing away on his computer like a mad man. He couldn’t help but smile at that as he made the seemingly endless streams of chai lattes.

TJ finished up his shift on a good note, and he even had time to clean some of the equipment at the end of his shift, before he hung up his apron in the back room and walked out to where Cyrus was sitting, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

“Alright, time to head out,” TJ said, to which Cyrus pouted and shut his laptop, shoving it in his bag.

“I was so close to finishing my last paper, though!” he whined, getting up and nearly hopping towards the door.

TJ chuckled, falling in step with him. “And you’ll get to finish it once you get back to your dorm. . .which I’m just now realizing I don’t know where it is. Care to lead the way?”

And lead the way he did. Cyrus had never felt more energetic in his life; was this how athletic people felt? It was incredible. He even went up the stairs without feeling completely winded at the top. All the while, TJ was admiring him with a fond smile on his face. He had just met Cyrus this afternoon, but he felt like he’d known him his entire life.

Once they reached Cyrus’ dorm, his frantic energy seemed to calm down a little, as he opened the door and stood in the threshold, turning to face TJ.

“Thanks for walking me back,” he said, and he was a bit more calm than he’d been previously, “you didn’t have to.”

TJ shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, looking around the room. He saw a small pride flag on one of the tables, but he tried to tell himself it was probably Cyrus’ roommate’s. “But I wanted to.”

He wanted to, and Cyrus thought it was so sweet of him. He’d only known TJ for the time that they’d spent at the coffee shop, but he already felt so close to him, like they were best friends. Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around TJ in a hug.

TJ didn’t really respond for a second; a hug was the last thing he was expecting, and yet, here he was. It was really nice, actually, but by the time TJ had actually started to put his arms around Cyrus, the boy pulled back, mortified, and shut the door.

TJ waited outside Cyrus’ door for a minute, waiting to see if maybe he’d open it again and talk to him. But after a little while, he left, shaking his head.

For the next few days, Cyrus avoided the coffee shop like the plague. Buffy came in to get his orders, and by the time she delivered it to him, it was cold because she’d been talking to Marty about their next date.

“You guys are going out on a date?” Cyrus had exclaimed, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“It’s not a big deal,” she brushed it off, grabbing a piece of her hair and twirling it around between her fingers.

Cyrus took a sip of his coffee, smirking. “Oh, please, you’re so smitten with him and you’re excited that he asked you out.”

“Your words, not mine.”

TJ’s head snapped up every time the bell rang above the door, but he never saw Cyrus enter. He sighed, pouring the milk into the cup before Marty came up by him and snatched it out of his hand.

“What was that for?” TJ snapped, crossing his arms.

“The order is for soy milk, not two percent! Are you trying to actively kill our customers?” Marty carded his fingers through his hair, exasperated.

“I’m bad with numbers,” TJ mumbled, grabbing a new cup.

Marty shook his head, taking the cup from TJ’s hands. “You’re not like this even when you pull an allnighter. What’s going on, dude?”

TJ sighed, leaning back against the counter. He started to explain everything, from the moment that Cyrus walked in, to when they walked back to his dorm together, to when Cyrus hugged him and them pulled away immediately.

“That pretty much brings us up to date,” he said plainly, grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter, while Marty stared at him with wide eyes.

“Just talk to him, dude,” he told him, nudging him a little, “I’m sure things are still fine between you two.”

TJ just shrugged, and continued on with his shift like a robot, going through the movements with little effort. The end of his shift came pretty quickly, and he ended up spending some time at the courts shooting hoops, until his phone buzzed.

[Marty: go talk to him or so help me]

Somehow, TJ found himself going up the stairs in Cyrus’ dorm complex, and towards his room. He stood outside the door for a little bit, trying to collect his thoughts and think of something to say that would make sense. Tentatively, he rapped his knuckles on the door and waited.

Soft footsteps were heard from inside, and Cyrus opened the door. All of TJ’s planning to say something comprehensible went out the window when he saw him; Cyrus was wearing clothes that were way too big for him, and he had glasses on this time.

“Oh, hi,” Cyrus said quietly, snapping TJ out of his thoughts.

“. . .hey,” he mumbled, clearing his throat, “can I talk to you for a second? If you have a class that’s fine, I can come back later, or-”

“-I have time right now,” Cyrus cut in, stepping aside and letting TJ in. He shut the door, his head pounding in his chest, and turned around to see TJ sitting on the ground. Cyrus found that amusing and a little bit cute, but he tried to quell that voice in his head. He took a seat by TJ, pulling his knees into his chest.

“Did I. . .do something wrong?” TJ asked quietly, looking down at the ground.

Cyrus immediately turned to look at him, a worried look etched into his face. “What? No! What would make you say that?”

TJ shrugged, picking at a fray string in the rug. “I. . .I don’t know, I guess since I haven’t seen you much around the coffee shop that. . .I did something wrong.”

Cyrus drew in a breath, gnawing on his lower lip. “Right,” he mumbled, “but. . .you didn’t do anything wrong. I did.”

TJ looked up from the ground for the first time, unable to meet Cyrus’ gaze since the other boy was looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

Cyrus closed his eyes. “After you walked me back to my dorm and I just. . .hugged you, I wasn’t thinking straight. . .sorry.”

TJ nearly chuckled at ‘not thinking straight’, but kept a solemn face. “You think I’m, like, mad at you for that?”

Cyrus shrugged, opening his eyes and looking at TJ. “I. . .guess not mad, but weirded out because I’m-”

He stopped, not letting any more words flow out of his mouth. He surprised himself in that moment; he almost came out to TJ without so much as a second thought to how he might react.

TJ seemed to pick up on Cyrus’ discomfort, and shifted a little. “I’m not weirded out, Cyrus,” he said, pausing for a beat, “I. . .I actually liked it.”

Now it was Cyrus’ turn to be a little surprised, meeting TJ’s eyes. “You did?”

TJ nodded, unable to keep looking at Cyrus, so he opted for looking around the room to try and find something to distract himself. The pride flag on the desk caught his attention, and he picked it up, twirling it around in his hand.

“I like this,” he said softly, holding it delicately.

“Y-You do?” Cyrus stammered, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah.”

Cyrus took this as a good sign, and, feeling a little bold, said “It’s mine.”

TJ turned to him with a smile so bright that it could eclipse the sun’s rays. “Really? That’s cool. I don’t think I’d have the courage to have one in my room.” He breathed out shakily after that; he didn’t really plan on coming out today, to Cyrus, but the moment just felt right.

Cyrus’ smile softened, opening one of his drawers and rifling around in it. “You don’t have to make it a big deal, just,” he popped his head up, handing TJ a pin, “here, take it.”

TJ turned the pin over and over in his hand. It was a rainbow one, with the words ‘you are loved’ painted on top in black. He smiled, slipping it into his pocket. “Thank you, Cyrus. Will I be seeing you around the coffee shop again?”

Cyrus giggled, throwing his head back; TJ didn’t think he’d heard such a beautiful laugh. “Do the gays flock together?”

TJ chuckled, standing up. “In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Things seemed to get a lot better after that day. Cyrus started coming in and ordering coffee during TJ’s shifts, and TJ was glad to see that the boy had returned. He’d even started wearing his pride pin on his apron. Sure, he was a little nervous to do so for the first few days, but after a few people had complimented him on it, he was much happier to wear it.

It’d been about a month of Cyrus coming in, ordering coffee, spending a little too much time talking to TJ, and then working frantically on his schoolwork.

It was a relatively quiet Wednesday afternoon, the business of the coffee shop had come to a gentle lull. TJ was steaming some milk for an order, when Marty came up beside him, leaning against the counter.

“So, how long have you been dating him?”

TJ nearly spilled the milk on him, pretty much dropping the cup onto the counter, some of the milk sloshing around and spilling on the counter. “What?” he squeaked, grabbing a rag, and wiping up his mess.

Marty rolled his eyes, handing TJ a clean rag. “You and that kid who keeps coming here?” he pointed to Cyrus, who was making gestures at his computer, since he was studying for his ASL test.

TJ flushed an embarrassing shade of pink, kicking at the ground below him. “I’m not. . .we’re not dating, Marty.”

Marty groaned, sitting up on the counter. “Sure, dude. He just happens to be here whenever your shifts are.”

“That’s definitely not true,” TJ shot back quietly, sneaking a glance over at Cyrus, who was deep in concentration, “I’m sure he’s here other times.”

“Never here when I’m here working without you,” Marty said calmly, shooting TJ a smirk.

TJ tried to keep his composure on the outside, but on the inside, he was melting. He tried not to read too much into the situation, but he couldn’t help himself. He looked over at Cyrus, who smiled up at him and signed ‘hi TJ’. It was so cute, he just kind of stared at him until he felt something, or rather someone, slap his arm.

“What the hell was that for?” TJ scolded, rubbing his arm where it had just been hit.

“You were staring,” Marty pointed out.

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

At that moment, before any more arguing could be done, Buffy walked through the door, smiling brightly at Marty, and taking a seat with Cyrus.

“So that’s Buffy, huh?” TJ crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter.

Now it was Marty’s turn to be flustered, turning pink. “How’d you know?”

TJ nudged him. “You never smile like that.”

Marty glanced over at Buffy and Cyrus, seeing them deep in conversation, hands moving wildly. Hopping beside TJ, he shook him, effectively spilling ice all over the floor and pointed to Cyrus and Buffy.

“Marty, I love you, but if you don’t fucking stop shaking me I will pour hot coffee into your sneakers,” TJ threatened, bending down to pick up the ice, Marty helping him a little.

TJ stood up, letting Marty pick up the rest of the cubes, and ran a hand through his hair. Some of it flopped over his forehead, since he’d run out of hair gel and hadn’t had a chance to get some more. He grabbed another cup, remaking the iced coffee order.

Meanwhile, Buffy was sizing him up, as Cyrus sat typing away. “So this is the boy you keep talking about, huh?”

Cyrus huffed beside her, grabbing a few of his papers and sifting through them. “Oh hush, he’s cute and you know it.”

Buffy shrugged, leaning back in the booth seat. “I guess I can see why you like him,” she agreed, scrolling through her phone for a while, Cyrus doing work next to her.

After a little while, TJ came up to where he was sitting, and cleared his throat, setting down a coffee cup.

“Oh, I didn’t order anything,” Cyrus said, nudging the cup away, but TJ held it firmly on the table.

“I know. This one’s on me. I thought you could use a break from all that strong coffee you drink,” he laughed a little, pushing his hair back. Buffy glanced over at Cyrus, who was blushing at the gesture.

Cyrus eyed the drink with suspicion. “What is it?”

TJ smirked a little, leaning against the table. “My special drink. It’s a secret.”

“How do I know you’re not trying to poison me?”

TJ’s eyes widened a little. “Cyrus, really? You think I would poison my favorite person?”

Buffy choked on her spit at that, getting both boys to look at her, but she waved them off, going back to her phone.

Cyrus was now insanely flustered, and couldn’t function as well as he wanted to, so he carefully took the cup into his hands, and took a small sip. It was almost like hot chocolate, but with a hint of vanilla and mint. “This is. . .really, really good.”

TJ smiled at his work. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll call it the ‘Cyrus Special’.”

Cyrus laughed a little at that, shaking his head. He went back to his studying, talking to Buffy, and answering her questions about TJ. His drink was gone in record time, and he figured he’d miss it a little.

When Cyrus came in the next day, however, there was a small chalkboard sign on the counter, which said ‘try the Cyrus Special: A Minty Vanilla Wonderland’. Still in shock, Cyrus approached the counter, and got TJ’s attention.

“You actually made a drink for me?” he asked, his voice soft and filled with wonder and fondness.

TJ returned the smile. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I guess I’ll have to order one then,” he chuckled, handing him the money and placing the change in the tip jar.

TJ was busy cleaning the counters in the back, so Marty took care of the order. However, when he saw the name written on the cup, he took the liberty of drawing hearts all around the remaining space, and smiling to himself.

“One Cyrus Special!” Marty called out, chuckling a little to himself.

Cyrus closed his laptop and set it on top of the table, putting his phone in his pocket and heading up to the counter. He picked up his drink, but couldn’t help but notice the hearts drawn all over his name. He looked between the cup and Marty, as if to say ‘what the hell’.

“You like him, don’t you?” he asked, giddy with excitement like a child.

Cyrus’ grip tightened around the drink, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Wh-what?”

Marty sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “TJ! He likes you a lot!”

The world seemed to stop spinning right then and there, as TJ walked out from behind the counter and froze. He could feel the blood rushing from his head, and his chest suddenly felt like it was being crushed. Cyrus was looking between Marty and TJ, a look of confusion and worry on his face.

Marty fumbled with something to say. “Oh, uh, I mean, I mean that he talks to you like-like a friend, and he likes that you, uh, when you come in and talk, or, uh-”

TJ couldn’t take it anymore; he hopped over the counter and ran out the door, making a sharp right and taking off. Cyrus took one sip of his coffee, set it down on the counter, and took off running after TJ. It was harder for him, since he wasn’t athletically gifted, but TJ was important to him, so no matter how badly his legs burned or his lungs ached, he kept running.

He eventually saw him, sitting under a cherry tree that was almost ready to bloom. His apron was tossed to the side, and as Cyrus got closer, he could see that he was holding the pride pin in his hand.

Cyrus came up to him, taking a seat on the grass and taking a few moments to gulp down air, trying to catch his breath. “TJ-”

“-what?” he cut in, sharply. It took Cyrus by surprise, TJ’s tone, but he didn’t linger on that too long.

“I. . .I just wanted to see if you’re okay and-”

“-I don’t need your pity,” he grumbled, holding the pin tighter in his hand.

Cyrus shrank into himself, trying to press down the lump in his throat. “I-I’m sorry, TJ, I just. . .look, about what Marty said, I-”

“-I don’t need your pity or your help! Can you just back off?” TJ shouted, standing up in a bout of anger, dropping the pin, and stomping on it, effectively breaking it into pieces. It might as well have been Cyrus’ heart that he stepped on; that’s how it felt to Cyrus, at least.

Cyrus brought a hand up to his mouth, his fingers trembling over his lips. For a split second, TJ looked apologetic, but Cyrus didn’t give himself the time to ponder over his facial expressions He just took off running back to his dorm; he was tired, everything ached, and the hot tears spilling down his cheeks made his vision blurry, but he didn’t stop until he reached his dorm, slamming the door behind him and collapsing on the bed. He couldn’t be thankful enough that his roommate was out.

Cyrus didn’t know how long he spent, clutching the pillow to his chest and crying into it. At some point, he shakily grabbed the pride flag on top of his desk and shoved it underneath his bed. This was the worst he’d ever felt in his entire life; TJ hadn’t even been in his life for that long, but it felt like he’d just lost the most important person to him. After a while of trying not to cry, followed by crying, he took his phone out of his pocket and texted Buffy.

[Me: can you pick up my stuff from the coffee shop? i left it there and i’m in my dorm]

[Buffy: what? why??]

[Me: long story, i don’t feel like talking about it right now, please?]

[Buffy:...okay]

He waited in his room, until after around twenty minutes there were footsteps  near his door, and a soft ‘thump’ on his door.

“Cyrus? I brought your stuff. I hope you’re okay, text me when you can,” she said, walking off.

Cyrus waited five minutes before he opened the door and picked up his things. He saw that she’s also brought his coffee, with his name and hearts still on the cup. Taking it in his hand, he took a sip; it was cold now, but it still tasted good. Unfortunately, it still reminded him of TJ, so he ended up throwing it out, before resigning back to his bed for the rest of the day.

TJ took the next few days off of work; he couldn’t handle being in there for a while, but he couldn’t avoid it for too long; he needed the money.

When he rolled in on Monday morning, and saw Marty behind the counter, casually wiping it down, he made a beeline to him, narrowing his eyes.

“You absolute idiot!” he shrieked, yanking on his apron.

Marty glanced up from the counter, raising a brow. “What?”

“Don’t you ‘what’ me Marty! You told Cyrus that I liked him!” he whispered harshly, his gaze flitting around the shop, “that was supposed to be a secret.”

Marty groaned, turning on the machines. “It’s not exactly a secret that you two are flirting.”

TJ’s eyes widened, crossing his arms. “What does that mean?”

“Do you not see the way he looks at you or talks to you? I’m like almost a hundred percent sure that he likes you,” he told him.

TJ sighed sadly, washing a cup. “Well now there’s no chance of that happening.”

Marty didn’t look up. “What do you mean?”

TJ hesitated, fidgeting with the loose ends of his apron ties. “I kind of snapped at him after what happened that day and we haven’t spoken since.”

“You have to work things out with him, dude. You know that right?”

TJ nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just have no idea what to do.”

Marty grabbed the milk out of the fridge, and started to make himself a coffee, dropping a few bills into the tip jar. “I have some idea.”

The following day, early in the afternoon, TJ climbed the stairs to Cyrus’ dorm, his nerves increasing with each shaky step. Considering how close the two boys had been, TJ knew Cyrus’ schedule with relative confidence. He stood outside of Cyrus’ door for a full minute and a half before he knocked, so quietly that he wondered if Cyrus even heard it. After a beat, he heard footsteps from inside, and Cyrus opened the door.

The first emotion that came over TJ was guilt; Cyrus looked miserable, his hair all over the place, and it looked like he had been wearing the same clothes. He felt upset, mad at himself, but most of all he felt like a terrible human being because Cyrus started to shut the door. Thinking quickly, TJ shoved his foot in the doorway.

“Please, Cyrus, can I talk to you?” he pleaded; it sounded almost like a whimper.

Cyrus just blinked in response, not changing his facial expression or body positioning. TJ had really hurt him; he knew that he tended to forgive fairly easily, but he tried to force himself not to, at least in this instance.

TJ reached into his pocket, pulling out a new pride pin, and fumbling with it for a moment, before he attached it onto his shirt successfully. “I’m sorry about what I said and what I did. I was just. . .so freaked out by what Marty said. . .”

Cyrus leaned against the doorframe. “So you decided to snap at me?”

TJ ran a hand through his hair; Cyrus tried his best to not think about how cute he looked. “I’m sorry, I got scared because. . .because he’s right.”

Cyrus raised a brow, his cold demeanor now replaced with a confused one.

“I like you, Cyrus, okay? Marty saying that. . .it scared me, I was worried it would ruin things between us,” he said, his voice getting softer as he spoke.

Cyrus didn’t say anything, he just ushered TJ inside, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat on the bed, patting the spot beside him for TJ to come and sit down. TJ nervously sat, wringing his hands in his lap.

“I want you to know that something like this wouldn’t change things for the worse between us, okay?”

TJ nodded in response, but he kept his gaze down, not willing himself to look at Cyrus. He didn’t want to start crying, not now. Noticing his distress, Cyrus placed a hand on top of TJ’s.

“But. . .I’m really glad you said something because I like you too, you know?”

TJ felt the tips of his ears burn at that, and he looked up at Cyrus, a hopeful smile on his face. “Really?”

Cyrus giggled, nodding. “Yes, really!”

TJ felt his whole body relax, and he leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “So. . .would you maybe want to go on a date with me?”

Cyrus counted to three in his head before he tackled TJ with a hug. “Yes, you dork, I would love to go on a date with you!”

They stayed like that for a little bit, before they sat up, hands intertwined. Cyrus reached down and pulled out the pride flag from underneath his bed, waving it around. TJ grinned, holding it with him.

Exactly two days and eight hours later, TJ and Cyrus walked into the coffee shop, hand in hand, both excited and thoroughly nervous for their first date. Cyrus ended up ordering the ‘Cyrus Special’, while TJ was too excited to order anything.

They talked quietly until their server brought the order, winking, and making TJ blush like mad. He glanced over to Cyrus, a fond smile on his face. “You look unbearably adorable right now.”

Cyrus grinned, letting a soft laugh escape his through his lips. “Don’t make me blush like this,” he practically whined.

TJ leaned in a little closer, knocking their knees together. “Like what, hmm?”

Cyrus’ smile turned into a small smirk, his eyes glimmering. “Bet you can’t get closer to me?”

TJ laughed softly, before leaning forward and kissing him. Cyrus tastes like vanilla and mint, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted. No other kiss could compare to this one.

When they pull away, TJ’s eyes stay closed for a little while before fluttering open, and landing on Cyrus, who was nearly on the verge of tears.

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” TJ worried, placing his hand on top of Cyrus’, but then removing it.

Cyrus shakes his head, choking out a watery laugh. “No, no, I’m just. . .so insanely happy,” he admitted, after which TJ pulled him close, wrapping his arms around Cyrus and enjoying the moment. He could confidently say this was the best first date ever.

The following Monday, Cyrus came in and greeted TJ with a kiss on the cheek, to which Marty reacted as if TJ had just sprouted a second head.

“So. . .” Marty trailed.

TJ chuckled, shrugging. “Yes, dumbass, we’re dating.”

Marty broke out into a grin, shoving TJ a little and slapping his arm over and over. “Dude, finally! Who confessed first?”

“I did.”

Marty’s face dropped at that, and Buffy popped out of seemingly nowhere (it wasn’t nowhere, it was actually from behind the counter).

“Ha! I told you! You owe me the drink of my choice,” she stated victoriously.

“You bet on us?” TJ asked incredulously.

Buffy chuckled, nodding. “At least you guys got your heads out of your asses and confessed to each other.”

TJ looked over at Cyrus, who was sitting and working on his laptop, with a fond smile. “Yeah. At least that.”

“So, what’ll it be?” Marty asked, grabbing a cup and a pen.

“Hmm, I think I want my own drink,” she decided, “the ‘Buffy Blitz’, if you will. A latte with two pumps of caramel, and three of white chocolate, topped with whipped cream and shaved chocolate.”

Marty scribbled away on the cup. “Coming right up, your highness.”

After he finished the order, they decided to close up a little early, and all four of them sat together at a table for a double date. It was one of their favorite experiences to date.

When TJ graduated from college, he ended up becoming the school psychologist for Jefferson Middle School and he opened a coffee shop on the side, which he and his sister Amber co-owned.

Cyrus went on to study during his graduate years, and would always come by to grab his coffee, which TJ would always have a coffee ready for him. He would still wear the pride pin that he had kept all these years, and there was even a small pride flag around the tip jar.

The menu was made up of the classic drinks, but there were also specialty drinks, which were all named after his friends. Cyrus sometimes got a different order, but the one that TJ named after him would forever be his favorite.

One day, after TJ’s shift, he and Cyrus took the long way back to Cyrus’ apartment, taking in the beautiful buds that were soon going to bloom into flowers, and admiring the way the sun fell through the leaves. Even if it was the long way back, it still felt too short, too soon to part, at least to TJ. Cyrus seemed to pick up on this, giving him a soft smile and taking his hand in his own.

“Come in, stay for a little while,” Cyrus offered.

TJ shrugged, kicking at the ground. “No, that’s okay, I’ll have to leave anyways.”

Cyrus waited a beat, taking a small step towards TJ. “I mean, you could always move in with me.”

TJ looked up at him so fast he swore he heard his neck snap. “What?”

Cyrus giggled, tugging him inside. “Look, I know it’s kind of small and cramped but. . .we could make it work. What do you say?”

TJ could barely believe what he was hearing. He stared for a few moments, before wrapping his arms around Cyrus and spinning him around. “Yes, oh my gosh, I’d love to!”

Peals of laughter filled the room, the two boys happier than ever before.

TJ put him down, his smile softening. “You know, I told myself I wouldn’t move in with someone unless I was getting married.”

Cyrus raised his brows, smirking. “Well, well, well. Might just have to propose one of these days then, huh?”

TJ laughed a little, pressing a kiss to Cyrus’ temple and wrapping an arm around him. “Okay, sure, whatever you say, Cy.”

Two months later, when they were both sitting under the covers, watching a movie, Cyrus turned to TJ and said, “We should get married.”

TJ just looked at him, pausing the movie. “Cyrus?”

“I mean, only if you want to, you know,” Cyrus shrugged, looking up into his eyes, “but. . .if you do, that’d be cool.”

That night, Cyrus saw what was quite possibly the most beautiful smile on TJ’s face. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” he smiled, leaning in for a kiss. Cyrus seemed to always taste like vanilla and mint, and if that’s what it would be like for the rest of their lives, that was just okay with him.

Cyrus pulled back from the kiss, his eyes still closed, and leaned on TJ’s shoulder. “I love you, TJ.”

TJ smiled at the boy in his arms. He remembered when they had barely just met; TJ had no idea how important Cyrus would become to him. He couldn’t imagine his life without the brunet.

“I love you too, Cy.”

[starlight-drive-in]

Saeran Choi Week - Day 6

Afterendings || AU  

---

You know that part in Seven’s route where Seven shows Saeran the pictures of him and he goes into denial? Of course, you do! I’ve always wondered what that scene would be like from the perspective of Saeran’s route. These are my ideas for that, and also some of my ideas about how his after ending could go!

--- 

MC and Saeran have been staying in Saeyoung’s bunker for a while now. It’s strange, even though she’s never met him in real life, MC still feels his absence. The place carries so much of his personality it feels like he’ll walk through the door any minute. 

They don’t plan on staying here forever, they want a place to call their own, a place that feels like theirs but for now, it's a blessing to have a place to stay free of charge and with everything they need while the couple gets on their feet. 

As they accumulate their own belongings though, they find the need to start to pack some of Saeyoung’s stuff away for now. They haven't given up hope that he’s still out there. Saeran had even found some good leads he had sent to the C&R Intelligence Unit earlier this week. 

“I’d feel it if he was gone.” Saeran had said one night after a long session of searching CCTV’s for any hint of his brother. “I just know I would. I’m sorry. I probably sound insane to you.”

But MC understood. She always understood. If Saeran believed Saeyoung was still out there then so would she. But she still had to get some of his stuff away. Her book collection needed a little more space, and it wasn’t like Saeyoung even had that many books on his office’s bookshelf anyway - maybe about ten or so accompanied by boxes of small electronic components she couldn't make sense of. 

She nestles the smaller boxes into a larger one then begins to take the few books off the shelf. As she picks up a particular book - a children’s book that she does think much of at first - something clatters to the ground next to her foot. 

She bends down, retrieves a small square of plastic, realizing its a floppy disk. “Who uses floppy disks anymore? I didn't realize Seven was an antique collector.” She comments, turning the item around in her hands looking for a label, there isn’t any though. 

Saeran turns around in his computer chair, curious. “Let me see?” he asks, holding his hand out, she hands it over and he gives it a similar inspection. 

MC’s eyes scan the minor monstrosity that is Saeyoung’s work area, although Saeran has attempted to clean and organize the wires and various components that make it up, it’s still a mess to her. “Does he even have a floppy disk reader?” She asks. 

She watches as her boyfriend opens and closes multiple desk drawers, then stands and leaves the room. Moments later he returns with a small drive in hand.

“I thought I saw one somewhere, he had this in a kitchen cabinet behind some old cereal boxes.” He shrugs, although he wants to reunite with his twin he doesn't pretend to understand the man’s methods of organization, or anything else for that matter. He hands her the cable. “Can you plug that into a USB port for me? There should be some open on the back still.”

“I think I can manage that!” MC says.”What do you think is on it?” She asks, from underneath the desk as she plugs the reader in. 

“Memes? An old 8-bit video game? His senior thesis?” Saeran says, honestly baffled but what in the world his brother could have stored on a media form that has not been widely used since they were children. 

He pops the disk into the drive and goes to open the folder, but it's in encrypted, of course it is. Saeran makes quick work of the encryption but is stunned when the encryption leads him to a string of personal questions. Questions that could only be answered by two people on earth. He takes a sharp inhale of breath.

“What is it?” MC asks eagerly. 

“I… I think he meant for me to find this?” Saeran says, working his way down the list of questions. “I’m the only person that would know the answers to these, besides him.” He adds, filling in the answer for what the twins did on their 6th birthday while their mother was passed out in the kitchen. 

He reaches the end of the questionnaire and finally gains access to the files stored on the disk. Photos of a young red-haired, golden-eyed boy fill the screen. 

Saeran scoffs, “Why does he have a hard drive full of pictures of himself.” He says MC can hear the slight offense in his voice. 

“That’s not him.” She says plainly. 

“W-what do you mean?” He asks, staring up at her from his seat, wide-eyed.

“That's you, My Love.” He calmly says. 

“N-no it’s not, I don't remember any of this,” he says. “Why do you think it's me?”

“You have a mole on your neck, right side, just below your jawline. See?” She points out the mole on the multiple pictures populating the screen before lightly brushing the same mole on his person. “Saeyoung doesn't have it. That’s you.”

“How? No that can’t be. That makes no sense.” He says, getting up from the desk and disappearing into the hall. MC follows him but allows him some space. 

“I look happy! I look normal there!” The crack in his voice is apparent. 

MC’s heart lurches to see him in pain, she never wants to see him in pain again, but she's afraid the fight will never be over for her love. She watches as he sits on the leather sofa and places his head in his hands. When he looks up again tears are trailing the expanse of his pale face. 

“He really did think I was ok, didn't he? He thought I was happy.” He had suspected this, of course, had mostly accepted it, but at this moment it truly hits him for real. Saeyoung was fed lies too. He thought he was doing what was right, what was best for him. And Rika had Saeyoung tangled up in her lies just as much as him. The enormity of just how deeply the tendrils of lies reach hits him hard, and he cries. 

MC sits down next to him and takes him into her arms, cradling him softly and running her hands through his hair. “It’s ok, we’re going to find him and you two are going to have a long talk. We’re going to figure it out. I’m going to help you figure this out.”

He moves to hug her, burying his face in the shoulder. “Thank you.” he chokes out, tears seeping through her t-shirt. 

After a few minutes, his sobs calm “Hey.” She says gently, rubbing his back. 

“Mm?” he responds raising his head from its spot. 

“You were a pretty cute kid.” She says smiling and wiping a tear from under his eye. 

He chuckles through another sob. “Thanks.” He says simply. 

Suddenly Saeran’s phone begins to ring in the other room. He inhales deeply and wipes his face as he gets up, retracing his steps back to the office to answer it. 

He taps the answer button near Jumin’s name and steadies his voice in greeting. “Hello?”

“Saeran,” Jumin says in his usual steady, deep voice. “We think we’ve found him.”

-----

Saeran and MC stand near a black C&R van as the largest amount of security and KPA officers either have them have ever seen storm an expensive-looking residence on the mountainside. After all the claims against Prime Minister Choi were confirmed legitimate it wasn't long before warrants of his arrest were filed, after which conveniently disappeared. 

MC watches as Saeran nervously paces the small space at the bottom of the hill leading up to the residence, periodically biting his nails, then stopping himself.

An entire lifetime seems to pass before two of Jumin’s largest security officers drag a handcuffed, now former, Prime Minister out of the house. 

Saeran’s blood runs cold as their eyes meet for just half a second before the man is shoved into a vehicle and promptly driven away. His chest shakes and he tries to steady his breathing. After a few minutes, he’s managed to calm himself a bit. 

Moments later the doors open again, Revealing a long-haired brunette man repeating how he doesn't need help and a very familiar shock of red hair following closely behind him. 

MC gasps, and before she can even register what is happening her boyfriend is gone, running up the hill in clumsy steps. She watches as he almost slips three times. She then realizes Saeyoung is running to meet him. Her heart swells at the heartwarming moment the twins embrace each other. She almost can’t believe this is happening at all but it is. 

“Saeran?” Saeyoung says in an exhausted voice. “That's really you right?” He’s both unsure because this is too good to be true, and because his glasses have been missing for so long he forgets what clear vision is like. 

“Yea - yea it's me,” Saeran responds, tears threatening his eyes again, but this time they are not sad tears. “I-It’s me.” 

“Thank God. Thank you, God.” The older twin breathes. Squeezing his brother so tightly, almost like he might float away if he doesn't. 

“You were the hacker, weren’t you?” Saeyoung asks, already sure of the answer but still in need of confirmation. 

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Saeran answers “I’m so sorry”

“Me too.” Saeyoung answers. “I think… I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Saeran scoffs into his brother's shoulder. “Yea,” is all he says. 

----

A few weeks later Saeran and MC sit on the couch in Saeyoung’s bunker once again, but this time everything is different. There is no looming absence anymore. The void Searan has felt for the past several years has finally been filled again. His brother is back and never meant to abandon him. Although he has to remind himself of this several times a day. The two of them still have a lot to work out in therapy, but they are together again. 

The news is on TV as the two of them sit, holding hands. Saeran rubs the back of MC’s hand gently as the announcer begins the evening’s updates.

“Former Prime Minister Saejoong Choi has been sentenced to as little as 40 years in prison as of Tuesday.”

Suddenly Saeyoung’s voice comes from the hall as he enters the living room “Haha, YEA Suck it Old Man.” He exclaims excitedly as he plops himself down on the armchair adjacent to his couch. 

“It would seem his career in the public eye is all but over, the man who was once adored by a nation is now behind bars. In the end, Choi ended up with over 107 charges against him but it would seem that one of his more heinous crimes was against his own blood, his twin sons. Kept secret from the world and cursed to grow up in poverty, and abuse. The county that once revered Saejoong Choi has now adjusted their affections onto the Choi Twins.” 

MC watches as photos of the twins appear on the screen, Saeran becomes instantly uncomfortable as Saeyoung becomes quite the opposite.

“Can you believe this? Us? On TV?” Zen’s probably already jealous, we look amazing in those pictures too.” He says, legs bouncing in excitement. 

“The older of the twins, Saeyoung Choi has been rated Korea’s Most Eligible Bachelor, a position that C&R’s Jumin Han has held for the past several years.” 

Saeyoung doubles over in laughter as he hears this. “Poor Juju, All that work he did to help us too.”

“I don't think Jumin ever really wanted that position to begin with,” MC tells him. “I hope you’re ready Saeyoung.” She continues, almost ominously. 

“Oh, I’m ready” Saeyoung accepts, a mischievous grin gracing his features. “But Korea’s not ready to learn that I am forever in love with my dearest Elly, and so they will lose both of their most eligible bachelors to her impeccable beauty!”

“It would seem that many people we surveyed on the street were disappointed to hear that the other Choi twin, Saeran is undoubtedly “off the market”.” The announcer continues.

The TV cuts to a scene from last week, Saeran had thought he could pick up a few things from the convenience store without being bothered but he inevitably thought wrong. In the video, Saeran stands holding a carton of ice cream he had freshly picked from the freezers of the store, surrounded by several news personnel. 

“Saeran Choi, The nation is dying to know, do you have a girlfriend?”

In the video, Saeran fidgets for a second before taking a breath and speaking. “Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I love her very much. In fact if not for her I would not be standing here today, and neither would you. I would very much appreciate respect for both her and our relationship as I will not tolerate anything else.”  

A light blush appears on Saeran’s cheeks, embarrassed and uncomfortable with being in the public eye and seeing himself on TV.

MC, on the other hand, is filled with adoration, promptly throwing her hands over her boyfriend's shoulders in a tight embrace. 

“Bro, that was so cool.” Saeyoung says, stunned at his brother's calm collectiveness on camera. 

“Babe, that was so sweet.” MC says, nuzzling her boyfriend's sweater. 

“It’s only the truth, as long as it’s up to me, I won’t let anything or anyone come between us.” He says. 

“Nothing is ever going to come between us.” MC confirms, giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“Should I leave you two alone? I could see if Yoosung needs some company for a while?”

Saerans already apparent blush becomes much deeper “No! No of course not. This is your house, remember?.”

“Mmhmm” Saeyoung hums, “ Well, you just let me know if the County’s Sweethearts need some ‘Alone Time’” he says teasingly as he retreats back down the hallway. 

Saeran breathes out, relieved to be free from his brother’s teasing, but also relieved to be able to be teased by his brother, it’s been far, far too long. 

Even if he’ll never completely understand his brother or his motivations, even if his jokes still sometimes grate on him the wrong way, they’re together. They are brothers again, not enemies and it feels better than he had ever imagined. Their father is in prison, where he aptly belongs. There are still things that need to be figured out, the Mint Eye issue will need to be taken care of next, but with him on the RFA’s side this time around he knows they will be a force to be reckoned with. 

He has MC, He has Saeyoung, He has everything he needs and his life feels like it is finally beginning. 

[kookakie-blog]

Answer

PART FIVE

Acacia is a girl in highschool only trying to readjust herself to her new surroundings, while keeping her brother out of trouble. Everything has been a boring routine till she ends up on the wrong side of town at the wrong time, this is where she first meets Chen, although the circumstances aren’t the best.

Acacia’s POV

“You’ll drive yourself crazy reading that.”I quickly wipe my tears and close the file folder when I hear Jongdae’s voice behind me. “Its all I have.” I whisper as I stare down at the folder. Sehun brought another report on Andrew  a few days ago and I had just brought myself to read it. “Come here.” I get up from the chair and come to stand in front of Jongdae who was leaning against the door frame to the bedroom. I allow him  to trace my cheeks wiping away any stray tears before he pressing my head into his chest. “I could tell Junmyeon you aren’t feeling well. We don’t have to go.” I just shake my head as I wrap my arms around his waist. Jongdae just sighs before pulling me tighter. “We should probably get going then.” 

I mumble a small ok and pull back to go get Jongdae’s hoodie. I slip it over my head and turn to see Jongdae smiling widely at me. “What?” He just shakes his head before he walks over to me. “Nothing we’re just gonna have to get you some smaller clothes.” I look down to see his hoodie came all the way down to my knees. “Oh.” I feel a small smile grow on my face when I see Jongdae throw his head back laughing. “We’ll go after the meeting puppy.” I nod my head as Jongdae places a hand on my back as he leads me out of the room. 

Kris and Kai were the ones that picked us up. Kris greeted me with a smile and a playful shove while Kai remained silent. He would look at me through the rear view mirror but quickly looked away when I spot him staring. Ever since that night he’s kept his distance from me. Jongdae told me he felt guilty and that I should wait for him to approach me. I’m wondering if he ever would. “Alright puppy stay close to me.” I step out of the car and take Jongdae’s hand and look up at the tall skyscraper. Just what did this gang do? 

I’m pulled from my thoughts when Jongdae leads me into the building Kris and Kai in front of us. As soon as we walk into the building, we’re greeted by Kyungsoo who was standing by some Asian women. “Is this her?” Kai playfully asks Kyungsoo only to be shut down with a glare. “Everyone else is downstairs. Junmyeon won’t be pleased you didn’t bring the girls.” I look confused as Kyungsoo sends questioning glances at both Kai and Kris. “They’re both grown women we can’t force them to do anything. Besides it’s not like Junmyeon doesn’t know them.” Kris places another cigarette in his mouth before winking at the shorter man who just proceeds to roll his eyes and stand in front of the woman standing beside him. 

Jongdae snorts as he pulls me towards some elevators. He enters a code into a smaller looking one, the doors opening moments later. We step inside and begin our descent to “the design lab” whatever that was. As soon as the doors open we’re met with the low tone of music and the sound of chatter. Jongdae pulls me into the room as I stay slightly behind them. There was a bar in the corner a red headed girl serving drinks as a rather mean looking man stood behind her watching her like a hawk. Sehun was sitting in front of an array of computers a girl with wild hair sitting on his lap sipping on a cup of coffee as she whispered something in his ear earning a chuckle from him. In the corner was a rather childish looking man wearing some sort of mechanics uniform. He was smiling fondly at a Hispanic girl who just appeared to scold him as she wiped some grease off his face. 

Over in the corner a pair of girls talking to each other one of them had dark chocolate skin while the others was sun kissed and sported cherry red lipstick. The two men beside them were a lot more quiet only muttering a few words to each other. One of the them was fairly tall with sharp calculated eyes and he seemed quite possessive over the dark skinned girl, his hands gripping her waist tight. The other was soft looking in a way and somewhat dejected from the whole atmosphere. I snap my attention to the couch in the room when I hear Chanyeol’s booming laugh. A small blond girl was placed in his lap his cheeks tinted red as she places a kiss on her cheek. That’s when I noticed Junmyeon in a similar position smiling at the woman beside him as he places his hand over her heart. She whispers something to him and that’s when he turns his attention towards Jongdae and I. 

“Ah so glad you could make it. Took you long enough.” Jongdae accepts junmyeon’s hug as I stand awkwardly behind him. “Ah Acacia don’t be so shy.” I give Junmyeon a smile before pressing myself into Jongdae’s side. “She’s so young Junmyeon don’t push it.” The woman who was sitting beside him gives his suit sleeve a tug before she smiles at me. “My names Winry. It’s nice to meet you Acacia.” I give her a small smile in return as I peek my head up at her. I mean she was right. I was the youngest person here seeing that almost all of the occupants were drinking some form of alcohol. “Let’s get this meeting started.” Winry goes to take a seat on the couch as Junmyeon goes to stand in front of the room. Jongdae leads us towards the couch sitting me down beside Winry before sitting beside me. 

“So first order of business. The date has been set for next month. All should go smoothly if we take the right precautions. Some of which will need to be added.” Junmyeon pauses to look around the room. “I'm arranging to have all of the girls stay in Jeju on race day. It’s our safest option.” My heart starts to beat rapidly. “Jongdae what is he talking about?” Jongdae just quiets me as he caresses my cheek before wrapping his arm around me. “Luhan, Kris, Chanyeol  and I will be racing that day so we’ll have an alibi if need be. Tao will be posted with Xiumin in a building across from the finish line where  my father will be posted. Kyungsoo will make sure my father is in the right position and Tao will take him out. One bullet. Clean and easy. Baekhyun and Kai will take him to Lay who will make it look like we did everything we could to keep him alive. Sehun will make sure any and all cameras in the area are jammed at the moment of the shot while Jongdae will make sure no bystanders see Tao or Xiumin...that’ll be the easy part but some new information has come to my attention.”

“What new information?” The mean looking man at the bar asks. “Sehun care to enlighten the rest of us.” Sehun clears his throat before standing up from his chair the girl sitting on his lap taking his spot. “Well sources tell me that the Tarins will be at the race. Rumors are spreading that Mr.Kim is trying to spark some deal with them regarding drug trade. It’s possible the Tarins could organize their own assassination or once Mr.Kim is taken out they might possibly try to gain control of our territory.” I feel Jongdae tightens his grip on me his face hardening. “So we need to make sure that doesn’t happen at any cost. Taking my father out will be the calm before the storm. We should be prepared for anything.”

There’s too many scenarios that could come into play. Minho wasn’t completely dumb..he’d think of something to undermine Junmyeon. But if we knew his move....”Just send me in.” 

“Absolutely not.” Jongdae glares at me as I just stare straight at Junmyeon. “Think about it. Minho would never suspect that I even know of you. I know his daily schedule. Party. Get drunk. Sleep repeat. I’d have the perfect window to sneak into his office. I can get Sehun access to his computer. It’s a no brainer.” Junmyeon raises an eyebrow at me as Jongdae turns his glare on to the man in front of us. “Don’t you dare say fucking yes so help me god I’ll gut you right here.” I flinch at Jongdae’s tone as he pulls me to his chest. Junmyeon sighs before shaking his head. “It’s too risky. It would be better if you were the rest of the girls in Jeju.” I just pout as I sink into the man behind me. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use that intelligence of yours in a different way.” My ears perk up at the mention of being useful. “If you could reconstruct Minho’s schedule we could orchestrate a small intelligence operation a week before the race.” 

“Woah woah woah. There’s no way princess here can remember exactly what this man is going to do.” My anger boils up as I turn to face a clearly intoxicated man behind me. “I have an eidetic memory. I literally remember everything my eyes see. So I know for a fact Minho has a vacation planned in three weeks because I was snooping through his office the third Sunday of last month. That would be the perfect time Junmyeon.” I turn back as the man just mumbled something under his breath the red head smacking him upside the head.  

“Alright Sehun and Kyungsoo will plan our next move. That’s all. Get ready.” Junmyeon walks over to Sehun, Winry going up to follow him as the rest of the room breaks off. “We’re leaving.” I gulp when I hear Jongdae’s hard voice whisper in my ear. I just nod as he pulls me up from the couch and pulls me to the elevator. “Good luck Acacia.” I glare at Kris as he just takes another puff from his cigarette smirking at me. As soon as the doors to the elevator close Jongdae wastes no time in pushing me against the wall slamming his hands on either side of my head. “Are you suicidal. You know it’s too dangerous for you to just show up out of nowhere. Minho isn’t dumb trust me I know. He would’ve found out in a heartbeat and he would’ve killed you like nothing.” What is he talking about? “Do you understand?!” I flinch as Jongdae raises his voice. “Do you understand?!” I feel tears sting my eyes as I answer yes quickly closing my eyes after. 

I keep my eyes closed as Jongdae sighs. “I’m sorry puppy I just don’t want to lose you.” I nod as I bury my face in his chest. “It’s ok. Why don’t we get ice cream after getting you some clothes ok?” I mumble small ok as I sniffle and look up at him. 

Jongdae’s POV

Sometimes I forget she’s so young. But the realization hits me when she looks up at me with those sad eyes. So innocent. I grab her hand when the elevator opens and lead her out of the huge building

[quicksilversquared]

Pictures on the Wall

It started as a tickle of a thought in Alix Kubdel's mind- wouldn't it be funny to plaster Marinette's room in pictures of her crush?

She didn't expect a TV crew to show Marinette's room on TV before her friend could fully finish cleaning the room up.

(Troublemaker fix-it/AKA why Marinette has So. Many. Pictures. on the wall)

(FF.net) (AO3)

It started out as a tickle of a thought in the back of Alix Kubdel's mind. She snickered briefly at it and then refocused on her homework, re-reading a passage for French Lit.

But the idea was not forgotten. Not fully, at least.

"I don't think he's capable of taking a bad photo," Marinette said dreamily the next day as their little group of girls sat together during a break between classes. She was staring at a page in a fashion magazine. Alix didn't have to be a genius to deduce that Marinette was talking about Adrien yet again. "He's just so-"

"I'm pretty sure that his father and the photographer probably weed out any photos that aren't great," Alix told her, cutting Marinette off before she could finish her sentence. She really didn't need to hear about how dreamy or handsome or bla bla bla Adrien was another time. Ever since Marinette and Alya had decided to "let her in" on the "secret" of Marinette's crush on Adrien (it wasn't a secret. It really wasn't. Even Kim had caught on ages ago, which said something about how obvious Marinette was), she had had to hear Marinette's gushing.

(Alix was starting to think that Alya had only pushed to let the other girls in on the 'secret' so that she wouldn't have to put up with the Adrien-talk by herself. As much as it could annoy her, Alix couldn't really blame Alya for that.)

Besides, Adrien was hardly dreamy and cool all the time Anyone who believed that believed in a lie, because Adrien was a giant dork. Anyone who spent more than a few minutes with him knew that much. It was hard to keep a straight face around Marinette's dreamy sighs over Adrien when Alix had seen him fighting to keep a pencil balanced on his nose longer than Nino earlier in the day and pouting when he lost, or when she had spotted him making outrageous hair styles with his ridiculously long hair.

(Despite what Marinette said about Adrien being able to pull off any look, Alix knew better. Adrien could not pull off a mohawk. It just... no.)

Still, Marinette was stubbornly shaking her head. "I bet they only have to choose between great photos! He does a great job with his modeling-"

And Alix tuned her out, mind churning deviously as the others discussed ideas for having Marinette ask Adrien out.

Surely there had to be some awkward photos of Adrien out there, considering how much of a following he had in Paris and how many photos got snapped of him on a daily basis. And some of his fans would post any photos of him, even bad ones, just to prove that they had seen him.

Alix decided to make it her personal mission to track all of those photos down to bury Marinette under them. And what she found made her very, very happy.

There were so many photos of Adrien looking supremely uncomfortable as he was pulled into a selfie with one fan or another (those got cropped so Adrien's ridiculous expressions filled the whole screen). There were photos of him dashing down the street away from fans, photos of him laughing with friends, photos of him with his bodyguard and Nathalie, photos of photoshoots but from another angle, photos of him getting photoshoot makeup touched up, photos of him messing around and purposefully pulling weird faces.

In short, there were a lot of photos. Not all of them were good. Alix cackled as she printed them all off and stuck them in a folder to bring to school. She would have to spring them on Marinette when Adrien wasn't anywhere in the vicinity or else face the combined wrath of Alya and Marinette (which she was not willing to do), but she was sure that that wouldn't be that difficult.

She wasn't expecting Alya to intercept her first.

"Oh, you should put those up in Marinette's room and see how long it takes for her to notice," Alya's voice said with a snicker several minutes before homeroom started. Alix jumped and spun around, abruptly abandoning her conversation with Kim. Alya stood there, perusing Alix's folder of ridiculous Adrien photos. How she had snuck up completely undetected was... well, it was very Alya. "I bet it would take her a while to notice."

Alix snickered at the suggestion, remembering her original idea of absolutely plastering Marinette's room in Adrien photos. It would be a good way to tease her about her crush a little bit while maybe helping her realize that she should calm down about having pictures of Adrien up everywhere. "Or I can mix in actual decent photos with these and then stick them in all sorts of weird places."

Alya grinned. "Such as...?"

"On the walls, under her bed, in the desk drawers..." Alix added, that original funny idea coming back full-force. She grinned, then glanced towards Marinette's normal seat. It was empty, as was Adrien's seat up front. "Where is Marinette, anyway? She's running late again."

Alya threw a look over her shoulder and then shrugged. "Who knows. But that gives us time to plot." Without waiting for further answer, she slid onto the bench next to Alix. "So, show me what you have!"

It wasn't difficult to find a time to sneak into Marinette's room when Marinette herself wasn't there. It was difficult to find places to put all of the photos they had dragged up.

And there were a lot. Along with the less-than-good photos, Alya had dragged up a whole slew of photos from old magazine ads Adrien had done, as well as screenshots from some of his commercials. Alix was a bit worried that the poster putty she had brought wouldn't be enough.

"At least her desktop picture isn't so awful anymore," Alix commented as she reached over the computer to attach one of the pictures on the wall behind it. "That was...yikes."

"I think she changed it when Adrien came over to play Mega Strike," Alya told her. She handed Alix a smaller photo to hang next. "And then she went with an, uh, unaltered photo next, after he left. I don't remember if she lost the collage one somehow or what."

"Good riddance to that one," Alix muttered. She clambered off of Marinette's desk, making sure to replace everything on it where it had been. "Okay, where should that next poster go?"

Half an hour later, Marinette's room was thoroughly decorated and she and Alya were puzzling over what to do with the leftover pictures.

"We can't put them too high, or Marinette won't be able to get them down again," Alya said. She flipped over a particularly bad photo of Adrien doing what appeared to be a Vulcan salute. Alix had maybe done a teensy bit of Photoshop on it to make an already pretty bad picture worse (and to get rid of the "fan" who, in Adrien's defense, looked slightly unhinged), and she was...well, a bit creeped out by the result would be the most accurate description. "Where did you find this?"

"Photoshop."

Alya snorted in amusement. "Oh, gosh. Okay, let's stick these under Marinette's bed and on the underside of her chaise and see how long it takes for her to notice. There's no point in wasting a perfectly good picture."

"Or a perfectly awful photo." Alix made another face at the Vulcan salute photo and then handed it to Alya to take. "Okay, yeah, good idea."

It didn't take long to stash away the rest of the photos and get the rest of their mess cleaned up so that they could go. Alya led the way towards Marinette's trapdoor, opening it and starting to climb down.

Alix paused, turning to look back at the room one last time. An inkling of doubt crept up her spine. "You're sure there's no way that Adrien would see this? He wouldn't come over to play video games again before Marinette can clean up?"

Alya shook her head. "Nah, he wouldn't come over out of the blue. And you know he would never go into Marinette's room without her permission, and she would want to clean up her normal posters before letting him up. Believe me, it'll be fine."

  "I hate you," Marinette announced the next day at school as soon as she saw Alya. She was pouting. "Very funny."

Alya tried not to grin. "It was Alix's idea first. She helped me."

"I hate you both."

  "Aren't you going to take the pictures down?"

Marinette glanced up from her homework at Tikki. "Hmm?"

Tikki pointed to the pictures covering all of Marinette's walls. "The pictures! Shouldn't you take them down?" She frowned at Marinette. "You aren't thinking of leaving them up, are you? Marinette..."

"I'll take them down, just not right now," Marinette said, turning back to her homework. "I just don't have the time! I'm really behind on my schoolwork, thanks to all of the akumas we've had, and I shouldn't prioritize cleaning photos off of my walls over that."

"Oh, that's smart." A pause. "But you'll take care of it soon, right?"

"Of course!"

  "Marinette, about these pictures..."

Marinette shook her head, eyes not leaving the computer screen in front of her as she typed. "This is due tomorrow. I'm already on thin enough ice with Madam Mendeleiev, I can't possibly ask for an extension for no apparent reason. It'll have to wait."

Tikki considered the wall. "Can I take some of them down? The really awkward ones?"

"Sure, I guess."

Tikki worked her way around the room, removing the worst of the photos from the wall. It was slow work, mostly because she had to remove the poster putty from the wall as she removed things, and she didn't want to accidentally leave any marks like she and Marinette had in their frantic tearing-down of posters when Adrien visited. Once she was done, there were still a lot of photos, but at least they were mostly normal.

Hopefully Marinette would have a spare hour soon to finish returning her room to its normal state.

  "Marinette, are you going to take the photos down today?"

Marinette paused with one foot out the door. "I can't! I told Maman that I would help down in the bakery. Tomorrow, for sure!"

  Marinette had pulled three large photos down when her phone rang with an akuma alarm. Sighing, she tossed the picture in her recycling without a second glance (she was never going to mention how photogenic Adrien was within Alix's hearing range ever, ever again- where the other girl had found such awful photos she had no idea) and raced up to her balcony to transform.

  "About those photos-"

"Still behind!"

  "Can I take more photos down?"

Marinette glanced up from her Physics homework. "Yeah, I guess? Just don't do this area, I don't want to get distracted."

Tikki frowned. "Marinette, I'll have to take down those photos sometime. Can't you work somewhere else? Downstairs, maybe?"

"I'll do it this weekend, after the Jagged TV thing," Marinette promised. "But for right now, I can't. I need to use my computer for this assignment."

  Alix stared at her TV in horror. There, in full color on the screen, was Marinette's room.

And Marinette's wall.

And a number of the pictures of Adrien that she and Alya had put up two weeks prior.

And Jagged Stone was pointing to them and the camera was focusing on them, bringing them up full-screen.

"She didn't take them down?" Alix exclaimed, fingers clutching at her hair. How? Why? Sure, Marinette had mentioned being crazy busy and really behind after spending time working on a sewing project instead of doing her homework, but surely she could have spared a couple minutes to clear her walls.

At least it looked like she had gotten the purposefully bad photos down, and most of the room was largely free of pictures. It was just that corner of the room, really-

-but that one corner was really bad. Like, it was plastered with pictures, from desk to ceiling.

This was bad.

Her phone rang, and Alix scrambled to answer it. "Hello?"

"We gotta fix this," Alya said, sounding panicked. "Oh, gosh. I never thought- no one else was meant to see that! At least it wasn't her entire room, but- Adrien's gonna be so weirded out, and it won't even be her fault."

"Maybe we can text him?" Alix suggested. "Let him know that it was part of a prank? Even if half of those photos were Marinette's anyway." It would be their apology to Marinette if they did that, she figured. Everyone else would forget about the photos after a few weeks, but Adrien wouldn't, and Marinette would probably flounder through an explanation too badly to be any use if Adrien approached her with any questions. "Should we text him now, or wait until school tomorrow?"

"Do you think we can get to him before he spots Marinette?" Alya asked, not even waiting for Alix to answer before she plowed on. "I think it would be hard to explain anything over text, personally, but- oh! I could call him, hang on-"

The line abruptly went dead and Alix flopped back in her seat, watching the screen. Marinette had chased the cameras out of her room- and Alix had to give her props for how composed she was keeping herself while surely embarrassed beyond belief, and she was ordering Jagged Stone and Alec around too, and they were celebrities- and now Tom and Sabine were trying to shoo the crew out completely, except some strange stuff seemed to be happening.

Like, mega-strange stuff.

Alya called Alix back a minute later, once it had been confirmed that there was an akuma at the bakery- and poor Marinette, she must be having an awful day- and Alya sounded frantic. "He's not answering his phone. I tried calling three times and nothing."

"Maybe the pretty boy is busy and missed the show?" Alix suggested. "You could ask Nino."

"Nino is out of town this weekend. He won't be back until Monday." Alya groaned. "Oh, this is such a mess."

"Maybe we can just wait until Monday?" Alix suggested as she watched Chat Noir get flung into a news van on-screen. "I mean, Adrien is always early and Marinette is almost always running in last-minute anyway. Surely we can catch him before Marinette gets there."

"Sounds like a plan," Alya agreed. "So, any ideas for excuses as to why we covered Marinette's room in pictures of Adrien?"

  Adrien wasn't in the classroom. It was three minutes to the bell, and Adrien wasn't in the classroom yet.

Alix was starting to get concerned. How were they meant to corner Adrien and give their excuses if the boy was MIA?

And then, a minute before the bell, Adrien slipped through the door and into his seat. Marinette followed forty-five seconds later.

There was no way they hadn't run into each other in the locker room. Alix hoped that Marinette hadn't said anything too strange to him. If she had, all the excuses in the world from Alix and Alya wouldn't help anything.

They cornered Adrien in their next break between classes.

"Hey, you two, what's up?" Adrien asked. He looked a little puzzled about being cornered, but it only barely showed. "I saw you tried to call me yesterday, Alya- sorry I didn't pick up, I was busy."

"You're always busy, we're used to that," Alya said cheerfully, waving it off. "But, uh, we wanted to talk to you about something- well, admit something, rather- anyway, did you see the Jagged Stone show yesterday?"

Alix tried not to snort. For a moment there, Alya had sounded rather like Marinette trying to talk to Adrien.

"I did," Adrien told them, grinning. "Jagged looked like a ghost with the flour all over him, didn't he? I'm glad Tom and Sabine were willing to kick them out, though. They didn't have to go all the way upstairs."

Alix winced. "So you saw that part, huh?"

Adrien's answering nod was so slight that it would have been easy to miss it.

"The wall of photos was actually our fault," Alya admitted. "We put it up as a joke- we hid photos all over her room, actually, we should probably actually tell Marinette about that, if she hadn't found those- and she's apparently been too busy to get it all cleaned up."

Adrien looked puzzled. "Wait, that was you guys? Then why didn't Marinette just say so? And why pictures of me?"

Alix and Alya exchanged a surprised look. Apparently Marinette and Adrien had already talked, and Marinette hadn't made a complete mess of it.

Maybe they should have talked to Marinette to see what she had told him first.

"Maybe she just didn't want to explain the prank?" Alya suggested after another couple beats. "A-and it was pictures of you because of, y'know, the fashion thing, and it's really easy to find pictures of you. It wasn't anything bad at all, I swear."

Adrien huffed out a small laugh at that. "It is easy to find pictures of me, isn't it? It's a bit annoying at times. But I guess it saves my father from having to take photos of me growing up himself." He shrugged. "But thanks, I guess? That would explain why some of the photos weren't from any of my photoshoots. I did wonder."

"Heh heh yeah, that was us." Alya flashed a too-wide smile. "It was just a bit of fun, y'know? We wouldn't have done it if we knew it was going to get onto TV."

"Right, I figured." Adrien glanced over to where Nino and Max were talking. "Thanks for telling me, I guess. See you in class?"

"Of course," Alya and Alix said in near unison as Adrien waved to them and left. They both let out a sigh relief as soon as he was out of earshot and then dissolved into giddy giggles.

"Well, that was easier than I thought it would be," Alya said a bit breathlessly as they recovered. "He kind of accepts any excuse, doesn't he? He probably made it really easy for Marinette to come up with something."

"Hey, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth." Alix started walking towards their next class, and Alya followed. "Adrien listened to us, and apparently Marinette managed to get some coherent sentences out around him earlier, so that's a win. And Jagged and his crew didn't manage to, say, upend the chaise and scatter photos all over on live TV, so win there too, I guess."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"So d'you think you could make it over to Marinette's house after school today?" Alya asked as they joined the group of students heading into Madam Mendeleiev's classroom. "To help Marinette take down posters and clean up all of the photos we hid? I feel like we kind of owe it to her to help."

Alix winced. She had been planning on practicing her roller-skating sprints, but yeah, they did kind of owe it to Marinette. She had probably already spent enough time taking stuff down already, and Alya might not be able to remember all the places where they hid photos away.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be there."

[movieexpert1978]

Chaos

@dizzyhead Story request: Alan from Carnage seduces a babysitter, but he's NOT a gross predator, and she's at least 18.   

Just so everyone knows I never write underage sex so there is no gross predator stuff happening in any smut stories EVER!!! Elisa is in college and even though it’s not mentioned in this story she’s 24. :) 

Alan from Carnage is not my character. 

Alan sighed quietly as he watched Zach’s nanny gather her things. Elisa acted more like a tutor than a nanny as she was usually helping him with his homework by the time he got back from work. Nancy was in the process of moving out as she got a promotion. She was also moving out cause she handed him divorce papers. He was upset about it, but at the same time he knew it was a long time coming given how often Nancy complained about how busy he was. It was his job, he was a lawyer after all. He wasn’t going to fight or argue about it, but he would make sure to make time for Zach because he still loved his son very much.

“How’s work going?” Elisa asked.

“Fine, the usual. Someone screws up and wants a lawyer.” He grumbled making her laugh.

“It keeps you working though right?” She added and he only nodded.

“How’s school going?”

“Awful, I’ve got so much stuff to do.” She sighed. “It’s project after project and I’ve got this paper that has to be done by the end of semester. We’re at the halfway point, but it’s just…yuck.” She sighed.

“Is this your last sememter?”

“No, this is my last year though. I graduate in May.”

“Oh good for you.” He nodded. “Well if you ever need any help with anything, just let me know.” He added.

“Thanks Alan.” She smiled. They said their goodbyes and he closed the door, slumping across it another sigh.

“Stop it.” He hissed slapping his crotch.

Xxxxxxxxx

Alan was heading home when he got a phone call from Elisa.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Alan.” She answered, he noted she sounded nervous.

“Hello Elisa, is everything alright?” He asked.

“I was wondering if I could ask a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I know Zach won’t be home this weekend, but I was wondering if I could come over so I could do some of my homework?” She asked.

“Oh sure that’s fine.” He answered. It wasn’t a big deal, at least he hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Oh thank you so much. I just need a place of quiet for a few hours. I promise I won’t be long.” She said very thankful.

“Oh it’s alright. I went to law school. I know homework sucks.” He chuckled.

“Thanks Alan, I’ll be there tomorrow morning around eleven or so is that ok?”

“Oh yeah sure, I won’t be home so just use your key.”

“Ok thanks again so much Alan.”

“You’re very welcome Elisa.”

Saturday came around and Alan was working, but it didn’t take as long as he thought it would. He decided to get some lunch for him and Elisa before he returned to his apartment. He found her typing away with a bunch of papers spread across the coffee table with a water glass off to the sound.

“How’s the paper coming?” He asked as he closed the door behind him.

“This is a different one. I’m taking an online English course and we have to read these books and make posts about them on our class website. I did a whole bunch of reading today and I’ve been typing away ever since.” She explained.

“I got some lunch.” He said holding up the bag.

“Oh thanks Alan.” She said putting her computer aside and gathering her papers. Alan moved out of the way as she gathered herself up and held up an agenda. “Let’s see, that’s done, that’s done, thank god that’s done. Doing that right now.” She muttered to herself. She put the papers away and shoved some folders into her backpack to make room for Alan. He took suit jacket off and hung it up on a chair before he sat down. She made some last minute touches on her computer before she shut it and put it aside.

“Looks like you got a lot done.” He noted handed her the food.

“Yes I’m so happy. I’ll have Sunday all to myself.” She sighed before she started eating. “How’s the…divorce stuff going?” She asked cautiously.

“It’s hard, but smoothly I guess.” He shrugged. “It’s still a bit odd being home alone at times.” He shrugged.

“Sorry, I know divorces are messy. Mine spilt when I was eight, been bickering at each other ever since.” She shrugged.

“Oh that’s awful.” He said sympathetically.

“It is what it is I guess.” She shrugged again as she finished her food.

“Hungry much?” He teased.

“Sorry, I didn’t eat much today.” She blushed. Alan laughed and grabbed her water glass and refilled it for her. “Oh thanks.” She said taking it.

“Got any plans for the evening?” He asked.

“Oh, no not really. I’m boring.” She laughed.

“I don’t think you’re boring.” He insisted.

“Thank you Alan.” She blushed. She went to her computer and finished up her little post as Alan boldly sat down next to her and looked over her. He had his chance now. Things could either go well or go badly now. She finished her work, saved it and turned her computer off, unplugging it. When she turned around she froze when she saw that Alan was so close. “Uuuuhh…Alan…” She whispered nervously. He didn’t stop as he went in and kissed her. She didn’t push him back, but she surrendered into his embrace and the kiss deepened. She couldn’t believe how excited she was when he pulled away.

“Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

“Yes.”

They hurried over and started kissing all over again. They both knew it wasn’t love. It was a friends with benefits deal. It was a simple want and they both were ok with it. They kept kissing as they undressed each other, moaning and sighing as they were grinding against each other. Elisa had her shirt and bra off with Alan having his shirt off as his mouth went to her breasts. She sighed and ran her hands through his short hair as he kept kissing her skin. His hands went lower and worked on her jeans. She helped him tug them off before he started kissing her furiously again. She groaned breaking the kiss when his fingers started rubbing her under her panties.

“Alan-aahhhh!” She cried out when his fingers were inside her and moving. It had been with awhile for both of them, but Alan knew to be careful. With his fingers going he went lower and pulled her panties down a bit more. She gently tugged him away so she could take them off and his mouth was licking up all he could. She gasped and squirmed under him as his tongue worked wonders on her. “Ooooh…that’s….so good!” She groaned trying to get the words out. It made him work even hard with a grip on her hips. She was starting to whimper as he was bringing her closer and closer to the edge already. Oral was her favorite part of foreplay after all. His tongue kept moving and she kept squirming slightly. It didn’t take long before she cried out as he made her cum. Alan groaned as he licked up all he could before he pulled away. She sat up and looked at him as he started working on his belt. She scurried over to him and helped him undress. He groaned when Elisa took him into her mouth. She moved gently up and down his shaft using her tongue to get him even more excited. He pulled her away after a few moments and helped her back onto the bed with a kiss.

“Hey Alan?” She asked nervously.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you have a condom?” He reached over to the nightstand and pulled out one. He gave her a quick kiss before he tore it open and put it on. “Thank you.” She blushed.

“It’s no problem, I’m not a teenager trying to make excuses not to use one.” He smirked. She giggled as he leaned over her again and kissed her. She felt him tease her for a moment as she moaned into his mouth, before he thrusted inside her. She groaned as he kept still waiting for her to adjust. It took a little while, but she looked up at him and nodded for him to move. He started thrust and they both started to pant as their hands wondered over each other. “You should come by more often.” He sighed as he moved.

“As long as I…get my homework…done first.” She got out. He chuckled as he kissed and licked at her skin. She squeaked when Alan suddenly picked her up and held her into his lap. She gasped and buried her face into his shoulder as he kept thrusting. She whimpered as he hit the right spot over and over again. She sobbed as she had another orgasm, but Alan didn’t stop. He went faster and she was shaking hard as he added more pleasure. The bed was shaking slightly because of them, but neither one of them cared as they held each other. Alan was grunting hard now so close to his own release. Elisa kept running her hands up and down his chest and the extra touch felt lovely. She smiled up at him and managed to kiss his neck before he grunted as he came.

“Oooh shit.” He hissed, gritting his teeth. He slumped against her breathing hard and his skin hot and moist. When he recovered he gently kissed Elisa’s neck before getting up. He helped her clean up as he put his boxers back on. “You can stay for a while if you’d like. You know maybe take a nap, have some dinner.” He winked.

“A nap sounds lovely Alan.” She said crawling under the covers. He wrapped his arm around her as they laid down.

“You know…I’d never thought I’d seduce the babysitter.” He teased.

“Alan…you’re an asshole.” Elisa grumbled. He laughed as he pulled her in a little closer.

“Whatever.”  

[thatgirlonstage]

Summary: Lance wakes up in a hospital on Earth to discover he has been missing for four months, with no memory of Voltron or the Galra. Drawn inexplicably to the desert where they found him, he discovers a hut full of research and notes that may provide the key to his missing memories. With secrets and conspiracies surrounding him, and the Garrison potentially hiding far more than he could ever have imagined, Lance grows to trust the notes in the desert - but he may not believe the person who claims he wrote them.

Chapter Eight:

           Lance dreamed nothing coherent, only shards of purple light and the distant sound of someone shouting his name. He awoke with heavy eyelids and limbs, his head complaining of a lack of rest. Groaning behind his teeth, he buried his face into the pillow. He reached up one hand to pull the silent headphones away from his ears, tossing them blindly onto the sofa.

           “Thanks,” Cal’s voice said.

           “Mmf,” Lance groaned. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

           “My professor’s wife went into labor last night, so class is cancelled.” Lance lifted his head and looked groggily over at Cal. He’d set Lance’s headphones down on the table and was leaning back on the couch, a textbook dropped open on his lap. A pencil spun slowly through his fingers. His hair was damp from a shower. He glanced over at Lance. “What are you up to today?” Lance dropped his head back to the pillow.

           “Gotta go to the police station,” he said, his voice muffled. “They want to talk to me about Pidge for some reason.”

           “Want me to come with you?” Cal asked. “It can’t be more boring than my problem sets.” Lance shrugged, his shoulders bunching up the sheets.

           “If you want, sure.”

           “How was lunch with Louisa yesterday?” Lance groaned, wrapping his arms around his head.

           “I forgot,” he mumbled. “I had a really long conversation with– Dr. Ito, and then I was exhausted and just got on the train without thinking.” Cal grunted.

           “Dr. Ito was helpful, though?” he asked. His face hidden in the pillow, Lance gnawed on his lip.

           “He was… different, for sure,” he said. His mouth was sticky and dry. A night of disturbed sleep and early morning hunger and nausea set his head and stomach rocking like a sea-sick boat. The taste of a lie to his brother crested the wave, sitting unpalatable in his mouth. If he gave it voice, it would make him ill. “He… I learnt more at the Garrison than I have been with my therapist here,” he said, turning his head to free his face and speak clearly. Cal looked sideways at him. Their eyes held for a moment before Lance rolled away, pushing himself up to sitting. “I need a shower,” he said.

           The cracked linoleum of Cal’s bathroom was comfortingly clean and cool under his bare feet. He stood still under the showerhead for a long few minutes, the heat sinking relaxation into his muscles. His neck was bent, the stream of water breaking against the back of his head, soaking his hair, running down his back and cheeks, dripping down to his nose. Slowly, his mind cleared and the churning of his stomach quieted to complaining mutters of hunger. He rubbed the soap bar across his body, the habitual movement soothing. Its blank scent sank into his skin, chasing away the stink of the underground hallway.

           The room was damp with steam when he stepped out, the mirror fogged over. He tucked a towel around his waist, water still running down his chest and dripping off his hair. He grabbed his toothbrush and scrubbed his teeth, washing out the dry stickiness. He left the bathroom feeling significantly lighter and calmer, the ends of his hair sticking damply to the back of his neck. He opened the door to the smell of eggs cooking. Cal glanced over his shoulder from the stove and Lance gave him a slight smile.

           “You looked like you might need something more than just toast to get you going,” Cal said. Lance’s smile grew to a grin.

           “Cal, have I told you that you’re the best brother ever?”

           “Don’t get used to it,” Cal scowled.

           “I won’t,” he reassured him, still grinning, sliding into a seat at the table. “I know you usually burn everything.” Cal sent him a glare that Lance returned mockingly.

           The eggs were slightly over-salted, but he compensated by shoveling them onto buttery toast. Cal opened up a news stream on his computer while they ate. Lance pricked up his ears with interest.

           “I’ve been so caught up in my own memories – or, you know, lack thereof – I haven’t looked at the news at all,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of egg. “What happened while I was gone? Nothing apocalyptic, I hope? Anything blow up?”

           “Only Sony’s attempt at a horror franchise,” Cal said. Scenes from an earthquake in Japan scrolled across the screen. His eyes flicked over to Lance. “Nothing exceptional,” he shrugged. “A senator in Ohio got caught up in a sex scandal. Germany had an election. A Malaysian scientist discovered some new underwater plant that might help treat MS. There was a ceasefire negotiated in Sudan – or wait, did that happen before you left?” Lance creased his forehead and shrugged. “To be honest I wasn’t paying too much attention to the news myself.” Lance paused, fork still in his mouth.

           “You?” he asked. “You used to practice English by reading the New York Times out loud every morning while Louisa and I were still on Green Eggs and Ham.” Cal ran a finger down the edge of his keyboard, his gaze following it closely.

           “When someone you care about is in trouble, the world gets awfully small,” he said finally. Abruptly, he stood, holding out a hand for Lance’s plate. “I’ll take that if you’re finished,” he said. Lance, still chewing his last bite of toast, slid the plate over to him silently. Cal wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Shall we get going?” he asked.

           “Yeah,” Lance said, swallowing his discomfort. “Let’s.”

*

           The sight of Calixto Sanchez sitting cross-legged and scowling in the station lobby sent a jolt of déjà vu through Hopkins. Both Lance and Hunk’s parents had arrived within twenty-four hours after their disappearance, heedless of the cost of last minute airline tickets, but Calixto, much closer, had gotten there first. With the Garrison still on lockdown when they called to report their three missing students, not even Louisa or any Garrison personnel had been able to come to the station until late the next morning. During that first midnight scramble, Calixto had been alone, standing in the station wide-eyed and pale and lost. He’d called Lance, over and over and over, the battery on his phone running down until it died. He’d thrown it to the ground, collapsing into a chair and burying his face into his hands, shivering with unshed tears.

           Lance, his long limbs folded into the chair next to his brother, dispelled the image. He was picking his fingernails, having an on-and-off conversation with Calixto. Spotting Hopkins, he shot up straight.

           “Hi, detective,” he said.

           “Hello, Lance,” Hopkins said. ‘How are you doing?” Lanced pursed his lips, shrugging.

           “Okay, I guess,” he said. “You said you wanted to talk about Pidge?” His voice was inquisitiveness edged with hesitancy.

           “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” Hopkins said. Lance got to his feet, glancing quickly at Calixto.

           “I’ll be out here,” he waved him off. “Unless you want me to come in with you?”

           “No, no, I’ll be fine,” Lance said. “See you in a few.”

           Hopkins took him back to the same room as last time, watching Lance out of the corner of his eye. He seemed healthier and more animated than when Hopkins had last seen him, although there was a sting of nervousness in the way his fingers fluttered along the hem of his shirt and in the quick smile he gave as they sat down. Hopkins opened a folder and slid a photo across to him without comment. Lance glanced at it and then tilted his head. Confusion danced in his eyes.

           “Yeah, that sure is Pidge,” he said. “…Why?”

           “Can you identify the people in these photos for me?” Hopkins asked. He laid out three more photos. One of them was a cadet profile picture practically indistinguishable from the first one he’d brought out. The next was a newspaper clipping of the Kerberos mission crew. The last was a photo of a girl in a short green dress, grinning broadly at the camera. Lance frowned, leaning over them. He pressed two fingers to the two cadet photos. “Both of these are Pidge, or at least I think they are,” he said. He pointed at the girl. ‘I’ve never met her, but she looks like the girl in a photo that Pidge had. Hunk was pretty sure she was his girlfriend – but looking at it a bit closer, they actually look pretty similar, so… Maybe she’s his sister?” Lance shrugged. “Pidge never actually told us anything about her.” He picked up the newspaper clipping. “And that’s the… That’s the Kerberos mission. Takashi Shirogane, Commander Samuel Holt, and…” He trailed off, squinting at the photo. “Why is Matt Holt Pidge’s twin brother?” he asked. Hopkins sighed, taking the photo back.

           “Pidge is no one’s brother,” he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything he and Cho learned about the case seemed like a completely new thread of questioning, taking them down a completely different track than the last. There were no answers, only ever stranger questions. He held up the second cadet photo. “This is Matt Holt from his first year at the Garrison,” he said. He pointed to the girl. “That’s Katie Holt, Matt’s little sister.” He picked up the first cadet photo. “This,” he gestured, “this is Pidge Gunderson’s Garrison directory photo. Except, Pidge Gunderson isn’t a real person. Pidge Gunderson is really Katie Holt.” Lance’s jaw hit the floor.

           “Pidge is WHAT?” he yelped. His entire body had shifted forward on the seat, a breath away from launching to his feet. Hopkins sat back. The reaction was genuine, or he should hand over his badge. He had had no idea. Lance gripped the edge of the sofa. “Wait… Pidge was a girl the entire time? But he…” Lance was spluttering. “How? The Garrison runs background checks. How did Pidge—?”

           “She constructed an exceptionally detailed false identity,” Hopkins said. He and Cho still couldn’t fathom where a fifteen-year-old had found someone to fabricate documents that fooled the Garrison admissions. They refused to believe she could have done it herself. True, her mother had insisted Katie was a genius with computers – “I don’t mean she knows how to use Photoshop. I mean she was proficient in five different coding languages by the time she was six years old” – but parents were prone to exaggeration. “However,” Hopkins continued, “when we started investigating Gunderson’s parents, the discrepancies started turning up. It wasn’t hard to prove they never existed. Mrs. Holt identified Gunderson’s photo as Katie. The timelines of their disappearances match up. It’s definitely her.” He ran a hand across his face. Lance had picked up Katie’s photo and was staring at it, his eyes fixed on her face with disbelieving intensity.

           “Why did he – she – disguise herself?” Lance asked.

           “We don’t know for sure,” Hopkins said. Mrs. Holt had told them, her face cold and still, that she would never have let Katie anywhere near the Garrison after losing Sam and Matt. It still didn’t explain why Katie wanted to go to the Garrison in the first place, or why she’d gone to such extraordinary lengths to do so.

           After they’d talked to Mrs. Holt, Hopkins and Cho had called the Garrison. That Captain Seitz woman had turned up again. Telling her that Pidge Gunderson was really Katie Holt had finally cracked her stony calmness. She’d practically run from the police station as soon as Cho had run out of questions. Neither he nor Cho could fathom what that was about, except perhaps concern for the security of the Garrison background check if a fifteen-year-old kid had gotten past it. Still, evidently the Garrison was just as surprised as everyone else. Whether this had anything at all to do with her disappearance, it was impossible to tell.

           “Um…” Lance said. Hopkins looked at him sharply. He was shifting, his eyes flicking across the photos, lingering on the picture of Kerberos crew. He clearly wanted to say something, teeth pressing into his bottom lip.

           “What?”

           “Nothing,” he answered, stilling himself with evident effort. “It’s nothing.”

           “Lance, if you know something—”

           “I don’t know anything,” Lance spat. The venom in his voice took Hopkins aback. Before he could recover, Lance had stood up. “Did you just want to find out if I knew about Pidge? Or, I guess I mean, Katie?”

           “And if you have any idea about why she would have—”

           “I don’t know,” Lance said shortly. “No. I have no idea.” Hopkins felt his shoulders droop.

           “Alright, well, if you think of anything—”

           “I have your number.” Hopkins nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

           “I’ll walk you out, then,” he sighed. Lance didn’t look at him, just kept pace as they returned to the lobby. On the threshold, he paused, turning back.

           “You didn’t… find Keith, did you?” he asked. There was a terrifying hint of desperation in his voice. Their eyes met, and an icy spike of adrenaline ran through Hopkins’s spine, making him feel more awake than he had in days. There was fear welling in those deep blue eyes, dangerously close to overflowing. Hopkins almost grabbed his shoulder, marched him back into the room, and forced him to sit down until he talked. But Lance looked like a spooked animal, the terror in his eyes raw and helpless in a way that made Hopkins realize afresh how much Lance was just a kid, just a very scared and lost kid. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Lance how long gone Keith seemed to be.

           “We’ve had some trouble getting in touch with him,” he said, trying to sound soothing, as if there was nothing wrong. “I’ll let you know when we do, alright?”

           Those blue eyes darkened, but before he could reply, Calixto said from behind him, “Who’s Keith?”

           Lance yelped, jumping and spinning in a circle to see his brother had stood up and walked over to meet them. Hopkins was left with nothing but his back while Lance stuttered an answer.

           “It’s— He’s— He was in my class at the Garrison, he’s the one who got kicked out,” he squeaked. “I didn’t— I didn’t hear you come up,” he said.

           “Why are you asking the police about him?” Calixto asked, frowning at Hopkins. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure whether he should leave yet or not.

           “I… I may have sort of… I think I remembered seeing him,” Lance muttered, looking at his shoes. Calixto’s eyes went wide.

           “Lance, you remembered something?” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

           “I did! To the police. And to Louisa, eventually.” Lance still wasn’t looking, but Hopkins saw the briefest expression of hurt flick across Calixto’s face.

           “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

           “Because I wasn’t even certain it was real!” Lance shouted. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “Everything I bring up, you want to analyze and talk to me about endlessly, but I don’t have any answers, okay? I don’t know what happened to me.” His nails pressed so hard into his palms Hopkins was a little surprised they didn’t break the skin. “I don’t know what happened! So I had this one little half memory – barely more than a dream – and I just, I couldn’t deal with you trying to work out what it meant to me, okay?” Calixto was frowning.

           “Wait— Keith— Wasn’t he the one that Beatriz was teasing you about—?”

           “SHUT UP!” Lance said. Under his brown skin, he had flushed red to his ears. “Why are you even bringing that up? That’s not the—” He glanced back and saw Hopkins and fury spasmed across his face. “I’ll call you if I know anything,” he said. “But I don’t, I don’t know anything about where my friends are – or apparently even who my friends are – so can you leave me alone now?”

           “Thank you for your time, Lance,” Hopkins heard himself say, unable to grasp a more delicate way to exit the situation. As he turned to go back inside, he heard Lance turn back to Calixto and speak in a blast of sharp-edged Spanish. When he glanced through the window a minute later, after returning to his desk, he saw Lance storming out on his own.

*

           The hot air of the desert whipping across his face finally brought the tears spilling out of his eyes. By the time he got to Kent’s hut, he stumbled inside with tear tracks streaking down the dust on his face and collapsed to sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face on them, rocking slightly, trying to alleviate the roiling feeling in his stomach. He shouldn’t have stormed out on Cal like that, or on Detective Hopkins for that matter, but he couldn’t look them in the eye with Lotor sitting smiling in his brain. He couldn’t quietly sit in Cal’s apartment eating eggs like nothing was wrong. He couldn’t talk to the police and act like he knew nothing – even if, in some ways, it was true that he felt like he knew less than ever.

           Pidge was a girl. The revelation had dropped from nowhere and Lance, already tense, had almost fallen from his chair in shock. However, the second he caught his breath, that knowledge had slotted into place like a puzzle piece. Just as he had known, with a certainty he couldn’t explain, that Lotor and Captain Seitz were telling the truth about the crashing meteor being a ship, or Keith Kogane being with him… wherever he had gone, the fact that Pidge was a girl felt undeniably and disconcertingly true. His fingers pressed against his knees, fidgety and tense, as half-remembered moments and conversations flitted across his brain. He’d wanted to tell Detective Hopkins that Pidge had been reclusive and too smart for his – or rather, her – own good. He’d remembered that she turned into a spitfire at the merest mention of the Kerberos mission. He’d remembered that she would linger at the doorways into teachers’ offices and that sometimes she would vanish behind them and catch up later, panting, with no explanation for where she had gone. He’d wanted to say that everyone at the Garrison gave each other sideways looks when the Kerberos mission came up, but that Pidge more than anyone seemed to actively disbelieve the Garrison when they talked about what happened.

           “Do you think she knew, Kent?” Lance asked the empty shack. “I mean, if the Kerberos mission was really, uh, xeno-diplomacy, then the rest of the Holt family has to have known, right? The Garrison would have told them. But then, shouldn’t she have known her father and brother were really safe? Or maybe…” He ran a finger along the side of the table, dragging a line through the dust. “Maybe she didn’t believe they were safe, or, or, maybe she was mad about Shiro? Maybe she was trying to expose the Garrison? Like… she was looking for evidence? God, I just don’t… I can’t deal with this by myself, Kent. I’m not like you. I can’t come live out in a desert by myself and be okay. Well, as okay as you are, Mr. I-don’t-understand-what-vegetables-are. I need to talk to people, to bounce ideas around. I need someone to reassure me that I’m not going crazy.” He rubbed his temples. “I wish I could just tell Cal and Louisa everything, but what if they don’t believe me? And I mean… I’ve definitely broken more than one law just being in this shack. I don’t want them to… to…” He dropped his head back to his knees, tears pricking at his eyes again. “I’m scared, Kent,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

           He stayed there for a long moment before shaking it off with a shudder and lifting his head. His eyes landed on the conspiracy board. The circled “ENERGY SOURCE” on the map beckoned him, pulled at him insistently. Almost without noticing his body moving, he got up and crossed the room. He glanced back at the window. It wasn’t even noon yet. He had hours and hours, and he couldn’t go back and face Cal until he’d at least tried to sort some of this out.

           He’d brought some snacks out to the shack to sustain him during his hours of sorting through Kent’s notes. Putting food in Kent’s cupboards had felt like another level of intrusion into his house, but Lance was quickly getting over any concern about that. Moving almost dreamlike through the house, he gathered a bag of some snacks, two big water bottles, and took the map off of the conspiracy board. He switched his phone off, ignoring a missed call from Cal. He paused by the hoverbike, worrying his lip for a moment, before throwing caution to the winds and climbing on.

           He had to look at the map to get pointed in the right direction at first. However, once he started going, he just moved without thinking about it, working on instinct just as he had to find Kent’s hut. There was a strange faint pull that seemed to brush at the very core of his being, leading him forwards. It was barely noticeable – if this was the extent of the strange energy that Kent had talked about pulling him to this place, he must really not have much to do with his time. Lance was pretty sure he’d felt the same amount of involuntary pull to the prospect of 1AM chocolate chip pancakes at a 24-hour IHOP. Still, there was something unsettling about the sensation that made his hands clench around the grip of the hoverbike. It was just slightly too intense to be his imagination.

           There were countless caves marked out on the various maps in Kent’s hut. Lance didn’t know how he chose the one that he did. He only knew, in a way he didn’t want to think about, that it was the right one. Something ached inside his chest as he dismounted, leaving the hoverbike parked outside. The pull that had led him here seemed to cut loose and leave him floating and empty, searching for the other end of a connection that simply wasn’t there. Gritting his teeth against the strange and inexplicable hollowness, he walked slowly into the dim and blessedly cool cave. The rock was sandblasted and worn down, but even in the dim light the carvings stood out clearly. He ran a hand hesitantly over one of them, a strange symbol that he half-recognized from Kent’s notes. As his fingers brushed the carving, it glowed an almost imperceptible blue. Then Lance’s head split apart with pain.

           A thousand fingernails screeched down a thousand chalk boards. A hundred bows raked across four hundred violin strings. There was a thin scream somewhere in the distance that Lance only realized was his own when he ran out of breath. Blue and black stars burst behind his eyes as he went to his knees, gravel and sand digging into his shins, his hands clutching his head. He couldn’t stop screaming, the sound pale and weak. He bent double over his thighs, elbows and forehead digging into the ground. His fingers curled in his hair as he trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t move, could barely breathe around the screams tearing apart his body. His head seared and broke and split, demanding every ounce of attention. The only thing he knew was that he wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop. Then suddenly, there were arms, hot and strong, lifting Lance as if he weighed no more than a doll. He had no time to be afraid before his eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness.

*

           He came to stretched out on some kind of cot, his mouth dry and dusty. His eyelids stuck together. The echoes of the sharp, splitting pain still rung in his head. As he laboriously pulled his eyes halfway open, wary of the rush of sunlight, he noticed a heavy weight on his chest. Then a bone-chillingly familiar voice hissed, “Kova! Bad kitty! Get off of him!”

           Lance bolted upright, dislodging a cat with dark blue fur. It leapt to the floor, hissing at him, and trotted across the room to jump onto the shoulder of an armored and hooded figure standing in the corner. Lance recoiled as he got a glimpse under the hood: the figure’s skin was blue and it had no eyes. Lotor, who had shooed the cat away, was standing at the foot of the cot, no less unsettling for being familiar. His eyes were fixed on Lance, who curled his legs under him, not sure whether he was about to bolt or throw a punch or both.

           “Are you alright?” Lotor asked, his voice surprisingly gentle. Lance choked on a response. “Narti!” he said, turning to the eyeless figure. “Get a glass of water will you?” The figure turned and left through a door. Lotor turned back to Lance, a slight smile on his face, and for the first time, there seemed to be some warmth in his eyes as well. Lance, feeling his heart thudding in his chest at maintaining eye contact with Lotor, glanced quickly around the room.

           For one heart-stopping moment he thought he was somehow in Kent’s shack, but it was only the similarity of a somewhat rustic wooden shack and the hot smell of the desert that triggered the association. This place appeared to be some kind of guard outpost, with a couple army-style cots against one wall, a sleek modern desk with a bank of computers and monitoring cameras opposite. Narti reappeared in the doorway, the cat rubbing along her legs, holding a glass of water.

           “Here,” Lotor said, gesturing her forward. She held the glass out to Lance, who reached up and wrapped his fingers around it slowly, still undecided whether or not he ought to just flee.

           “Thank… you,” he managed. He paused with the glass at his lips, wondering if he ought not to drink, but then again, if they’d wanted to hurt him, they could have just done it while he was unconscious. The dryness of his mouth decided for him. He took a swallow of water. It tasted normal. He glanced between Lotor and Narti. “Um… what happened?”

           Narti gave a brief glance at Lotor and then slid out of the room. Lance started at the sight of spotted blue tail sweeping behind her before dragging his eyes back to Lotor, who had pulled the desk chair up beside the bed and was sitting in it. “We saw you,” Lotor said, gesturing at the computer monitors. “You collapsed, so we came to help.” Lance took another swallow of water. He looked at Lotor for a long beat, and Lotor returned his gaze. Lance felt a shudder travel up his body, but grit his teeth. Might as well do it now, he thought.

           “What is this place?” he asked. Lotor pressed his fingers together in a steeple.

           “Lance, I need to admit, yesterday, at the Garrison, I may not have been… entirely honest,” he said. Despite his heart feeling like it might break his ribs, Lance held his gaze.

           “Okay,” he said.

           “You see, the Garrison is quite… reticent. They’re very nervous about public perception and what kind of information gets out. Once I heard about you, I managed to convince them that you needed to be told of the basics, at least, but they were still reluctant to tell you much of anything.” He sighed. “What I didn’t explain yesterday is the sheer scale of the Altean war in time. When I said that the Alteans had not been able to pilot Voltron since the deaths of the last Paladins, what I failed to mention was that most of those deaths occurred around 10,000 years ago.” Lance’s fingers tightened against the glass. The number 10,000 echoed in his head with a ring of truth. “When they realized that they were losing their greatest weapon, they hid the various lions on primitive planets to stop any other race from getting their hands on one. We had, in fact, believed the Alteans to be all but beaten for good. The return of Voltron and the witch-queen has been… traumatic.” Lotor sighed deeply, leaning forward over his knees. “When Shiro returned to Earth, it seems that he somehow tracked down the Blue Lion, which had been hidden here by the Alteans after the death of its last Paladin. No doubt he recognized the feel of its quintessence. You and your friends evidently went with him. But then Allura arrived to recapture Shiro, and, well, you know how that part of the story goes.” Lance felt something warm brush against his elbow and flinched, glancing down to find Kova curled up on the edge of the bed and watching him with bright yellow eyes. He hesitantly extended a hand, and she nudged at it with her nose. He scratched carefully between her ears. “The Garrison had long suspected the carvings here to be alien in origin, but the Blue Lion shielded itself from any instruments they might have been able to use to detect it, until you, its new Paladin, arrived to unlock it. They are not… eager, for this particular oversight on their part to become public knowledge.”

           “Why is there a guard post out here, if they didn’t know about the lion?” Lance asked, withdrawing his hand. Kova stalked down the bed. Lotor shrugged.

           “It’s less of a guard post and more of a… study outpost. The cameras were only installed after you disappeared. No one was particularly expecting anyone to come back, but it wouldn’t pay to be surprised again.”

           “What are you doing out here, then?” Lance asked. He realized the glass he was clutching was empty and lowered it.

           “I was hoping studying the carvings myself might yield some information about the Alteans or the lions that could help us combat Voltron,” Lotor shrugged. “So far, I have sadly been unsuccessful, but it remains a pleasant change from the underground bunker in the Garrison, and is isolated enough that I don’t have to worry about running into humans – at least, not normal humans.” He smiled again, though his eyes remained cold. “You must have been drawn back here by the residual pull of your lion.” Lance looked down, fidgeting with the now empty glass.

           “Do they normally, uh, do the carvings normally make people collapse with the worst migraine they’ve ever had?” he asked. Lotor shook his head.

           “No. I believe that was a residual effect of the witch-queen’s mind control. As is, I believe, your fear of me.” Lance looked up sharply and now Lotor’s eyes did look amused. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not offended. I’m sure she sunk some deep conditioning into you to fear my race.”

           “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

           The instant the words were out of his mouth, Lance regretted them. He and Lotor both froze, staring at one another, Lance’s mouth still open around his last word. There was a flash of anger across Lotor’s face. Lance recoiled, hunching his shoulders, wondering how effectively he could use an empty water glass as a weapon. Kova, sitting on the end of the bed, swished her tail. Lotor schooled his features into stillness.

           “I suppose I can’t prove it to you, not without taking you to space and showing you the destruction that the Alteans have wrought,” he said, an undercurrent of strain and anger stretching his voice. “Is it not enough that you have lost your memory, that you found this place and collapsed in pain? Is it not enough that your friends are missing, torn from their families without explanation? Would a benevolent force do that?” He shook his head, a strand of white hair falling of his eye. “They destroyed the Galra homeworld, Lance. An entire planet, simply gone, because they were afraid it was amassing too much powerful quintessence. Ten thousand years and the universe is still recovering from that. Have you seen the problems that refugees from wars in single countries cause across your Earth? Imagine that, multiplied to an entire planet. The Galra have been scattered, left homeless. We wander through the universe without roots, with nowhere to return to if we are scorned, and destined to never be anything but guests on another species’ world. I never got to see the planet that should have been my home. It was space dust centuries before my birth.”

           “I’m… sorry,” Lance said. Lotor took a deep breath.

           “No, I’m sorry, Lance. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. Of course you would be a bit… distrusting, with everything you’ve been through.” He pulled the chair slightly closer, sending Kova jumping off the bed and stalking around behind him. “I know I scare you, and that you’re trying to… come to terms with all of this. It can’t be easy. Still, I’m hoping that you will adjust to me, given time. I would like us to be friends, if that could ever be possible.” Lance bit the inside of his cheek, willing his heart to slow its frantic pounding.

           “I’m pretty sure you did just save my life,” he said, giving Lotor a wry grin. “So I guess that means I owe you one.” Lotor flashed a real smile. Lance relaxed slightly against the wall behind him, swinging his legs out in front of him so he was sitting across the bed. “So… I should probably go, now, I guess?”

           “If you want to,” Lotor said, standing up. “Although I’d be more than happy to talk without Captain Seitz peering icily over our shoulders.” A chuckle burst out of Lance before he could stop himself, and he jumped, stifling the sound. He stared at Lotor and nodded.

           “Yeah, okay. I mean, are there more secrets the Garrison is keeping, or…?” Lotor waved a hand dismissively.

           “The Garrison is keeping a plethora of secrets, most of which are ultimately inconsequential and certainly have nothing to do with either of us. I just meant— Well, I told you. I’d like to get to know you, Lance. I can’t help but be curious. Frankly, I’m enjoying the opportunity just to talk to any human other than some of the Garrison officers. You seem remarkably more… relaxed.”

           “Yeah, well, military officers in general have sticks up their asses, I guess,” Lance said, grinning slightly. His eyes went wide and he waved a hand at the look of bemused distress on Lotor’s face. “That’s an expression! Sorry! It’s just a— it means that they’re over committed to rules and discipline.” Kova meowed from the corner and Lotor shot her a withering look. She stuck her tail in the air and stalked out of the room.

           “Some factions of the Galra Empire are like that as well,” Lotor admitted, turning back to Lance. “My father’s high command is… Well, we’ve had our disagreements.” He gave Lance another smile, this one careless, sharp teeth gleaming.

           “So your father is the Emperor?” Lance asked. A grimace flashed across Lotor’s face. He stood up and crossed to a bag sitting on the floor next to the desk.

           “He is. Our relationship is… complicated. You asked me if I was set to inherit the Empire by right of birth, and, well.” He gave a short, sharp laugh. “Certainly not at the moment, no.” He reached into the bag and pulled out some kind of packet, which he tore open, and popped something that looked like a seed into his mouth. “Want one?” he offered, holding the packet out to Lance. Lance leaned back, eyeing it suspiciously.

           “Uh… do you know for a fact that it’s not going to kill me? Or, like, turn me purple or anything?” Lotor laughed and shook his head, pulling back the packet.

           “Fair point,” he said. “I don’t imagine corrufia seeds would do much to you, but I haven’t tested them, so perhaps better safe than sorry.” He considered Lance a moment, chewing on another seed. “What do humans like for snacks?” he asked. “I don’t generally join the Garrison officers for meals.” Lance shrugged.

           “Human food is pretty diverse, man, you’d have to ask me to get a little more specific,” he said. Suddenly Lotor was closer than Lance had thought he was, looming over him a moment before dropping back into his chair.

           “Well, what do you like?” he asked. Lance swallowed, fear sitting tight and jittery in his chest.

           “Uh… I’m a fan of the sweet and salty, I guess, when it comes to snacking. Chocolate-covered almonds, stuff like that.” He realized he’d drawn his legs back up towards him and forced them to relax. Lotor watched him silently, tossing back another handful of seeds.

           “The Garrison officers tell me that humans have no telepathic forms of communication. Is that true?” he asked suddenly. Lance blinked in surprise.

           “Um… yeah. I mean, no, we don’t… telepathy is not a real thing. Not for humans, anyway,” he added hastily. Lotor finished the packet of seeds and crumpled it in his hand.

           “Fascinating,” he murmured.

           “Is that something common for aliens?” Lance asked. He was still holding his water glass from earlier, running his fingers absentmindedly around the rim.

           “Oh no, not at all,” Lotor said, tossing the packet into a trash can. “Some species have it, but it is rare. But, if you managed to break the witch-queen’s mind control, I thought perhaps your species had some experience with mind-to-mind contact. It is truly impressive you managed to escape her thrall. You even hold your conditioned fear to my appearance in check. I was prepared for you to try and kill me on sight yesterday. You must be an extraordinary example of a human, Lance.” Lance shifted uncomfortably.

           “I… I’m not… I’m nothing special,” he shrugged. “I mean, yeah, okay, I’d like to think I’m a decent pilot, and not just anyone can get into the Garrison, but still, Hunk and Pidge are both way smarter than I am, and so are Cal and Louisa.” Lotor tsked, distracting Lance for a moment wondering what sort of translation device Lotor was using and whether that sound meant the same thing to Galra.

           “Don’t sell yourself short, Lance,” Lotor said. “I’m sure you were one of the best pilots in the whole Garrison.”

           “I wasn’t,” Lance muttered, his eyes dropping as the vision of Keith danced in front of them.

           “Would you like to let me judge for myself?” Lotor asked. Lance’s head jerked up.

           “What?” he asked.

           “Your piloting capabilities. Would you like to let me judge for myself? I mean, I heard tales of the expertise of the new Blue Paladin, but I have yet to confront the lions myself. I have a little ship outside from the Garrison that I used to fly down here. I would love the chance to see a Paladin of Voltron fly.”

           “I…” Lance looked down at his hands, clenched tight around the glass. He should say no, he should say it was getting late and just leave, but… flying. He’d been missing flying ever since he woke up in that hospital bed. It haunted his dreams and made his fingers itch. His throat closed around the “No” that he should say. To be weightless, just for a few minutes, to be free and untethered by gravity once again, was a prospect he couldn’t bear to refuse. “A really, really quick ride,” he said, barely hearing his own words. “Just for like five minutes. Can’t hurt, right?”

           “Wonderful,” Lotor smiled. He stood up and held out a hand. Lance stared at it for a long moment, struggling for the will to reach out and take it. Lotor had just started to withdraw it when his arm shot out and his hand snagged Lotor’s. The two of them looked at each other in surprise for a moment. Lance’s mouth went dry at the sensation of Lotor’s glove, soft and leathery and warm with body heat. Still, he let Lotor pull him to his feet and followed him outdoors.

           The second Lance grasped the controls of the little island-hopper ship, he felt a profound sense of home. He belonged in this chair, behind these controls. Tension left his chest in a whoosh with his breath and he relaxed. Lotor was standing over him and watching as Lance flicked the switches to prepare for takeoff. Through the windshield, he could see Narti had come outside the shack and was standing by the door, Kova on her shoulder. He glanced over his shoulder at Lotor.

           “Are you going to strap in, or—?”

           “I’ll just watch from the ground,” Lotor told him, stepping out of the ship. “Enjoy.” Yet another bit of tension eased in his chest with Lotor out of the ship, and Lance let a grin spread across his face. Making a last check that everything was running as it should, he lifted into the air.

           Every kid got to play with a simulator these days. Local arcades were dirt cheap, and even if their simulations were shaky and prone to crash, lines could run out into the street on a weekend. Lance had found his way to the simulator after looking into the sky and deciding that whatever it took to get to the stars, he’d learn to do it. But he hadn’t fallen in love with flying until the first time he’d done it for real.

           He could still recall the pilot school ship in perfect detail – it was the smallest, slowest thing in the world. The switches were worn down by hundreds of oily fingers until their labels were almost illegible. The stick had been chipped, with one sharp edge that could catch on your ring finger if you weren’t careful. A hoverbike was probably a far more exhilarating experience, objectively speaking. But that first moment of liftoff from the ground, Lance had felt his entire soul lift into the air, and he wasn’t sure it had ever come back down. He belonged to the sky and the stars.

           He hardly even noticed his own whooping as he ascended, flying tight circles above the caves. He could see his hoverbike where he had left it, a little distance away and around a cliff from the shack. He saw Lotor gazing up at him, and Narti standing stoically by the door. The grin he wore now could have cracked his cheeks. He decided, abruptly, to do something fancy, to really impress Lotor. He’d done it in the simulator, when Iverson wasn’t around to catch him – he was sure he could replicate it without trouble. He pulled into a loop-de-loop with a bit of an uncertain shudder and came out of it at an awkward angle, but he did it. Then, he did it again, slightly bigger, and it went off without a hitch. He shrieked with joy as gravity reversed, crowing triumph as he climbed into the brilliantly blue and open sky. By the time he finally descended, drifting slowly to the ground, he was sweaty and panting.

           Lotor applauded when he climbed out and Lance felt himself blush, waving off the praise. “I was just goofing around. I haven’t gotten to fly – actually fly – in a long time.” Lotor shook his head, coming forward.

           “That was fantastic, Lance,” he said warmly. “Truly.” Lance rolled his eyes.

           “Keith did some pretty wild things whenever he got into the pilot’s chair,” he said, and immediately bit his lip.

           “Well, he’ll have to show me what he can do after we rescue him and the others from Allura,” Lotor said. “Come on, you look like you could use another glass of water.”

           Lance wasn’t sure how it happened, only that he and Lotor fell to talking, trading stories about Earth and other planets across the universe. As much as Lotor still sent spikes of nervousness through Lance, they began to abate the longer they talked, and he couldn’t deny he was dying of curiosity. An entire universe of planets out there that he could learn about was well worth a few reservations about the source of his information. Lotor proved a meticulous storyteller, painting pictures for Lance of planets with golden skies, forests made of metal trees, of fields of crystals as deadly as they were beautiful. Lance couldn’t imagine Earth being particularly interesting to him after all that, but he told stories about his family, about dreaming of the stars, and about the Garrison. It wasn’t until the grumbling of his stomach caught up with him that Lance glanced up and saw with a start that the sun had set.

           “Oh, shit,” he said, leaping to his feet. “I have to go – that hoverbike should have enough battery stored but I really shouldn’t try riding it at night if I can help it – and I need to get to home to cook dinner – oh, God, Cal…” He bit his lip. “Cal is probably… Cal’s going to be so pissed. Maybe I should…” He patted his pockets. “Shit,” he swore again. “You didn’t drop my phone when you were carrying me out of the cave, did you?”

           “Not that I noticed,” Lotor said mildly.

           “Well, I don’t really want to go back in and have another episode like the last one,” Lance said. He shifted from foot to foot, feeling jittery. “God, I can’t believe I lost my phone and didn’t even notice – would it be possible for you to check for me?”

           “I’ll go back and look tomorrow when the sun comes up,” Lotor said. “There’s no danger of rain and no person is going to come along and pick it up. If I find it, I’ll give it back to you on Thursday.”

           “Okay,” Lance said. “Look, this was— Thanks again, for helping me out. And it was, uh, nice getting to know you. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

           “Are you sure you’ll be alright on the hoverbike?” Lotor asked. Lance waved him off.

           “Yeah, no, I’ll definitely be okay, we’re not that far from town. I just should really, really get back.” Lotor stood and inclined his head.

           “It’s been a pleasure, Lance,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.” Lance gave him a brief nod before darting out the door.

*

           As he eased open the door to Cal’s apartment, it looked dark, and for a moment he wondered if Cal had already gone to bed. But then he stepped inside and saw a single lamp by the sofa still lit. Cal had sprung to his feet at the door opening, and the moment he saw Lance, his face went dark with anger.

           “Where. The hell. Were you,” he said, his voice flat with fury in a way that Lance had never heard before. Lance paused in the doorway, taken aback.

           “Out,” he replied shortly, bending down to slip his shoes off.

           “Out where?”

           “Just out. In the town. Nowhere special,” Lance said. He heard Cal striding across the room and stood back up to find them standing nose to nose. Cal took a hand and brushed it sharply across Lance’s chest. A puff of dirt and sand came free.

           “Out in the town, but covered in sand,” he said. He walked over to Lance’s laundry bag and upended it. The clothes dropped to the floor in a heap, followed by a small shower of sand. “There is sand on practically all of your clothes. It’s been in the shower. You’ve tracked it in here almost every day. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? At first I thought you were just going to that hoverbike place and riding along the edge of town, but I went looking for you today after the police station and they said they haven’t seen you in a month. So where the hell are you going?” Lance didn’t answer, staring Cal down. “Are you looking for Hunk and Pidge? Are you going back into that desert, Lance?” He stayed silent. “Answer me!”

           “Why? It’s none of your damn business!” Lance shouted. “You’re my brother, not my babysitter. I’m almost eighteen years old, Cal, and I’m allowed to make my own decisions without you scrutinizing every single one of them.” He shoved him out of the way. “I’m tired, and I want to get food and sleep. Can’t you leave me alone for just one night?”

           “No, apparently I can’t!” Cal said, throwing out an arm to block him. Lance stepped back, outrage growing on his face. “I called your therapist, and she says you’ve missed the last three sessions, and then emailed her yesterday to cancel all future appointments. You stood up Louisa for lunch yesterday. You remember something that happened but refuse to tell me about it. And now you just up and vanish for a day – apparently into the desert that almost killed you! Something’s wrong, Lance. Why can’t you just tell me what it is?” Lance felt cold all over, anger crystallizing in icy stillness, growing harder and harder with everything Cal said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, clinging onto composure.

           “I’ve had something weird as all hell happen to me, and I am just trying to deal with that as best I can, okay?” Lance tried to lay a placating hand on Cal’s arm, but he flinched away. “But you’re being invasive. You don’t get to know where I am all the time!”

           “You can’t go into that desert, Lance! That place is dangerous!”

           “I can take care of myself!”

           “But what if you can’t? Something could happen to you and I wouldn’t be able to help—”

           “That still doesn’t make it your business!” Lance exploded. “Where do you get off telling me that I ought to, to provide you my itinerary or whatever, and—”

           “I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!” Lance jumped, falling back a step, staring wide-eyed at Cal. Cal’s shoulders heaved with breath. “Do you understand that, Lance? Do you have any idea what that was like? I had to struggle to remember what the last conversation we had was, when was the last time I had seen your face, because I needed to know, I needed to fix it in my mind forever. I attended your goddamn fucking funeral, Lance. I thought I’d never get to celebrate your graduation, or watch you become a pilot, or hear one of your stupid jokes again. I thought you’d died without ever getting to the stars. I thought you were gone. I thought you were fucking gone. I can’t… I can’t tell you what that felt like. I thought I would have to celebrate every single Christmas, every single birthday, without you. I just felt… empty. I felt so fucking hollow. And then… And then a miracle happened. You came back to life. And I am so, so fucking scared of losing you again, Lance, because I can’t. I can’t do that a second time.”

           In his entire life, Lance had only seen Cal lose his composure so badly that he lost his English once before. Cal had been ten, Lance just barely turned six. Cal’s appendix had burst after a long day of what they had thought had just been a bad stomachache. The image of Cal writhing on the floor, clutching his abdomen, his English cracking and breaking and failing him until he let forth a stream of Spanish invective so filthy that, in any other circumstance, their grandmother might have resorted to washing his mouth out with soap, was burned onto Lance’s brain. He had never felt so helpless and so horrified. He and Louisa had sat in the hospital waiting room all night, falling asleep and jerking back awake against each other’s shoulders. The relief when the doctors came back to say he would be fine had run through Lance’s entire body, so that he had practically collapsed with it. Only Louisa’s ironclad grip on his arm had kept him upright.

           Cal was staring at him. Lance mouthed silently for a moment, scrambling for a response.

           “I didn’t… I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “Cal, I didn’t realize—”

           “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on with you?”

           “I want to!” Lance said. “But I can’t, because… you wouldn’t believe me even if I could.”

           “Try me. Please, Lance. I want to help.” Cal’s eyes were so earnest Lance thought they might tear his heart out.

           “Aliens,” he blurted out. “Honest to God, Cal, I know how that sounds, but just, please believe me. I disappeared because of aliens, and the Garrison knows about it, and they specifically told me not to tell you, but I can’t keep lying, God, Cal, I just can’t.” Cal had gone still. His expression was unreadable in the dim light. Lance’s stomach sank into his feet as the silence stretched on.

           “I’m calling Mamá and Papá,” Cal said finally, quietly. “You need help, Lance. You need to go home.” Lance grabbed his hair, his fingers curling and pressing against his temples.

           “I’m not crazy! Cal, I swear, I know it sounds insane but please. I need you to believe me. Going home is not the answer.”

           “I’m trying to help you. Please, please just go home. If you really believe aliens… abducted you, or whatever, then you need serious help. It’s obviously not safe for you here, wandering off into the desert.”

           “Fine. Fine!” Lance tasted bile on his tongue. “It was a poorly timed joke. Aliens aren’t real. You got me.”

           “I’m still calling Mamá and Papá.”

           “I won’t leave. You can’t make me.”

           “Like hell I can’t.”

           “I’ll go to the Garrison. They can give me my old dorm room back and I can continue my sessions with Dr. Ito.” Lance gave him a steely glare. “But I’m not going home. You can’t make me, and neither can Mamá and Papá.”

           “Fine. If you want to go to the Garrison, fine. I guess between them and Louisa there should be enough people to keep an eye on you.” Cal’s voice was flat.

           “Don’t call Mamá and Papá,” Lance said, working to keep the desperation out of his voice. More than ever, he couldn’t go back to Cuba. It would drive him insane.

           “Fine,” Cal said. “But I’m calling Louisa.”

           “Fine,” Lance answered, hunching his shoulders. He started to move away, towards his air mattress, his appetite for dinner vanished. He paused, turning back slightly. “Cal? I… really am sorry. I didn’t realize how… I didn’t think about how it would have felt to you, I just—” Cal reached into a pocket and hurled something at Lance’s head. He dodged it just in time, and it hit the bookcase behind him with a clack, falling to the floor. Lance bent down and picked it up. It was a pill bottle, and he squinted to read the label in the dark. Startled, he looked back up at Cal. “Prozac?” he asked. “But… since when…?”

           “When do you think,” Cal said. He stalked back into his room, slamming the door in Lance’s face.

[gearsfics]

Songsword - Missing Girls

Summary: Hank and Renee look over the files for the missing girls, trying to find connections that don't include his girlfriend.

Notes: This was a hard chapter to write... Basicially because gah, so much going on in the real world right now. Though hopefully that will start getting better. And hopefully my home life will be improving as well.

Oh and the crayon thing... I totally stole that from an RE game I used to play in as STARS era Chris. He threatened to fill out his paperwork with crayons because everyone was being grumpy in the chat and I may have been a little tipsy on some yummy wine. I just love the idea of the threat okay XD

Also posted: Here

“I was wondering about that.  Took them three hours to scrape it off.”  Hank chuckled reaching over to the soda bottle that was sitting on his desk.  “You tell her about this and I swear I’m going to stop covering for you when you need to slip away.”  The unnatural orange drink was his vice, and he knew his daughter was trying to get him to cut back on his caffeine intake.  Hypocritical if you asked him, since she worked in a coffee shop.

“Right, you say that every time.  Pretty sure you just have a soft spot for women Hank.”  

“Only ones that I care about like family.  And Anna might not be on that list soon.” He set the files of the girls on the files of the person that had employed them.  All of the jobs that had been offered had been legal, ranging from house cleaning to secretarial work, nothing had been sketchy.  “And honestly that list isn’t that long.”

Across town Hank pinched the bridge of his nose leaning back in his chair.  The paperwork he had just caught up with was thankfully keeping him away from the apartment for the night.  Anna would be complaining about not going to his sister-in-law’s party. As much as he wanted to go, he also wanted to make sure his daughter could enjoy the night in peace.  

Cover me When I walk alone Cover me When my stance it stumbles homes Cover me We'll trip on through the sands of time Cover Me - Candlebox

“Thought that you had left already.”  Montoya sipped her coffee as she tossed her jacket over the back of her chair.  Sinking into it she looked at the stack of paperwork she had gotten stuck with. “Guess I’m not the only one without plans on a saturday night.”

“Huh?  Oh, June’s party?  Nope, that’s her thing, besides would have had to bring my girlfriend, and it’s being thrown for Mira.  I would rather keep those two apart as long as I can.” He caught her chuckle as she set down her cup. “And here I thought you would have slipped away with that hot red-head of yours?”  

“Not until later.” She gave a small smirk.  “You know you’re one of the only ones cool about that?”

"Not my place to question it, an’ reckon you get enough hell from others.  I’m just the new guy.” Hank grinned a little at her. “Besides, she makes you smile everyone needs that.”

“Keep it up you’re going to make me blush Hank.”  She snickered as she reached for the stack on her desk.  “And next time he’s so doing all the paperwork.”

“Hank, these are the files you wanted, though not sure why you want them.”  He was relieved to get rid of the stack though. “Because really they find out you’re poking into things, you know Gordon’s going to get an earful.”

“That’s why you’re not saying a word right Davis?  Besides, he’ll come at me about it don’t worry I’ll make sure you’re not implicated.”  He grinned at Montoya. “You say that every time. Remember two weeks ago when he brought in the crayons to threaten to do the paperwork in if he got stuck with it?”

And cover me Cause I've been branded I've lost my mind Lost my mind But you'll cover me yeah Give me shelter from the storm

Davis walked off letting the two detectives talk.  Hank watched him a moment before he looked through the files, starting to organize them in a way that made sense to him.  He reached into his desk for the reports on the missing girls as well. While many of the others liked keeping things on the computers, Hank was old school.  He needed a physical paper copy that he could flip through, thus the folders that had taken over his drawer. The one case that he was working on his time. He wasn’t going to let these girls stories be buried.  

“I melted the crayons he brought in for that reason.  Didn’t you see the wax puddle on his desk last week?” Renee looked at the files as he spread them out on his desk.  “Wait aren’t those Anna’s clients?” She knew that he and Anna were having issues, one of them being Hank’s adopted daughter.  She also knew it had been the hardest thing for Hank to have his daughter move in with his sister-in-law, though, now looking at the files, she understood why.  He had to be keeping Anna close to figure out what her game plan was, and keeping his daughter out of her warpath.

Wasn’t the way she would have done it, but with Mira dating Bruce Wayne’s youngest son, it was giving them a place out of sight of the paparazzi, something she wished Wayne had thought of when Grayson had been dating Gordon’s daughter.

“I was wondering about that.  Took them three hours to scrape it off.”  Hank chuckled reaching over to the soda bottle that was sitting on his desk.  “You tell her about this and I swear I’m going to stop covering for you when you need to slip away.”  The unnatural orange drink was his vice, and he knew his daughter was trying to get him to cut back on his caffeine intake.  Hypocritical if you asked him, since she worked in a coffee shop.

“Right, you say that every time.  Pretty sure you just have a soft spot for women Hank.”  

“Only ones that I care about like family.  And Anna might not be on that list soon.” He set the files of the girls on the files of the person that had employed them.  All of the jobs that had been offered had been legal, ranging from house cleaning to secretarial work, nothing had been sketchy.  “And honestly that list isn’t that long.”

She smiled.  He treated her like a sister, and not in the babying way.  She was an equal, though he did step in if he saw she needed help or if someone was being a complete ass, always asking before hand to see if she wanted the help.  It was one of the reasons why she didn’t mind him as back up. She had watched him, and noticed that he did the same thing to other cops, always making it clear he was assisting, not taking over the scene.  Made him a lot more friends in the force than enemies. Got to the point if he showed up, if there were victims that were terrified, they’d send him to calm them down and ask questions. He had a way of just putting people at ease.

“So looking for a connection?”  She reached for a file. “I’m just waiting for lab results anyway if you want help.”  She lied, but the reports wouldn’t take that long to do, she had most of it typed out anyway she just needed to add some details, and hit print and send.  

“This is an off the books case you know.”  Hank watched her, though didn’t stop her at all, if she wanted to take a look he’d let her.  He just wouldn’t let her go with him when he went to question suspects. She had a partner, and a lover that he was pretty sure could kick his ass.  Hank didn’t really want to find out how hard Kate could hit.

She nodded.  “And really doubt that Gordon would bitch if we turned it on the books honestly.  Though I know the reason, let’s not alert the DA’s office yet that your investigating one of their own.”

"And this is why I always thought you were the smarter one out of you and your partner.”  He put the cap of his soda back on and set it to the side where it wouldn’t get knocked over.

“Watch it Greason, I might actually start liking you.”  The grin she flashed was warm. Hank was easy to get along with and despite being newer to Gotham, he cared about the people of the city.  She had watched him work, he had a way with people that just put them at ease, almost like he was an old friend from the get go.

She knew she would hate to see the day that whatever he had, didn’t work.  And she secretly hoped that that day would never come. Gotham needed good people.

“Heaven forbid that.  Someone takin’ a shinin’ to this big dumb ol’ Texan.”  Hank thickened his accent for the laugh before taking another sip of his soda as if he was taking a swig from a booze bottle, he even gave a grimace as if it burned, though in reality it was just flat.

The laughs filled the empty bullpen as they set to work.  “Only a few people think you’re dumb. And only because you do tend to forget here, we’re a bit more outnumbered and outgunned.”

“And I refuse to take a partner, after the initial year of working with this department.  I know, it’ll bite me in the ass one of these days.” Hank had his reasons for it. One, a stark reminder sitting on his desk of his old partner in Texas.  Two years ago, he had been found murdered in his apartment, the word HAAS was written in his hand and blood nearby.

That detail, Hank was still trying to figure out the meaning of.  He knew it was something that he was supposed to know, but couldn’t make heads or tails of.  And he had kept it from Mira, he knew how much that she loved her ‘uncle’. She knew he had died, but not the circumstances of it.  

Over me You fade into the night Over me You melt into the light Over me You will fear the things I need Over me You will feel the hate I breed

He turned back to the files, all the girls were pale, bookish types, though one of them, according to her parents, was some sort of internet celebrity, for playing games.  Hank thought about some of the games that Mira and her friends played, most of them were cute little games, nothing that he could think others would watch people play.

“I have no idea where to start on this honestly.”  He admitted. None of the people on his list, really had criminal pasts.  Hell the worst of the bunch just had a few DUIs where the only damage had been done to a sports car and a locked gate.  

The picture of a blonde girl stared back at him with bright green eyes, smiling for the candid shot.  She was in PJ’s, the photo taken at a slumber party.

“Lighten her hair some and she would almost look like-”

Hank nodded.  “Like Mir.” He finished.  “I know, most of the girls have been blondes.  And yes, I did think some of the nut jobs you have here.  Something I’m still trying to get used to, we didn’t have that in Texas.”

“And?”  She cast a glance over to him.  He had done his homework. Though she didn’t blame him.  Mira was all he had left of his wife, even if she was adopted, Renee knew that Hank loved her as if she was his own.

“MO’s wrong, not to mention these girls are all a little old don’t you think?  There’s also more cases, all over the world.” He sighed. “Not to mention the girls have been found in the clothes they were taken in.  Doesn’t he prefer dressing them like a storybook character?”

She nodded a little relieved.  Him dealing with any of the more colorful ‘nut jobs’ as he put it, without backup actually worried her.  Though some of them had been a bit too quiet lately. Something had to be in the works. “So let me guess checking contacts elsewhere?”

“Yeah, and the same MO, the girls are gone twenty hours and returned with no memory of what happened or where they were for the last day.  So like me, Interpol has nothing to go on.” He flipped the picture over. “Last one here in Gotham though, was the week that Mira was camping with her friends.  Not sure if I should thank Mr. Wayne for getting her out of the city for the week.” He sighed a little.

“And now she’s at her aunt’s.  How many people are at that party?”

“About a hundred, maybe more I can never remember how many people my sister-in-law invites to those things.  Though knowing Mira, she’ll probably slip away at some point for fresh air. They’re really not her thing.” He laughed.  “First one we took her to when her mother was alive, she was only eight, we found her once we realized she had slipped away, curled up in a stable on the grounds that June had rented for the event, asleep with some of the land owners sheep dogs keeping watch over her.”  He smiled at the memory. June had been furious that the little girl had ruined her dress running out to play with the animals. Though since then she had made sure there was a room prepared for Mira to disappear to when she was done with pretending around everyone.

“Take it she goes to those to keep her aunt happy?”

“You’ve met June,” He glanced over at her.  “You really think that it’s a good idea to get on her bad side?”

She was silent a moment and laughed.  “You know she’s harmless, but you have a point.”  She chuckled putting the file she was looking at. “Though would rather deal with her cross than Anna when she knows about this.”  

“Oh I know, I’ll probably be lucky if Gordon can keep me on as a beat cop after this.”  He stretched.

“Oh please, you’re a great cop, they’ll just end up having to go through the DA’s office with a fine tooth comb.  Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. Should have seen after Dent’s accident.”

Hank thought a moment.  “Right, the one that’s Two-face now.  You know I almost miss when the worst I had to deal with were Cartel pushing drugs over the border.”

“You could have moved to National City or Starling you know.”

“I wanted the thrill of adventure still, and really, was a little interested in trying to figure out who the Bat was… Though after he and his sidekick saved my little girl, I’m okay with letting them keep their identities secret, as long as they keep to that no-kill rule of theirs.”

[robertsneagle]

50 Ideas to Organize Your Home

When you have a home, you have a need for home organization. Fact is, we all have “stuff”. And “stuff”, can end up slowing down our day, and ruffling our feathers in the evening. “Stuff” quickly becomes clutter, and who wants that?

If you have stacks of papers that belong no where, crazy and chaotic mornings, or lost car keys, check out these easy ideas.

 Evenings/Mornings:

1. This one is pretty self explanatory… Lay our everything you are going toneed in the morning the night before, and teach your kids to do the same. Photo below by ‘BHG‘.

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2. Have a central area for purses, keys and your wallet. Always put it there. Always.

3. Set out everything for breakfast that is non refrigerated, right down to the spoons. Obviously, this means knowing whats for breakfast the night before. No stops at Krispy Kreme, ok?

  4. Write up a daily to do list for the next morning on your smart phone and put priority items first. Move items from today that didn’t get done into tomorrows list. Update your calendar. We like an app called “Cozi“. It has the capability to handle your whole families activities, and you can even keep your grocery list there. This calendar lets each family member share with one, two or all other members what their schedule is. It can also send you email reminders, like for trash day. Oh, and it’s free. Photo by ‘Container Store‘.

  5. Go get gas, pick up the first graders cupcakes, or get that pencil sharpener that your high schooler can never seem to find. Don’t put off errands ’till morning when everything is busy.

     Bathrooms:

6. Keep your bathroom paraphernalia out of sight when not in use. Buy a plastic carry all with a handle on top, or a pretty basket. Put all of your make up, deodorant, hair spray, razors, etc. into the container and place under the counter. Bring it out when you need it, then always put it right back underneath.

  7. Shower caddies are essential for keeping the shampoos, conditioner, face scrubs and specialty in-shower treatments from taking over the whole space.  (Guilty.) This one is from ‘The Container Store‘.

  8. Squeegee your shower doors after every single shower. Keeping the squeegee right in the shower makes that easier. Add a little suction cup hook if you need. If you have a shower curtain, use a daily shower spray to keep clean up from being impossible when you finally get around to a whole bathroom cleaning.

9. A strip of magnetic tape (any craft store) or a magnetic knife holder can help keep items like nail clippers, tweezers and scissors handy.

10. Use those wasted corners and awkward space to put in a freestanding cabinet to add storage. Photo by ‘BHG‘. Remember to repurpose to save bucks, paint is everything!

  11. Once a month, go through your bathroom cupboards and drawers and throw away old or ineffective products you never use.

12. Roll your towels and use them as decor tucked into pretty baskets on piled on a bench.  Check out our post on DYSS on DIY bathroom towel storage! Photo by ‘BHG“.

  13. Use wall hooks for hanging towels, robes and clothing. Behind the door is a great way to use wasted space.

14. Use drawer organizers for makeup, jewelry, ponytail holders, and other loose items. Or make your own. Try our post on budget make up storage for ideas.

15. Use pretty floating shelves to add storage above the toilet, and add value to the room. Need tutorials? DIY floating shelves.

16. Use a timer in each bathroom, and use it… This is great for getting out the door on time, AND getting teenagers out of the shower.

  Closet:

17. Place color separate baskets in your closet for laundry,  and one for dry cleaning. This will save you time sorting clothes, and you will always know when you have enough colors for a full load.

  18. If you haven’t worn it in a year, donate it. Goodwill and some other charities even take worn out clothes, as it employs people while they are redirected to recyclers.

19. Sort your clothes by season, and only keep the present season in your closet. Pack out of season clothes away in an under bed storage container. DIY under bed storage ideas!

20. Put your clothes in categories that work for you. Color, formality, type or office wear are good places to start. This will save you time putting together outfits, and save you money from re-purchasing items you didn’t remember you had, as they were buried in the closet… somewhere. Inevitably to make their re-appearance right after the return window on your new item has expired.

21. Recycle wire hangers. Clothes simply slide off of them to the floor. Get velvet hangers at Costco to hold even the slinkiest silk dress. Or make your own with this tutorial on no slip hangers by Diane from ‘In My Own Style’.

  22. Use a system for hanging scarves and belts. Shoving them in a drawer is no good for anyone.

23. Use a shoe rack. Rotate out of season shoes just the way you rotate out of season clothes. No reason for six pairs of leather boots to bury all your cute sandals in July.

24. Use hooks on any closet wall space to hang purses, jackets, and accessories. Photo by ‘HGTV‘.

  25. Use vacuum sealed bags to store out of season clothes in a tight space. Just don’t use this method on delicate fabrics, as the wrinkles could become permanent.

  Kitchen:

26. Organize your kitchen cabinets into categories. Make sure your cups are near the fridge so you can easily pour that afternoon juice, and your utensil drawer is near the dishwasher so you don’t have to make ten trips across the kitchen. Pots and pans? Near the stove. Kids plates? On a lower shelf so they can get to them without calling you from the first bath you have had in a month. Getting it?

  27. Keep whatever you use for a pantry immaculate. No where does clutter make more of a mess than with food.  Try our post on organizing your pantry.

28. Add a kitchen island to a small kitchen to increase storage and prep space. No worries, we’ve got that covered for you too. DIY kitchen islands, and more DIY kitchen islands! Want some more? Try this DIY rolling kitchen island from Jen at ‘House of Wood’!

  29. Use an inexpensive plastic lazy-susan in the back of deep cupboards, so you never forget whats hiding back there!

30. Try to store tupperware in a drawer rather than a shelf, as that way you will always be able to find a matching lid.

31. Only keep things on the counter you use often. We only keep the Vita Mix and the Keurig on the counter, even the toaster goes in the pantry and gets brought out daily when needed. And if I could convince my other half, the Vita Mix would go under the counter too! (Not the Keurig folks, at this very minute I’m sipping its second offering of the day.)

32. Do you have cards and scraps of paper with scribbled recipes on them? I don’t even care if they are printed from your computer, time to come into the 21st century people. “Evernote” is a free app, where you can take photos of each recipe with your phone or tablet, add them and even organize them into folders. (Thanks to reader Karen for this tip!)

33. Have a whole closet full of plastic grocery store bags? Tuck 10-20 into one or two bags to hang onto, then recycle your plastic bags folks!

34. Keep your fridge clean. Every time you go to the grocery store, make sure to clean out the old food and toss. Rotate older food into the front so it is used up first. Try these 7 steps to an organized fridge. Jessica at ‘Four Generations, One Roof‘ uses containers to hold containers in her fridge. Love this idea!

  Kid’s Room:

35. Hang a hoop over a laundry basket for slam-dunking dirty clothes.

36. Or, place a two-compartment hamper in your kid’s room so he or she can sort light clothes from dark clothes as they undress.

37. Use poster putty in your child’s room and have your child display his or her favorite artwork all on one wall, gallery style.

38. Hang a net from the ceiling to store stuffed animals, dolls, or action figures.

39. Add wall mounted bookshelves and help your child organize their books. Make sure you remember if you place a large bookshelf in a child’s room, bolt it to the wall for safety. Need ideas? Try our post at DYSS on creative bookshelf projects.

40. Buy the kids their own alarm clocks and teach them how to get up on time. By themselves. Without you.

  Misc.

41. Make sure everything in your house has a home. Teach all family members to mind their own messes. For example, if you take it out, put it back; if you open it, close it; if you throw it down, pick it up; if you make a mess, clean it up; and so on.

42. Put wastebaskets in every room and place several unused trash bags in the bottom of each one. This will eliminate countless trips to retrieve new trash bags and give all family members a place to throw away their trash.

43. Make sure the remotes have a drawer, basket or shelf to live on. How often have you found it under the sofa?

44. Use a plastic caddy to store cleaning supplies in and tote it from room to room.

45. Use a plastic laundry basket for quick pick up and transport of toys to their proper homes each evening.

46. Make a designated area for homework, crafts or sewing. You can create a very organized space in a small area, and that prevents you from having projects strewn all over the house. Photo of this craft area by ‘Country Living‘.

  47. Each night before bedtime, have all family members pick up clutter for 15 minutes. Make a game out of it and see who can pick up the most things in the shortest amount of time.

48. Have one designated spot where kids are to leave school flyers, permission slips that need to be signed and school photo envelopes. Make this part of the nightly “laying out for tomorrow” habit.

49. Make a master grocery list on the app or website of your choice. Categorize the groceries into sections such as frozen, dairy, and so on. In each category, list the most frequent items that you buy. Organize the grocery list according to the way your favorite grocery store’s isles are set up. Make sure each adult or teenager has the app loaded on their phone as well. If they forget to add Pop Tarts to the list, then they are eating oatmeal.

50. Don’t leave things ’till later. Procrastination is the number one cause of clutter and mess. Take care of it right then and there.

Make sure your home runs as smoothly as it can, and that you can take the time to enjoy it, instead of always dealing with clutter and chaos.

Image Credits: Country Living, BHG, Good Housekeeping, Container Store, Interior Design Inspiration, HGTV, House of Wood, Four Generations, One Roof

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Original Entry Source: http://www.thebudgetdecorator.com/50-ideas-to-organize-your-home/